Star girl and Moon lover
Summary: Harry is a moon lover and y/n is a star girl. Their dates end at a blanket staring at the heavens, falling in love with each other more everyday.
Pairing: boyfriend!harry x reader
Trigger warnings: none
It was a warm summer night with a cold gentle breeze. Her dress was blowing in the wind, so was his hair getting messy. They both love warm summer nights and hang out a lot. Harry gave her his warm sweater, he saw how y/n was freezing. His voice is always so soft when he talks to her and so it is today, “I knew you’ll forget yours.” He mumbled softly in the shell of her ear.
They have a soft spot for how the stars are visible on a cloudless night. The stars are glowing is her favourite thing and Harry adores the moon. The dark sky, the bugs are almost the only thing you can hear at night. The streets are almost empty. You hear one, two cars drive around the small city. The quiet music is coming from Harry’s phone. It was one of y/n all time favourite songs. He always plays them for her. It’s calm and gentle.
Harry knows y/n for a long time they were best friends, still are. Y/n and Harry have known each other their whole life. Her lover was always the quiet boy next door who never talks to anyone at all and she was the hopeless romantic with the Roses garden.
First they were childhood best friends, then they stopped talking. Somehow they started talking again and now they are finally more than that. It took them so long to talk to each other, all over again.
Harry laid his hand on hers, still watching the magical summer of the heavens, “are you okay? Do you want to go home? It's getting really cold.” He saw how her expression changed to a sad look. She doesn’t want the dead of night to end yet.
Her soft pink lips part, “it’s okay,” she said softly on the warm night. Her hair was all messy and due to the wind every time she wanted to fix it the breeze blew around their heads.
She had those lips, he wanted to kiss so bad, all summer.
She’s talking to him. Her voice tastes like warm and sweet honey. Her eyes sparkle like cold moonstones. Her lips seem so gentle like a flower in the summer breeze. Everytime Harry has the opportunity to take a seat next to her he smells a garden full of flowers. In his nose flew the smell of sweet strawberries.
“What is your favorite memory of us?” She asked him, and snuggled her shivering body closer to him.
He opens his mouth, through his mind goes every possible thing he could say, but he always lands on this memory. It didn't matter what beautiful memories he had. All are perfect in some way.
She laid her head on his warm shoulder, his head resting on top of hers. She always liked him, she liked how quiet he was around other people, only she knows he never shuts up.
“It would be wrong, if I have to choose only one, everything is so special when you’re around, bug.” Harry asked his girl a view times, if she’s ready to leave, but she wasn’t ready to go home and end their magical night.
Y/n legs are almost numb from the cold air. He had packed one of his fluffy blankets, y/n has always been honest with him. All the time.
She supported her head on his chest and the blanket sprawled over their body’s. “I found the fox,” he pointed at the dark, almost black sky. His star girl lifted her gaze back up to the delightful night sky to see it herself.
“It’s so hard to find,” a yawn came over her soft lips.
Time was forgotten, eyes became heavier and harder to keep open. The wind became colder, her head resting comfortably on his hard chest.
Before she disappeared in her dream world, he lifted her head barely and kissed her. Tasting her soft lips. It is so different, he always imagined how it would feel, but it’s better than that. The hint of strawberry on her lips and his rough fingertips against her cheek makes her smile. It was kind of messy considering neither the star girl or the moon lover kissed anyone before.
It was their first kiss.
being mr. azoff's assistant was y/n's dream job, it was just a bummer that his most beloved client seemed to hate her.
"Did you want anything, Harry? (Y/N)'s about to make a coffee run."
Although she'd never admit it, (Y/N) held her breath as she fiddled her fingers behind her back, awaiting any response. She already had a good idea of what he would say when he bothered to give an answer, but she still had a tiny hope he'd prove her wrong.
"No, 'm alright."
He didn't even raise his head from where it was buried in his phone. Mr. Azoff gave (Y/N) that same polite smile he always did whenever Mr. Styles rejected her services, like he wasn't sure why Mr. Styles wasn't more accepting but it wasn't his place to ask or change the habit. Mr. Azoff treated her right and that was what she tried to focus on, not that the fact his best friend and someone she could consider to be a creative idol, couldn't seem to even give her a moment of his time.
"Okay, I'll be back in a minute, Mr. Azoff," (Y/N) chirped pleasantly, well versed in how to brush off being brushed off.
(Y/N) was grateful for the fact her boss's preferred shop was only a few blocks away from his office, giving her the chance to clear her head with fresh (or as fresh as it could be here in L.A.) air instead of stuffing herself into her car.
Mr. Styles was always like this. Why it still bothered her when he brushed her off or ignored any of her offers of help, she wasn't sure, but it did. That world famous kindness that circulated within the industry as well as what was flung around Twitter had been what she was expecting when she finally made it through the vetting process to be hired as Jeff Azoff's assistant, knowing full well who one of his biggest clients was. She had been realistic, knowing that Harry Styles wasn't going to be her best friend, fawning over her at all times, or suddenly fall in love—this wasn't like those stories she remembers reading when she was young—but she had figured he would give her more than a passing glance the first time she met him.
Since that first day where he offered a single sentence introduction, she'd been waiting in vain for anything more to happen. More often than not, his conversation would stop when she entered the room or go quiet enough to let her know she wasn't to be included. He gave her plain smiles, not even the hint of a dimple, when he bothered to acknowledge her presence, usually when he would skirt around her to leave the room she'd just entered. She never got a chance to experience firsthand the humor everyone praised, the kindness he all but trademarked as a middle name, or the gentle vulnerability he gave to those who needed it. He could barely even meet her eyes, his gaze moving to his phone or where he plucked at his sleeves or painted nails.
To be fair, she was still fairly new at the job, only about six months in to her position, so there was a good chance he still needed some warming up after being so used to Mr. Azoff's last assistant that had been employed for years before relocating and leaving the position. Mr. Styles was also known to be shy, something a few others had disclosed to her when they noticed she didn't have much to add whenever he was brought up. Maybe he needed a little more time, and that was something she was more than willing to give, along with the space it seemed he needed.
At least until his European tour started. Then, he would have to at least get used to her presence, seeing as they were to be sanctioned to matching flights, hotels, and backstage areas for the better part of the next three months. She wouldn't be able to give him much space then. Hopefully he wouldn't hate her more after those ninety days together.
As much as the walk to the cafe and the extra Matcha latte she treated herself with, cleared her head and had her back on her feet after being blown back by the nonchalance paid to her entire existence by someone she felt singled out by, the effect could only last for so long when she entered the office.
Before pushing the door open, she could hear the voices inside happily chattering away. Mr. Styles' cackling laugh that she was sure had his eyes creasing closed with his head thrown back was the most prevalent noise, something she usually only caught the tail end. As she expected, the second she gave a gentle rapping of her knuckles against the door just before pushing it open, all sound stopped, even Mr. Azoff's chattering trailing off once he realized Mr. Styles was done interacting for the moment.
"Here you go," she chirped, passing along the coffee to her boss with an unbothered smile that was much stronger than she felt, "Is there anything else I can do for you?"
"No, no," he shook his head, "Not until this afternoon. Go and enjoy your lunch, (Y/N)."
She gave a quiet nod of her head, chancing a single look in Mr. Styles' direction. He had his gaze fixed on his hands. A flush clung to his skin, surely a lingering effect of the laughter she had interrupted.
"Okay, let me know if that changes," she offered with a short smile before turning on her heel.
Just as she left the room, closing the door behind her, she heard Mr. Azoff heave a muffled sigh on the other side.
"Jeff, please. She jus'—"
(Y/N) left before she could hear much more. She didn't need to know what Mr. Styles thought about her.
Despite the buzz filling the terminal, (Y/N) almost couldn't believe the way not a single person had noted Mr. Styles' presence. Not even a single muttering or whisper of his name could be heard in the busy place.
He sat in peace, a grey hoodie with the strings tied covered his torso, hood up over a pink beanie that concealed his curls. He sat with his legs spread wide, taking up space with his black sweats folded over his legs. Scrolling through his phone, he was in his own world with his chin propped up in his hand, cheek smushed against his ring-bare fingers. He only looked up when boarding was called.
(Y/N) followed quietly behind the trio of Mr. Styles, her boss, and Mr. Lambert, the tour's stylist. She could hear the tittering and quiet conversation in front of her while other members of production and the team trailed behind her. Without Mr. Azoff's wife joining them just yet for this tour, she didn't have many close friends within this group for the time being.
It was all a blur, finding her seat on the plane and placing her carryon above. She was the first in her row, huddling close to the window seat. She knew Mr. Azoff was going to join her as soon as he finished doing whatever it was he and the Harry's were doing, so at least she wasn't going to be completely alone.
Biding her time until take off while the rest of the plane filled up, (Y/N) distracted herself with answering emails on Mr. Azoff's behalf. She verified hotel arrangements, replied to all the correspondence that went along with Mrs. Azoff joining them later in the week, and anything else that needed her attention before takeoff.
Huddled into her corner of the row, the early call time for the flight began to catch up with her. The emails in front of her couldn't hold her attention against the tiny pillow she had managed to sneak into the backpack she shoved under her seat, the plush sandwiched between her cheek and the sidewall of the plane. The sound of shuffling feet as the rest of the flight filled up was like white noise to her cloud-puffed brain.
(Y/N) couldn't help herself before she was fluttering her eyes closed. Surely, Mr. Azoff would wake her before takeoff if she really passed out.
She wasn't sure how long she sat, resting her eyes with her limbs floating in the in-between realm before much of the shuffling ceased and the heft of someone settling in beside her sounded in the empty space. She didn't bother blinking her eyes open, even when she heard chattering beside her. Mr. Azoff was one of the voices, followed by someone who sounded a little too close to her for his comfort.
"Jeffery..." Mr. Styles sighed.
"Stop acting like a child, H," her boss scolded, voice stern though he was quiet, "She's asleep, I'm not going to make you talk to her."
(Y/N) was grateful for the way she had her cheeks mushed between her shoulder and her fluffed pillow. Maybe if she covered them, her seat mates wouldn't be able to feel the embarrassed heat gathering under her skin.
Mr. Styles was sitting right next to her, she realized when she heard the heavy intake of a breath leave his lungs. She wasn't sure how she'd do it, but it looked like she was going to have to pretend to be asleep all the way to the hotel. Maybe, she could convince everyone she was a very well-organized and direction-following sleepwalker if she was careful.
That thought didn't last long, (Y/N) having to break her facade at the sound of Mr. Azoff's voice calling to her.
"(Y/N)," he started, speaking around Mr. Styles. He repeated her name a couple of more times, prompting her to mime opening her eyes as if she'd been dead asleep only moments prior before he continued, "We're about to take off."
"Oh," she smiled, the curve tight, "Thank you."
If not for the fact she was sure she would die if they knew she had overheard the way Mr. Styles couldn't stand to even sit next to her, she would have hesitated more before she crossed her gaze to the man beside her. His eyes were already on her when she looked at him, expression tight as he seemingly forced a smile in her direction. His back was stiff against the seat, hands twisted in his lap with flaking nail polish. His gaze didn't linger on her for very long before he looked away, just in time for the safety spiel from the steward team.
Following suit, she followed through the motions of checking her seatbelt, absently locating the exits, and curling into her seat by the time they were cleared for takeoff. She didn't like this part, but it was enough to huddle herself against the back of her seat and brace herself with her hands clenched into the armrest to her right side.
She sat with her eyes closed, nails digging into the leather of the armrest as she felt the motion beneath her feet, the runway disappearing underneath them until the turbulence of takeoff shook the body of the plane. (Y/N) breathed her way through it, hunkering down into the slouchy fit of her hoodie.
It wasn't until the turbulence evened out, steady windfall starting in the dark of the early morning, that she felt eyes on her. Without really thinking, she blinked her eyes open only to find Mr. Styles looking to her with something softer painted over his features.
He didn't immediately flit away when her eyes met his, allowing himself to touch over her features with the warmth of his gaze. His tanned skin still held a buttery warmth even under the draining overhead lights of the cabin, stubble covering the bottom half of his face she'd never seen him grow out until recently. His eye contact was famous around the world, unrelenting though welcoming as it gave her a chance to see the flecks and streaks through the moss of his irises. (Y/N) floundered under his attention, unsure of what to do with something she doesn't think she's ever had before.
"Um—Did—Or, do you want m-my pillow?" she asked, blindly reaching for the little plush fit between her body and the sidewall.
At the sound of her voice, Mr. Styles seemed to realize what exactly he was doing and who he was glazing over with his eyes. He shook his head then, curls peeking out from underneath his beanie.
"No, thank you," he mumbled, reaching into his hoodie pocket to pull out a pair of headphones.
That was all his attention that she was granted until his headphones were plugged into his ears and she was alone again in her row.
"And finally, on drums, Sarah Jones!"
(Y/N) was blown away as the area erupted into cheers she was sure could rival the screams that sounded when Mr. Styles first appeared on stage. She watched on from the mouth of the backstage area, her boss at her side with a drink in hand, as Mr. Styles reveled in the screaming and yelling, a bright dimpled smile on his face. If not for the fact she was technically there in a professional sense and this was only the second show she'd had the privilege of watching, she would have joined in and screamed and cheered for the band that was being introduced. (After getting a chance to meet every moving part of his touring band as well as watching them perform, she very much so understood the enthusiasm offered to these characters).
It was when Mr. Styles joined in on the fanfare, pumping his fist and making a noise that sounded like he was barking along with the crowd that she couldn't hold back her laughter. The layered fringe hanging from his jacket glittered in the light, matching the sheen of sweat that covered his shirtless body. He threw his head back with a bright laugh she almost wished he had the microphone held to his mouth for, just so she could hear what his joy sounded like.
Even just this moment alone was something she was sure she was always going to remember, no matter how many times she was going to witness this over and over. Never had she been to a concert that held the same energy as these arenas—and eventually stadiums—she'd visited. She couldn't blame a single person in this room for everything they did to get to this place, every moment of planning, saving, celebrating, and crying. She understood.
Mr. Styles was meant to perform. Even with his brief breaks he spent on movie sets, it was clear why he came back to this space with these people that followed him like honeybees and gave so much love and kindness to him.
She watched as he finished his introductions of the band, launching into another song that had the whole arena moving and dancing. Even without the help of the spotlight and the cameras following his every move, she was sure she wouldn't be able to keep her eyes from him; he commanded the space, with every intention of taking that attention and thriving under it.
Despite the relationship—or lack there of—off stage, (Y/N) couldn't wait to see this almost every night for however many months she had the privilege of standing stage side.
"Call me if you need anything!"
Mr. Azoff shook off (Y/N)'s offer as she started off in the direction of the green room being used as the catering space for the day. A busy morning had ensued, leaving (Y/N) running around trying to find any trace of an adequate wifi connection in the middle of the venue just so she could answer emails and show up to video meetings she was attending on Mr. Azoff's behalf. It wouldn't have been so bad if not for the time differences given the fact she was on a completely different continent than any business she was working with. The stress of it all had her beat before the morning had even touched into the double digits for the day, still with another handful of hours worth of work to get through.
Finally—finally—she had typed away at every email, fielded every phone call, and spaced out the following day's agenda given the lack of a performance crowding Mr. Azoff's schedule. Now, she could sit down and eat before shuttling back to the hotel for a nap—as long as she wasn't needed for anything else, of course.
The catering space wasn't as busy as she sure it had been an hour prior, only a few others lingering about. One of the few happened to be Mr. Styles.
A clip was holding his curls back, a plain t-shirt with a pair of basketball shorts covering his legs revealed he had just finished with a workout before he would shower off and get to his soundcheck. He had his phone in hand as he forked food into his mouth, that intense look on his face that she always seemed to catch on him. His brows were knitted heavily in the middle, shrouding the bright green of his eyes in the shadow of his brow with his jaw tight as he chewed down whatever he had picked over from the table.
(Y/N) flitted her eyes to the rest of the crew littering the space before she was caught by Mr. Styles who seemed to always somehow know when someone had spotted him, even with nothing more than a phone camera. The little whiteboard catering hung above the food table was filled out with the day's menu. The prettily curved words brought a bright smile to (Y/N)'s face when she spotted the forth item down the list.
The catering team's arancini was easily one of (Y/N)'s favorite things she's ever eaten, on this tour or otherwise. She didn't care that it wasn't more than some risotto rice left over from the night before's dinner, repurposed as to minimize waste and turned into a crunchy, cheesy ball with the perfect acidic marinara served alongside it. If she could, she would live off those little pieces by themselves. Hopefully, there were at least a few left for her to devour, even if they were a little cold at this point.
Readying her plate with a small serving of Caesar salad and the lemon baked salmon (Mr. Styles' favorite and top request from what she'd heard), (Y/N) worked down the line until she reached the covered basin that held the arancini she easily dreamt of at least five times since the first bite. Lifting the lid, the fresh scent of bright tomatoes and fragrant oregano filled her senses, the bite of the smell hitting her harder with her empty stomach.
Nothing hit quite as hard on her expectant tummy than the fact she realized only a second too late that there wasn't a single rice ball left in the warmer. A thin layer of remaining sauce was laid along the bottom, but nothing was dropped beside the mushed tomatoes.
Maybe she was being a little dramatic, but (Y/N) felt her shoulders drop at the sight of the empty container. To be fair, she was almost two hours late to serving time, so she couldn't be that surprised that there wasn't any left to spare. Surely, she wasn't the only one obsessed with the parmesan coating on the outside of the sticky rice. She couldn't blame anyone for jumping on the opportunity to take as many as they could while they were there.
(Y/N) replaced the lid, taking her half filled plate to one of the small tables set up in the room. The day began to catch up with her as she sat down. Her morning had been hectic enough to suck the energy out of her bones, now combined with the disappointment of how high she put herself at the mention of her favorite food before finding it all gone. She slumped into her chair, taking out her phone and finally looking at something that wasn't work-related for the first time that day.
Every bite she scooped into her mouth was monotonous as she slipped a pair of earbuds in before screening the missed messages she'd had to ignore for the morning. Music was filtering through her headphones, the perfect distraction to her brain that felt entirely too empty now that she wasn't running at top speed like she had been the second she'd woke up. If not for the texture of each bite she took, she wouldn't know exactly what she was eating with the way she couldn't use even muster the minuscule amount of energy it would take to glance at her fork.
With her eyes glued to her phone as a video now played out on screen, (Y/N) didn't have enough room in her head to keep track of the rest of the room. As much as she prides herself on being a good assistant, especially being so new to this position, she doesn't think she would notice if Mr. Azoff walked in and screamed out her name while banging pots and pans.
That was exactly the reason she didn't notice Mr. Styles approaching her table either.
It wasn't until she noticed a plate being slid onto the table beside her, a hand complete with a tattooed cross and green glittery nails keeping a hold of the lip until she managed to pull an earbud out. Looking up, Mr. Styles still had that tight look on his face, his free hand fidgeting at his side like he was itching to get out of there.
"Yes?" she chirped, assuming he was finally taking her up on her offers to help him as well when she assisted Mr. Azoff.
Watching as Mr. Styles dropped his gaze from hers, (Y/N) had to keep from tipping her head at him. That wasn't like him at all, unable to keep eye contact. From what she knew, that was something he insisted on. She hoped he was okay.
"Um—'M full, but I thought I'd ask if y'wanted any before I threw these away," he said, his voice floating under his breath.
It was then that (Y/N) finally noted what was on his plate, finding a duo of the arancini balls she had been mourning only moments earlier. The same fragrant, acidic sauce laid underneath it along with shreds of parmesan cheese sprinkled atop, the same way she would have plated it. She had to keep herself from drooling at the sight.
"A-Are you sure?"
A beat passed, the green of Mr. Styles' gaze finally meeting hers again. "I thought these were your favorite."
(Y/N) had to stop herself from letting a pinch touch at her brows. "I mean, yeah, they are, b—"
"Then, 'm sure."
The deep vibrato of his voice was more soothing than any note of music she played could ever hope to be, the same voice she'd had the privilege of listening to every night while on the road on the loudspeakers. Despite the giving nature of his tone, underlying softness floating alongside, she knew there wasn't much room to argue. Besides, (Y/N) didn't think she had the strength to say no to his offer with that plate in front of her.
"Thank you, Mr. Styles," she smiled, reaching for the plate as he retracted his grip.
A chaste smile curved his lips, the tip of his nose seemingly blushing red before he gave her a quiet nod of his head. He didn't say anything else before he walked away, leaving her to constitute her two plates of food into one with that warmth in her stomach that could have energized her enough to work another hectic morning. Her only complaint was that she wished he would have sat down with her. She'd even give up his offer of the arancini if that meant he'd sit down beside her and finish his meal.
She didn't see him again until he was leaving the greenroom with a granola bar in hand, one bite already taken out. She had thought he said he was full.
It was with that thought that, shortly after, (Y/N) realized she had never told Mr. Styles what her favorite food was.
"Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday, dear (Y/N), happy birthday to you!"
(Y/N)'s skin felt warm with all eyes on her, a sheet cake in front of her with frosting flowers and twinkling candles stuck through. She didn't know what to do with everyone's eyes on her, twisting in her spot with a shy smile on her lips as the song came to a close. Fluttering her eyes to a close, she blew out the candles while everyone cheered. A wish absently flittered through her head, hoping for happiness to come to everyone in this room with her as they deserved so much after surprising her with a birthday celebration in the middle of an international tour.
"Thank you all, so much," (Y/N) muttered once the room grew quiet, her fingers knotted into a sheepish pile as she swept her gaze across the gathered crowd, "I didn't even realize anyone knew it was my birthday, this really means a lot. Thank you."
All of her new friends, crew and production members for the tour that she had grown close with over the last few weeks, all gave her mixed mutterings of more birthday wishes, that of course they remembered, and they were all more than happy to be a part of this with her. After the show tonight, they all promised to take her out to one of the clubs in town to help her celebrate before they would be off for the next city the following day. Cutting the cake came next, the grouping of crew began to break off as conversations rose in volume in the green room, leaving (Y/N) to soak in the atmosphere as the creamy icing spread over her tongue at first bite.
She truthfully had no idea anyone had been aware of her birthday, let alone have the time to put something like this together. Sure, it wasn't a huge celebration, but the fact a cake had been secured, complete with personalized frosting spelling out her name while on the road, was enough to have her heart hurting from how full it was. Even Mr. Styles had made it, huddling himself in one of the small corners with his arms folded across his chest as he sang along to the birthday song. She was pretty sure he had even been a few minutes late to a fitting for the next slew of tour outfits just so he could be apart of something like this for her.
"Happy birthday, (Y/N)," Mr. Azoff said, coming up behind her with his wife only a few paces behind, both with a plate of cake in hands.
(Y/N)'s features softened immediately as she took him in. "Thank you so much, Mr. Azoff," she started, still disregarding every invitation for her to call him by his first name, "You didn't need to put anything like this together at all. Really, thank you so much."
He would be the only one that might recall her birthday, she figured, coming from her hire paperwork. Besides, they spent enough time together she may have accidentally let it slip out while talking. Mr. Azoff would definitely be the kind of boss that would do something like this for her.
Instead of the humble way he swept away her gratitude she had been expecting, her boss let out a bubbling peal of laughter. Mrs. Azoff matched (Y/N)'s confused expression, knitted brows and all as they looked at him.
"I didn't put this together," he clarified, shaking his head before spearing another bite of cake, "I've been so busy I can't even remember what year it is, let alone the day."
"Oh," (Y/N) sounded, face dropping. "Do you know who it was then? I just want to thank them properly."
A shared look happened between the Azoffs, the missus' blonde brows raising in her husband's direction as if she was wondering the same thing. Mr. Azoff gave her a pointed look, flicking his gaze to (Y/N) for only a moment before he raised a brow. Realization seemed to spring across Mrs. Azoff's face, the kind (Y/N) was hoping she could share in.
"Tell her," Mrs. Azoff mumbled, quiet enough (Y/N) knew she wasn't necessarily meant to hear the command. She watched as Mr. Azoff floundered, his lips pressing into a thin line with wide eyes as if he were pleading with her without words. "Jeffery, I think it would be nice for her to know. He's not going to mind."
Her reasoning seemed to loosen him up some, only enough to have his gaze returning to (Y/N)'s with a small pivot. "Sorry," he told her, excusing the last few moments with a chaste smile on his lips, "Um—It was Harry. He was the one who remembered and put this all together."
(Y/N) had to keep her jaw from dropping at the new information. Her fork was limp in her hand. "Really?"
"Mhm," Mrs. Azoff chirped, "He was the one who came to us, telling us he had everything all planned out, we just needed to be here to surprise you. He did a good job, didn't he?"
The picture of Mr. Styles standing so nonchalant in the corner of the room, singing quietly to the birthday song while she stood in front of the warm glow of the sparkling candles took on a new tint. This had been all of his idea, even the light pink and warm green frosting spelling out her name with petite flowers on the sheet cake had been his idea. The cake itself was even her favorite flavor, something she was doubting was a coincidence.
"Really?" she asked, the question feeling dumb on her tongue but she couldn't help but ask.
"It's all he's been talking about his last couple of days off. He wanted to make sure everyone knew and would be able to come celebrate with you."
Mrs. Azoff's warm smile along with her boss's quiet curl to his lips was all the confirmation (Y/N) needed to know they were being completely serious. They were acting as if they were sharing a secret with her despite the room full of people that were in on it before she was.
"Th-That's really nice of him," she settled on, unsure if there were any real words that could convey just how much the idea of Mr. Styles planning this little surprise made her heart ache. "I'm going to have to tell him thank you when he has a minute."
"I think he'd really like that," Mr. Azoff told her, voice quiet as if he were sharing a tiny secret.
With the way Mrs. Azoff looked at hm after he spoke, (Y/N) wondered if there really was another secret she wasn't privy to.
Screaming cheers filled the SUV the second the door flung open, Mr. Styles piling inside with a towel hung over his shoulder and a bright smile gracing his features. His energy was vibrating off of him in waves, intoxicating the small space of the car as they pulled out of the venue as the curtains closed behind them. (Y/N) never really got to see him this closely after a show, tonight being an occasion that Mr. Azoff and she were to head back to the hotel with him right away in prep for the late night meetings needed before any of them were to be dismissed to bed (Mr. Styles' next album was coming up closer and closer, and labels needed answers if he wanted the vinyl pressings to be done in time).
Tonight, (Y/N) was packed into the backseat of the SUV with Mr. Styles, feeling that bright energy he harnessed on stage settling in like another person sitting between them. He used the towel offered to him by security to wipe off his glistening face, sweat soaking the fabric though he didn't stop smiling.
"Jeff, Jeff," Mr. Styles started, pulling on the neckline of his blueberry embellished top, drawing the fabric away from his skin, "Did you see that back there?"
She watched as her boss let out a small laugh, turning around where he sat in the front passenger seat to face his client. "See what, H?"
The smile that broke out on Mr. Styles' face somehow grew bigger. His breathing was still coming in pants, something (Y/N) wasn't sure was coming from his excitement or the lingering exertion from his stage time. "That girl, she was dressed like a clam and her head was the pearl! I think she had a sign too, but I couldn't see it because every time I looked, she was dancing and I couldn't stop laughing."
"Oh, that's why you could barely finish singing Sushi?" Mr. Azoff pressed, matching Mr. Styles excitement with his own bubbling smile. A small glance was flicked in (Y/N)'s direction, as if she were telling her to get a load of this guy.
"It was so funny, Jeffery," Mr. Styles insisted, the purple leather of his pants squeaking against the seats with the way he couldn't manage to sit still, "It was like there was a bobblehead out there, but with these little legs." Just when Mr. Azoff went to answer, Mr. Styles completely changed with his jaw dropping before he turned to (Y/N) with another layer of excitement brewing in the car. "Wait, (Y/N)! Did you see that girl dressed like a fairy? She was standing with the angel and the sushi roll!"
(Y/N) tried to school her features, keep the surprise off her face at the fact Mr. Styles was acknowledging her—and with a smile too! Attempting to focus on the question at hand, she racked her brain for whoever it was that he was referencing. "Maybe. Were they standing in pit?" she asked, settling into the leather of her seat with Mr. Azoff watching on with a less than neutral expression giving away his own shock.
"Yes, yes," Mr. Styles chattered off, "Towards the exit catwalk! She had on big sparkly wings, and everything!"
"Oh, yeah," (Y/N) perked up, giving him a matching grin, "That was the same costume—"
"—you wore for Halloween!" Mr. Styles cut her off to finish her own sentence, bouncing in his seat in time with the rhythm of the pavement underneath the wheels of the car. "That's why I noticed her! Y'had the same wings, and the dress, and everything, right?"
This time (Y/N) wasn't as smooth to recover at his words. She had been the only one to dress as such for the holiday, and she hadn't thought Mr. Styles had seen her at all in his own rush to be dressed in his own costume and prepping the extra song he was to cover for the occasion. It could have only been twice where she thought he might have seen her, especially as more than a blur that had to run past while doing whatever errands Mr. Azoff needed.
"Y-Yeah," she bubbled off, pretending she didn't stutter in hopes that no one else would notice, "that was my Halloween costume. I didn't realize you noticed."
The curls that flopped over Mr. Styles' forehead added to the boyish sparkle in his eyes as he looked at her, dimples denting his cheeks. "Your's was m'favorite costume."
It was only a second later that Mr. Styles was distracted once more in his adrenaline-fueled post-concert excitement, drawing Mr. Azoff into another bubbling conversation about a moment that happened on stage. (Y/N) was left to settle into her spot, seatbelt tight around her chest as her heart struggled to beat out of its cage.
If he wasn't careful, (Y/N) was going to start thinking he didn't hate her.
(Y/N) sidestepped out of the doorway, allowing Mr. Styles to brush past her in his rush to exit the room she'd just entered. He didn't bother to even make eye contact with her or shoot her an awkward smile she'd become accustomed to. All she caught of him was his strained expression as she bounced into the room, feeling much more awake this morning after the bubbling excitement she felt while riding back to the hotel with Mr. Styles being so happy to talk with her.
That excitement drained as soon as she saw the way he all but flinched at her presence now that the after show adrenaline had worn off. Mr. Azoff seemed just as surprised at the blatant switch as he watched Mr. Styles run off.
"Uh—Good morning, Mr. Azoff," (Y/N) attempted to chirp out.
She could see the way he floundered for words, his eyes flicking between her and Mr. Styles' retreating figure she was forcing herself to keep from glancing at. "(Y/N), I—"
"It's okay, it's okay," she waved him off, doing her best to convince herself with her own excuse, "He's probably still tired from last night, it's okay."
The look on Mr. Azoff's face told her he knew something she didn't. (Y/N) figured it was a secret she didn't want to know.
This had to be the first time (Y/N) had ever seen Mr. Azoff so stressed, especially after setting out on this tour with his favorite client. His hair was a mess with the usual day's worth of stubble on his face now growing into almost a full beard with the way the last few days have come stumbling around him. Near constantly did he have a phone pressed to his ear, preferring to take all of these phone calls as opposed to allowing (Y/N) to take care of them like he had so far in this route.
"We don't know if he's going to be able to make it on this Friday," she heard Mr. Azoff sigh into the receiver, dragging a heavy hand through his hair. Mrs. Azoff looked just as glum as she listened into the conversation from the small couch that was set up in the living space of their hotel room. "I know—we're trying. He's barely been able to get out of bed since he got off stage last night, we haven't started on the road at all."
(Y/N) felt concern spike in her chest at the mention of Mr. Styles' state. She knew he wasn't doing so well after last night, especially with how hard he had to start straining himself towards the end of the show just to hit notes she knew would otherwise be easy for him. What she hadn't known was the fact he didn't have the strength to even get out of bed. She'd hate for him to have caught the same flu that one of the crew members had suffered through just a couple of weeks earlier.
"We don't want to cancel or reschedule anything, yet, no," Mr. Azoff rushed out, sinking into the couch cushion beside his equally as exhausted wife, "We have a few days still, so we'll see if he feels any better by Thursday. If not, I'll call you with options."
It was only moments later that Mr. Azoff hung up the call, looking just as exhausted as he started the call. Seeing as how it was Tuesday, and Mr. Styles had only a few days left to be feeling better in time to even travel for his next show, she could understand his stress.
Before (Y/N) could even offer her services, Mr. Azoff said her name with a lingering exhaustion. "Could you call one of those liquid IV offices, please? And get his doctor on a call; if he needs antibiotics, I want them picked up by the end of the day."
Very few times did Mr. Azoff feel like a boss, always talking to her in gentler tones with requests rather than demands. Not that he was flexing any superiority and unforgiving directions even now, but she knew this was something he needed done thirty minutes ago, but was still willing to accept it being done now.
That was all she needed to hear before she had her phone pressed to her ear. Even if Mr. Styles didn't care for her as much as she may have thought a week ago, she wanted him better just as much as Mr. Azoff did, and not just because of the touring schedule.
How (Y/N) happened to be the only one within the central crew to have been vaccinated for the flu this season, she didn't know, but she didn't mind the added responsibility tied with the booster. Armed with a takeaway container of hot soup, a liter bottle of water, and another round of medication for Mr. Styles, Mr. Azoff sent her off to his hotel room.
Mr. Styles had all but been quarantined since he started exhibiting those early flu symptoms, a medical team having been the ones tending to him the previous couple of days as he apparently worsened into running a fever and getting sick to his stomach. It was into the late hours of the evening that Mr. Azoff finally shooed them off (at his client's request, supposedly. Mr. Styles felt bad to have so many people fussing over him, he had said), and thanked them for everything they did for his client. They were left with the tools and a regiment on the best and fastest way to get Mr. Styles healthy again. She remembered watching Mr. Azoff read over the extensive list left in his care, a humorless laugh leaving his lips and he muttered something about the miracle of this week being one of the longer breaks he had scheduled between shows.
As the crew couldn't afford anyone else getting as sick as Mr. Styles was, (Y/N) was chosen to be the first one to tend to him given the fact she would be the least likely to catch whatever virus he had—and even if she did, they could afford to have her on bed rest for a few days. Mr. Azoff had passed along the printed schedule of his medication times and what foods and fluids would be best to get his system back on track in the remaining forty-eight hours left until a decision would have to be made on whether or not the next show was in jeopardy, and she was on her way.
An apology was ready on her tongue for the second she breached the sanctuary of his hotel room, knowing that she was most likely one of the last people he wanted to see at a time like this. That was the hardest part, she figured. She wasn't afraid of falling ill or seeing him sick, it was knowing just how unwelcome she was going to be in his space, especially since he wouldn't be able to flitter away from her like she knew he was used to. But, that fear was going to have to be shoved into a box in the back of her mind. Mr. Styles wasn't feeling well and needed someone to help him, and that was what she was going to focus on.
After a quiet rap of her knuckles against his hotel room door went expectedly unanswered, (Y/N) pulled for the keycard Mr. Azoff had slipped into the bag of essentials he'd passed off to her. As soon as the handle clicked with a green light blinking, she twisted the knob carefully. A quiet creak whined from the hinges as she entered the dark room.
Mr. Styles' messy bed was empty, the only light coming from the dimly set bedside lamp revealing the creases and folds in the bedding she was sure housekeeping hadn't had a chance to come by and change since he'd been holed up in the space. His luggage was left neatly beside the closet, only a pair of brightly colored socks laid atop the case letting her know it had been touched in the last few days. If not for the fact she knew there was no where else for him to have gone without someone on his team being notified, (Y/N) would have assumed his hotel room to be deserted by the way the air felt stale as she stepped in.
"Mr. Styles? It's (Y/N). I know you probably don't wan—"
Before she could finish her apology for stepping into his space, a gagging noise from the bathroom gave away his position. That was when she noticed the sliver of light leaking from underneath the closed door.
Rolling her lips between her teeth with concern knitting her brows together, (Y/N) abandoned her doctor assembled and boss ordered care package on the bedside table. It was with shaking hands that she gently knocked on the bathroom door.
A groan answered a beat later. "Jeff, I promise 'm going to be alright in a couple of days," Mr. Styles grumbled out, voice deep and sour, "Don't cancel anything, please."
Releasing the hold her teeth had on her bottom lip, (Y/N) sucked in a deep breath. "Actually, it's (Y/N)."
"W-What are y'doing here?" was his stuttered response, raw voice leveling out in volume.
Not quite as biting as she may have expected in a moment like this, but (Y/N) had figured he would ask something of this type. "I'm the only one that's had my flu shot, so Mr. Azoff wanted me to come check on you. Is it alright if I come in?"
"Please, don't." That was the clipped response she had been anticipating, but (Y/N) thought his tone dipped into something more embarrassed than angry.
"Mr. Styles, I have water and food, and the medication you'r—"
Before she could get much further with her explanation, she was cut off by the sound of a guttural noise on the other side of the door. Mr. Styles gagged alone in the bathroom, his panting breaths being cut off only to be replaced with the sound of him getting sick.
As much as (Y/N) wanted to respect his privacy and foster a kinder relationship between the pair of them, there was no way she was going to be able to sit idly by knowing that she could help him when he so clearly needed some support. That was all it took for her to barge into the bathroom, rushing over the tiles to where Mr. Styles was hunched over the toilet.
Focusing herself on him and not what was currently leaving his system, (Y/N) stroked her hand down his back while the other worked on drawing his hair out of his face. A stray clip was fit against the top of his head, a sloppy attempt she was sure he had executed with shaking hands.
"(Y/N), no," he stuttered over her name until she felt a shudder rack his spine, his head being sent back to the toilet bowl as another round of sickness left his body.
She didn't say anything back, knowing not only would it fall on deaf ears, but this wasn't the time to start pleading with him to let her stay. That wasn't up for debate as far as she was concerned; whether he liked it or not, she wasn't going to leave him to be sick all by himself in a hotel room in a country he didn't call home. Nothing sounded more dreadful than that.
Instead, she only shushed him and lead a soothing hand down his spine with her other hand fixing his hair from his face. The strands had lost their curl after a few days without wash, matching the stale texture of his clothes that she was sure he hadn't changed out of in just as long. Having heard about how heavily he prioritized his self-care, especially when touring, she knew he really must feel terrible if he couldn't bring himself to do any of those basic things.
Nonetheless, she stayed a constant, steady presence beside him on the bathroom floor. She tucked baby curls behind his ears, the strands too short to reach clip on the top of his head, and she shushed him with a gentle hand on his back as he emptied his system before being reduced down to dry heaves and gags resulting in nothing more than stolen breath and teary eyes.
"It's okay, Mr. Styles, just breathe," she reminded him as he reached to flush the toilet, his breathing coming in rapid pants through his raw throat.
"Don't call me that," he panted, sitting back on his heels though he still didn't care to turn to face her, "I don't like it when y'call me that."
"Okay, okay," she soothed, the same word having fallen from her lips at least a hundred times at this point, "What do you want me to call you? What do you like better?"
"Jus' H, please. Want y'to talk to me like y'know me."
Her heart just about broke at how pathetic he sounded in that moment, his request just short of a whine given his burned throat. "Okay, I can do that," she agreed with a gentle pat to his back. "I'm going to be right back, alright? I brought you some water for you to sip on."
Before (Y/N) could even get to her feet, Mr. S—Harry—H twisted in his spot and raced to wrap his fingers around her wrists. He kept her from going any further with his manacle-like grip, bloodshot eyes glossy in the low light of the bathroom. "Wait, please. I-I don't want to be alone if I get sick again."
As much as she knew it was against her better judgment to leave the liter of water out in the bedroom, there was no way she could argue against him when he looked at her like that. And, for the first time ever, he was pleading with her to stay with him, not fighting for a way out of her presence. How could she say no to that?
"Okay, I'll stay a few minutes longer, but I need to have you drinking something soon," she reasoned, settling back down onto the tile floor. She crossed her legs underneath her, opting for something more comfortable than the cuffs of her knees digging into the hard floor as she was prepared to sit there for as long as Harry needed her (or until she could convince him of the importance of water right now).
Harry all but deflated with relief at her words, slumping into her arms in a way that had (Y/N) doubting he knew he was doing. Another sign of just how bad he was feeling then—he'd never seek comfort in her like this otherwise. Nonetheless, (Y/N) wrapped her arms around him without question, cushioning her back against the wall of the bathroom behind her while Harry's clumsy limbs found purchase around her. He shuffled up beside her with legs folded underneath him, his bottom on his heels. He was close enough to the toilet incase of an emergency, but his knees still knocked into hers with his arms around her waist, face tucking into the curve of her throat.
"Thank you," he murmured into her neck once he burrowed himself against her skin, his forehead clammy.
"Of course," she told him, her arms around his middle with her palms spanning the planes of his back. "Has it been like this all day?"
"Mhm," he practically whined, his nose scrunching against her skin, "I hate it. I hate being sick. I jus' want to be better already."
(Y/N) held him tighter the second she felt wetness slide over her skin, moreso than the sheen of sweat that covered his forehead. He was crying. That gloss that had lacquered his gaze had overflown, now leaking over her skin and pooling in the line of her collarbones. "I know, H, I know," she crooned to him, forcing herself to stay composed despite how much her heart ached for him then, "I brought stuff for you that's supposed to help you feel better. Do you want to try taking some medicine or drinking some water?"
"I don't think I can keep it down," he told her, voice watery as he spoke, "'M sorry."
"No, don't be sorry, okay?" she gently scolded him, shaking her head as she brought her hand up to card through the length of the curls on the back of his head.
"I jus' want to be better, (Y/N)," he repeated earnestly, a sniffle following right after to match the wiggle of his nose she felt against her skin. She wanted to be endeared at the small touch but that was quickly outweighed by the concern she felt the second another wave of tears washed over her skin, Harry's breathing shifting until she feared he would start sobbing.
"And you will be," she promised, hugging him tighter with her fingers lacing through his hair, "You need to give yourself a little more time, okay? Sleep a little more, and once you're up to it, we'll have you eating and drinking again and you'll be feeling so much better. I promise."
Harry tensed in her arms before could finish his thought. A scramble of limbs ensued then, leaving (Y/N) feeling the absence of his warmth while he hunched over the toilet and threw up the nonexistent contents of his stomach. (Y/N) was behind him in a rush, rubbing his back and cooing to him as he began to dry heave, only bile leaving his system now.
It was (Y/N) this time that flushed the toilet down for him after a few minutes of nothing else triggering his gag reflex, proceeding to gather him back into her arms once he was settled enough to unlock his joints and allow his muscles to go malleable again.
"It's alright, H—"
"See?" he cut her off, voice particularly raw after his latest showing, "'M not getting better, (Y/N). I jus' want to be better and-and play a show and I do-don't want to let anyone down."
"You're not letting anyone down," she cemented, relaxing into the stiff sidewall of the tub as he tucked himself into her warmth one more time with his face in her neck.
"I've heard Jeff talking about cancelling or rescheduling shows," he mumbled, a sniffle following after, "I don't want to do that. S-So many people travel jus' to see me, and 's be-been so long an—"
Harry was cut off by his own crying, the stress of the situation along with the just how awful he felt in that moment catching up to him now that someone was there to listen. His grip on her tightened with his arms around her waist and his face buried in her neck, his chest stuttering with his uneven breaths and squeezes of his sobbing lungs.
All she could do then was hold him against her, as if her hug could keep him from shaking so hard with his heady breaths. Her neck was slick with his tears, the tip of his nose wiggling with every sniffle he sucked in in hopes of regulating his breathing.
"Its okay, H, really," she cooed to him, drawing one of her hands up to the back of his head with her fingertips twirling through the curls, "You need to stop crying, okay? You're only making yourself more sick by crying, you know. Just breathe, alright? It's going to be okay, I promise."
Though it took him a moment, she could feel the way he tried to heed her advice. He fought off the stutter of his sobs, his breathing coming out in shaky pulls with the exhales being long and drawn out over her skin. Her palms soothed down his spine, the length of her nails dragging over his shirt in what she hoped was calming runs.
"Feel a little better now?" she asked once he curated a rhythm of deep breaths and sinking exhales. Though she could feel just the smallest remnants of his tears having seeped against her neck, she didn't feel that dampness growing as opposed to the way it was only a few moments earlier.
"Y-yeah," he mumbled, nodding his head against her neck, "Sorry."
"Don't be sorry, okay?" she told him, parroting her earlier words, "There's nothing to be sorry for. No one likes being sick, and I know you're under a lot of pressure since we're also on the road. It's okay."
A nasally little thank you sounded against her neck along with the brush of his lips being felt against her throat. A small smile touched at the corners of her lips as she felt him relax into her, exhaustion weighing him down now that he wasn't clinging to the edge of the toilet. (Y/N) tentatively laid her cheek on the top of his head, lending him more of her warmth in hopes of holding off another wave of his fever.
Just when she figured he'd fallen asleep, his breathing even with puffs of air fanning over her skin, he pulled his face from her neck. Harry's cheeks were flushed as he looked to her, ruddy and glistening with a sheen of sweat. His eyes were puffy and red, the scleras bloodshot from his crying session. Even his lips were swollen, the same hue as his red-tipped nose.
"Can I have some water?" he asked her pathetically, voice nasally given his clogged sinuses, "And a blanket. 'M really cold."
(Y/N) nodded her head right away, feeling her eyes rounding out as she took him in with pity in her gaze. "I'll be right back, okay?" she told him, brushing stray curls behind his ears.
Harry gave her another sad look, mimicking the nod of her head. "Thank you," he told her before tucking his swollen bottom lip between his teeth.
She made quick work of collecting the liter of water she'd put off to the side along with the knitted blanket that was bundled over the hotel bed. She knew that was something he'd brought from home, an item she'd seem him cart around to every venue and every hotel room to help him feel more at home despite the miles between. Hopefully it would be just what he needed in that moment.
Stepping into the bathroom, Harry was just where she had left him. He was bundled beside the bathtub, his legs now bent in front of him to make himself into a small ball with his arms around his shins. His glossy eyes seemed to widen at the sight of his blanket, completely glancing over the water in her opposing hand in favor of reaching for his token from home.
"Thank you so much," he repeated, grabby hands taking the knitted blanket as soon as she offered it to him.
Despite his aching limbs, the blanket was wrapped around Harry's shoulders in quick succession, the fabric being pulled up to his face with a finger wrapped in the material from underneath absently rubbing against his cheek. He soothed himself enough to have his eyes flutter to a close as (Y/N) settled in beside him, taking her spot against the bathtub wall with her legs criss-crossed underneath her bottom.
"Still want some water?" she asked in a crooned tone, hoping to keep from disturbing him too much from the sweetened state he was falling into.
"Yes, please," he murmured, eyes still closed.
Twisting off the cap of his water, (Y/N) offered it to him with a nudge against his shoulder. Harry begrudgingly untangled his hand from the knit of his blanket, taking the bottle with his eyes opened to only a slit.
"Only take sips, H," she told him as he raised the bottle to his lips, "Any more and it might make you sick again."
"But 'm so thirsty," he whined, brows pinching together in the middle.
"I know, but if you drink too fast it'll make you sick again," she reasoned with him, scooting in closer to him with her arm pressing against his own, "Just sip it for now and if you can keep it all down tonight, you can drink all the water you want."
Heaving a sigh, he gave a nod of his head as he heeded her advice and took small sips from his bottle. (Y/N) kept an eye on him as he drank, watching for any turn of the tide that would garner her helping him back to the toilet bowl. By the time he finally seemed satiated, handing her the bottle in search of the cap to be fixed back on top, he sunk down and lent his cheek against her shoulder. His eyes were shuttered closed once more, his hand working its way back under the knit of his blanket to press the material against his cheek again.
"Tired?" (Y/N) murmured, maneuvering to wrap her arm around his shoulders and cuddle him close.
"Yeah," he said, voice cracking some under the pressure of his raw throat.
"Here," she said, shuffling in her spot to move just far enough away from him to get a whine filtering through his throat. Uncrossing her legs, she unfurled them in front of her with her ankles folding over one another, "Lay down, H, its okay. You can put your head in my lap."
He seemed calmed at the prospect of her only moving so he could more comfortably. With his legs curled against his tummy into a ball, Harry laid his head in her lap, her plush thighs acting as his pillow. "Thank you," he sighed, nasally voice quietly bouncing off the tiles.
"When you wake up we'll take some medicine, okay?" she told him, placing her hands in his hair as she unclipped the sprout she'd made with the strands to card through his curls.
All she earned in response was a quiet okay, leaving him to fall asleep only moments later.
Sinking against the sidewall of the bathtub, (Y/N) let her own eyes close. Cuddling with Mr. Styles was definitely not how she saw this morning going. She was going to have to text Mr. Azoff to let him know not to expect her for the rest of the day.
Humming to acknowledge the call of her name, (Y/N) continued to clean up the little medication station she made up on his bedside table now that each of the pills were in his system. She was going to have to call up for another large water bottle for him now that there was less than a fourth of the liter left. And, probably another serving of hot soup since that had been forgotten hours earlier, going cold.
"'M sorry," Harry said behind her, the warmth of his glossy gaze being pinned on her back.
"You don't need to be sorry, remember?" she said to him, constituting all of his orange and white bottles back into the small pack the medical team had prepared as she gave him a small glance over her shoulder. "No one is upset with you; it's not your fault you're sick, we all know that."
"No," he croaked, shaking his head against the fluffed pillow, "That's not what 'm talking about."
"Oh?" she asked, settling into the nest of bedding she'd made her own since they carted him back to bed after his nap. He hadn't been sick for hours at this point, the main concern shifting to fend off the fever that was sapping his energy and drawing a fog over his brain.
As soon as he saw her close once more, Harry made a move to lay his head in her lap again. It was instinctive at this point to have her hands carding through his hair, pulling the strands from his flushed skin. This time though, Harry looked up at her with his slightly hooded gaze, a touch unfocused despite the fact he'd been awake for the better part of the last hour.
"'M sorry 'm so mean to you," he breathed, a sheen collecting over his eyes as he took her in, "You're taking care of me, and I don't deserve it."
(Y/N) felt like a deer in headlights with his tired gaze on her. This was definitely not how she ever saw this conversation going—if this conversation ever happened, anyway. She floundered for words as she shook her head, distracting him with a particularly drawn out run of her fingers through his curls.
"Don't say that, okay? What you don't deserve, is staying alone in a hotel room while you're sick," she murmured, "But, you don't need to worry about that right now, okay? You don't need to apologize for anything."
To be fair, she never really considered his behavior mean. He avoided her, sure, but he was never blatantly rude to her.
"No, no," he shook his head in her lap, "'M so mean to you 's not fair. I-I barely even talk to you, and you're still taking care of me. 'M sorry, (Y/N)."
"Harry, really, I don't think you're mean, ok—"
"I jus' don't know how to talk to you, (Y/N)," he continued as if he hadn't heard a single word she said, "'S so hard to talk to you, and-and m'brain hurts when I try to think about it."
Canting her head as she gazed down at him, she dropped one of her hands from his hair only to skate over the planes of his face. She traced over the height of his cheekbone, and brushed the length of his lashes before she grazed the bridge of his nose. "It's okay, Harry," she soothed him, watching as his eyes fell closed, "It's okay to be shy. I know Mr. Azoff's last assistant was really close to you, it's fine if we're not there yet. We'll get there someday, right?"
"No," he whined, drawing out the syllable as he peeked his eyes open, "'S not like that—not like with Mallory, (Y/N). I like y'so much that m'brain doesn't work around you. It wasn't like that at all with Mallory—I didn't have a crush on her."
(Y/N) was thankful for the cover of his illness to keep him from fully noticing her reaction to his confession. While it was sweet the way he described his feelings—a crush, he'd said—that had to have been at the very bottom of the list of reasons she would have thought up as to why he behaved the way he did around her. What was she supposed to say to something like that? How was she supposed to take it given the fact that this could be nothing more than one of his delirious ramblings given the state of his fever?
"I can't believe 'm telling you like this," he muttered, eyes fluttered closed in a tight pinch as he turned in her lap. He faced the soft of her tummy, his arms wrapping around her middle as he nosed at the fabric of her top. "I smell like vomit and I haven't washed m'hair for four days, 'm sorry."
A quiet sigh left her lips as she carded her fingers through his hair, the unwashed curls slipping between her fingers. "It's okay, Harry. Don't worry about any of that right now, okay? We can talk about that later, but you need to focus on getting better right?"
"Right," he peeped, voice slowing and dredging deeper into sleep, "And you'll stay with me?"
Her answer was automatic, "Of course. I'll be here to take care of you, I promise."
It was only moments later he was asleep again, face tucked against her tummy while (Y/N) was wide awake.
(YN) woke with a stiff neck to the sound of the shower running, still wrapped up in Harry's bedding though now she had his knitted blanket draped over her form. The side of the bed she had slipped him into once she was too tired to stay awake was now cold, only the impression of his body on the sheets giving away his presence.
Blinking her dry eyes, she tried to get her bearings after the long night she'd had tending to her boss's favorite client, along with every rambling confession he woke up in the middle of the night to share.
He apparently thought her hair was very pretty, wanted to share clothes with her, and thought she had a cute laugh. Though, those were only the confessions she could decipher in his sleepy, nasally voice.
She was still clothed in the outfit she'd donned the morning before, her phone waiting with a handful of texts from Mr. Azoff asking about Mr. Styles' state and if there was anything the pair of them needed now that (Y/N) had taken on the role of nursing him back to health for the time being. She pushed those messages off to the side at the moment, instead trying to untwirl her brain now that she had a moment alone without Mr. Styles' health at the front of her mind.
He liked her, he'd said—he had a crush on her even. That was why he didn't have it in himself to hold a conversation with her, too shy to speak to her without making an ass of himself. The thought made her heart flutter, a fact she couldn't deny especially after she realized the smile on her face when she recalled his exact words.
Despite the fact his kindness didn't always extend to her in the obvious ways, thinking back, she realized the signs were there. He remembered her birthday and put together an impromptu party that he couldn't even properly attend. He remembered her Halloween costume even though he was running around all day, preparing for one of the biggest shows of the year. He paid attention to her; he listened for her favorite foods, favorite colors, favorite books. While he was too shy to talk to her about those things directly, he still went out of his way to find them out and keep them to himself.
It was easier for her since she knew she got this job to send her own feelings packing, out of her head and her heart before she could find herself in trouble with an infatuation with her boss's favorite client and best friend. That fact grew even more important as soon as Harry started behaving the way he did around her, but now that she had that glimmering confession, the tender explanation, it was hard to keep those feelings from marching right back in. All those months that she had to school herself into knocking away the melancholy at the fact that one of her inspirations didn't seem to like her now were turned in a new light, trying to see those same moments from Harry's point of view.
How many times had she thought she felt his eyes on her, only to turn and find him looking the other direction? Had she really been only a second too late to catch his gaze? Every time she had chattered away with a member of the crew or Mr. Azoff himself, with Harry scrolling through his phone distractedly had he really been listening in and collecting information he was too scared to ask for? Or even the times he had dropped his gaze when she met his, the blushing hue to his skin now could be out of sheepish affection and not the need to get away from her as soon as possible.
She hadn't been invisible to him, or even a negative presence in his day-to-day, she was piecing together. He thought of her the same way she thought of him. What a heart-stopping thought.
(Y/N) jumped in her spot, the bedsheets rustling around her denim-clad legs at the sound of Harry's rumbling voice. Dropping back into the moment, she saw him standing just outside the bathroom door, luggage at his feet as he packed away the clothing he would need sent off to be washed before they were on their way to the next destination. A quiet smile was on his lips, a shy shifting to his gaze that kept him from meeting hers. His socked feet dug into the plush carpet on the floor, legs folded over in a pair of heavy black sweats along with a crewneck from his brand that hadn't been released to the public just yet. His hair was damp and dark, finally washed after the few days she was sure it had been bothering him.
"Morning," she chirped back, finding her voice, "How are you feeling?"
"Better," he mused, running a hand through his damp hair, "Finally getting to actually sleep last night helped a lot, I think. I took the medicine y'left on the table, and took a shower and I'm really feeling a lot better."
"Good, that makes me happy. Now, you can sleep all day and actually eat something instead of laying on the bathroom floor." (Y/N) felt proud of herself when she caught sight of the dimples denting his cheeks as he huffed out a quiet laugh.
A beat of silence passed between them as Harry finally dropped the guise of rifling through his bag to face her. Stuffing his hands into the pockets of his sweats, he toed at the ground as he looked at her through the fan of his lashes.
"Um, thanks for taking care of me and everything yesterday, (Y/N)," he drawled, a pinch touching between his brows, "I really, really appreciate it. 'M sure it wasn't easy. My mum says I always get whiny when 'm sick, so..."
"You weren't that bad," she told him with a gentle smile, crossing her legs underneath herself from where she sat on the bed, "I used to babysit when I was in college, and you are definitely not as bad as some of the kids I used to help."
"Great," he laughed with a playful roll of his eyes, "'m not as bad as a child. I'll have to tell my mum, that'll show her."
After the short peals of laughter died down, silence filled in for their voices. Was she supposed to say something? Did he want her to say something? Or was what was said last night meant to stay right there—in the evening hours, in the brain fog that came along with his fever?
"Listen," he said, swallowing hard as he finally met her gaze head on, "'M really sorry about yesterday. I know I said a lot of things, and 'm really sorry if I made y'uncomfortable or anything. I-I don't know why I said any of that, honestly."
Fighting the urge to drop her own gaze as she'd seen him do so many times before, (Y/N) kept herself focused on him, following the small droplets of water that clung to his forehead from his damp curls. "You didn't make me uncomfortable," she said, "But—um—di-did you mean it? What you said? About being shy and everything because of... me?"
Another harsh swallow had his throat bobbing, the green of his eyes disappearing for just a moment as he blinked towards the ceiling before returning. "I mean, yeah. I did mean it. I never wanted to tell y'like that, though, that's for sure. I know y'were being nice, but I definitely did smell like vomit and you're a saint for sitting there and letting me talk like a crazy person all night. I don't even know how you found time to sleep with me constantly bothering you."
"You weren't bothering me," she said, a smile cracking her features now that she realized there was no catch to his confession. There was no reason to quash the happiness filling her chest. "I thought it was really sweet what you were saying to me. It was nice to hear all of that stuff, especially since I was pretty sure you didn't like me just two days ago."
He clenched his eyes shut at her finishing words. "I really am sorry about that, I hope you know," he said with a heady sigh, "I wish I had a better explanation, but really, you jus' make me nervous."
"It's okay," she waved off, shuffling towards the edge of the bed closest to him without much thought, "You make me nervous, too—I get it."
"I do?" he asked, a boyish smile touching at his features while his eyes seemingly sparkled in the low light.
"I mean, yeah," she revealed, a duh tone to her words, "Why do you think it's always so hard for me to talk to you?"
Harry took slow steps towards the edge of the bed, his socked feet dragging through the plush carpet. "But you're always so—," he trailed off, flicking his hands out in front of him with a flourish, "Everywhere, I guess. Talking to everyone and laughing. I don't think I've ever seen y'nervous."
"Well, I don't like everyone else the way I like you, so I don't get nervous like that. It's harder to talk to you when all I want is to say the right thing."
Before she even realized it, Harry was stood right in front of where she was sat on the edge of the bed. He towered over her with warmth radiating from his chest, the heat much more pleasant than the fever he was running the night before, especially when he looked at her so sweetly with his big eyes. It was in slow movements that he brought his hands out and settled them on her wrists, only to trail down to lace his fingers between hers. When she didn't pull away or make any sound of protest, she felt him squeeze her hands.
"I like hearing y'talk. Y'have a pretty voice," he murmured, his voice just a touch deeper than normal given the last week of his life.
"I like your voice too," she beamed up at him, "Why do you think I'm always out there during the shows?"
"Because, Jeff makes you?" he teased, shyly dropping her gaze to where their hands were bundled between them.
(Y/N) shook her head, adjusting her position on the bed to sit with her bottom on her heels and her legs folded underneath her. "I like listening to you sing and talk to everyone. You're amazing on stage. It's my favorite part of being on the road with everyone—getting to see you every night like that."
He keened under her praise, canting his head as he squeezed her hands. Dimples dented his cheeks as he looked to her. "Thank you," he murmured, the blunt ends of his front teeth sinking into his bottom lip once he got his gratitude out.
Looking at him like this, feeling the strength of his hands and the heat of his skin all the while he looked at her so tenderly had (Y/N)'s heart racing. How was this real?"
Dropping her eyes to his lips, the raspberry color just a bit drained from his illness though he wasn't any less appealing. She spoke without thought as her stayed stuck on his mouth, "Can I kiss you?"
She watched as a smile grew on his lips at her words. "I—uh—'M sick, remember?" he protested less than half-heartedly.
"I got my flu shot, remember?"
That was all the convincing it took to have Harry dropping her hands from his, only to then cradle the soft of her cheeks in his hands. His lips slotted against hers in a tender press, allowing her to taste the clean mint of his toothpaste and whatever scented chapstick he'd swiped over his pout. She didn't even have time to think about the fact she was still wearing her clothes from the day before with unbrushed hair and unwashed skin, not with the way he was holding her and pressing into her mouth for more. It was as unhurried of a kiss as it was wanting, making up for the lost time that had been wasted over the past few months.
The contact remained innocent, only sweet presses of their lips growing more and more delicate until Harry pulled away just to press a smattering of kisses against her pout. His actions drew a laugh from her chest, her hands reaching for his shirt as he kissed her smiling mouth.
"We don't have to leave for the venue until tonight, right?" he asked, slightly breathless though he matched her smile tenfold. (Y/N) nodded her head still in his delicate grip, the pad of his thumb sweeping under her eye. "We should probably leave for a little and let housekeeping clean up a little, but 'm still really tired," his gaze flickered over hers, his smile growing that much more at whatever he found in there, "Could we go back to your room? We don't have to do anything"—that had his cheeks blushing—", but I don't want to sleep alone again after this."
That was all (Y/N) needed before she was dragging him down the hall to her hotel room, following right after him into her unused, plush bed. It was instinct at this point the way he cuddled up to her, face in her neck with his nose pressed to her pulse. All she felt was a press of his lips to the curve of her throat before he was asleep again, leaving (Y/N) the time to send Mr. Azoff a message.
Harry was fine, she told him, but he'd probably need another day of rest and looking after. A job she was more than willing to continue to take on. She'd tell him the full story later, she decided, especially after he saw the room service charges for double meals to her room.
I got a request for something like this a super long time ago so thank you to whoever requested for being so patient! thank you so much for reading and sorry for any mistakes! if anyone has any ideas or requests of your own pls pls send them in !
Gala After Gala
Harry didn’t know that one moment with Y/N would change his life.
Word count: 28,920 (no joke)
A/N: hi amores! this has been something i have been working on for months. this is older harry and I can honestly say i've poured my heart into this piece. special mention to @matildashoney who was just an amazing support as i worked on this on and off. thank you for being patient with me friends! 💜
i hope you enjoy, my loves. buckle in, grab your waters and happy reading!
Warnings: slow burn!!!!! (it’s worth it), angst, fluff, smut (female pleasure)
Another gala. Another check to write.
Harry has to remind his assistant to stop accepting these invitations for him. Next time he’ll mail a check out instead. He had finished buttoning his velvet maroon coat as he handed off his keys to the valet for the hotel. The doorman guided him down the entry leading him to the extravagant ballroom.
To no surprise, the venue was decorated beautifully. There seemed to be a common theme of gold and flowers. At every turn, he saw a waiter with a boutonniere in their left pocket. The tablecloth shimmered under the dimmed lights, unlike the usual cheap fabric he saw at other events. For food, appetizers were lined up in the back with small places and forks to the side so one could serve themselves to their liking. Dinner was set to start in an hour once most of the guests arrived.
Harry mingled with a drink in his hand, not bothering to force a smile, he had the displeasure of knowing most of the people in attendance, and he can’t say he’s the biggest fan of them. They all had one thing on their mind: money. None of them cared about the cause for tonight, Harry included. All they were there for was to flaunt their money and see who could donate the most, and by the looks of it, Old man Tommy was looking to take the win by how aggressively he was signing his checkbook.
Dinner went surprisingly well. The music was a classical band that didn’t play pretentious music Harry was used to. They also didn’t play covers of pop songs. It was clear that the band had worked a long time with each other because they created beautiful melodies people could enjoy around conversation but also dancing. He never took part in the dancing, finding it tacky, and for the first time since he started attending gala’s, he was filled to the brim because the food was actually good. He cleaned his plate of the salmon he was offered.
After their meal, he knew he had to mingle, so he found an old friend Mr. Horan who he occasionally saw and invited out for a game of golf. He wouldn’t call him a friend, but he made decent company when Harry reached out. The Irish lad could hold his liquor and his jokes weren’t bad, not that Harry would ever let Niall know.
He wasn’t listening to the conversation around him. They were going on about the growth in their companies, and it was laughable. Not that he’d tell them, he wasn’t in the mood to step on their fragile egos.
“Excuse me, sir?”
Harry turns to find a young-looking waiter holding a tray with a single drink.
“Yes?” Harry asked in a bored tone.
“Lady in the black dress sent you this drink.” He nods at a woman standing at the bar's end in red heels. He couldn’t see the designer, but he knew they had to be expensive with the gloss they had on them. He wasn’t in the mood to be hit on, let alone to be sent a fruity drink. The worker did nothing wrong, so Harry took the glass. He didn’t bother excusing himself, instead making his way over to this woman who would most likely cry or scream at his rejection.
“Why’d you send this to me?” Harry questions as soon as he’s right behind her.
She turns around, a pout on her perfectly stained red lips, “you don't like an amaretto sour?”
Harry does his best not to let his face fall because she’s gorgeous. The dress looked beautiful, hugging all her curves. She was confident. He was sad he didn’t appreciate her backside more. Most women Harry knows wouldn’t dare be caught in a dress this provocative at an occasion like this, but she somehow added a hint of modesty to it with her red shawl that matched her lips perfectly. Although she’s stunning, he’s not falling for any trick of hers.
“Not my taste.”
“Oh,” the frown deepens on her face, “it looked like you weren’t enjoying your drink.”
Harry looks down at the brown liquid, “I ordered this.”
She raises her hand and shrugs. “My mistake. Your mood looked a little sour.”
It irked Harry how she had noticed him and his expressions when this was the first he saw her.
He keeps his eyes on her trying to see if he could get another reaction besides her pouty frown. “It’s the environment.”
“You don’t like Galas,” she states. “It’s an important cause.”
“It’s not that.” Harry takes a sip of the drink she sent him, mistaking it for his tequila. He holds back a reaction knowing she noticed his mistake. “I sometimes wish they asked for a check instead of making me pay a ticket and then donate a check once I’m here.”
“They ask for money and give us little food,” he surprises himself by continuing to talk, not wanting to walk away from her just yet.
“The food offered tonight had large portions.”
“For once,” he scoffs.
“Open bar?” She offers.
“Strange,” he rebuttals.
“But it works.”
Her gaze shifts to someone behind her, and Harry knows she’s about to walk away from him, and he hates that he wants to follow her. She leaves her drink behind, moving around him, getting ready to head to the person seeking her company.
“See you around, Mr. Styles.”
Harry watches her walk away until she gets lost in the crowd. As Harry keeps sipping the drink she ordered for him, there’s one thought swimming around his head.
He had never given her his name, let alone his last name.
For the rest of the night, he had kept an eye on her, seeing as she glided from donor to donor. Everyone laughed with her. She was charming them all. It worked on everyone, even Harry, something he’d never admit to her. As Harry watches her speak with the host of the night, an old family friend comes up to him.
“Styles, where have you been hiding?” Miles asks, a giant grin on his face.
Miles isn’t bothered by his answers; he is already used to Harry’s attitude. “How are you?”
“What are you drinking?”
Harry looks down at the empty glass that once held his second amaretto sour. “Nothing now.”
“Want another of whatever?”
He shakes his head, “good for now, thank you.”
“Why are you still here? I know you do your rounds and leave.”
“Uh…got to know a few people.”
Miles sees that Harry’s gaze hasn’t shifted for a second, and he finds where Harry has been staring for the last few minutes.
He repeats her name over and over, committing it to memory.
“Have you met her?” Miles asked him.
“Only for a moment.” Harry digs for more, “what do you think?
“She’s brilliant. Y/N is an intern for Lifelong Creativity long term but works side jobs with different partners Hope has introduced her to. I can’t tell you exactly what she does, but I know she’s passionate and would talk anyone’s ear off who asks. She’s finishing her degree soon, and everyone wants to snatch her up by the sounds of it. I wouldn’t be surprised if she was already working up on opening her own nonprofit soon.”
“How old did you say she was?”
“Yeah, but it’s clear she knows what she’s doing.”
“You should speak with her. I’m sure she’d love to. She knows every person on the guest list. Seeing as she helped create it.”
Safe to say, Harry was intrigued to learn more about Y/N.
Life moved on. He pushed the college student out of his head and continued on with his life, or so he told himself. When a new invitation arrived the following week for an event taking place at the end of the month, he was quick to get Pearl to RSVP for him.
Now the night has arrived, and he isn’t sure why he’s here.
It’s not to try to get a look at Y/N, not at all hoping to have a longer conversation. He learned her name; it doesn’t mean he wants to use it.
He spots her as soon as he arrives at the bar. She’s wearing a sage green dress with embroidered flowers all around. She’s wearing white heels tied around her calf, and he wants to know how long it took her to get the perfect bow for each foot. Harry soon sees her with another woman with a checkbook in her hand, another familiar face.
Before he can second guess himself, he’s walking towards them.
“Hello, Lucy.” Harry greets her with a charming smile and a kiss on the older woman’s cheek.
“Mr. Styles, always a pleasure.”
“It’s always mine.”
“I was just speaking with Y/N here, thanking her for helping me plan a successful night.” Lucy smiles at Y/N, who squeezes Lucy’s outstretched hand.
“Quite something,” Harry inputs.
“Evening, Mr. Styles.”
He nods at her, “Y/N.”
“Lifelong Creativity is lucky to have her. I’m glad you were able to help out, Y/N.” They all hear Lucy’s name being called from a distance and know she’s about to leave them alone. “Excuse me, will you?”
It now leaves them alone, making Y/N finally look at him. Her lipstick is a soft pink with an added shine of glitter. He wonders if he were to kiss her if it’d stain his lips just the same. He clears his throat, willing the thoughts away.
“You’re an intern,” Harry states.
She doesn’t seem surprised. “Yes, I, uh, graduate soon.”
She smirks because she knows he’s searching for information about her. Y/N shakes her head, “Grad.”
“What’s your job?”
“I work for various nonprofits as well as hospitals. I’m part of their sub-events team.” She shrugs like it’s nothing of importance, but it is.
She’s part of the team that plans events to gain more funding for their organization and programs. She plans events to get people with heavy pockets, like Harry, to fork away thousands for a cause they believe in. Harry had often disregarded Gala invites due to ticket prices, but if his chances to see Y/N increased, he might just come to them all.
Harry does his best to hide how impressed he is with her.
“I’m sure you’ve reached your goal. Emptied all these fools out of their pockets.”
Y/N flashes him a grim smile. “Good day.”
What he said was clearly wrong because what Harry thought would be a long conversation was cut short.
The rest of the night, he never finds a moment alone with her. It’s as if she was dancing around him, having noticed that he was chasing her. It seemed she loved to play, and Harry didn’t like to lose.
Harry needed to pick up his suit from his tailor. He had a date, and this was his good luck suit. He pushed Y/N out of his mind. She was an intern and too young for him. He did not need to think about her or worry about seeing her at another event he attended. He was picking up his burgundy suit that needed fixing. It was made by his dear friend Alessandro. Usually, Alessandro makes alterations, but he was traveling at the moment, and Bartolo was the best. He had been coming to Bartolo long before meeting Alessandro. While his friend always made the most gorgeous suits, he seemed to have gotten his measurements wrong. Not that he minded. Harry liked paying Bartolo a visit, who always told him he needed to settle down with someone. That he wanted to see Harry happy. Harry simply told him it wasn’t the card for him.
He walks in, ready to be greeted by Bartolo, but to his surprise, he sees Y/N seated on a chair facing away from the window with a book in her hand.
She looks up, a slight smile on her face. “Mr. Styles, a pleasure.”
“Just Harry, please.”
She shrugs him off.
“Do you work here, Y/N?” He loves the role of her name off his tongue.
“My friend is an apprentice.”
“Dawn?” Seeing she’s the only other worker here besides Bartolo wasn’t that lucky of a guess.
Y/N, for the first time ever, smiles at him. It’s beautiful. It leaves him breathless. “Yes. Does she work with you too?”
Harry clears his throat, “no, uh, I work with Bartolo.”
He was surprised. Dawn had been working with Bartolo for two years, never had he crossed paths with Y/N. It was strange he found himself meeting her outside of their usual environment of a Gala. Seeing her dressed in a silk midi skirt with a slit going up her leg bundled up in an oversized sweater showcasing her university. The chunky boots on her feet gave her extra height, and Harry wished she’d stand up so he could see where she’d measure to him now. At their first meeting, he didn’t take note, but she noticed how she was a head smaller than him by their second meeting. Today he wondered if she’d be lined up to his lips if she would think of kissing him just like he thought of her.
She hums in response, leaving them in silence. He doesn’t know why but he wants her to keep talking. He wants to hear the softness of her voice fill the room.
“Bello!” Bartolo grins, bringing out his suit in his garment bag. Even that bag was customized with his name stitched in gold thread.
Dawn walks in from the back, a few steps away from Bartolo and Y/N. “Y/N, your dress is ready to try on.”
Y/N follows behind Dawn but calls to him, “see you, Mr. Styles.”
Not a single glance his way. He wanted just one final look, and she didn’t give him that. Harry goes on his way home after paying Bartolo. He goes home with a clouded mind and a heavy heart.
Harry cancels his date that night.
No invites have arrived at his house or office.
It has been over a month, and he waits and waits. Harry has never been so aware of time as he has now. He feels every hour move slower, and he has no idea why. What kind of spell has she set on him that she is all he can think of?
He was tempted to look for her online. He had the power to do it, but he couldn’t break her trust. Harry doesn’t know her well, but he knows she’d hate it if someone looked them up without permission.
A knock on his door breaks him out of these thoughts.
“Mr. Styles,” his temporary assistant Diego, while Pearl was away on maternity leave.
“You said to come in if you received a new invitation.” There, in his employee’s hand, is a gold envelope.
In black ink is his name written on the front of the envelope. He opens it and reads from a close partner of his.
Golden Skies Invites you to join us as we celebrate our 10th anniversary.
Formal Attire - Be ready to dance
Y/N was nervous.
She could remember the last time she had felt her palms sweat and her heart wanting to beat out of her chest. It was when she was interviewing in front of the board the last step to seal her fate if she’d be accepted into the Graduate program of her dreams. Now here, she was nervous for an entirely new reason, this one holding less value to her life, but she knew it had the power to change the course of her life.
As much as Y/N loved the game of chase, she wanted to see if Harry was all talk or serious about pursuing her. Y/N had the confidence to go after what she wanted, and right now, she wanted to ask Harry Styles, CEO of Pleasing, a growing business, their net worth growing by the day.
Today she wore a satin midi slip dress with floral applique and lace trims in a dark shade of pink. An open back with delicate buttons on her lower back. This dress only doubled her confidence. She was ready for tonight.
The team had planned a big night as there would be dancing and a live band, unlike the past gala’s she had attended last month. Guests arrived promptly and quickly took a tour of the venue, many judging it, trying to find anything they felt didn’t hold up to their standards. She didn’t mind; she knew she could never please everyone. As long as she pleased her partners, then she knew she had done a job well done.
Y/N had to will herself to stop staring at the doors as they opened, bringing in familiar and new guests. She was waiting for a green-eyed man who never failed to impress with his custom-made suits from Gucci’s creative director.
“Y/N, sweetie. This is marvelous,” Keaton praises, leaning in to kiss both her cheeks, something she had to grow accustomed to seeing as most of her partners were big on the French greeting.
“Oh, uh, thank you. We’ll have to see how the night goes,” she tells him brushing off the compliment.
“You need to relax. Don’t you have Gracie to worry for you?” Keaton questions.
“Nope,” Keaton cuts her off. “You need a drink in hand. You look smokin’, and everyone needs to see it.”
“I really shouldn’t.”
“As far as I am concerned, your work here is done.” Keaton passes her a glass of champagne he got from the waiters walking around happily offering them to guests. “Now drink.”
She takes a sip and hums, appreciating the bubbly drink. Y/n might not be sure what brand she’s drinking tonight, but she does know that each bottle costs over one hundred dollars, and if Keaton is telling her to enjoy then she will. Plus, a bit of liquor courage was always helpful.
Y/N spends time speaking with Nora and Liam, part of her team. They get lost in conversation, going over how they’re looking forward to the auction in a few weeks that Nora was happy to be part of. She loved getting people to spend money on her, and she seemed to get offers from everyone in the building. Nora returned with the most insane stories, and Y/N was excited for more. Getting lost in conversation, she forgot about the man she was waiting for to make his presence known. He had RSVP’d, and it wasn’t until Liam told her a broody man had his eye on her from across the room.
She knew Harry had arrived and that he had spotted her before she could spot him, not that Harry knew she was looking out for him. Harry stands alone, a champagne flute in his hand. The music was loud, and the dance floor had couples dancing and laughing out loud, enjoying the night. Y/N hoped she’d be joining in on their fun in a few minutes.
As Y/N walked towards Harry, she admired his suit. It was different from the previous ones he had worn. The suit had a subtle black flower print. As she got closer, Harry acted like he didn’t see her coming, choosing to look at the dancing couples. She allowed herself to notice the details in his suit, from the black velvet lapels on his oversized jacket and his trousers hugging his thighs nicely while the bottom gave a nice balance with a flared hem. She really liked the look.
“Mr. Styles,” Y/N greeted
She let his eyes roam over her knowing she looked amazing. This was a borrowed dress, one she would be sad giving back, but it served its purpose. Plus, it wasn’t like she’d have an occasion to wear the dress again, not when all these people would remember.
“Do you dance, Mr. Styles?” Y/N asks as she joins him in, watching couples spin each other around. The music was more lively than the classical she knew he preferred.
“Are you not good at it?”
Harry scoffs, “I’m just not open to doing something intimate with acquaintances.”
“I see.” They stay silent for a few minutes until Y/N decides it’s now or never. “There was something I wanted to ask you.” She tells him, turning away from the dance floor to face him.
Harry gives her no reaction. “Is that so?” She nods. “Well, go ahead.”
She looks behind her, and when she turns back around, she has the most gorgeous smile on her face, not an inch of nerves, not like a few seconds ago, and Harry feels his heart speed up. He wasn’t sure what she would ask, but he might just agree to anything she said if she continued smiling at him.
“I was hoping you’d like to go on a date with me.”
Harry felt his throat closing up. She was asking him out. He didn’t believe it. Why would she want to date him? He wasn’t aware he had managed to make an impression. Harry’s ego is through the roof at the thought of this gorgeous young woman wanting to go out with him, but on the other hand, his brain is telling him he can’t. That she was younger than him, and he had no reason to involve himself with her.
He knows he has been silent for too long as he sees her smile begin to slip. They both know the answer that’s coming.
“No, Y/N. The answer is no,” he forces out in a neutral voice, hoping she couldn’t pick up on the bitterness he felt towards himself for rejecting her.
Y/N did not move an inch. He had expected her smile to fall or for her to ask him to reconsider, but he got none of that. Instead, she tucked away her smile and gave him a slow nod. Her eyes stayed locked with his, and Harry had trouble reading her. It seemed she was unaffected. So he tries again.
“I’m sorry, Y/N.”
She brushes him off, “you don’t go through life without receiving a rejection. You’re not the first, and I’m sure you won’t be the last.”
Except Harry doubted that. Who could ever say no to her? Apparently, he could.
He did nothing as she excused herself, wanting to put as much distance between them as possible. He had no right to be with someone as sweet and young as Y/N. It was fine. He wouldn’t be seeing much of her after tonight.
Harry would think about this interaction for days, beating himself up for saying no, but it was for the best.
At least, that’s what he kept telling himself.
Rejections never came easy.
It wasn’t the first time Y/N got told no, and as she told Harry, it wouldn’t be her last.
Was she disappointed he said no? Absolutely.
Was he out of her league? One hundred percent, and Harry must have known that.
Y/N thought there was something there. She knew who he was. There was a reason she sent him a drink that night. She didn’t ask him out for his connections or because he was crazy rich but because she heard people speak about Harry, a great man. From someone who spends time volunteering at the soup kitchen to donating gifts to hospitals during the holidays. No need to mention the extensive checks he leaves after each gala. Many people are philanthropists or say they are because it’s a write-off or will make them look good, but Harry does it to remember where he came from in that small town in England.
She knew too much about Harry from colleagues and guests but never got to know anything from the man himself, and that is something she’ll regret. Instead of taking the chance to learn from him, she asked him out, and now she’d keep sending invitations to his company while doing her best to avoid him, or at least until she got over the humiliation.
Y/N let herself wallow in pity for only a day. 24 hours is all she gives herself because it’s back to work on Monday. No need to be stuck on something so trivial.
By doing so, she takes herself out to eat. A meal that will always make her smile is dumplings, and she knows just the place. The Dumpling Bar is a favorite place of Y/N’s to dine alone or with her friends. The service is fantastic, never failing to leave her feeling so welcomed and leaving with a full stomach. She always sits in the front, with a nice view of the window facing the small lake it is located by. She treats it as a reward because it is a bit of a drive from her apartment. She wished she lived somewhere closer, but for now, she’ll keep making the drive. The back area is for classier meals, Y/N likes to say, even though they are all eating dumplings. Guests are allowed to have a seat in the backroom for a more intimate dinner.
Upon arrival, Y/N is greeted by Alba, the hostess who, just like her name, reflects the warmest energy she feels every time she sees her.
“Hello beautiful, it’s great seeing you. Table by the window, alright?”
Alba points to the table Y/N had been eyeing since she walked in and eagerly lets her know it’s perfect.
“Danielle will be with you shortly.”
Y/N thanks her. It was not long before Danielle took her order, making small conversation and promising her that her food would be out shortly, and true to her word, Y/N did not have to wait long.
Oh, how she was looking forward to eating until her tummy was full. On a full stomach, she’d be too sleepy to even begin to remember why she was feeling sad.
As Y/N munches on her dumplings, she can’t help but overhears the conversation. Next to her, a couple is sharing dumplings and talking very loudly.
“I told my father that a horse would not make me happy, not when my last one had been a champion. How could I go back to the Hamptons to show my face going from a winning horse to one that would surely be a loser.”
Y/N giggles. Oh, the drama. She enjoys listening to the couple, the boyfriend trying to be supportive and failing.
“Tell your dad to get the best trainer.”
“Chad, you’re not helping. Father is working hard, and I can’t bother him over a coach. Everyone is lousy in the industry now.”
The conversation seems to be going in circles. Y/N enjoys dining alone because she can’t imagine having dinner with someone she does not like. There would be awkward conversation and forced smiles. It’s a big reason she’ll never be on a dating app. Also, it helps that attending so many galas has connected her with many single men, not that any of them have been worth her time.
Y/N was waiting for Danielle to return her card and receipt because she was ready to call it a night. She had a full belly and was craving her bed. She’s humming along to the song being played in the restaurant. She had been trying to think of the song's name, but she’s been coming up blank. The front opens, and she hears Alba’s cheery voice greet them. Curiosity gets the best of Y/N, and she turns her head to the entrance to see who walked in when she sees a man in an emerald suit, the jacket a pinch oversized, and it seems the sleeves were folded in not that anyone would notice, the woman on his arm was gorgeous. It’s clear she dressed up for a night out on the town with how shiny her dress was, maybe even too bright for a fancy dumpling restaurant.
“My date and I have a reservation,” Y/N freezes as she hears the man’s voice. His voice was firm but polite, the English accent thick as he stated his name to Alba’s. He looks around the dining room, and that’s when Y/N looks back down, staring at her used napkin and empty cup that once held her raspberry lemonade.
The hostess nods, “we’ve got the private dining area ready, sir.”
Y/N ducks her head, afraid if he spotted her, he’d give her a look of pity, and she didn’t need that tonight, not when she had seen it when he rejected her. It was no surprise he said no to her. She could never look that elegant on a weekday, let alone a day after a gala where she stayed hours past all the guests. Y/N sits there in orange bell bottoms and a black knitted sweater. She looks lovely, and this is her favorite restaurant. This brought all the feelings back Y/N had thought she had let go of, and honestly, as much as it broke her heart, Y/N knew she wouldn’t be coming back any time soon.
It’s been a month of endless planning and working with Hermanas Unidas, and Y/N was thankful the night was finally here. Tonight would be a bit different, and she was more on edge than ever. There would be an auction in a few hours, and Y/N wanted everything to run smoothly for Julieta, who has always been a good friend to her but today was her boss.
Y/N had raided Sapra’s, her best friend’s closet, once again. She knew she had to buy new clothes for her events, but she loved her best friend’s style and would rather borrow a dress than spend money on a new one. She was wearing a maxi dress with tie straps. Y/N chose it because she had fallen in love with the velvet material, and after trying it on, she felt sexy, not to mention she loved a slit to show off an extra bit of skin.
Sapra made Y/N promise she’d bring it back soon, stating it was her date night dress, and Y/N didn’t bother asking because whatever Sapra and her boyfriend did was not her concern.
The night had been in full swing since the doors opened to the venue. She had managed to blend into the background for most of the event and successfully avoided seeing the guest list for tonight, meaning she got to enjoy life without a care in the world.
After the rejection, she has happily moved on (or so she’s telling herself) Sapra and Atlas took her out on a double date that left her feeling back in her game. Her confidence was doubled, and she was ready to go out and have fun. No reason she had to stop because of one rejection. Although the man she went on a date with did not go well tonight, she’d be speaking with Colin, who had been made partner at Coulson’s Co. He was a family lawyer, and truth be told, Y/N was eating up everything he was telling her.
He was charming and had a deep laugh that sent chills down her spine. He was drinking wine and offered to get Y/N a glass when he saw she had been eyeing it. It’s safe to say Y/N was upset when Julieta’s assistant approached her to say she was needed backstage. Colin promised he’d miss her and looked forward to finding her soon.
Y/N was sure nothing would wipe the smile off her face until Julieta told Y/N why she was needed.
“Part of the auction?” Y/N exclaimed. “You’re joking!”
Julieta grimaced, “Erica called in sick. Always knew she’d flake.”
“Please, mi amor. I really need you. You’re all I have. I can’t do one less, not when I advertised five eligible bachelorettes.”
“Hope they can settle with me,” Y/N mutters.
“Dios, you know I hate when you talk like that. You are a beautiful woman. I’ve never seen confidence like yours, so please bring that Y/N back.” Julieta has done so much for Y/N, and she knows there’s no way she’d say no to her.
“Fine, what will I have to do?”
“It’s a good cause, Y/N, and I’m sure you’ll have a great time. If it’s someone you don’t feel comfortable with, I’ll handle it,” Julieta reassures her.
Y/N relents and allows herself to be dragged to the side of the stage, where four other ladies are lined up.
Here’s to a fun night. She really hoped Colin liked her enough to place a bid on her.
Harry was disappointed, to say the least. He had not caught a glimpse of her all night. He wanted to know what she was wearing, how she had styled her hair, and if she was drinking anything new. Tonight did not have a strict dress code, so he had settled on a simple black custom suit. He paired the suit with a black tank top, and to give it that extra flare, he wore his silver glitter boots.
As he spent the night looking for her, he knew he would not find her. The first time they met was because she wanted them to, and now she was back to blending into the crowd, but he knew he’d find her. He knew it was wrong to want to see her after rejecting her, but she was the only thing on his mind. Harry was never the type to get distracted, but here he is, attending another gala in the hope of getting a single glimpse of Y/N.
Harry knew he would find her, but he didn’t think it’d be by the owner of the organization presenting her onstage as an eligible bachelorette you could bid to take on a date. Harry was prepared to pay the auction no attention, but she always surprised him.
He hadn’t seen her since he said no to her. Harry had rejected her not because he didn’t like her but because he was older. She was still in school, and he was running a billion-dollar company. He had the time and love to give, but he didn’t want to take away anything from her. He had no idea what she wanted out of life, and Harry was sure one date with Y/N and he’d be ready to get down on one knee because he recognized how intelligent and hardworking she was. It was rare that Harry found a person that could challenge him, but Y/N did it without a second thought. He didn’t want her to miss out on life experiences because he was at a different point in his life than her. He wouldn’t do it to her, no matter how much his heart hurt at never getting the chance to get to know her and the taste of her lips.
The bidding was starting, and Harry found himself with a numbered paddle. The number six stared at him, and he knew he would not be putting his hand down until he won that date with her because Harry was sure every person in that room who bid on her would not treat her the way she deserved.
“Good evening, everyone! I am Julieta, as you all already know. Tonight’s auction is slightly different. We always do amazing vacations, but tonight we decided something different. Behind me stand five beautiful women who are very important to this organization and me. So be aware that if you bid on one or more of these women, they will talk your ear off about Hermanas Unidas. Starting off, we have Clarissa.”
Y/N was the last person to be auctioned for the night. He didn’t know why she would do this? It didn’t seem like her, but then again, Harry didn’t really know her did he?
She walked up to Julieta with a beautiful smile on her face. She scanned the audience, and Harry froze, thinking she was searching for him but there in the second row, she locked eyes with a man and offered him a wink. Harry wouldn’t be surprised if she was seeing someone else already. He knew he was feeling green but swallowed it down, for it wasn’t the place to act out on jealousy of someone he had no ownership over.
“Bidding for the angelic Y/N starts at $500.”
Four hands shot up. Harry’s included.
“$1000,” the blonde guy in the second row offered as he was the first hand up.
“Very well. Do I have $1,250?”
Harry was quicker this time, his number up first. Julieta nodded, accepting his bid. He had his eyes locked on Y/N, and the moment she realized it was his number, he saw her take a step back, surprised to see him bidding for her.
She kept a smile, but he knew it was forced now, no longer carefree.
The blonde once again beat Harry, “$3,000.”
Harry rolled his eyes. Is that the best this guy could offer? Harry was ready to lay down all his money if it meant a date with Y/N. The highest bid was for Samantha at $11,000, and the person who bid was her boyfriend, the owner of his family’s business he inherited three years ago.
He decided he’d wait to see how long this guy wanted to play because, for Y/N, he wouldn’t be backing down. “$5000,” Harry countered.
That seemed to get the blonde’s attention as he turned around to get a look at Harry, who only offered him a smirk tempting him to play his game, and by the scrawl the blonde gave Harry, he knew this was now about betting the most for Y/N but also who could prove to have the larger pocket.
“$8,000,” the blonde stood, not even glancing at Y/N anymore.
“$10,000.” Harry has now stepped closer to the stage, not caring that all the attention was on him and his opponent.
“$15,000,” the blonde winced, and it seemed only Harry heard it.
Julieta waited to see if Harry would respond, with one last raise of his paddle, “$30,000.”
The gasps were loud, but Harry didn’t care. His eyes were locked on Y/N’s, who stared at him in disbelief. He had doubled the blonde’s number, and it seemed he was out by the way he shook his head and sat down.
Julieta did not let her surprise show and accepted Harry’s bid, closing the auction with an offer of $30,000 for Y/N to go on a date with him. Harry was proud and shot the blonde man a smug smile as he was guided backstage, as he asked to speak with Julieta when in reality, he went in search of Y/N.
Upon arrival, he found her taking a sip of her red wine for the night. She looked exquisite, not a hair out of place, and her makeup was done to perfection. She shined as the true diamond of the night.
“Y/N,” Harry called out to her softly.
She turned, a frown on her face. “Mr. Styles.”
Harry frowned. He couldn’t detect an ounce of kindness in her voice. “Seems like we have a date,” he joked, wanting to see her smile.
Y/N scoffs, “why did you do it, Mr. Styles?”
“Pardon?” Harry hates how she says his name with so much distaste.
“Why’d you bid on me? It’s clear you have no interest in me.”
Harry wasn’t sure where to go from here because that was the furthest from the truth. He didn’t have to reply because Y/N wasn’t done talking.
“How can you be jealous when you said no when I asked you out?” Harry stays silent. “That’s what it was, right? My attention wasn’t on you anymore, and you didn’t like that. Did flaunting all your money make you feel good?”
“Y/N,” he steps towards her, but she puts her hand up to stop him, and he freezes. “I’m asking you now.”
She frowns, her voice rising. Harry never wished to see her upset, but it’s exactly what he caused. “No, this isn’t you asking.”
Harry sighs. There is no getting through to her. “Come on, Y/N, don’t be difficult.”
It’s clear that was the wrong thing to say because her eyebrows scrunch up, and there’s not a hint of kindness in her eyes, only a blazing fire that he seemed to be the cause of, and he regrets everything he has said to her from the moment he met her.”
“This is how you want to go out,” she points to the number on her chest, displaying her as contestant number five. “Because if so, I’ll take the money, but I won’t go.”
“C’mon, Y/N, give me a shot. That’s all I’m asking for.”
“YOU BOUGHT ME, HARRY!”
Harry winces because he did. He bought a date with her, and some part of him regrets doing this without speaking to her, but it’s too late now.
Julieta comes up behind Y/N and places a hand on her shoulder, “Mr. Styles, thank you for your donation. We will deposit the check the day after your date, you know, for insurance purposes on both ends.”
“Of course, Julieta. I have always been a fan of the work you are all doing.” Harry hopes she doesn’t pick up on the tension between him and Y/N.
“You’re a gem, Mr. Styles.” Julieta shoots him a polite smile before turning her attention to Y/N. “I owe you one, Y/N, but I’m sure you’ll have a great night with this fine gentleman.”
And like that, they’re alone again.
They stand there in silence, waiting for Julieta to turn the corner to return to the party. They don’t want anyone overhearing their conversation. It’s clear they both have a lot more to say.
Harry starts wanting Y/N to know how sorry he is. “Don’t, uh, don’t think of it as a date. Think of it as an apology.”
Y/N rolls her eyes, “an apology I’m forced to accept because you paid for it.”
Harry grimaces. There’s no coming back from this.
“What would your girlfriend think of spending $30 grand on another person?”
There was no girlfriend in his life. It’s been years since he had a partner. There’s only one girl he wishes to make his girlfriend, but he royally screwed that up, so he knows it will never happen.
“No girlfriend, I can assure you.”
“You’re a liar,” Y/N spits out.
“Enough,” Harry rebuttals. “There is no one.”
“I saw you. I won’t date someone else’s boyfriend.”
“Eating dumplings, or I was eating dumplings,” she fumbles. “You walked in with a date. I’m sure you were very cozy in the private room.
Harry’s eyes widened, “Y/N no, it was only a date.”
Hearing it was a date just as much as seeing him with the other woman. It is confirmation enough for Y/N to know there wasn’t another person she’d be hurting if word got out she went out on a date with Harry Styles.
“Please,” Harry begs.
“If I do this, you double the donation,” Y/N counters, and seeing how desperate Harry looked, she knew he’d agree to anything at this moment.
Harry doesn’t even react. He pulls out his checkbook, ready to write the check.
“Make it out to you or the charity,” Harry teases, hoping to ease the tension.
She rolls her eyes, “Hermanas Unidas would be wonderful, thank you.”
“Y/N,” his tone full of defeat
“I’m doing this for Julieta,” Y/N declares.” Not for you.”
“You can get my number from the sheet. All the details for your reward are there.”
Harry watches her pick up her drink and walk away from him, leaving him alone to feel sorry for himself. And he knows he has a lot to make up for if he wants any chance with Y/N.
Y/N has been dreading this day.
It had been a week from the fateful day of the auction where Harry bid $30,000 well, now $60,000 for a date with her. The donation would do wonders, but she had to make it through an afternoon with Harry. Seeing as Harry informed her that it would be something casual but ending with a nice dinner. Y/N had no idea what that meant, but she decided that her brown checkered trousers and an old knitted sweater that always kept her warm would be a safe outfit.
She managed to slip on her shoes as she heard the doorbell ring, perfect timing.
Opening her door, she found Harry smiling, a small bouquet of flowers in his hands. They were a beautiful shade of violet chrysanthemums. Y/N knew these were a rare shade to find, and she tried her best to bite back her smile at the sentiment.
“Hello, Y/N, you look wonderful.”
She nodded but made no move to invite him in.
“Uh, t-these are for you,” he extended his hand, waiting for her to accept them. She was careful to not have his fingers brush against hers, not needing him to add to her nerves.
“I’ll, umm, go put these in water.”
Y/N knows she left him awkwardly hanging outside her apartment, but she was, in a way, inviting him in. She doesn’t want or need to cross that line with him. After setting the flowers on her counter and double-checking that the stove was off, she grabbed her bag and returned to Harry, who looked awkward waiting for her.
As Y/N locks her door and follows behind Harry, she can see that he did mean casual. He’s wearing wide-leg jeans that don’t do much to give him any shape. He paired it with a duck-stitched cardigan that softened his features in a way that his luxurious suits never have.
Harry opened her door, offering a small smile as she slipped into his Bentley; the car couldn’t be more than a few months old by how sleek and cared-for everything looked. Y/N thinks of her Camry, better known as Baymax. The car that got her through undergrad and is still by her side now as she’s getting her master’s. Baymax has seen better days, but from what her father tells her, as long as she continues to care for the car as she has been, she has many years left with Baymax.
Harry's playlist in his car allows her to relax, classical music has always had a calming effect on her, and this time is no different. Harry didn’t try to spark conversation during the ride, and Y/N didn’t want to try either. She could feel the tension rising in the car as he fiddled every few minutes with the radio while Y/N tried to figure out where he was taking her.
It was half an hour until Harry turned up a paved road that led them to a large building, the parking lot full of cars. Y/N sat up straight, trying to figure out where he had brought them, but she’d never driven out this way. It was a hidden area, and the road easily missed when driving down if one isn’t actively searching for it.
They pass a sign that reads, “Sunshine Haven” Y/N wants to say she’s heard the name but can’t pin it at this moment, she’s tempted to take her phone out and google, but something tells her Harry will have an explanation for her. As Harry parks in a spot that reads ‘reserved,’ she unbuckles herself but doesn’t move to get out as she sees Harry has not moved, instead playing with the beaded charm on his key chain.
“Before we go in, I want to say that I did go on a date.” Harry begins, clearly uncomfortable but important enough for him to bring up. “She is not my girlfriend. It was only one date.”
Y/N shrugs, disinterested. It doesn’t matter to her, no more than he does to her right now.
“I asked her out. It was a bad date. That’s all. I don’t even have her number.”
Y/N wishes he hadn’t told her this, that he kept it to himself because it hurts her a lot more than she thought to hear Harry talk about asking another person out. He asked that person out because he was interested in them, while Y/N got a rejection. It’s clear to her now that Harry goes after what he wants, and it’s clearly not her.
“All forgotten,” she tells him with a forced smile and then gets out of the car. Harry follows a few seconds after coming to meet her at her side. Y/N feels the chilly air and is thankful for her sweater because she doesn’t know what Harry has planned, but it doesn’t feel like anything warm is waiting for her.
He begins to walk, and Y/N follows a step behind him. She takes in the beautiful environment growing around her, the trees and shrubs a bright green displaying how much sunlight they must receive daily. Harry stops walking as they reach the welcome center entrance. Y/N sees how fidgety he’s gotten again and knows he has something to share, so she stays silent.
Harry rubs his eyebrow, a tell-sign he’s nervous, “uh, I thought Sunshine Haven Rehabilitation would be a good place to bring you because I’ve seen various causes you’re passionate about, and well, this is one of mine.” He gestures to the entrance, where there’s a bulletin board of all the animals that have been released back into the ocean; on the bottom are sponsors, and listed second to last is none other than H. Styles. His photo icon is of him smiling, that dimple he never seems to show off was on display with a stuffed dolphin in his arms, and it warms Y/N’s stomach in a way she hasn’t felt since she first introduced herself to him.
Y/N knows she has mixed emotions. She can go about this one of two ways: act nonchalant as if her heart didn’t grow three sizes when finding out that Harry brought her to a place that clearly meant so much to him, or embrace the day and see what Harry and this beautiful rehabilitation have to offer.
“Lead the way then, Styles,” Y/N gave him a small smile, hoping to ease his nerves, and the one she got in return managed to call her down as well.
Y/N was ready to get to know the real Harry Styles, even if it didn’t mean anything more to Harry because, at the end of the day, she could make a fantastic friend, which didn’t sound like a bad idea to her. Walking in, a receptionist greets them, asking if they’re here to volunteer or pay for a visit until the lady slips her glasses on and gasps seeing Harry in front of her.
“Young man, you haven’t been here in ages,” she scolds him.
Y/N bites a smile as Harry looks down bashfully. She uses this time to look at the woman’s name tag: Sally.
“Sorry, Sally. I’ve been busy.” Harry wraps her in a hug, and Sally sighs.
“Fine, fine. Go on, I forgot you called in.”
Y/N, not wanting to be rude, moves aside and stretches out her hand. “Sorry, I’m Y/N, a friend of Harry’s. Thank you for having us.”
“Oh, sweetie, aren't you polite.” Sally accepts her hand, giving her a firm shake. “I’d hug you, but this one is known to be jealous.” Sally gestures to Harry, causing Y/N to laugh.
“I know.” Y/N grins at Harry loving the chance to tease him.
“Haha, we’ll be going now.”
“Have fun, dears.”
Harry opens a door, leading them down a long hallway until it shows displays of different areas for each animal in the rehabilitation center. It’s clear how loved this location is, with all volunteers walking around each animal center.
“What are we allowed to do?”
He shrugs, “mainly walk around, feed a seal if we’re lucky.”
She tries to contain her excitement, “are we going to be lucky?”
“We’ll have to see, won’t we.”
Y/N pouts but doesn’t push him. He kind of hoped she would. She lets Harry take the lead in showing her around. A few other school groups are volunteering, and Y/N knows if she were their age, she would have also signed up to volunteer here. Her time in the library was put to good use; she learned how to code and the Dewey decimal system of her town’s library.
She stays silent as Harry tells her about the first section: the sea turtles. Y/N can’t help but take in Harry as he talks about Sunshine Haven with pride; his eyes shine with every new fact he rambles about without looking at any of the information boards displayed. Y/N doesn’t dare interrupt him, letting him guide her. She’s almost tempted to reach for his hand because his strides are more extended than hers, and she always finds herself catching up.
Y/N stops as she sees a sign for the otters. Her eyes shine with delight. She calls his name when she sees him walking away.
“Let’s go there, please.” It’s her first request, and Harry smiles, seeing her waiting for him to say yes and guide them to see the otters, her favorite animal.
“I don’t know, seems busy.” He teases.
She doesn’t stop herself when she reaches for his hand, deciding that she will take him there since he doesn’t seem to want to take her.
“Hurry, Harry. I want to see the otters. Please,” she begs
“Lead the way, love.”
She leads the way to the otters while Harry giggles knowing he’d follow her to the ends of the Earth. Y/N made him feel like a little kid full of happiness and never-ending energy. He wanted to spend every moment with her, and having the day with her would have to be enough for now.
Y/N coos as she catches sight of the otters happily swimming in the cold water. She steps towards the glass waving at the otters, although Y/N and Harry know the otters can’t see her. It doesn’t stop her; if anything, she steps closer, trying to get herself as close to them as possible. She looks like a little kid admiring their favorite animal for the first time.
“Didn’t know you were such a big fan,” Harry tells her as she marvels in awe at the different sea animals.
“Oh, I was certain I would be a marine biologist when I was five.”
Harry laughs, clearly picturing a small Y/N with her wide smile looking at picture books of animals and stating she’d be taking care of them.
“Biology is what happened,” she shutters in disgust. “They made me dissect a frog, and it broke my heart. I thought they were all about helping animals, not studying their insides.”
Y/N feigns tears, “I’ve never recovered.” She lifts her head to flash him a cheeky smile while he shakes his head at her antics.
Harry giggles at her act of sadness, having believed her bit. “You’re trouble.”
She shrugs, “only a few can handle me.”
And Harry knows he would be lucky to say that she’s his.
Dinner is something Harry had been looking forward to all afternoon. He enjoyed walking around Sunshine Haven with Y/N and seeing her relaxed and happy in an environment he loved. Harry led her down some stairs until they were met by a small opening that led them to a large tunnel. Y/N let out a gasp seeing all the fishes swimming all around her. She looked on in awe, not even noticing Harry capturing a photo of the moment.
“That’s a tiger shark,” she breathed out, pointing it out to Harry.
“That’s Tank,” he shares.
“Will she be released soon?” Y/N hears Harry sigh and knows that won’t be the case for Tank. “What happened?”
“They found him young, and his dorsal fin was cut off. Most sharks can survive without it over time, but he was so young that he was seen as prey, not a predator.”
“He isn’t bothered by the other fish?”
Harry guides Y/N to sit down, letting her continue to marvel at the ocean life around her. “We let him roam, then he returns to his own tank. He’s respectful because he isn’t the best hunter, but we’ve seen he loves his space.”
“I’ve always liked sharks. Feel like they’re misunderstood.”
Harry laughs loud and rich, making Y/N smile, knowing she’s the reason he’s laughing. “That’s one way to put it.”
“Come on, they’re a feared animal due to movies or shark bites. There’s a 1 in 7 million chance you’ll get bitten or die from a shark attack. You have a higher chance of getting taken out by the flu.” She tells him as Harry removes the silver food cover to reveal a plate of chili tofu and a rainbow pasta salad.
“You’re right,” he agrees. Harry is constantly in awe around Y/N, finding new ways to be surprised by her, whether it be her beauty or intelligence. “Hope you enjoy the food. I know you mentioned being a fan of tofu.”
“Oh, it smells delicious. Is this from a restaurant nearby?”
Harry ducks his head to hide the blush on his face, “no, uh-I-I made it.”
Y/N widens her eyes in surprise as she takes her first bite. Harry watches as she chews, not looking away from him even when she reaches for her drink.
“Thoughts?” He asks.
She giggles, “it’s amazing.”
Harry tries his best not to look too smug, but he knows he’s failing because his mother always told him the way to someone’s heart was through their stomach, and for her to be a fan of his food means he was a step in the right direction. He wishes he had called his mother more for advice because he knows if he had talked to her about Y/N, he wouldn’t have messed it up so many times.
“Right, Harry. You’ve got to tell me about the time you fell into the waste bins.”
Harry gasps in shock. It’s a story only a few knew around here, “when did Sally have the time to spill these lies?”
Y/N laughs, not at all surprised he was quick to deny the story. “Fine. You can tell me how the dolphins wouldn’t accept your treats.”
“Now, that’s not fair. They’re spilling all my secrets.”
Y/N enjoyed dinner with Harry. He was easy to talk with, never once cutting her off and always having his gaze on her. There wasn’t a moment she thought she had lost him, not even when she rambled on about evaluation reports she had to sit through every few months. She always seemed to do the data cleaning because no one had figured out how to use the template she provided, even with all the lessons she gave each employee.
Harry assured her after dinner that there was no need to clean up, that he had it handled. She agreed and let Harry walk her out, where they got the most gorgeous sunset view behind the trees. Sally waved them goodbye making Y/N promise to come back even if it wasn’t with Harry. Y/N promised she would; she had seen a flyer on the bulletin about rescues they have every other weekend when they open it up for volunteers in training, and Y/N wanted to make time to come out for one of those dates.
The drive home is filled with aimless chatter as Harry tries to learn about Y/N. He’s surprised by how much she’s actually willing to share, but he’s not one to question it. He likes answering her as well. He doesn’t think he’s told someone his favorite cereal choice in years; no one has ever wanted to know something so irrelevant, yet Y/N made his answer feel special. His past girlfriends were into materialistic items, not that Harry minded, but conversations always dulled if they did not involve the newest fashion trends or famous designers.
“I didn’t take you as a Lorde fan,” Y/N tells Harry as she sees him singing along to one of the artist's newer songs.
Harry turns to face her for a moment before turning back to the road, “what did you expect then?”
“Hmmm….you really appreciate Jazz and love any piano piece, so I assumed Joni Mitchell, Carole King, oh, and Van Morrison.”
“Wow! You take me for an oldy, Y/N,” he gasps.
“Tell me I’m wrong.”
He shakes his head, laughing, “can’t do that.”
“Knew it,” she celebrated.
“What about you?” Harry turns the question back to her.
“I want to hear what you think.”
“That’s a lot of pressure,” he tells her honestly.
Harry racks his brain, trying to picture the type of music Y/N would listen to. He’s never really thought about it, but she seems the type to love melancholy songs or love songs that you can’t help but sing at the top of your lungs.
“You’re a Spice Girls fan.”
Y/N laughs fill the car, and Harry wishes he could store it in his memory forever; he knows he’ll never hear another sweeter sound. “Who isn’t, Harry?”
“Fine, you’re a Taylor Swift fan. You love those romance songs, and maybe Lana Del Rey. She’s got that unique voice.”
She takes in his response for a second, “I mean, you’d find them both on my playlists absolutely, but they wouldn't be top five on my Spotify wrapped.”
Harry chuckles, not surprised he was wrong, “well, who is it then?”
Y/N grins, taking Harry’s phone that was sitting on the console. Harry hears her typing away then a familiar beat fills the car, and she is quick to join the lead singer in singing.
“Paramore,” he states.
“Paramore,” she repeats. “They’re amazing,” she shrugs, “I’ve always seen them have fun with their music, and I love that.”
“My friend’s a co-writer with them on their new album,” Harry shares nonchalantly.
“Shut up!” Y/N yells.
“Oh! That’s amazing! Ugh, I’m so jealous. I’ve always aspired to be Hayley Williams.”
Harry has never seen Y/N be more her age than right now as she gushes over a band she loves. He’s always seen her serious and professional, and he likes that side of her, but laidback Y/N is just as sweet. Harry can feel her creeping into his heart.
He’s disappointed when the GPS announces they’re right outside her home. He did not want the date to end. Harry knows he went about everything wrong with Y/N, but he hopes he can get a real chance with her after tonight. Y/N lets him walk her up, his hand on the small of her back. She’s fumbling with her keys stuck in her bag's zipper; he watches on, amused, until she flashes him a slight grin to show she’s got them.
“Thank you for today, Harry.”
“Of course, Y/N.”
Harry cuts her off, having almost forgotten an essential part of tonight, “forgot to hand you the check.” He chuckles, reaches into his coat, and slips out a folded check. He didn’t see Y/N’s face fall as if finally remembering the reason she went on the date tonight.
Y/N looks down at the check and knows that as meaningful as the date was for her, it was still a debt to be paid.
Harry doesn’t know what happened in a matter of seconds, but he doesn’t want the night to end on a heavy note, so he shares something weighing heavy on his chest. “I like you, Y/N,” he breathes out. He doesn’t let her answer. “I'll see you soon.”
Y/N watches Harry walk away, leaving her more confused than ever.
Harry was shopping for a gift. It was his niece’s birthday in a few days, and he knew that at eight, Abigail had become a big reader, what better gift than a few of his favorite books, as well as a year membership that allows her to get a new book each week. He was browsing a shelf when he froze, seeing someone at the end of the aisle reading a book. He didn’t expect to see Y/N so soon. She looked beautiful. Her hair was in a ponytail, a ribbon holding it all together. It seemed fitting for her. He didn’t expect to see her so soon after their date.
He didn’t know what to say or if he should say anything at all. It’s clear the date went well, at least to him, but when they said goodbye, he felt a shift. It was awful to realize, but Harry was nervous about approaching her. He wished he had a percent of confidence like he did going into corporate meetings, where he always owned the room the second he walked in. Yet, ten seconds in the presence of Y/N, he feels nervous and forgets every word in the English language.
After finally deciding not to approach her and instead head straight to the register, Y/N tucks the book under her arm and turns to find Harry right in front of her. He sees the surprise settle on her face, and he knows he needs to leave. Abigail’s presents can wait. He pretended he didn’t see Y/N and acted like it didn't break his heart to see her smile fall. Instead, he walked right past her like he wasn't hurting her or himself. He knew he was ruining his chances with Y/N, romantic and platonic.
Y/N stood in her spot, frozen. Harry brushed past her like they had not gone out on a “date” two nights ago. As if he didn’t tell her he wanted it to be an actual date that he “liked” her. It was a bunch of bullshit to toy with her feelings, but Y/N has decided she’s had enough. There will be a gala this coming weekend, and she’s decided he no longer deserves a minute of her time.
Harry was uneasy, arriving at the gala tonight. He hoped to find Y/N immediately because how they last saw each other left a bad taste in his mouth. He was done with these games. He didn’t care about anything else, not when all he wanted was Y/N, but first, he owed her an apology.
He spotted Y/N right away. He had come to learn that where the conversation was loud and joyful, that is where he would find her. She seemed to be the shining light of every event, as everyone who spoke to her always left with a dazed smile. It’s as if she bewitched them, and Harry knows he’s fallen under her spell as well, and he never wants it to end.
He could see she was guiding a conversation with ease. He took the time to admire her dress; her gowns never failed to leave him breathless, as if each one was perfectly made just for her. Tonight she wore a prune midi dress with a crew neckline and what Harry recognized as cap sleeves. The button detailing falls off-center, allowing the dress to give more shapes to areas of desire. The slit on her dress seemed to lie higher than other dresses he’s seen her wear, and he wished he was lucky enough to know what she had under.
Harry joins the group, pardoning for the interruption and addressing the group before letting his gaze rest on Y/N, who he sees standing close to the gentleman next to her. After a few seconds of staring at her, he can see where her arm is hooked in the crook of the man next to her.
He does his best to hide the shock. Seeing her at an event with someone else, let alone another man, doesn't feel real.
She always came alone.
Now here she was, smiling brightly with the man laughing at each joke she told.
“Mr. Styles,” she’s grinning, and it hurts to know he’s back to that formal name, no longer Harry. The reason she’s happy is because of the gentleman she’s proudly showing off by having him at her arm.
“Y/N,” his voice was low and defeated.
“Excuse me, will you–” he interrupts before she can introduce her date. He was a fool for thinking he had a chance; he rejected her and bought a date. For fuck’s sake, he really screwed everything up. He heads to the bar hoping to drink away the time.
Y/N isn’t one to allow someone to walk all over her, but it seemed there always was an exemption to the rule, and for her, it was Harry Styles. He’s been insufferable from the moment she introduced herself to him, but she found him charming. She took a shot, and it didn’t land. That was fine. Their date was good but nothing more, not when it wasn’t real.
Tonight when she wanted to present Mr. Styles to her brother-in-law, Isaac, he didn’t give her a chance to speak. He was a real piece of work. As much as she didn’t want to believe all the rumors she was starting to hear about Mr. Styles, they were getting harder to deny, especially when he brushed her aside in almost every meeting they had.
“You alright, Y/N?” Isaac asks, escorting her away from two fellow donors who promised a check of $20,000 and over to the open bar on the other side of the room.
Y/N sighs. There’s no point in lying. “That’s Harry,” she muttered.
Isaac gasps, “no, the handsome guy who glared at me from the moment he walked in and saw you at my side.”
“The very one.” She doesn’t seem to pick up on the last bit of his sentence.
“He’s handsome,” Isaac states.
“And he knows it.”
“I thought you said he wasn’t a douche,” Isaac questions her, confused. “Or Matias said he hadn’t been.”
“You both gossip too much,” Y/N accepts the whiskey he hands her and takes a sip before hammering it all back.
“Taking it back to the old days, I see,” he teases.
“Piss off. You and my brother did much worse, if I recall.”
Isaac scoffs, “Matias and I were the perfect children. Don’t care what you say.”
“Your mother’s front door says otherwise,” Y/N reminds him.
“That’s not fair. You and Sapra took the car up to Bristol for the weekend.”
“With permission,” you remind him.
He scoffs, accepting anything whiskey from the bartender. “How have you two always been the favorites?”
“Because we didn’t fall in love with each other.”
“You’re a wanker!” Isaac nudges her side, careful to not spill her second drink.
Y/N laughs, leaning her head onto her brother-in-law's shoulder. She always has the best time with him. It’s the reason she asked him to come with her tonight, also because her brother asked for her help to get him out of the house to allow him to bring in and hide Isaac’s birthday gifts that he somehow always managed to find each year.
Isaac helps Y/N work the room. She had forgotten how much fun it was to hang out with Isaac. He seemed to always be a package deal with her brother, not that she minded but spending time with him reminded her how much he always made her laugh.
“He’s watched you all night,” Isaac informs her after returning with a new drink from the bar Y/N, having walked away from Daniel, a cold stone CEO who turned into a giant teddy bear promising a check of $10,000 after a five-minute conversation with Y/N.
Y/N shrugs him off, “I’m over it.”
Y/N scoffs, “I am.”
“You want to be under him, not over him,” Isaac tells her, not at all falling for her charade.
“But he’s been a dick.”
“I think he’s intimated.”
“Of?” Y/N questions.
“You, dummy.” Isaac gestures to Harry, who’s standing next to a few other men clearly in charge of the conversation, but he doesn’t seem to care because he glances at her every few minutes. “He’s probably never met a woman who’s asked him out to get to know him. Maybe he thought you were only trying to sleep with him.”
What Isaac is saying makes no sense to her, but maybe he has a point. Maybe Harry didn’t know her intentions, and that’s why he told her no, it doesn’t explain his other actions, but it is a start.
“Enough.” She’s tired of discussing Harry and would rather head home now before Harry gains the courage to approach her. “ I’m going to the restroom, and you’re getting my coat. I know a good place to eat.”
“You paying?” Isaac teases.
“Yes, you little diva.”
Isaac presses a loud kiss to her cheek, sending her off with a slap to her ass, “off you go.”
Y/N rolls her eyes at his dramatics but goes off to do her business. She was feeling hungry tonight. Leaving the restroom, Y/N bumps into someone waiting right outside. She laughs as the person helps her straighten out.
“Haha, sorry there.” She really should be more careful.
Y/N freezes. Of course, it’s him.
“All good,” she assures Harry.
She stands there awkwardly, waiting to see if he would say anything, but he stays silent.
“If you’ll excuse me,” she moves past him.
She looks at him expectantly.
He sighs, and he runs his hand through his hair, a tell sign he’s nervous. “I’m sorry. I shouldn't have ignored you. I was having a bad day and didn’t want to bother you.”
“Wasn’t so hard, huh, to let someone know you see them but didn’t have time to talk.”
He shakes his head, “not at all.”
“I’m sorry. I can’t say it enough.”
Y/N shrugs. “Well, it’s done, I guess. We don’t owe each other anything.”
Harry deserves her hesitancy. He hasn’t been good to her, but he misses seeing her smile and laugh at his awful jokes.
“Ready to go home, babes?” Isaac calls from behind Harry, holding up her coat.
She holds back a smile shaking her head at Isaac, who has a Cheshire grin. Harry looks at her like he wants her to say no, that she’ll stay with him, but she’s had enough of his games.
“Good night, Mr. Styles.”
“Y/N,” he reaches for her hand but stops. They both stare at his arm, having stopped inches from touching her until he drops it back to his side.
Harry nods as he watches another man drape her coat around her, then place a hand on the small of her back and guide her out.
He really had no chance now.
Y/N loved ice cream.
When she was younger, her parents loved taking her out for ice cream after any kind of academic achievement, wanting to shower her with praise just as much as they did her brother, a star athlete. She loved coming because she got to pick a new flavor each week and also how they found out she was allergic to pistachio.
Growing up close in age, many thought she and Matias would not get along, but that was not the case being the younger sister allowed her to see her brother in a guiding light. She loved following after him at least she did until he pushed her down the last few steps of stairs for breaking his favorite crayon. He broke her arm, which she was allowed to hold over his head forever.
He was the reason she had to learn to write with her left hand. Their parents thought they would hate each other after that fight, but it only brought them closer together. Matias realized how fragile his sister was and vowed never to hurt her or anyone again. It's why he became a swimmer. No actual harm would come to him or anyone while Y/N gained the strength to stand up for herself, not wanting to be seen as weak.
As much as Matias denies it, his heart broke when Y/N met Sapra, her best friend, because it meant he was losing her as his best friend, something he’d never dare tell her. Sapra walking into Y/N’s life was amazing because it made her glad she had a brother because it meant she could have Sapra as the sister she never had. From the day they partnered in English for a project, Sapra being the new student and Y/N the star student, they did not go a day without each other. They became part of each other’s families and officially became sisters thanks to the help of their brother by falling in love and getting married. Now here she was for her weekly ice cream date with Sapra.
“He didn’t!” Sapra gasps as Y/N explains how Isaac cut off Harry and escorted her out like a true gentleman.
Y/N nods, licking her caramel vanilla ice cream. “Yup, he looked like a kicked puppy.”
“Oh, that’s devastating.”
“I thought you liked him.”
She shrugs, “he’s all mixed signals. I ask him out, and he says no. I’m auctioned as a date he buys me. The next time I see him, he ignores me.”
“Maybe he didn’t see you.”
Y/N gives her a deadpan look. “We stopped right in front of each other. Had a book in hand, and he had a coffee. I waved, gave him a smile, and took a step towards him, and he stared past me and then walked past me.”
“Right…” Sapra realized there was no bright side to her situation.
“I seriously don’t get his problem. If this man says he’s doing all that because he likes me, I’ll call bullshit.”
Sapra sighs, “maybe he likes you but doesn’t like how forward you are. Maybe he’s into sweet innocent girls.”
“Ugh, this is why I don’t date. I seriously thought he’d be mature for being older. Seems all that money has clogged his brain.”
Y/N watches as her best friend laughs.
“Speak of the devil,” Sapra gestures behind Y/N, and she does her best to bite back a groan.
“Noooo,” she groans. “This is my favorite shop.”
Harry notices Sapra staring at him and shoots her a polite smile. “He saw me.”
“He doesn’t know you.”
They decide to ignore him, and it works. Sapra finished her ice cream, and Y/N excused herself to the restroom claiming they had a few more stops before ending their day together. Y/N returns from the bathroom just in time to see Harry standing in front of Sapra, a cup of ice cream in his hand. As she gets closer, she meets Sapra’s eyes which are telling her to stop, but she doesn’t listen, able to catch Harry’s final words.
“--love to take you on a date.”
She’s not sure what to feel. Instead, she doesn’t let an inch of emotion show as she says excuse me taking her seat in front of Sapra again. Y/N sees the exact moment Harry’s face falls as he recognizes her. Then back to Sapra, the person she told him about on their so-called date.
“Y/N,” he breathed out.
“Mr. Styles,” she addressed him coldly. “See, you met my best friend, Sapra. We’ve spoken about her.”
He clears his throat, evident in the growing tension. Y/N’s expressions stay neutral while Sapra looks at Y/N, smirking.
“Well, Mr. Styles, as flattered as I am. The answer is going to be no.” Sapra shrugs, no longer meeting his eyes.
Harry fidgets with his rings, his discomfort apparent, “no, I understand.”
“Heard you met my brother. He’s a real charmer.” Sapra tells him.
“At the gala,” Sapra reminds him. “He was Y/N’s date. Think they make a great pair.”
Harry frowns, feeling his skin itch.
Y/n decides to end his suffering. “Isaac is Matias’ husband. My brother, I told you about him.”
“The older brother who painted your mum's wagon pink,” he checks to confirm.
“The very one.”
“Have a nice day,” Sapra tells him harshly, cutting off the conversation from going any further.
“Good day.” Not an ounce of confidence in his walk. If anything, Y/N thought he looked sad.
Both girls watched him walk away until he was outside and in his car. Y/N isn’t sure what to say, but she can’t say she blames Harry. All through their time in school together, Sapra was the person all the boys asked out. While Y/N was the person, they went to for advice, not that she ever helped them. It wasn’t until she was at university did she realize she didn’t care what others thought. Y/N started working on her self-confidence, and she blossomed. When she first asked a boy in her English class, and he said yes, she felt empowered. She took that energy and put it into her work ethic. It’s why she’s so successful today. She will admit it hurt seeing Harry ask out her best friend, but it also helps put things into perspective that Harry Styles might not be the man she thought he was.
Harry is an idiot.
He has one girl on his mind, and to take his mind off her, he asks another out, only for it to be her friend, her best friend of all people. He really screwed this one up.
“You haven’t called me in a while,” Harry’s friend Mitch says as he sips his bourbon.
“I’ve been busy,” Harry mutters.
The two men sit in silence. It’s something they have always done. They are not ones to express their feelings unless they need to.
“What shit did you do now?” Mitch asks as he sees Harry pour his third cup of bourbon.
“Shit, Mitch. You don’t beat around the bush, do you?” Mitch gives him a pointed look, and Harry relents. “There’s this girl.”
“That’s a first.”
“As I was saying, she—she’s beautiful. And so god damn out of my league, I don’t know what to do with myself. I’m fucking 33, and she has me acting like a teenager.”
“Ask her out, simple as that.”
Harry laughs bitterly. “No, Mitch, it isn’t. See, she asked me out, and I said no.”
Mitch winces, “ouch. Bruised her ego.”
“No, that's the thing. She acted unbothered and treated me with respect after.”
He knows he’ll regret that rejection for the rest of his life.
“What were you expecting? A drink in the face.”
He shakes his head, “course not.”
“Why is she a problem if you rejected her?” Mitch emphasizes.
“Because every time I see her, I feel my heart wanting to beat out of my chest. I see her speaking with another man too close, and I get jealous. Hell, I bet on an auction date with her, but I fucked it over by ignoring her the next time I saw her. And today, I was finally working up the chance to go out on a date to get her out of my head, and the person I asked out turned out to be her best friend, and she was right there.” Harry slumped back against his chair, bourbon now forgotten.
Mitch grimaces, “that doesn’t sound great.”
“It’s all shit.”
“Backtrack. Why did you reject her?”
Harry groans because he’d been a fool to say no. He thought he was too old for her or that she was looking for some fun in the sheets, and he wouldn’t disrespect her like that, not when he admired her. “She’s young.”
“No, you dick.” Harry spits out harshly. “She’s in graduate school. She’s in her twenties.”
Mitch sits back on the couch, frowning.
“Spit it out.”
“It seems you made a mess of things for no reason.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well,” Mitch takes a sip of his drink, getting all his thoughts together. “She asked you out, meaning you didn’t seek her out. If I recall, you said she knew your name.” Harry nods, and Mitch continues. “It means she was aware of your age difference. She had an idea of her chances being slim to none to you saying yes. She came in with the upper hand, but you carried the power with your response. You’re going about your feelings all wrong. If you’re not going to treat her like she knows she deserves, then leave her alone.”
Once Mitch had laid it all flat for Harry, he could see that Mitch had a point. She knew what she wanted from the moment they met, which intimated Harry for some reason. She sent him the drink, asked him out, and reached out while he hid and avoided. She held herself with grace and respect, and that somehow intimated him.
He wanted a chance with Y/N to prove to her he could be a gentleman, and he valued her time and respected her. He just had to find the right opportunity. His eyes flickered to the ripped invitation on his desk. An invitation to a Masquerade Ball in two weeks to support Global Warming. He knew who would be there. It was the perfect time to apologize and ask for a date, a real one this time.
Y/N hated being sick.
From a young age, she threw the biggest fuss when she would fall in and had to miss school. She told her parents that missing out on learning would ruin her life when she didn’t want her friends to forget her for the days she was gone. Given that when she would go back, she received big hugs; clearly, she was not forgotten.
Now, as an adult or graduate student living alone in her small but entirely her own apartment, she didn’t like to be sick, not when she had to work or had events to attend. Thankfully, Y/N’s work has always been flexible and has health benefits, so she can take the day off. The sad news is that there’s a gala, not one of hers this time, that she promised she’d attend with Sapra. The theme was masquerade, and Sapra had worked on her mask for ages wanting to stand out during the night, and Y/N couldn’t bear to disappoint her. Sapra had been looking forward to this night for ages, even writing it with a pen in her calendar, and she never did that in case plans changed. Y/N felt horrible, but thankfully Sapra was super understanding, and their good friend Dawn was able to come in and save the day. With the promise to send Y/N lots of pictures, they left her with soup and crackers to last her the next few days while she began to feel better.
Harry had been counting down the days to see her. He hoped he was able to spot her among all the people tonight because if not, he’d be asking every person in the room to remove their masks until he found her. He had decided on a gold mask with intricate black designs all around. His dear friend Alessandro took his time with it. He knew he’d take it back to his friend after it was too much of a delicate piece to keep for himself. He knew he would have no use for it after. His suit tonight was velvet, a deep black that held a shimmer in the right kind of lighting. Harry loved the little details in outfits, and he couldn’t wait to notice each one of Y/N’s tonight.
He must have walked around three times and nothing. Not a single citing of her. Harry decides to stop at the bar when a woman in a gorgeous red gown drops her mask, and Harry gasps. It was not Y/N; it was her best friend, Sapra. That meant Y/N had to be around here somewhere.
“Good evening, Sapra.” Harry interrupts her conversation with the short woman next to her. She’s in a yellow gown, one that reminds him of Kate Hudson’s in her iconic role in How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days. He recognizes her as Bartolo’s worker in the shop. He hadn’t been there since Alessandro came back from his trip. “And Dawn, it’s nice to see you again.”
Dawn flashes him a smile. “You as well, Harry. Bartolo misses you. Says no one comes in to challenge him like you did.”
Harry nods, “I’ll have to visit soon, then.” Sapra elbows Dawn as if reminding her they weren’t team Harry. He notices, and before giving them a chance to make their exit, he asks the question that’s been sitting on the tip of his tongue. “Where’s Y/N?”
Sapra and Dawn share a look before turning back to Harry, matching frowns on their faces. “Girl code, Mr. Styles,” Sapra tells him, voice full of distaste.
“Please, I know I don’t deserve it, but I want to speak with her,” he begs.
Dawn takes pity, having heard Harry bare his heart to Bartolo when he came in for a suit fitting about how nervous Y/N made him and that his confidence seemed to vanish around her. She thought it was a step in the right direction to ask them about Y/N despite his first meeting with Sapra.
“She’s sick,” Dawn shares, not caring that Sapra will give her shit for it later.
He frowns. She’s sick, and she’s alone. That doesn’t sound like a good evening. “Will she answer if I go?”
“You’re kidding?” Sapra asks.
Harry shakes his head, “please, I only came tonight in hopes of seeing her.”
Sapra turns around at the bar to speak with the bartender, and he gives her a napkin and a pen. She clicks the pen and turns around, handing it to Harry. He didn’t tell them he knew where she lived.
“She tells me you said something dumb, and I’ll make sure to burn your empire to the ground,” Sapra promises. Dawn whispers for her to cool it, but Harry understands where she’s coming from.
“Do you know when that restaurant closes down the block from her house? She told me she really likes their soup there.”
Sapra shared a look with Dawn. Yeah, it seemed that Harry had some feelings to sort through.
Harry takes a deep breath. He isn’t sure if she’ll let him in or even want to see him. If it were him, he’d take one look and slam the door shut. Well, he won’t know until he finds out. He knocks two times and takes a step back, allowing himself to look down at her doormat. There is a range of wildflowers displayed, and if Harry’s honest, he has no idea what their names could be. As Harry focuses on anything but the door, he fails to realize it has fallen open.
“Harry?” She whispers, confused.
Harry lifts his head, flashing her a smile. “Hi, how are you?”
She ignores his questions. “How are you here?” Y/N shakes her head. “Don’t answer that. I bet it was Dawn; she’s a softie.”
“Do–Would it be okay if I came in?” He stutters.
Y/N tilts her head and looks his head to toe in his velvet suit, his mask forgotten in his car. She knows this is weird and has a right to kick him out, but he’s carrying a bag, and Y/N can smell the hot vegetable soup she craves when she’s sick.
She moves back, and Harry takes it as a sign to come in. He lets out a sign in relief. While Y/N locks the door, he toes off his shoes, noticing the shoe rack by the door. Y/N thanks him quietly, and he follows after like a lost puppy. She grabs two bowls while Harry begins to unpack the food. He wasn’t sure how much she would like, and Kim, the waitress, suggested two of their largest sizes, and he agreed.
Harry takes the bowl from Y/N and begins to serve her a healthy amount, knowing if she has too much, she could end up puking it all up.
“Thank you, Harry.”
She grabs her bowl and heads to her couch. As she settles in wrapping herself in a blanket, she sets the bowl on her lap. Harry stays frozen in the kitchen, unsure if he’s allowed in her space.
“Are you going to make me eat alone?”
“Sorry?” He breathes out.
“Serve yourself and come sit. You brought me so much soup I’m not going to finish it all on my own”
Harry grabs the second bowl, notices the strawberries, and laughs. He likes getting to see more pieces of Y/N. From her linked shoes at the door, he can tell she’s organized. As he walks further into her living room, he sees a full bookcase with hundreds of books and a little reading nook with a stack of books waiting to be read. He sits at the other end of her couch, sinking into the comfortable cushion; he smiles at her record player and wonders what she last listened to.
“Do you want a blanket?”
He sighs. Y/N’s a sweetheart treating him kindly, accepting him as a guest in her home. “Thank you, but I’m okay.”
They settle into silence, and usually, Harry finds it annoying, always needing a conversation to be going even if he isn’t leading it. However, with Y/N, he relishes the silence because he enjoys her presence. No words are needed.
Y/N ate until she was full, meaning she left her bowl clean, not embarrassed to have Harry see her slurp the last bits of her soup. Harry refilled her water as he placed her rinsed dishes in her dishwasher.
“How was the gala?” She asks after he settles back in his seat.
“Awful,” he answers honestly. It was the truth, he knew Y/N prided herself in the work she did for each event, but he couldn’t lie to her.
Y/N frowns, “good means I didn’t miss anything important.”
He’s surprised she had no hand in the event, but if he thinks about it, each gala he has been in attendance of where Y/N has helped always went without a hitch. He can’t say the same about tonight. “You didn’t plan this event?”
She smiles at his shock. “Not this time. Sapra heard it was a masquerade ball and begged me to get her in. How were the ice sculptures?”
Harry laughs, “melting, a puddle of water all around.”
“Oh, bummer.” She shakes her head, upset she missed it. “They have awful AC in that building.”
Y/N proceeds to tell him about how they reached out, but she’s had a busy schedule, and as much as she loves her job, she’s still only an intern who needs time for her studies and herself.
“Is that why you fell sick? Overworking?” He asks, concerned.
She giggles, “no, I have a healthy work and life balance, thankfully.” Y/N’s phone rings interrupting her. She apologizes as she’s sending off a text before giving her attention back to him. “My neighbor Terry has a one-year-old, and I was babysitting her for the night. We didn’t know she had the sniffles until she woke up colicky from a nap. Turns out their bub was sick; thus, she gave me the bug that took me down.”
“How’s the bub doing?”
“Oh, she’s a fighter. She was not a big crier; she needed a few cuddles and medicine, and she was much better. The thing about babies: they get sick and are better the day after. Their bodies next time around will have now built a strong immune system able to fend it off even better.” Y/N feels her face flush, feeling she shared a bit too much.
Harry sends her a dimpled smile. “My little sister is having a baby in a few months. I think it’s essential to know how to help. Thank you, don’t think parenting books are always so helpful for uncles.”
Y/N can’t hide her grin at Harry’s confession. “Oh, that’s lovely, Harry. Send her my best. I have a link for the best stroller, and I mean the best. It's easy to fold even when she might be on her own. I’ll send it your way.”
Before Harry can thank her, a ding rings loud, and it’s his phone signaling, he’s received her message. “I appreciate it. It’ll make a good gift.”
Her eyes widened, seeing the stroller's price. “Do you need a discount? I got lots of coupons for this website.” She offers.
Harry is surprised she offered. She must know he’s well off. A stroller that costs a few hundred bucks won’t make a dent in his bank account.
“Sent it anyway,” Y/N tells him. “It’s good for six months.”
Y/N grins, happy to be useful even when sick.
Harry takes in her tired eyes and knows he’s taken too much of her time. Instead of letting her rest, he made her stay up when she could have been sleeping.
“I feel like I have overstayed my welcome,” Harry stands up, offering her a sheepish grin.
“No–” she’s cut off by a yawn.
She laughs, rubbing her eye, trying to will the sleep away. “I’m sleepy when I’m sick.”
“Thank you for letting me in.”
“Thanks for the soup,” she counters.
Y/N walks him to the door, the blanket wrapped over her as she tries to keep herself warm. “Will you be alright alone?” He checks, not wanting to leave her alone if she gets worse while sleeping.
She notes his concern, and Y/N knows she can tell him it doesn’t concern him, but he did come out of his way to check on her. “Dawn promised she’s on her way here to give me cuddles. I'm a big baby when I’m sick. Get all clingy.”
Harry can imagine her lying on his chest, blankets up to her neck as he holds her close, rubbing her back. Warm tea and soup at hand to make sure she’s eating. He would love to care for her, but that would be crossing a line. Neither of them were ready for all because of Harry’s stupidity.
“Y/N, before I go, I wanted to apologize. I–It seems every interaction with you, I only seem to leave a bad impression. I genuinely think you’re an amazing person and felt lucky to take you on a date, but after ignoring you, I feel I keep messing everything up. Will–is it okay to call you my friend, or if we can take a step in that direction.”
She knows there’s no possible way they could be friends, not with the chemistry they have together, but Y/N appreciates where he’s coming from.
“Friends it is, Styles.”
“Friends,” he confirms.
And maybe something more.
It had been a month since Harry saw Y/N sick in her apartment. He texted her the morning after, and she promised she was doing better; her headache was gone. She teased him about the soup, saying it was the abundance of soup that cured her. He felt a flutter in his stomach at the fact that Y/N thought he was helpful. God, he was really head over heels for her, but they were friends. Friends that texted and sent photos of things that reminded them of each other (Harry was on the receiving end of most images. He did practice his use of emojis for her).
Y/N was going through exams and focusing on the internal work of her internship, as in paperwork and the hiring process to take her on after graduation. She let him know she was still considering her options, but Y/N knew she would be saying yes because the pay was well above what she went in asking for, and she had a healthy work environment. It made him happy to see how well things were going for her. It made him want to invite her to tour his office. He wanted to see her sit in his office chair as she looked at the view of the city.
Wake and Wonder were holding a gala to raise money for their new NICU ward. Harry was part of the board for this event and knew Y/N would be attending, having heard her name throughout the night from the guests. Over the last few months, Harry began to see the importance of these events and attending, most of the guests were snobby and stuck up, but every person working for their organization cared. They were working hard for others and not for their own gain. Harry might have it easy to write checks, so if he can give back, he will.
Tonight, Harry decided to be a bit bold. He left the velvet suit behind and wore a pink Alexander McQueen suit. A double-breasted jacket featured pink embroidered flowers with green stems and leaves down the front. He paired it with matching wide-leg trousers, a white button-down, and black boots. He felt confident in all his suits, but this one was special. It was the first suit he bought himself when he got his first client that would change his life. He knew it brought him luck, and he needed a bit of that tonight.
Every woman he encountered tonight had on a full-out gown. It seemed they were, for once, following the theme to a t. Harry was nursing an amaretto sour when a glimmer of yellow floated by in the corner of his eye. It seemed he wasn’t the only one whose attention was caught. The person went straight to Alexander, the host for the night. He looked elegant in a black suit with gold embroidery around the jacket sleeves and down the front that connected to look like constellations. His partner wore something similar, opting for a deep blue to bring out his eyes, the gold embroidery found coming up his sleeves ending right below his elbows. Harry knew they had an eye for design and liked when they hosted events. The two men hugged her, thanking her. He didn’t realize he had gotten closer until he was able to pick up her voice.
It was angelic. It was familiar. It was Y/N.
She was wearing an elegant yellow satin gown. It had a princess silhouette with puffy short sleeves. He could see the corset back from the few feet away he stood. He knows Dawn must have had to help her, and for some reason, he can’t take the idea out of his head of helping her loosen the corset and out of the dress. It’s a fantasy he needs to push away as Y/N happens to be coming his way.
“Ms. Y/LN,” he greets with a gentle smile.
“Mr. Styles,” she flashes him a bashful grin and makes her way across the venue to mingle with the guest.
That was progress. She offered him a gorgeous smile, one he knew would stay imprinted in his mind forever. Now, all he needs is to gain some courage. Throughout the evening, Y/N danced around him. It’s as if she could sense him coming and would shift in another direction, allowing them both to get tangled in conversation. Harry did not like the chase, but Y/N held all the power in her hands, and he’d do anything for a moment of her time.
Harry was tired, not of Y/N playing a game of mouse with him but of the event. Usually, he spends an hour at most and then heads home, but tonight he’s two hours in, and he’s tired of all the talks and acting like he isn’t dying to speak with Y/N, but he respects her, and he’s been an idiot for too long to ruin the foundation they have created.
He was watching couples on the dance floor, criticizing their waltz. Many were lost in conversation to remember the importance of holding their partner close and letting one person lead.
“Mr. Styles,” Y/N greets with a cheeky grin. He doesn’t hide his surprise as he looks away from the dance floor. He takes her in, admiring her shining eyes and perfect makeup.
“Hi,” he breathes out. “You look beautiful.”
Y/N offers him another smile, a more timid one than her previous one. “Thank you.”
“Would you like to dance?” Harry offers, extending a hand toward Y/N.
She stares at him for a second before placing her hand in his. He led her to the dance floor, his right-hand settling high under her shoulder, his fingers together and pointed down. Her left arm rests softly on his shoulder like a bird perched on a branch. Her hand arched, fingertips behind his shoulder and thumb in front. He feels the lightest touch. Y/N raises her head, meeting his eye as she places the palm of her right hand in the palm of his left, resting her fingers in the cradle between his thumb and forefinger. They both fold their things softly over each other. It’s a light touch, and Harry gets the sense that Y/N is well-versed in the waltz.
“Have you waltzed before, Y/N?” Harry asks as he begins to lead. It’s one of the easiest dances to learn but easy to get lost if a partner is not allowed to lead.
She scoffs, “Surprised?”
He shakes his head. “No, but I am intrigued.”
Y/N laughs, letting Harry lead her around the dance floor. “In undergrad, a few GEs are pointless.” Harry gives her a pointed look. “Come on, Harry. You know what I mean.” The truth is he does. “Anyways, I took a dance class and learned a choreographed dance, tap, salsa, and waltz. That’s only a few.”
Harry nods, impressed, “a woman of many trades, huh.”
She shakes her head because it’s useless talents, but they’re hers. Who knows when one day she might need them, like today, dancing with a handsome man.
“I love this song,” Y/N tells him as he brings her back from a spin. “Moon river makes you feel lost in time.”
Harry agrees, “thank you, Aubrey Hepburn.”
Y/N gasps in surprise, “you know Hepburn?”
“Shouldn’t I be asking you that?” He teases.
She feels her face flush because he’s right, but Y/N grew up watching these films with her grandmother every Sunday. Some children got taken to church, and Y/N was taught about the best movies to ever exist growing up.
“What’s tonight's theme?” Harry asks Y/N, no longer wanting to dance in silence. He loves her voice.
“Disney, but more specifically, Disney princesses,” she answers with a soft smile.
“And you are?”
She gestures to her dress, the beautiful yellow silk. “Don’t know, Ariel.”
He throws his head back laughing, she teases him with no care, and he loves that he did deserve it. It’s clear what princess she was trying to resemble. “You’re a beauty. You put Belle to shame,” he confesses.
Y/N bites back a grin. “Seeing as she’s an animated character. Thank you.”
Harry’s smile drops, and he falters in his seat, causing Y/N to stumble, but he rights her up like nothing happened. “No, I mean–”
“I know,” she breathes out, giggling at his panic.
As Harry releases the anxiety that passes through him, he goes back to complimenting Y/N. “You fit the role nicely.”
“Does that make you Gaston, my Beast, or Lumiere?” Y/N asks with a smirk.
He doesn’t take the bait. “Haha, very funny.”
She shrugs, “I try.”
The song is coming to a finish, and Harry wonders how long she’s going to allow him to dance with her. “I’m no prince, but I’d like to be the person who’s able to capture your heart,” he confesses, putting everything out there.
“You’re a poet now?’
Harry smirks, “you don’t take compliments, do you, beauty?”
“I'm not easily swooned,” she confesses.
“I like challenges,” he answers carelessly.
Harry feels her stiffen instantly and knows he’s messed up. In a matter of seconds, he managed to ruin this fun, peaceful energy he had with Y/N.”
“Mr. Styles,” her voice cold and distant. “Thank you for the dance.”
She drops her hands and walks away. Harry reacts quickly. He goes to reach for her but thinks otherwise and instead calls her name.
“No, Y/N, wait, please,” he begs.
She pauses, turning to look at him.
“I shit- you make me incredibly nervous, and I hate that.” She frowns but lets him continue. “You make me question my every thought. Your beauty is overwhelming, and I–I’m older than you. I know that, and the fear of you not liking that or someone saying anything rude to you has stopped me from allowing myself to pursue you. I apologize. I’m so damn sorry.”
“The pursuit ended the minute you said no to me,” she tells him honestly.
She holds her hand up, and he stops talking. “I respect you, Harry. But I also respect myself. I’m not sure what game you’re playing, but I’m not taking any part. It was a wonderful dance, but I’ll be on my way.”
Harry knows she’s right. He’s messed up, but she deserves his honesty. “Y/N, let me say one last thing.”
She gestures for him to go on.
“I know I don’t deserve it. I know I don’t, but would you go on a date with me? No pretense or auction, just you and me where I can get to know you. I’d really love to get to know you.” He asks, putting his heart on the line.
She looks down at her heels, swaying back and forth, and the silence lasts a few seconds, but Harry feels it’s been hours by the time she replies. “Okay,” she agrees.”
“I respect–you will?” He asks, surprised.
She giggles, “I’d love to see you when you’re being charming because, truthfully, as much as I've been enjoying awkward Harry, I’d love to see more. You have my number, and it’s your only chance.”
Harry places his hand over his heart. “I promise I’ll treat you well. Thank you for saying yes.”
Y/N smiles, “I’ll see you soon, Mr. Styles.”
He couldn’t wait to see her for their date.
This was his third time standing outside Y/N’s apartment door. This time was different. He felt he could throw up from the nerves. He spoke with his Mum before driving to Y/N’s apartment and shared how he felt nervous about a date. She reminded him he needed to be himself and wear his confidence with pride. It’s something he learned from a young age.
Growing up, he had crazy curls that led to endless teasing, and one day he decided he had enough and got a haircut. He looked in the mirror the following day and didn’t recognize who he was. He let himself be influenced by others, and since then, he decided he wouldn’t care what others said about him. While in uni, he grew out his hair going through the long hair phase that drove his Mum crazy, but his sister loved it as he allowed her to braid it. It’s also when he began getting all his tattoos. Harry had to go through a journey of self-discovery to gain his confidence and keep it.
Tonight, he had confidence, but his biggest worry was Y/N not enjoying the date. All he wants is for her to have a pleasant time with him with no ruse or promise of a check at the end of the night.
Harry knocks twice and waits for her to come to the door. There’s a bouquet of pink roses in his hands because it reminded him of Y/N. He doesn’t know her favorite, but he’ll be sure to ask tonight. Y/N opens the door dressed in what he assumes is her casual wear. She’s got loose jeans and a black button-up she kept open with a white top under. A white ribbon in her hair made her messy bun look perfect. He notices this is another time he sees ribbon in her hair, and he’s curious to see how many strings she has and how many colors. She’s beautiful, and he’d happily remind her every chance he gets tonight.
“Hi, Y/N, you look beautiful.”
Y/N smiles, accepting the flowers he is offering her. The pink roses are beautiful as if there were just cut from the garden. She gestures for him to come in as she grabs a vase from her kitchen. He’s quiet as he watches her work in her kitchen. Once satisfied with how they sit in the vase, she turns her attention back to him.
“Thank you, Harry. It was very sweet of you.”
Harry shrugs, a blush setting on his cheeks. “Anything for you, beauty.”
Y/N’s back is turned to him, not allowing him to see her reaction to the term of endearment. As she grabs her bag and slips it on her shoulder, she offers him a squeeze on his arm, and he takes that as an okay to keep using it. As she’s locking up her door, Harry waits and asks about her day. She shares about having an easy day of classes and how she’s glad she didn’t have to work. Harry opens his car door and helps Y/N into the car. Y/N can see what he means by charming now.
The drive is filled with aimless chatter about the songs Harry is playing and how nice the weather has been lately. Y/N notices they’re headed toward a residential area and not into the city. Harry decides to share what he has planned for them tonight.
“I was thinking we can have a wine and paint night in my backyard if you're up for it.” He runs his free hand through his hair, sparing a look at her before focusing back on the road.
“You want to paint?” She exclaims.
He shrugs, “thought it’d be fun.”
She leans back into her seat, keeping her eyes on Harry as he holds a tight grip on the steering wheel. “I think it sounds perfect.”
Harry sighs in relief, good that’s good.
Arriving at Harry’s house, he feels his nerves coming back because he’s bringing the woman he likes to the place he calls home, where he finds comfort. It’s where he comes back home after a long day of work. He doesn’t know what he’ll feel after seeing her among all his things because he’s sure she’ll be a perfect fit and will struggle to let her go.
Y/N takes in the art pieces he has around the entrance of his house and photos of his family. The credenza by the entrance holds a key bowl where Harry drops his wallet and keys inside. He doesn’t remove his shoes and instead goes through the kitchen's double doors. Y/N isn’t sure if she is supposed to follow him, but a book on his coffee table captures her attention. It’s titled Raising Good Humans. She reads the first page as Harry makes his way back to her with two glasses of wine, one red and one orange.
She places the book down when Harry offers her a choice, and she accepts the orange wine, curious how it might taste. He gestures to the book, “I bought it for my sister, but I realized she probably won’t want to read it all, so I’m highlighting and bookmarking the important sections.”
Y/N hums in surprise. She didn’t take Harry for a caring guy, but here he is, proving her wrong. It’s clear how much he loves his family. “I’m sure she appreciates all the help.”
Harry laughs, “she told me she’s waiting to cash in for all the times I ever embarrassed her.”
“Oh, I understand being the youngest with an older brother. I swear he lived to embarrass me.” She shares that as much as she loved Matias, he was still a pain in her butt at one point in her life.
“Someone needed to look out for her,” he offers. “Come on, it’s out this way.”
His kitchen is gorgeous. The kitchen has color-filled floral wallpaper. There are pops of colors, making the backdrop feel neutral. The cabinets are maroon, closer to pink than red, and the three chairs are muted cyan that sit against the countertop. Y/N can see herself taking a seat there as Harry cooks them dinner. She shakes the thought out of her head and heads out the French patio doors where two easels sit side by side, a small stand in between them to hold their glass of wine and cheese that Harry has set up for them.
“I’m lactose intolerant,” she shares as she eyes the cheese.
Harry’s eyes widen in surprise, and he mutters under his breath. “I’m so sorry. That was insensitive of me not even asking what you would prefer. I have cookies if you’d like. They’re gluten-free though or–”
He cuts himself off when he sees her laughing behind her wine glass, and that’s when he realizes she’s joking. Harry shakes his head, their laughter mixing together in the air.
“I’m sorry,” she mutters.
“You’re cheeky, beauty.”
Y/N sets her finished wine glass down as she sees a black canvas apron with her name embroidered resting on what she assumes is her chair. She lifts it gently, running her finger over the yellow stitching. Harry slips his one, his last name embroidered on his, and she knows these must have been specially ordered. The material feels expensive and as if it were made with great care.
“Harry, this is too much.”
He laughs, “it’s nothing, Y/N. I wanted tonight to be special.”
She slips the top over her head and turns away from her, “can you help me tie the back?”
Harry steps close, standing right behind her, his mouth right by her neck. Y/N feels tense at the close intimacy. She doesn’t hurry Harry; she simply enjoys the closeness he’s offering her.
“All done,” he whispers.
She turns to meet his gaze, his eyes lingering before flickering to her lips. He nods, taking a step back, not wanting to cross any lines with her. He’s letting her set their pace.
“More wine, Beauty?”
“Yes, please. It was so good. It tasted just like an orange.”
Harry knows her lips must taste just as sweet. “It’s a favorite of mine. Glad you like it.”
He fills their wine glasses and comes back to sit next to her. He explains all the materials he has for them and how the painting to recreate is a lighthouse with a night sky background. It looks complex, and Y/N knows if she tries to copy it, it will look nothing like the original.
They began painting in silence. Harry had instrumental music playing and told her she could play what she liked, but she assured him she was enjoying the music. The silence was soon filled with chatter as Y/N asked questions, and Harry happily responded. What jobs did he work growing up? Bakery and a bookstore. If he was a good swimmer? Yes. His worst hangover? His best friend Mitch’s bachelor party in Greece. What he liked to bake? Cherry tarts. The questions never seemed to end because she wanted to know everything, but Harry was the same. He asked about her travels and where she wanted to go in the next year? Amsterdam. Her favorite movie? Pride and Prejudice. Her favorite book? A Thousand Splendid Suns.
Y/N was learning a lot about Harry and wanted to soak it all in, not forgetting anything. The first time she met Harry, she thought he was closed off and stuck up. That he had walls up so high, he’d never let anyone in, but Harry today was charming and kind. He gave her his undivided attention and asked questions wanting to get to know her. Harry was closed off because of his high position and how easily people had walked over him. Y/N had always worn her heart on her sleeve, but tonight with Harry, she wanted to keep it protected, but he made it so easy to give herself away.
“Are you ready, beauty?”
She takes a long look at her finished painting and decides she has no other choice. “Ready,” she breathed out.
Harry and Y/N turn their painting to each other, and Y/N gasps at Harry’s beautiful painting while Harry laughs at hers. Harry managed to draw a perfect resemblance of the lighthouse with the moon shining bright and the water so reflective that she felt if she touched it, her hand would go through the painting. “That’s gorgeous, Harry.”
Harry pointed to Y/N, “what did you draw?”
Y/N pouts, looking down at her painting. It might not be a lighthouse, but she loved what she painted. It’s a mermaid with short brown hair and a flower on their head. The scales of the mermaid’s tail were various shades of yellow, green, and blue. The mermaid was looking away into the deep blue sea background. It was nowhere near perfect, but she loved it. “It’s you,” she tells him. “As a mermaid–or well, merman.”
He points to himself, “that’s me!”
She giggles, proud of herself. “Yes, how I picture you if you were born a mermaid. I reckon you’d be the heir to the throne.”
Harry blushes and knows Y/N can tell. He doesn’t mind because she deserves to see the effect she has on him.
“I think I’d be a good-looking mermaid.”
“You'd be the prettiest mermaid in the sea, no competition.”
Harry giggles, letting the compliment soak in. “If you were there, I imagine I’d have a run for my money, beauty.”
She tucks a loose piece of hair behind her ear. “Harry,” she drags out his name, turning away from him, her smile wide. His dimples pop out as he holds back from teasing her and instead asks if she’s hungry.
“I’d love some pizza,” she tells him honestly.
“Then I’ll get you pizza, beauty. Any preferences for toppings?”
“Is pepperoni and jalapeños alright?”
“Perfect, Harry. Thank you.” She leans in to give him a kiss on his cheek. Harry mumbles no worries, his face burning from the sign of affection.
Dinner was delicious, and pizza was the perfect meal to share. Harry wrapped the leftovers and slipped them into a paper bag for Y/N to take home. She argued he should keep it because he paid (she offered, but he refused), but he told her that he remembered life during university, and she couldn’t argue with that logic. Harry drove her home, promising he only had that original cup of wine, and then switched to sparkling water. While Y/N allowed herself to have three glasses, two during the painting session and one during dinner. The drive to her apartment was different than driving to his house. They went from quiet small talk and listening to Harry’s playlists to telling each other their favorite childhood stories.
By the time Harry pulled up to Y/N’s apartment, she had realized that more dates like this with Harry would make her fall deep in love with him. She didn’t know what he was thinking, but a second date sounded perfect. Harry opened her car door and walked her to her door. He handed Y/N her bag and the leftover pizza after she unlocked the door, and she placed the items on her small entrance table. She shut the door, turning to look at Harry and bid him good night. Y/N realized through the night, Harry was careful with his touches and would only reciprocate anything she initiated.
Harry stares at her with a dimpled smile, and she knows that smile will become her weakness.
“My favorite flowers are calla lilies,” she tells him as she leans against her apartment door.
Harry’s eyes open wide in surprise. Does that mean she enjoyed tonight as much as he did? “Does that mean we’re going on a second date?”
She smirks, “I’d be open to the idea.”
He steps towards Y/N, allowing her to stop him, but she doesn’t. Her hands come to rest on his chest. He’s thankful she doesn’t mention the quickening of his heartbeat.
“Is this okay?” He breathes out.
Y/N’s hands fist the ends of his open jacket. He doesn’t care if his jacket wrinkles. He only cares that she wants him closer.
Harry leans his head down, his nose brushing against hers. Y/N pulls him closer, desperate to close the gap between them.
“Beauty,” he whispers.
“You can kiss me.” She tells him, “I want you to kiss me.”
She stands on her tiptoes, her hand curling around the back of his neck. His skin is warm, and I grab the hair at the nape and pull him toward me. Y/N knew she would end the night kissing him when he showed up with pink roses at her front door, calling her Beauty.
His hands came up to her cheeks, his mouth eager as he deepened the kiss. It was all-consuming, she knew kissing Harry would be like no other, but this was everything. He was gentle but firm and in control of the kiss. He knew exactly what she needed and gave it to her. He tasted of cherries, his lip balm he told her he carried everywhere, never one for dried lips. It paid off because his soft lips were addictive, and after getting a taste, she didn't know how long she’d be able to go without him.
“You taste sweet, beauty,” he confessed, pulling back, giving her a dimpled smile when he saw the dazed look on her face.
“You can have another taste.”
Harry giggles, “if I knew a kiss would make you so kind, I’d have kissed you sooner,” he teased.
“You can keep kissing me now,” she offered.
Harry was tempted to say yes, to keep kissing her out here as the moon shined down on them, but he knew he’d see her soon. He’d make sure of it.
“I’ll call you tomorrow to plan out our next date.”
“Sounds perfect,” she promised him. “Goodnight, Harry.”
“Sweet dreams, beauty.”
Harry kissed her one last time, then broke away. She leaned against the door frame as she watched him walk towards his car, turning to wave at her one last time before driving away.
Yeah, Y/N was excited to see Harry again.
After their date, Harry spent every free moment he had with Y/N. Their second date consisted of bowling and wings. Y/N had managed to win by a landslide. Harry complained how it wasn’t fair and to make up for Harry being a sore loser Y/N was happy to indulge him in kisses. It seemed Harry was a winner after all. Harry promised her he wanted to keep seeing her, and Y/N repeated the sentiment.
It seemed from then, their time together grew. Harry would visit Y/N during her lunch on the days she was at work and grabbed dinner most nights after her internships. Harry would pick Y/N up from campus and ask her what she was in the mood for. The answer was almost always ice cream which he was happy to indulge her with.
Sunday, he came to learn were grocery days for Y/N, and after he paid for her the first time he went, he got banned from accompanying her again, which led to Harry sending her groceries every other week. She couldn’t get mad because, without fail, her bouquet of calla lilies would arrive soon after. Y/N had never felt affection this way, and after a talk with Harry, he expressed it was his love language and quality time. He thought he was overwhelming her and promised he’d do better, and it broke her heart for Harry to believe she was anything but appreciative. After talking, she allowed him to surprise her with small gifts, but nothing out of the ordinary because if he showed up with a diamond necklace, she would be breaking up with him.
“Does that mean we’re dating Beauty?”
She rolls her eyes, “unless you don’t want to.”
He clicks his tongue at her response, “now, don’t be mean, baby.”
Y/N seemed to always fall for his term of endearment; something about his accent got her going crazy. “Yes, Harry, we’re dating.”
Harry smirks, liking the thought of being Y/N’s. Their time from then on increased. From coffee dates to morning walks on the weekends and late-night phone calls when Y/N couldn’t sleep and would ask Harry to keep her company. It seemed to happen during the middle of the week, and he’d wake up tired the next day for work, but Y/N was worth it. She apologized every time she called and sounded like she woke him up, but he’d ask Y/N to tell him about her thesis, and she’d settled down as he listened intently and asked her questions when it was allowed.
On weekends Harry would come over to Y/N’s and spend the evening making dinner together, watching TV shows Harry has never heard of, and Y/N promised he needed to watch because he was missing out. Truthfully, he watched to indulge her but came to look forward to their time watching New Girl together. Their evenings started with them sitting next to each other, then her arm resting on his thigh and his arm over her shoulder. He realized Y/N was a big cuddler, always wanting Harry to hold her and be the little spoon. He didn’t mind loving how snug she felt against him. She started falling asleep halfway through the episodes, laughing when Y/N mumbled a reply to the show. Over time, they’d go from cuddling to Y/N sitting in his lap kissing, ignoring whatever was on TV. Their hands explored everywhere above clothing. They rocked against each other, but they’d always stop before taking it a step further, and Harry respected Y/N too much to cross a line she wasn’t ready for with him.
Harry was happy to have her kisses.
Y/N, at this point, had talked so much about her thesis that Harry could understand from a certain perspective what she was writing about and allowed him to read over his thesis and make any annotations for her to fix, grammatically, of course. Harry was honestly very proud of her; it was clear how much work and dedication she had put into her thesis, and he knew she'd do it with ease when it was time to defend it.
“You’re my smart girl, huh. Going to run the world.”
Y/N would hide her face in his chest when he began with the compliments, easily getting overwhelmed. It seemed that dating Harry had brought her happiness she never saw coming.
It was odd if they spent time at Harry’s house. It was more convenient for them to spend time at Y/N’s. Harry didn’t mind because he loved being surrounded in a space that was all hers. Tonight, Harry took Y/N to a sushi restaurant for dinner, and instead of driving her back home, she promised it was still early enough to go to his house and watch a movie. She batted her eyelashes at him, giving him a sweet pout, and he found himself saying yes. He can’t remember a time she allowed him to say no, not that he would ever want to.
Harry played a documentary he had wanted to watch, and Y/N promised she’d stay awake and that the coffee she had earlier in the day would help. Although he doubted it because her coffees seemed to always be on the sweeter side. It was half an hour in that he heard her soft breathing. He knew she would be sleeping until the end of the documentary. Harry was happy to have her cuddled to his chest, that she was comfortable enough to fall asleep. It was close to two hours later that the documentary ended, and Harry looked at the time and realized how late it was and that he still had to drive Y/N home.
“Baby, wake up.”
Nothing. He tried again.
“Beauty, come on. Got to get you home.”
She groaned, burying her face deep in his neck, not bothering to pick her head up.
“Come on, it’s late, baby.”
She raised her hand to her mouth, covering her yawn as she began to sit up.
“Hi,” he cooed softly. “I’ll give you a minute, then we can head out.”
Y/N shook her head, “can I stay?” she whispered.
Harry couldn’t hide his surprise at her request. “You want to stay here?”
“Please, lovie?” Her eyes were filled with sleep, and he wanted her to stay; of course, he did. Tomorrow was Sunday, and the fact that he had the chance to wake up to her tomorrow would not be something he passed up.
“Of course, baby.” Harry lifts his hand to cradle her cheek. She turns her head to kiss his palm; he feels himself melt at her affection.
He helps Y/N to her feet and guides her up the steps to his bedroom. She walks in and sits on his bed as he finds her clothes.
“There’s face wash, a spare toothbrush, and towels in the bathroom for you to use,” he tells her as he hands her an oversized shirt and spare boxers. She thanks him silently as she drags herself to his bathroom. As Y/N gets herself ready for bed, Harry does the same. He washed his bedsheets two nights before and knows it’ll be okay for Y/N to sleep in. As Harry slipped out of his button-up and pants, he wore shorts and an old Stevie Nicks shirt, not wanting to make Y/N uncomfortable.
She walks out a few minutes later, clothes in her hand, his oversized company t-shirt on her frame with nothing else. He’s quick to avert his gaze, surprised to see her only half-dressed.
“Were the boxers not okay?”
“Don’t want them to sleep. Is that okay?”
He nods “ of course, come on, let me tuck you in.”
Y/N drops her clothes by his window nook. Harry has imagined Y/N in his room more times than he counts but now that he has her here, he knows he’s never going to get the image out of his head. She gets under the covers and sighs when the cool sheets hit her skin. She scoots all the way to the middle of the bed. Harry checks to see if she’s comfortable and is about to turn the lights off and leave when she calls his name.
“Where you going?” Y/N asks, concern in her voice.
“To the guest room.”
“You don’t want to sleep with me?”
Harry’s heart feels heavy in his chest, seeing that he has upset her. “I didn’t want to assume,” he tells her honestly.
“Come, sleep with me.” She extends her hand to him, and he’s happy to accept. Harry throws the cover away and drags himself right next to Y/N, placing his hand on her waist and bringing her closer. She turns to rest her head on his chest, using him as a pillow.
“Is this okay?” He asks.
Harry closes his eyes but feels Y/N move. “What’s wrong, baby?”
If he wasn’t careful, he’s sure he’d fall in love with Y/N, but something tells him it’s a little late for that. He leans down and presses his lips against hers in a soft kiss. She hums in appreciation, letting him pull away without a fight giving her a final kiss on her forehead. Now they can both sleep content. As Y/N settles back down on his chest, about to close her eyes, a painting on Harry’s wall captures her attention. It’s hanging next to a photo of a lake in his hometown. It’s a mermaid painting, specifically the one she painted with Harry on their first date two months ago. She told him to keep it, but she didn’t think he’d actually hold on to it, let alone hang it up for him to see every day he wakes up. Y/N sighs against his chest, snuggling closer to him, feeling content to fall asleep in Harry’s arms, knowing she’ll be safe and cared for because Harry never fails to shower her in love and affection.
She can’t wait to make breakfast with him tomorrow, but for now, she’ll sleep.
Harry regretted inviting Y/N to the golf tournament. Pleasing hosts this golf event annually for new and old partners. He hadn’t prepared for how good she would look dressed in an active pink skirt and a white polo tank that hugged her figure beautifully. Her hair was up and out of her face, and she had a pink visor on her head to prevent sunburn. She looked prepared for a game of golf, where she promised she wouldn’t play besides chatting up the investors. He was clearly in over his head. Harry had taken one look at her when he picked her up and asked her if she wanted to stay home with him instead. She laughed, hopping into his car, reminding him he had promised her breakfast and she was craving a bagel.
“Hmm…” She turned to look at Harry with a beautiful smile on her face, just for him.
He reaches over and brings her in for a kiss. He sighs against her mouth, happy to have her here with him. As much as he loves his company, he only does this to make more connections and keep his company growing.
“If you get tired or hungry, just let me know, and we can take a break.”
She shakes her head, “this is important for you,” she reminds him. “I’ll be fine. Plus, you fed me and filled my water bottle.” She rubs her tummy to show him how full she still is.
“Doesn’t matter. You’re my priority.” He assures her.
Y/N scrunches her nose, placing a kiss on Harry’s cheek. “You’re an absolute sweetheart, lovie.”
Harry hurries out of the car to help Y/N out, earning him another kiss, he’s tempted to push her up against his car and keep kissing her, but Y/N seems eager to see him golf. He checks them in and gets the keys to his golf cart as she waits on the side, looking at the clean facilities. She overhears the receptionist telling Harry they’ll start at hole one on the east side, and his guest will be sent that way.
She trailed behind Harry taking in the lovely view in front of her. His outfit was anything but ordinary. He wore pastel yellow flared pants that hugged his ass just right. A black polo tucked in and a simple Gucci belt completes his look. He decided against a hat but had his glove ready on his left hand for that extra support. Y/N loved the contrast of his tattoos and how his tan skin seemed to shine due to the sunblock she helped lather him in. He almost always has hidden his tattoos, wearing a suit and sweater. She knew it was because of work, and he was easily cold, but she never took moments like these for granted. The contrast of tattoos on his arms while his left hand had endless tattoos, his right hand only a few. She had to wonder what he hid underneath. She had only ever seen the peek of two swallows on his chest.
“Beauty, you alright?” Harry is standing against a golf cart numbered thirteen. It’s been known to be an unlucky number, but she’s never seen it that way.
She shakes away her thoughts and focuses on the man in front of her. He’s been nothing but a sweetheart since the moment they started officially dating a few months ago, and she’s thankful she decided to give him a chance and that he proved to be a good person and not the cold man she met many moons ago,
“Sorry, I was just admiring. Haven’t been to the golf course in some time.” She takes his extended hand and slides into the golf cart, his hand settling on her bare, exposed thigh. A shiver runs up her spine. She’s ready to take it to the next level with Harry but has no idea how to bring it up.
Harry and Y/N don’t have to wait long when a group of men and a few women come and greet Harry. There is a mix of young and older individuals chatting, and Y/N right away spots the man who keeps to himself, much like Harry. He’s an older gentleman dressed in black slacks, a maroon vest, black gloves on both hands, and a frown on his face. Harry introduces her to Jeff, Niall, and Tyler, his good friends. He promised her if she needed anything, she could ask them. They were all welcoming, asking her questions, not a lot of teasing, but they assured Y/N that Harry wasn’t the grump he made himself out to be.
During the first few holes, a lot of conversation was happening, and Y/N sat in the golf cart because she didn’t know how she fit into this crowd. She was a graduate student among these men and a few women who run these million-dollar companies. She hated that Harry felt obligated to bring her because it was their date night, and he didn’t want to cancel their plans. He convinced her when he told her he’d miss her too much if he didn’t see her this weekend.
Harry, after every swing, turns to find Y/N, who’s already looking at him. He came over, and she’d kiss him, telling him how impressive the swing was and that she knew he would win. Slowly, Y/N began to let herself mingle and talk with the other players. She seemed to always gravitate back towards Harry and his small group.
Y/N was standing, arms crossed, visor lowered as the sun beamed down on her. There was a lot of chatter when she realized that the man with the vest who caught her eye was alone again; she decided to approach him as Harry was wrapped up in conversation.
“Hi,” she greets. “I’m Y/N.”
The tall man with eyes as blue as the ocean turns to look at her. He looks at her stretched hand and reaches out to shake hers. “Malcolm Levington. A pleasure, Ms. Y/N.”
“You as well, Mr. Levington.”
He grimaces, “Malcolm is fine.”
She shrugs, “if you say so.” Before he can ask what she’s doing speaking with him, she asks a question. “What is it you do?”
“I’m the owner of Star Horizons,” he shares.
“The hotels,” Y/N gasps.
He laughs, “the very one.”
“Oh, your hotel ballrooms are hard to get a hold of. I’ve been trying to plan an event there for ages. It finally happened a few months back, but it hurt to be told the wait was so long.”
Mr. Levington frowns, “what event was it?”
“Oh, uh, we had a private action event for Hermanas Unidas. They wanted to raise money to open a second location. We exceeded expectations thanks to generous donations and hired full-time staff to get it up and running in two months.”
“That’s wonderful. I heard about this event; it was one of the smoothest experiences we have ever had. We had no problems with staff or guests. We got a lot of guests to come back and stay with us. Were you in charge?”
She grins proudly, “no, I work with the sub-events teams. It’s part of my job to help nonprofits with their events to get donations.”
“Impressive work. Would you care to tell me more?”
Y/N happily indulges Mr. Levington as he tells her about the degree she is working towards. She shares about each event she has worked on. He offers ideas on how to help and ideas for new events. He promises to attend her next event.
“Y/N?” Harry calls her name, interrupting their conversation.
“Harry, I was speaking with Mr. Levington,” Y/N tells Harry, holding onto his forearm and giving it a loving squeeze.
Mr. Levington looks between Y/N and Harry, a curious look on his face. “Are you his wife?”
“Oh, he’d be so lucky,” Y/N tells Mr. Levington, a loyal partner to Pleasing. She found out a mere seconds ago as Harry whispered it in her ear.
Harry laughs, “Y/N’s my–”
Y/N rolls her eyes. These men don’t need to know about her and Harry, not that she’d mind him showing her off. “Enough about me. Tell me about that TaylorMade Stealth PLus Driver you have there. I hear it has low spin.” She points to the clubs a few feet behind them.
“You golf, Ms. Y/N?” Mr. Levington asks, surprised.
Y/N leads the man away, turning to look at Harry, offering him a wink as the man tells her about his clubs.
They’re about to head to the next hole when he sees Y/N still chatting. The man held on to her every word.
“Now I hear the Sims 2 has a better grip as it’s more lightweight. But don’t take my word for it, I haven’t had the chance to swing it, but from what I’ve heard Harry and Mr. Rowland discuss, I’d say you ask him for a chance to swing, but I do know how you all are about your clubs.” She tells him, knowing she is setting up Harry for an interesting conversation.
“Y/N,” Harry calls for her once again. She turns to see him with a bright smile on her face. “We’re ready for the next hole. Y/N loves to chat, Mr. Levington”.
“She’s a dear. She was telling me about your driver. Seems she thinks mine has a problem.”
“Now, now, don’t go twisting my words,” Y/N chastises.
“Only teasing, Ms. Y/N.” Mr. Levington turns his attention back to Harry. “Think you’ll let me take a swing, Mr. Styles?” Mr. Levington asks.
Harry offers him a sincere smile. “We can work something out.”
“A pleasure, Ms. Y/N.”
Harry stands with a hand on her waist as they watch him walk away. “What did you do, you little minx?”
“What do you mean?” She feigns innocence.
“That man,” he gestures to Mr. Levington, walking next to Jeff with their caddy. “Always comes to our events and never says a word. Here you have him yapping on and on about clubs you probably don’t care about.”
“You’re right. I don’t,” she confirms.
“Then, beauty? You don’t have to be flattering all these old men.” He tells her honestly.
“Jealous, H?” Y/N teases, stepping closer to him, her hand resting on the back of his neck.
Harry hums at her touch. “Course I am. Prettiest girl here on the green don’t want to share you with anyone.”
She leans on her tiptoes, pressing a quick peck on his lips. “Promise I’m enjoying myself.”
“Will you still ride with me?” He asks her, as he hadn’t helped her onto the golf cart after each hole.
“Am I driving?” She waits expectantly.
He offers her the keys, which she snatches up before he can even think of pulling his hand away. “Now, now. Give me a proper kiss, and we’ll go.”
She doesn't even fight him, simply leans in and kisses him. Harry hums at her sweet cherry taste. He knows she must have stopped the cart girl and asked for a Shirley Temple with extra cherries, her favorite.
“Come on, Harry. I want to see you flex those muscles as you swing that club around.”
She skips towards his golf cart labeled thirteen. He sees her skirt bounce, and he groans. He takes a moment to remind himself to breathe. He could do this for a few more hours. He might lose his mind by the end of the evening, but he would endure it.
Safe to say, by the time they reached the last hole, Y/N had all of these men eating out of her hand. Each person listens as she tells another story.
“She’s a good one,” Mr. Levington tells Harry as Y/N tells the others about the time she went to a museum, and security gave her a private tour because she resembled a famous artist. “Never seen anyone so charming. Surprised she picked someone as sour as you.”
“Hmm…clearly, her magic worked on you. Can’t remember the last time you spoke to anyone besides your clubs,” Harry answers honestly, knowing he is lucky to have Y/N.
Mr. Levington chuckles. “Touche Styles. Keep her around. She's good for business and you, it seems. That facade has dropped.”
“Yeah, she’s one of a kind.”
“H,” Y/N yells, “Come tell them about the penguin. How he’d follow my every move.”
“Seems you’re wanted, Styles.”
They bid each other goodbye, and he makes his way over to Y/N. Harry doesn't think twice before taking her outstretched hand, launching into the story of how both penguin and Y/N had been amused with each other.
By the time they get home, Y/N’s exhausted. She wasted all her energy conversing with everyone and now needs to re-energize. Harry stopped by and got them burgers on their way to his house. They were quick to devour in the parking lot.
“Can I stay here?” Y/N asks as she throws herself on his couch, landing face down.
“Don’t want to go home, baby?” He slips off her shoes, giving her calf a squeeze.
She lifts her head searching for him. “If it’s okay. You got that nice bath I want to soak in, please.”
He walks over to her, planting a kiss on her head. “Course you can, beauty. I’ll go set it up for you.”
The bath is the perfect temperature as Y/N sinks in, sighing as her body relaxes. She apologized to Harry because she knew he was the one who must be exhausted from a long game of golf, but he was quick to assure her that it made him happy to take care of her. There was an abundance of bubbles around the tub, so she called Harry back into the room. She wanted him to keep her company.
Harry sat down at the edge of the tub, a bowl of strawberries in hand that he knew Y/N would be happy to eat. He offered her one, and she took a big bite humming at the sweet flavor filling her mouth.
“Yummy,” she giggles.
Harry thumbs away the bit of juice running down her chin; he brings his thumb up to his mouth and licks it clean, “yummy, indeed.”
Y/N feels her face flush and wants to sink underwater but keeps her gaze on Harry. She’s naked in his tub and wants him to touch her. She just has to let him know.
She shakes her head no.
He frowns but doesn’t fight her; instead places the strawberries on the counter. He settles back down until Y/N gestures for him to come closer. He smirks but does as she asks. He leans in close until they’re nose to nose, and she presses her lips against his. She moans as Harry slips a hand in her hair; he pulls back as Y/N looks up at him, dazed. She follows him, but he doesn’t let her kiss him. Y/N whines for him to come back.
“What do you want, beauty?”
Y/N pouts. She doesn’t want to say it. Isn’t it clear what she wants?
“Harry,” she whines.
“Need you to say it, Y/N. Not a mind reader.”
Y/N sighs because he’s right. She leans forward, pressing a kiss to his thigh through his pants. “I want you to touch me,” she breathes out. She lifts her head, meeting his gaze. “I want you to touch me, please.”
Harry runs his hand down her neck, following a water droplet until he reaches the top of her breasts. “Is this okay?” His finger skims along the top, and Y/N wants more. She needs more.
“Yes,” she huffs, eager for his touch.
His hand sinks into the water, caressing her breasts, and she leans into his touch, moaning as he gets to know her body more intimately. He shifts position to kneel next to the tub, his hand pinching her nipples until she hisses from the contact. His lips settled on her neck as he bites down in different spots. It’s all so much, but Y/N is loving every second. His hand dances over her until Y/N has enough and directs him to where she needs him. His fingers glide over her steadily, whispering touch that works her into a frenzy, filling her with need. His mouth drifts down her jaw to the delicate space behind her ear. He swipes his tongue across her skin before blowing cool air, and a shiver wracks her body.
“Harry,” she whispers.
He finds her clit, rubbing his thumb back and forth in circles as he gives her the pleasure she’s been searching for. She loses her train of thought as he curls one finger inside her and rubs her in all the right places, bringing her closer to the edge faster than she thought possible. Her orgasm is fast and blinding. She grips the tub’s edge so hard that her hand aches, but Harry doesn’t stop.
“One more,” he whispers, his mouth tangling with hers in a hot kiss as they battle for control.
She shakes her head, “c-can’t.” She doesn’t think she’s ever orgasmed back to back with a partner in bed. She orgasms just fine, she can admit she’s had shit partners in bed before, but no one has ever treated her with so much care and passion as Harry.
“Oh fuck,” she yells as Harry wipes away the bubbles uncovering her breasts. He moves away from her lips, not caring that there’s water spilling over the edge as he drags his tongue over each pebbled tip promising Y/N next time, he’ll focus more attention on them.
Each touch Harry gives her is magic. She loves how in control he is of her body as he works to provide her with what she needs. His thumb moves quicker over her clit, two fingers moving in and out of her slick, making it easier for him. Y/N’s body gives in to Harry, and she knows she’s close once again. Y/N throws her wet arms around his neck because she needs him close. She feels herself tip over the edge. Breathless and satisfied.
“Gorgeous,” he mutters against her soft neck. “My beauty was gorgeous.” Each word is followed by a kiss.
Y/N feels heavy but relaxed as he holds her close to her breasts against his soft polo. “H,” she manages to breathe out.
“Magic,” she giggles, her chest heaving as she leans back into the water, trying to catch her breath.
Harry laughs as he carefully separates from Y/N to reach for a towel from his towel warmer. She notices the towel and perks up, only now realizing how cold the water has run.
“If an orgasm is all you needed to be, my good girl, I would have begged to give you one sooner,” he tells her teasingly. Y/N whimpers at his words, leaning into his touch as he helps her out of the tub, still a gentleman as he averts his gaze. “Let’s get you in some clothes and then to bed.”
“Kisses and cuddles?” She requests quietly.
Harry chuckles. “Course, baby. Anything you want.”
Y/N had never been so comfortable in a relationship.
She had always been a confident, independent person. Yet, when it comes to Harry, she has come to let herself be taken care of because she sees he finds joy in caring for her. Y/N had never had an equal partnership where her partner put her needs next to his. She understood he was running a billion-dollar company, and she was finishing her degree soon. They were at two different points in life, but Harry always treated her events and exam nights with so much importance it sometimes overwhelmed her.
Harry was happy with her, and that’s all she could ever ask for. Date nights were reserved for the weekends and coffee dates during the week, and Harry always made time to pick her up from campus, so she didn’t have to ask for a ride from a friend. He made himself a part of her life effortlessly.
For a long time, she worried about how she fits into his life, but after dinner with Harry’s friends one weekend, she learned how much of himself he had already given her. Harry held her hand during dinner and asked what she liked to order, going as far as to order her second food option in case she didn’t like hers. He kissed her cheek any chance, not wanting to overwhelm her and his friends with PDA but also reminding her that he was thinking of her. The little things made her realize she was falling in love with Harry.
As Y/N met Harry’s friends and heard embarrassing and loving stories about Harry, she knew it was time for Harry to meet her friends properly. Sapra tried to convince her to invite Matias and Isaac, but Y/N wanted to save meeting her brother for another time. Harry suggested brunch, and Y/N couldn’t argue with that logic. If Sapra or Dawn said anything too embarrassing, she’d just get them drunk on mimosas.
“Are you nervous, Y/N?” Harry asks as she keeps her eyes on the restaurant's door, waiting for her friends to walk in.
Honestly, she was nervous because they knew everything, from when Harry rejected her to when she danced with him. She knows why they are a little weary (Sapra more than Dawn), but they haven’t had a chance to see how Harry really is. Y/N had told them how happy Harry made her. That he dedicated time to her and made her feel important and loved. She knew her friends would accept her if she saw how happy she was, but she also wanted them to like Harry.
“Is it our age difference?”
Y/N frowns that hadn’t even crossed her mind. “No, is that something you think about?”
Harry sighs, reaching down to grab her hand and bring it up to his lips, placing a gentle kiss. Her eyes stay on his face trying to figure out what he’s feeling. “It’s crossed my mind,” he shares honestly.
“It’s not a concern for me,” she promises him.
His green eyes focus back on her, and Y/N sees the glimmer of a smile. “I know, Beauty. It’s not something you’ve ever brought up, but I fear if one of your friends brings it up, then it’ll concern you, and I’ll most likely end up losing you.”
Y/N wishes they weren’t having this conversation now, but it’s her fault for being lost in her head when she should have been assuring him that her friends would love him. “Harry, lovie, I’m in this with you. In this relationship, it’s you and me. No one else. Thank you for being honest with me, but my friends do not influence how I feel about you.”
Harry fails at biting back a smile. He lowers his head, closing the gap between them in the booth. “How do you feel?”
Y/N knows she can be cheeky and tease Harry, but she wants to assure him that she sees a future with him and hopes he feels the same. “I’m crazy about you,” she whispers.
He doesn’t respond but connects his lips against Y/N’s, getting lost in each other, not noticing Y/N’s friends being directed by the hostess to their table. Harry pulls back breathless, allowing himself to get lost in Y/N’s eyes. “The feeling is very much mutual, beauty.”
“Hey lovebirds, can you not do whatever before I’ve eaten,” Sapra teases, pointing at how Y/N is fisting Harry’s button-up tightly. Y/N feels her face heat up and pulls away from Harry.
Dawn flashes them a smile, “it’s nice to officially meet you, Harry. This one’s always talking about you.” Dawn gestures to Y/N, who giggles bashfully against his shoulder.
Harry kisses her cheek, whispering how cute he is before turning his attention back to Dawn and Sapra. “Not as much as she talks about you both, I bet. It’s a pleasure to meet you both.”
As Y/N’s friends are telling Harry story after story, she realizes that she’s falling in love, and by the way, Harry is holding her hand tightly in his lap that he is too.
Harry has never been so happy to have someone make themselves at home in his house. His mother and sister had always told him it was too large for one person, but he told them it wouldn’t always be him. He didn’t know what he wanted in a partner, but after meeting Y/N, he realized he was waiting for her.
It was too soon to say he was in love, but he was basically there. Harry had no intention of letting her go, and by how Y/N enjoyed showering him with kisses every chance she could, he knew she wasn’t planning on leaving anytime soon.
Everything was perfect.
She found herself in his study when she needed a quiet place to study. Usually, it meant he gave up his chair and settled on watching her from the couch next to the window. She would have her laptop in front of her, and if he let her, she’d work for hours without a break. He took it upon himself to bring her a snack and drink every hour to ensure she was well nourished. Harry found pleasure in cooking and making snacks because it was one way she allowed him to take care of her.
This evening Y/N was working on her laptop while Harry read a report for the upcoming month. Y/N sighed, closing her laptop and leaning back into the chair. He lifted his head in concern to find her already looking at him, a frown on his face.
“Beauty, what’s wrong?”
Y/N throws her hands up, “you're giving me too much?”
“I didn’t need a new bag.”
She’s talking about her backpack ripping, and Harry thought nothing of replacing it for her.
“Your old one ripped.”
“My shoes were perfectly fine,” she fires back.
“The laces were barely holding together,” he reminds her.
“I didn’t need new underwear.”
Harry smirks, “now that was for my pleasure.”
Y/N huffs, “Honey, I’m serious. I don't need all these material items.”
Harry sighs and pats his lap for her to come to sit. She does so without a second thought. She gets comfortable straddling him as his hands rest on her hips.
“I like providing for you,” Harry expressed.
“I can provide for myself, mister.”
He nods because he knows she can. “But it makes me happy.”
“Harry,” she deadpans.
“Gives me a love boner.”
Y/N scoffs, slapping his chest playfully. “Be serious.”
Harry’s hands cradle her face, his thumbs rubbing her cheeks affectionately. “Baby, you could run me dry, and it gets me going because it means I was able to take care of you.
She sighs. “God, you're so cute,” she mumbles.
Harry grins, knowing he’s won. “Will you be my good girl and let me spoil you?”
Y/N nods slowly. He leans in to kiss her, but she stops him. “If you ever give me a diamond, I'm out,” she reminds him.
“Got it, no diamonds…. What about pearls?” He jokes. At least, she thinks he is.
“Lovie,” she exhales.
Harry has decided he’s had enough of the conversation and kisses her. Y/N always tastes so sweet. He gets lost in exploring her mouth against his that he doesn’t realize she has started rocking against him. Since Harry had given Y/N two orgasms in his bath, they’ve been more physical, but Harry isn’t in any rush, and neither is Y/N. They’re taking it slow, learning every part of their bodies before taking that final step in their relationship. He pulls back the dimples on display, he runs his index finger over Y/N’s swollen lips.
“Popcorn and Survivor, beauty?”
“Oh, Styles, you sure do know the way to a woman’s heart, don’t you,” she teases.
Harry pecks her lips. “Only yours, beauty. Only yours.”
Y/N couldn’t believe Harry would do this to her.
Harry sent over a large red box with a bow holding it closed. The carrier bid her goodnight, and she hurried to her kitchen to open the package. Removing the lid, she found a gorgeous emerald green dress. She picked it up, admiring the silk, and quickly pulled her phone out of her sweat pocket to call Harry. He answered on the first ring.
“Hi, beauty,” he greets cheerfully.
“Harry, tell me you didn’t.”
“Didn’t what?” He feigns.
“You sent me a dress for tonight.”
“Ah,” he giggles. “That I did. Do you like it?”
“Good. I'll be there at seven to pick you up.”
“You want to go together?” They knew they were both attending, but for some reason, she assumed they’d arrive separately.
“I didn’t get a matching tie for nothing.” He laughs. “See you soon, beauty.”
Y/N hurried to get ready, excited for what the night had in store for her and Harry.
Harry knocked on her door at seven on the dot. She rushed to the door, swinging it open and telling him to come in as she rushed back into her room. He laughed because he had never seen Y/N frazzled, and here she was, rushing, knowing she was running late. Harry put the blooming calla lilies in a vase he knew she kept under her sink.
“Shit, I’m sorry, Harry. My curler was being stupid, and then I couldn’t find my heels.” She huffs as she stands at her entrance, slipping on her heels.
Harry takes a minute to admire the dress on her. It’s an elegant satin spaghetti strap dress with a high slit up her left leg. Her hair is in an elegant updo, with a few strands framing her face. She’s gorgeous, and she’s all his to show off tonight.
“You sure you don’t want to stay home tonight?” He asks, reaching his hands out for her to take.
She shakes her head, knowing exactly what he is thinking. “Absolutely not. It’s a big night.”
And it was.
Y/N’s internship was hosting their gala of the year, where she played a prominent role in helping with the budget and the guest list. He would never keep her away from an event where she was an important guest.
Y/N grabs her clutch that holds her most essential items, such as her lipstick, ID, cash, and keys. She’s telling Harry she’s ready to go when she catches a yellow vase on her table filled with her favorite flowers.
“H,” she sighed. “They’re beautiful. Thank you.”
He kisses her cheek. “Anything to see that pretty smile.”
As she focuses on Harry staring down at her, she realizes she didn’t kiss him hello. Y/N leans in close, pressing her glossed lips against his. Harry hums at the familiar feel. He wants to take it further but knows they need to get going.
“All set?” He whispers.
“Let’s go then, my gorgeous date.”
Arriving at the venue, Harry offered his keys to the valet as Y/N was helped out the door. Harry met her by the first step and offered his arm. She happily accepted. Walking in, Y/N was awed at the displays of gold scattered around the room. The table decorations were pristine, the lights were perfect for photos, and the ballroom was full of people. As soon as they were inside, Y/N was whisked away by her director, Valentina. Y/N gave Harry an apologetic smile but promised to find him later. Harry had always been good at spending time alone, but for once, he wished Y/N could have paraded him around the room as they introduced each other to people they knew. He knew that time would come.
It’s a beautiful and busy evening; at one point, a waiter finds him a single drink on a tray and hands it over to him, saying that a woman in an emerald green dress sent it to him. It was an amaretto sour, his new favorite. Y/N smiled from across the room when she saw him raise it in her direction as thanks.
The event was winding down, the string quartet was playing their final songs, and Harry was ready to call it a night. After an entire evening away from him, Y/N managed to make her way across the room and stood before him.
Y/N perks up as she hears the opening notes to the song the quartet is playing, their song. Moon River. Harry doesn’t tell her he’s turned the song into her ringtone.
She holds her hand for him to take, and he takes it without a second thought until Harry realizes she’s leading him to the dance floor.
“We’re going to be the talk of the town,” he tells her looking at the lonely dance floor.
Y/N shrugs, “it doesn’t matter.”
As opposed to the first time they danced together, holding space between each other, they were much closer this time. Y/N wrapped her hands around his neck, and his hands found their place on the low of her back.
“If I’ve learned anything, it’s that your opinion is the only one I care about,” Y/N promises him.
Harry’s dimples break through and she grins, leaning up to give him a sweet kiss. She settles back in his arms as their song plays, lost in their own world.
“You know,” Y/N lifted her head, resting on his shoulder. “You once told me you didn’t dance, and yet this is the second time I have gotten you to dance, hmmm?”
Harry laughs because she’s right. “I was waiting for the right partner,” he affirms.
“And is that me?”
“Beauty,” he says softly, his emerald eyes locked on hers. “It could only ever be you,” Harry promises.
Y/N smiles in delight. They might not have had the easiest journey to getting to this moment, but Y/N knew she wouldn’t change anything for the world.
Dancing with Y/N on an empty dance floor to a song he knew had now become theirs, he knew meeting Y/N would be the thing to ever happen to him in life, and he couldn’t wait to see what the future had in store for them together.
thank you so much for reading! i love you endlessly, amores 💜
please come tell me what you loved or your favorite part on anything at all. always happy to receive a message.
WOULD’VE COULD’VE SHOULD’VE
summary: in which y/n dated a famous actor at nineteen, got heartbroken, wrote a song and met the love of her life.
face claim: blanca soler
Liked by y/nfan1, y/nfan2 and 12,763 others
y/nupdates y/n seen out with her boyfriend robert pattinson!
view all 314 comments
y/nfan1 AWW I LOVE THEM TOGETHER
y/nfan2 I’m worried about her
↳ y/nfan3 why??
↳ y/nfan2 robert Is literally in his 30s and she’s only 19 she’s bound to get heartbroken
y/nhater1 can’t wait for them to break up 🙄
Liked by sukiwaterhouse, gemmastyles and 3,873,763 others
view all 63,535 comments
sukiwaterhouse so cute
↳ y/nfan1 that seemed so fake 😭
y/nfan2 ROB AND Y/N
florencepugh happy for you my love!
↳ yourInstagram I miss youuu
harrystyles congrats x
↳ harryfan1 HARRY?
y/nfan3 she’s so gorgeous
Liked by sukiwaterhouse, y/nfan and 45,763 others
enews robert pattinson and suki waterhouse seen locking lips today in NYC. robert is apparently also in a committed relationship with singer y/n l/n. more at the link in bio 👀
view all 543 comments
y/nfan1 I FUCKING KNEW SHE WAS ACTING WEIRD
y/nfan2 UH ROB????
y/nfan3 poor y/n
y/nfan4 EVEN FLORENCE IS CONFUSED
sukiwaterhouse please delete this.
y/nfan5 bitch you got caught already what’s the point???
deactivate yourinstagram !
two years later..
Liked by harrystyles, y/nfan and 17,763,863 others
view all 752,663 others
y/nfan1 Y/N BESTIE I MISSED YOU
y/nfan2 NEW MUSIC?
y/nfan3 WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON
harryfan2 okay what is going on???
Liked by harrystyles, sukiwaterhouse and 20,862,762 others
view all 862,652 others
harryfan1 why is Harry so early??
y/nfan1 NEW MUSICCCCC
y/nfan2 SO EXCITED
florencepugh so excited for you!!!
y/nfan3 ew suki’s here 🙄
harrystyles proud of you xx
annetwist so excited to hear it darling! 🥰
harryfan2 WAIT ANNE TOO??
Liked by harrystyles, gemmastyles and 35,763,863 others
yourinstagram would’ve could’ve should’ve. out now.
thank you to everyone who helped me through the past two years.
and to the love of my life who taught me how to love again and not having to relate to this song again. you know who you are <3
view all 1,082,763 comments
gemmastyles SO GOOD!
y/nfan1 GIVE ME BACK MY GIRLHOOD IT WAS MINE FIRST
y/nfan2 STOP THIS SONG HAS BEEN PLAYING NONSTOP
annetwist amazing sweetheart!! 🥰😍
harrystyles you deserve everything great coming your way. I love you.
harryfan1 Y/N AND HARRY??
harryfan2 OH MY GOF
y/nfan3 OKAY TOOO MUCH NEWS
Liked by yourinstagram, mitchrowland and 12,863,873 others
harrystyles love of my life.
view all 652,662 comments
harryfan1 OH MY GOD
harryfan2 congratulations 🥲
y/nfan1 Y/N DESERVES HIM
yourinstagram I love you
y/nfan2 she looks so much happier with him then robert and I’m here for it.
harryfan1 NO GET HER OUT OF HERE
thank you for reading xx
to love someone
Summary: an angsty one shot of one too many broken promises that leads to a broken heart or two
Word count: 2.8K
Warnings: angst, angst and more angst
Harry grinned to himself as he stepped out of the recording booth.
“That’s the one,” he told Jeff, his heart racing with adrenaline at the prospect of a finished album. “I swear, this one’s the Grammy winner, Jeff,” he sighed, collapsing onto the sofa beside his manager.
He’d rung Jeff and got his team together a couple hours ago when he’d been unable to get a melody out of his mind. He’d quickly scribbled together some lyrics on a scrap piece of paper he’d found lying around his apartment and rushed to the studio he had on retainer and worked nonstop for the last three hours getting the song together. And it was perfect - not to toot his own horn.
“You just might be right on that one, H,” Jeff’s smile was almost as wide as Harry’s as they congratulated each other. “We need to celebrate properly,” he pulled out his phone and started to text people. “I’m thinking a party to commemorate the day our very own Harry Styles finished his second album.”
“An award winning album,” Harry joked, closing his eyes and lounging back in his seat with his hands behind his head.
It felt like a weight had lifted off his chest. He’d been stuck in the worst sort of writer's block for the last couple of weeks, unable to even step foot inside a studio or pick up a pen. It had made him almost unbearable to be around. But now it was done and Harry could breathe again.
He let a small smile perk up his lips as basked in the peacefulness that only a completed song - a perfect song - could bring him.
He doesn’t know how long he stayed like that before the doors opened again. He sat up, a smile still fixed firmly on his face, expecting Jeff to walk through the doors. When he saw Nick’s gangly figure walking in instead his smile grew even bigger.
“Grimmy, I did it!” he called out, standing up to give him a hug.
“Finally finished the album, huh?” he lifted a fond brow, giving Harry an equally fierce and excited hug.
“Yup,” he puffed out his chest proudly.
“Congrats, Haz,” Nick patted him on the shoulder, glancing around the room searching for someone.
“Jeff’s in another room organising a party,” Harry explained, letting himself fall back into the lounge.
But Nick shook his head. “I’m looking for your better half,” he turned back to Harry curiously. “I thought for sure she’d be here with you, being disgustingly cute as always,” he joked.
Harry’s face fell instantly. “Fuck.”
“What?” Nick frowned at him, watching the colour drain from Harry’s face.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” he cursed, scrambling around and looking for his phone. He’d switched it off and thrown it to the side as soon as he’d entered the studio not wanting to get distracted by anything. “I fucked up,” he looked up at Nick in a panic while his phone rebooted. “What time is it?”
“What did you do?” Nick asked, the smile dropping from his own lips as he looked down at his watch and answered. “Just after 10pm.”
“Can you please call her for me?” he asked, getting frustrated at how long it was taking for his phone to switch back on.
“Call her? Isn’t she here with you?”
“I wouldn’t be so fucking stressed if she was, would I?” he glared at Nick, finally able to unlock his phone and open up y/n’s contact information and hit call.
“You didn’t pick her up?” Nick asked, disapproval rich in his voice.
“I forgot!” Harry pulled the phone away from her ear and redialled her number again. “She’s not answering,” he frowned worriedly.
“You forgot.” Nick stated, unsure what else to say. “How could you forget?”
“I don’t know! I was so focused on finishing this album. I haven’t been able to write anything for weeks, you know this. It was only going to be a quick stop and then I was gonna leave and head straight to the hospital. Fuck. She’s still not picking up,” he looked at his phone worriedly, scrolling through all the missed texts he hadn't read and all the calls that had gone straight to voicemail because he’d had his phone off. “What do I do?”
Nick didn’t know what to say. He felt for his friend but he also knew that he deserved to feel this bad for leaving y/n waiting for him so long in the dark.
“Can you call her?” Harry asked him, his green eyes wide with worry. “She might answer you,” he pleaded and Nick didn’t have it in him to deny the request. Besides, he was just as worried for her at that moment. The hospital she worked at wasn’t exactly in the safest part of town and y/n always hated finishing after dark.
She answered him after a few rings and he let out a relieved breath until he heard her hiccup on the other end of the line. “Babe?” he asked quietly, voice soft over the phone. “You ok?”
“N-no,” she told him, honestly. “Not really.”
Nick took a step away from Harry when he reached for the phone, trying to take it off him and speak to his girl. He’d obviously heard her voice on the other end of the line and hadn’t liked what he’d listened in on. He followed Nick. “Gimme the phone, Grimmy,” he hissed, once again trying to reach for the mobile device. His worry was growing with every second he spent not in contact with y/n.
Piss off, Nick mouthed at Harry and moved further away.
But Harry continued to follow. How could he not? He could clearly hear his girl crying on the phone and he knew it was all his fault.
“Hey, love,” Nick said to her softly, rolling his eyes at Harry. “Harold wants to talk to you.”
“No,” he voice was firm this time, losing the hiccups and stuttering but not the sadness. “I don’t want to talk to him right now. I don’t think I’ll want to talk to him for a long time.”
“Y/n…,” Nick began, turning away from Harry when he saw his friend flinch and lowered his voice as he once again tried to move away. This time Harry kept his distance. “You don’t mean that.”
“I do,” she said firmly. “I mean it very much.”
“Y/n, are you drunk?” Nick asked suddenly as she hiccuped again, this time a slight slur to her words.
“Nooooo,” she extended the word and that was all the confirmation he needed.
“Y/n, where are you?” He asked suddenly, hoping she’d say she was at home in the apartment she and Harry shared.
“Dunno,” she said instead, no real worry in her words.
“What do you mean, you don’t know?” Nick asked her a little more urgently, glancing over at Harry. He was frowning, his chest rising and falling in quick breaths the way it always did when he was worried or stressed.
“Give me the phone, Nick,” Harry spoke through his teeth, holding out a hand for the phone.
Wait, Nick mouthed at Harry knowing if he handed over the phone now, y/n would just hang up.
“Y/n,” he spoke gently down the phone, slowing his words into a soothing drawl. “You need to tell me where you are and who you’re with so I can come and get you, yeah?”
“No,” she said stubbornly, and now that Nick was listening carefully, he could hear cars driving by in the background and imagined she was stumbling around outside, drunk and alone. He knew Harry was thinking the same as his fists were curled up beside him and his cheeks had turned pink. He was angry now, but his eyes gave away his worry. “I don’t wanna go home. I don’t wanna see Ha-him.”
“Aww, come on, love. Don’t be like that,” Nick soothed, while Harry flinched back at y/n’s tone. She hadn’t even been able to say his name. “He got distracted finishing his album, he didn’t mean anything by it. I'm sure it won’t happen again.”
“‘At’s what he said last time,” she said, this time her voice soft and filled with hurt. “Last time and the time before and the time before that. He always forgets everything.”
“I’m sure that’s not true,” Nick replied, doubtfully looking over at Harry.
“It is true. Ask him. He’s there with you listening to everything. Ask him where he was on our second anniversary and his birthday dinner last year that I begged to take time off work for. Ask him where he was when I graduated and what he was doing when I asked him to come to my work’s Christmas party last year. He’s always late or doesn’t show up at all. I waited for him for an hour today before I gave up and Kiera invited me out for drinks,” she paused and took a deep breath, letting out a scoff before she spoke again. “I bet he doesn’t even know who that is. You know he never asks me about my day unless I ask him about his first. He doesn’t ask me anything about who I spent my time with or what I did that day. All he talks about is the song he wrote and how good or bad it was, about how Mitch and Sarah did something so talented I missed out on a magical moment, about how he’s going on tour soon and didn’t even ask me if I could come with him.”
“Harry?” Nick quizzed, looking over at his friend. “Tell me she’s exaggerating.”
But Harry shook his head. He hadn’t realised how far down his list of priorities y/n had fallen until he’d heard her drunk, broken voice over the phone. He’d stood her up on their anniversary that year, having had a long day of meetings with his management, he’d gone straight home and fallen asleep in his suit. He’d woken up to y/n walking into their bedroom, heels in her hands and a small, sad smile on her face. She’d stroked his head and asked him if he’d had a long day and he’d nodded, told her she looked nice and how he hoped she’d had a good time at whatever event she’d been at. Y/n’s smile had tightened and she’d just urged him to go back to sleep and get some rest. He hadn’t even realised it had been their anniversary until a few days later when Gemma had asked him what he’d gotten her.
He’d seen in her eyes how hurt she’d been when he’d finally given her a present, but it had been too late. He’d known it then and swore he’d never mess up so badly again.
But he had.
Over and over again.
She was right. He’d missed almost every single milestone in her life and she’d never missed a single one of his.
He’d been taking her for granted for so long, he’d just assumed she’d leave her job behind and come on tour with him indefinitely, even though he knew how hard she’d worked to get to where she was. He was so proud of her, and he didn’t think she even knew that, because she was right.
He’d shown up late to her graduation, hadn’t met any of her colleagues or attended any of her work events, even after she’d asked him over and over again - he’d always promised her next time, but next time never came and eventually she’d stopped asking. He didn’t even remember the last time he’d asked her about her life.
“Fuck,” he cursed, running his hands through his hair in distress. He was worried and guilty and all he wanted was for y/n to be next to him, her cute little smile on her face as they cuddled so closely they may as well have been glued together.
He grabbed the phone from Nick’s hands before he could move it away again, holding it close to his ear and dancing away from his friend as he spoke down the line. “I’m so, so sorry, Sweets,” he said gently. “I’ll make it up to you, I swear.” He prayed she believed him.
There was no response on the other end of the line, just some heavy breathing and in his mind’s eye, Harry could just see his girl taking deep breaths to try and keep herself from crying, to try and keep herself calm. It was something she’d done from the very first time they’d had a fight and he’d seen her cry. He’d hated seeing it then and he hated hearing it even more now. Especially when he heard her sniffle quietly, as though she’d moved the phone away to try and hide her tears from him.
“Please don’t cry,” he begged her anyway when still no reply had come through, but Harry was hopeful that she hadn’t hung up the phone yet like she’d promised she would. “I hate it when you cry.” He didn’t mention how much worse it was when he was the reason she cried this way.
“I don’t want to talk to you right now, Ha-Harry,” she sighed. “Give the phone ba-back to Grimmy.”
“No,” he said firmly, clenching his teeth and pacing back and forth while his other hand brushed through his hair trying to shake out some of the tension in his limbs. “No,” he repeated more gently this time. “Please, just tell me where you are so I can come and get you?” I just want to make sure you’re safe, he thought to himself.
“Don’t wanna see you. Why can’t you just leave me alone when I want you to? You haven’t been around for weeks and now you want to pretend to care?” she asked him harshly.
Harry squeezed his eyes shut as his shoulders hunched inwards. He’d had his heart broken before, but never had it felt so painful before; as though he’d never be able to put himself back together again. “I know I haven’t been the best boyfriend lately. I know I’ve been forgetful and neglected you. I know. But please, Sweets, can we just talk face to face? Please, just - just let Grimmy pick you up.”
Y/n was silent on the other end of the line for a couple of heartbeats before she let out a choked sob. “You forgot me,” she murmured. “You didn’t answer any of my phone calls or texts. You didn’t even - sometimes it feels like you don’t love me anymore,” she admitted. “Sometimes it feels like you’re only with me because it’s easier than breaking up.”
“That’s not - no. Y/n, no. You can’t believe that. You can’t think that. You know - you have to know that’s not true,” Harry implored, stopping his pacing in the middle of the room. He looked completely lost, as though just the idea of not having y/n around made him question his place in the world.
“Please give the phone to Grimmy, Harry,” y/n finally said. “I’ll tell him where I am. I - I think I want to stay with him tonight. Please don’t come over,” she said. “I really don’t want to talk anymore tonight. I have a headache and I’m tired.”
Harry took in and let out a shaky breath, handing the phone back over to Nick. “Here,” he said, walking back over to the couch dejectedly and falling into it. It was a big contrast to the way he’d collapsed into it earlier with all the joy of a completed album sitting like a crown on his head. Now his whole world was falling apart in front of him.
He thought of the rings he’d been looking at. He thought of all the times he’d walked past a jewellery store and itched to walk out with an engagement ring. He thought of all their friends who were having kids and how the only person he could see himself having a family with was y/n. And he thought about how everything was being snatched out from under him because he’d been so selfish the last couple of months. How he’d been growing more and more selfish over the last year of their relationship.
He had to fix this.
He didn’t know how, but he would fix this.
“I’m gonna go get her,” Nick spoke softly, tapping Harry on the shoulder. “You should get home and get some rest too,” he told him.
“I’m going to fix this,” Harry said to Nick, desperation thick in his words.
“I know you will, mate. I know you will,” Nick ruffled his hair fondly and walked out the room, leaving Harry sitting dejectedly on the couch.
Hellooooo, please let me know what ya'll think. I would LOVE some feedback <3
My requests are also open
wait! since harry's birthday is tomorrow can you make a fic about y/n celebrating his birthday?
Yeahhhhh... It's just a small fic , I'm actually busy with my exams🥲.... but I couldn't resist this. IT'S HIS BIRTHDAY. (Not proof read)
Thank you for the request nonnie, let me know if you like it <3
Harry woke up with his beautiful girlfriend pressing kisses all over his face and neck. He hummed at the feeling and smiled with his eyes closed.
He appreciated the love and the softness of her lips for a while and opened his eyes to his girlfriend who is smiling now.
"Happy birthday, baby!" She said with a huge grin and pressed her lips to his passionately. He let her kiss him,there is no other best way to start his birthday other than this anyway.
She pulled away from him, with the same beautiful smile that he fell in love with.
"What a great way to start my day." He said with a smirk on his face.
"Anything for the birthday boy. And now get up because your girlfriend did a lot of hardwork and made you breakfast." She said while getting off of the bed.
Harry just chuckled and shook his head at his girlfriend while she practically ran out of the room.
After a while he went down stairs and found his Y/n arranging the table with amazing breakfast.
"Baby, this smells soo good." He complimented her while sitting on the chair.
"Thank you, bubs."
"But really you didn't have to do all of this. I would be happy to just spend some time with you." He admitted while stuffing his mouth with the delicious breakfast that his love made for him.
"Oh shhhh. It's your birthday obviously I'm gonna cook for you, but don't get used to it. It's only your birthday special." She said with a cheeky smile on her face.
He laughed." I'll keep that in mind, and I'm glad you made this, this is soo good."
They had their breakfast while talking and laughing.
After completing breakfast and loading the dishes in the dishwasher they settled on the couch for a bit. Few minutes later there is a knock on the front door.
Harry furrowed his brows and asked "Are we expecting someone ?"
Y/n just shrugged her shoulders and ushered him to open the door.
The moment he opend the door he met with two bright smiling familiar faces.
His mother and sister shouted and practically lunged at him and attacked him with a hug. He was surprised, no he was shocked to see them and also skipped a heartbeat for the sudden shouting. But he embraced them, he smiled at his mother and sister and hugged back tightly.
"Mom, Gemma! What are you guys doing here ? " He asked once they pulled back from each other.
"It's your big day, lil bro. Obviously we will be here." Gemma said and hugged him again.
"Happy birthday, H." She said to him.
"Thank you, Gem."
After pulling away from Gemma, Anne went in for a hug again. "Happy birthday my love. I'm soo happy and proud of you for everything you have done."
"Thank you,mum." He could feel tears brimming in his eyes but he stopped before falling.
Y/n joined them while they are talking and Gemma noticed her first and went to hug her. They both hugged and laughed about something Gemma said.
He can't help but awe at the sight of his girlfriend, the love of his life and his mother talk and laugh together happily.
They all went inside and caught up on each other and talked about everything and anything.
While his mother and Y/n are in the kitchen together, Harry can't help but fall in love with her all over again. The way his love and his mother are talking and being comfortable with each other is just making him soo happy. The way his mother tipped her head back laughing at something Y/n said and placing her palm over Y/n's, he couldn't help but observe these little details.
Gemma sat with him and patted on his shoulder. " penny for your thoughts "
"Nothing just happy that you both made it here. I'm soo happy to spend time with you guys."
"Me too. We missed you a lot. And you have to thank Y/n for this. She is the one who planned this and made us fly here. She booked the tickets and asked us to keep it as a secret from you." Gemma smiled and squeezed her brothers hand.
Harry just went speechless with that. His love towards her increasing with every passing minute. His heart is bursting with happiness and love.
Gemma squeezed his hand again. "She is perfect Harry, I have never seen you this happy or soo deep in love. Trust me she is the one. Never let her go."
He turned his head and looked at the women he is madly in love with, still talking to his mother about something that she is showing on her phone.
Then he met eyes with Y/n. She turned her head and looked at him, meeting his emerald ones. She smiled at him and blew him a kiss.
He smiled with his heart in his eyes, how is he not supposed to fall in even more love with her ?
Harry and his mother are driving back home from the grocery store, apparently his mother need some ingredients to make deserts . So they both ran to store to get them.
"You look so happy, darling " his mother said while both are half way into the drive.
He smiled and said "I am , mum. I'm soo happy and feel soo lucky"
"I'm happy you guys are here. I'm happy because Y/n makes me happy " He said with smile adored his face and blush creeping his neck.
"I'm soo happy to see you guys together. You both are soo good to each other. I can't wait her to be completed family. It's not like she is not a family now, but I can't wait to completely make her my daughter." Anne said and squeezed his arm.
The taught of marrying Y/n brought butterflies in his stomach. They have been dating for three years now and madly in love ever since. They were friends before that and that blossomed into lot more later.
With Y/n he felt safe, he felt like he never loved anyone before. He felt comfortable around her to show his flaws and be himself, her felt confident. He felt home with her.
She is his muse.
He had been imagining his future with her form soo long, but now that even his mother saying that made him happy. Him marrying her and having kids and building a home with her, everything is soo surreal.
"Yeah, even I can't wait for that "
When they entered the house everything is soo silent, he wonderd where Y/n is.
As he and his mother made their way inside he got startled with a huge sound of people shouting happy birthday.
His friends and his team, band everyone are present. Everyone wearing a party hat and some party glasses.
Harry is soo happy to see everyone, house is decorated. It's simple but beautiful, he figured that Y/n did it all with Gemma's help. His heart swelled at that, she did this for him. Surprised him with his mother and sister and now a Surprise party. She is an angle he thought.
"Mum, you knew about this, didn't you ?" Harry asked his mother.
She smiled and shrugged.
There are just few people it's not a huge party, just selected amount like his close friends like Jeff, Glen, Mitch, Sarah and his whole band and team and few other close friends. Exactly how he like. It's intimate and special.
Everyone wished and hugged him.
Jeff came and hugged him "Happy birthday,man"
"Wow your getting old." He teased him which earned a swat on his arm by his wife Glenn.
"Happy birthday, Harry." She hugged him too
"Thank you, Glenn." He smiled
Even with room full of people he like his eyes and heart still searched for Y/n. She is not in the room, maybe in the kitchen.
Just as he was about go find her, she appeared from the kitchen with a cake in her hands. She changed into a beautiful and simple dress which made him loose his mind she also had a party cap on her head.
She slowly made her way to every with a smile on her face. His angle .
She placed the cake down and stood infront of Harry. He circled his hands around her waist and pulled into a hug and nuzzles his face into her neck and breathed her in.
"I love you, my angle." He said and pulled away from her neck but stood the same with his arms around her.
"I love you too, honey."
He smiled and kissed her. Longer than a peck and shorter than an actual kiss, but very short for his liking.
"Happy birthday, love"
He cut the cake while everyone is singing him the birthday song while his love is beside him all the time. He blew the candles while wishing for happiness, their happiness.
He couldn't let her go from his side. He kept her close throughout the party. While Y/n is playing a good hostess duty and making sure everyone is having a great time, he roamed with her like a lost puppy.
At one point everyone got loose, not drunk but definitely not completely sober. Harry started some slow music and encouraged everyone to dance. He pulled Y/n to the center and started dancing with her. His arms around her waist and her's around his neck. They slowly started swaying to the music enjoying the silence around even though there are people around they left like it's only them in the room.
"Happy birthday." She said maybe for the 15th time since morning and pecked his lips.
He slowly chuckled "thank you, love"
"Really, thank you for everything." He said and pulled her even closer to him so they are pressed to each other.
"This is the bare minimum, Harry. I would do anything for you."
It's fixed, he is completely fucked with love and he is making her his wife.
"And I have some gifts waiting for you upstairs, once the party is over we'll get to that." She said and rested her head on his should.
"I don't want any of those gifts, love. All I need is right infront me in my arms. That's enough for me.:
She looked in his eyes and then his lips.
He closed the gap between them and kissed her. Very slow and passionate. He parted her lips with his tounge and entered into her mouth. His lips moved with her with ease. They fit perfect together, like a missing piece of puzzle. They are perfect together.
After few more minutes they pulled away and to get some air.
"Best birthday ever "
A/n : please let me know what you think. Please talk to me and tell me if you like it, pretty please. 💗
Hope you enjoyed.
Thank you for reading
Like, comment, and reblog if you like.
summary: after a week of award shows, you help Harry get back into the swing of things
a/n: THANK UUU for the love on the Brits fic 🤭
It was Monday, and you’d made a promise to yourself you’d actually get up today and get out to the yoga classes you signed up for ages ago. Harry was always getting up and out to pilates, running and HIIT workouts and you were inspired to do the same.
Most of the time, when you were actually feeling up to it, you just followed along with Harry to wherever he was going, making it easier to go to a super busy class.
Strangely though, this morning, he wasn’t up when you were. By 8am, he was usually already back and making coffee in the kitchen. Today, he was slumped on his stomach dead asleep, still in bed.
You gently padded over to the edge of the bed, moving a tiny piece of his hair out of his face to see his eyes.
“H?” you whispered, “you okay?”
He hummed in response, the tip of his nose twitching slightly.
He let out a large breath before turning over onto his back.
“m’exausted” he breathed, turning over to you. His eyes scanned over you, “Oh, y’look nice, baby. Going out?”
He shifted slightly to check the time on the bedside.
“About to go to yoga, yeah. Why don’t you come? Just to relax”
“I think if I try and move out of here right now i’ll just get more tired n’i’ll just fall back asleep”
“Mm I know, you had a long week,” you hummed, brushing his hair back again, “might make you feel better? I’ll even get your clothes for you if you want”
He breathed out softly, looking at you again.
“Y’not gonna go unless I do, are ya?” he said, eyes half closed and small languid smile forming on his face.
“We can get brunch after!”
“Alright, alright, m’up!” He said, getting up loosely from the bed.
You helped him straighten out. His eyes were heavier than usual, but you knew once you were out of the house you’d both be up and going just as normal.
“Y’know m’just going to stare at you the entire time,” he said, going to get dressed, “if I can stay awake”
“You will, H. Then after we can get food and then come home and sleep for the rest of the day, promise.”
He came back in the room in a navy blue set, his green tote bag slung over his shoulder.
“Like the sound of that,” he hummed, kissing the top of your head, “i’ll drive?”
“Will you keep your eyes open?” you laughed, hands around his waist.
“M’not that tired!” he protested, grabbing his keys out his pockets, “c’mon, i’ll prove it.”
You leaned into his side and left for the class, proud of your success in finally getting him out of bed.
Summary: Harry recently started his solo carrier and Sarah recommmeds y/n as his lead guitarist. Harry finds himself intimidated by y/n and y/n could not care less.
famous!harry ; an enemies to lovers trope.
warnings: mention of alcohol. Swearing. Suggestive language and sexual tension.
“Come on Harry trust me on this. It won’t go downhill. She’s really good.” Sarah pleaded her case for the tenth time since the past one hour. Harry was certain she would talk his ear off.
“What was her name again?” Mitch asked Sarah.
“Sarah, I don’t know about this. I’ve known you all since a long time and it’s easy to work with you.” Harry said, slightly skeptical about a new addition to his team.
Harry knew who you were, a very successful songwriter and one hell of a guitar player. He knew you worked with bands like 5sos, 21 Pilots and even wrote a few songs on Taylor’s swifts album, Reputation. He saw you at a concert once and immediately fell in love with the way your presence consumed the concert wholly. No one cared about who was singing because everyone’s eyes were fixated on the young seductress clad in black leather and playing her instrument as if her life depended on it.
“You can only grow if you’re out of your comfort zone.” Sarah firmly stated, crossing her arms over her chest huffing out a breath.
Harry thought about it for a good minute. He needed someone with experience and you seemed to have it. You knew how to write and what to write. Perhaps a little experiment wouldn’t be so bad.
“Okay. I’m trusting your judgement on this.” Harry said nodding.
“Great because y/n’s in the elevator right now.” Sarah said giggling slightly. “Thank God you didn’t say no. Would’ve been a difficult conversation.” She mumbled, relived at how the situation panned out.
The apartment bell rang and Sarah jumped out of her seat startling Mitch who was sitting next to her. She took long strides towards the door.
“Y/n! Oh my gosh, it’s been ages! You look wonderful!” Sarah said hugging you. You smiled and hugged her back, glad to meet her once again after what seemed like a century.
“Thank you. How’ve you been?” You asked her, not bothering to take note of the two men who seemed to scrutinise your interaction with quite a lot of concentration.
“Same ol’ same ol” Sarah chuckled as she let you in.
“Harry, Mitch meet y/n.” Sarah introduced you to them. You found yourself in an awkward postion so you simply gave a wave and a loose smile.
If Harry was a ball of sunshine then you were a raging hurricane. The two of you were polar opposites. Harry radiated warmth and seemed to be the kind of person whom other people could talk to. Meanwhile you on the other hand were someone who kept to themselves.
Harry couldn’t help but notice your sweeping eyeliner. He observed it quite attentively, how it was winged at the edge of your eye and in the inner corner as well in a feline manner. You wore low waisted jeans with a fitted graphic black tee shirt that ended just below your navel, showing a silver of skin.
“So y/n, what’s your work like?” Mitch asked you.
“I write mainly rock but I’m open to new suggestions.” You said. Sarah nodded as if to say ‘awesome.’
Your voice was firm and authoritative as you answered the question. Harry found himself completly entranced by this complexity of a person that stood in front of him. He figured it out the minute you walked into the room with your head held high that working with you wouldn’t be easy.
“Do you have any questions Harry?” Sarah asked him. Harry only nodded no.
“Great. Im going out for a smoke.” You said leaving the three of them alone again.
“She’s scary.” Harry said once the door shut. Sarah rolled her eyes in response. “She’s a no nonsense person Harry.”
“And scary.” He added again.
“I know you’re not used to people like her. Just because you’re both literal opposites doesn’t mean she’ll eat you alive.” Sarah snorted. “You like her, don’t you Mitch?” Sarah asked him. Mitch only swallowed and replied, “I like her better on stage.”
“Oh hush both of you. Give her time.”
“It doesn’t sound good.” Harry huffed out impatiently, staring at the lyrics he scribbled. It had been more than a week since everyone started to work on his debut album.
Harry began to habour a certain disliking for you, owing to lack of your participation and one word answers. You would sit away from everyone, scribble in your diary and would rarely look up from its pages.
“You know what guys, let’s just take a breather yeah?” Jeff, Harry’s manager said getting up from his chair and stretching his legs.
“I’m going out for a walk.” Sarah said, pulling Mitch to his feet as well. Harry was about to get up as well but Sarah mouthed to him; ‘talk to her’ as she gestured towards you. Harry looked at her with wide eyes and was ready to protest but Sarah was quick on her feet.
“Y/n.” Harry called out your name. You looked up at him, the loose strands strands of your braid fell down framing your face. You raised your eyebrows as if to say ‘speak on.’
Harry cleared his throat. “What are you writing?”
“Nothing much. Just an idea.” You said. That was the most you had spoken.
Harry noticed that today, there was no eyeliner but smudged kohl lining your eyes. You opted for a plain white tank top and a pair of mini cargo shorts. A surprise for Harry who was much too used to seeing you in black.
“I think, everyone would appreciate it if you would participate more you know?” Harry said. You only nodded and went back to scribbling.
“See! This is what you do y/n. You don’t talk. You’re so busy doing God knows what. I get it, you know you’re talented but that doesn’t mean you’re better than us.” Harry exploded. You shut your dairy hard and stared at him with rage.
“It’s been almost two weeks since you joined us. Have you contributed in any way?” Harry added, his voice reaching a higher octave and getting louder by the second.
“First of all, I don’t think I’m fucking better than you and second of all, instead of blaming me why don’t you recognise the fact that you’re scared and absolutely clueless.” You spat at him.
“I’m not scared.” Harry said, crossing his arms over his chest.
“Yeah right.” You scoffed rolling your eyes. “You’re so scared that you’re putting the blame on me just because I’m the newbie. This solo carrier is new to you and that terrifies the shit out of you Harry. So much that you can’t even work. If I have to be the punching bag then I’m fucking leaving.” You stated grabbing your bag.
“You don’t know shit y/n.”
You didnt care about what Harry said next as you walked out of the room.
“Was it really necessary Harry?” Jeff said, rubbing his head with his hands. The stress of not having completed the album began to increase.
“I told you, ‘give her some time.’ Did you do that Harry? No. You just had to say something.” Sarah said, flinging her arms in the air.
“I mean, was Harry wrong though? Y/n was… just there you know. She didn’t talk, she didn’t help. Good riddance I say.” Mitch said.
The whole group was torn up over this. Harry began to feel guilt overpower him, but the rage he felt at your words was far too much for him to hone. He knew you were right and he hated you for that. He hated you for the fact that you were so good at reading him. Harry knew that you didn’t talk because you were shy but because you never found yourself as engaged as the others. You were aloof, and gave the impression that nothing bothered you at all.
“It’s been what; six days since she stormed off?” Jeff asked harry.
Harry was certain that you overreacted to the situation. Granted, you didn’t want to be here and Harry left no stone unturned when it came to reminding you his dislike for you.
The door bell rang, Harry got up to look through the key hole. He felt the colour drain from his face. It was you. Standing in front of the door.
“It’s her.” Harry whispered with his eyes wide.
“You know I can hear you, ya dick. Open the door or I’m leaving.” You, irritation lacing your face.
You began to hate Harry or at least develop an aggressive aversion towards him as time passed. You hated how he seemed to have enough energy throughout the day to burst into a song. You hated that he was all smiles and giggles every second of the day. The only one thing you liked about him was how intimadated he was by you. But you knew that he could be much more terrifying than you when the time came.
“Pick your poison.” Mitch said.
Harry opened the door to meet your black smudged eyes. You push him as you enter the room and slam the diary on the centre table with a loud thud.
“Here you go. You said Im no help at all. Well I beg to differ. I’ve written three songs.” You said. Harry picked up the diary and flipped through the pages.
Strange names for such explicit songs.
Harry passed the diary to Sarah who looked at the songs with amazement.
“Harry we’ve got to add these.” Sarah said, excitement lacing her eyes.
“I don’t need anyone to plead my case. If he likes them, good enough.” You said, your voice unwavering as you looked at Harry who narrowed his eyes at you.
“I like them.”
Within a week, all recordings were done and the album was ready to launch. Jeff suggested that the four of you should to go out, let off some steam because life would never be the same once the album got released.
Everyone was quite surprised when you suggested a place to party. You were quite intent on getting shit faced because the past month had been a whirlwind to say the least.
You wore a black mini dress, encased with sequins that was backless. Your eyes were lined with heavy kohl and mascara. Your whole face was bare other than your eyes.
“Johnnieeeee!” You exclaim to the large bouncer, a smile on your face as you high five him.
“Y/n been a long time. I see you’ve got friends.” He said, eyeing the people behind you.
Sarah felt that the club you brought them to too was far too dark and dingy for her liking. It was dark and the music was blaring. The club smelt of sex, drugs and alcohol. Your natural habitat. She held Mitchs hand in hers who was amused at her behaviour.
“I promise I’ll be good.” You say, looking up at him with doe eyes and a sly smile. John chuckled and let you in the club.
“We have go to do shots.” You exclaim to all three of them. Harry was surprised at your behaviour to say the least, he never would’ve pegged you as someone who even had the ability to smile let alone laugh.
“Nope. I’m driving.” Sarah said throwing her hands up in the air.
“Jeez such a buzzkill.” You said making Sarah roll her eyes. You stuck your tongue out at her as you made your way to the bar with Harry and Mitch.
“Don’t stop till your at least ten shots down.” You said with a cunning smile and excited eyes.
“Ten?!” Mitch exclaimed.
“Six.” Harry interjected.
Harry learnt a great deal about that night. Especially the fact that you have a tendency to dance with almost anyone and everyone.
He saw you make your way to the dancefloor, not bothered about the fact that you had no one to dance with. You swayed your hips to the song, your arms moving and a bright smile etched on your face. You were surrounded by men and women. Harry saw you dance with a man whom you didn’t know, he wished you would be that carefree with him.
After an hour of drinking and talking, Harry found you dancing on the table with a few other people.
“Is this normal?” He asked Sarah who snickered in response. “Yep. She’s a fun drunk.”
You spot Harry and get down from the table, stumbling forward. The strap of your heel loosened and Harry quickly caught hold of you.
“Wait a second.” Harry said, as he kneeled down to fix your strap. Once he got up he saw your glassy eyes laiden with lust and simply smirked.
“You like watching me get down on my knees for you, huh?” Harry whispered in your ear, his grip harsh around your waist as he pulled you towards himself . You felt heat rise up your thighs and stomach.
“Isn’t that what men are good for anways?” You whispered, closing any gap you two had as you put one hand behind his neck, tugging him closer to you. “Don’t think this changes anything betwen us Styles. You’re still a nightmare.” You whispered to him in his ear slowly.
You stood so close to each other that you could feel each others heat radiate. Harry’s heart raced as his eyes met yours. You were cautious with your gaze, afraid that if you looked any longer in his eyes, he might spot the hunger in yours just as you might see his making you lose any self control you exercised.
“I have someone waiting for me.” You spoke, breaking the silence. Harry raised his eyebrows in amusement as his hands wandered down your waist to your lower back. He buried his face in the crook of your neck as he left a bite there. You let out a soft moan, turning into complete putty in his grip.
“I could fuck you much better y/n.” He said, his voice dangerously low.
“I don’t want to be fucked missionary style that’ll leave me unsatisfied.”
“Your moan said otherwise.”
Two can play this game.
You wiggled out of his grip, ignoring the throbbing between your legs as you sauntered towards the dance floor, blowing a kiss at Harry from a distance.
“Hello?” Your groggy voice spoke into the microphone of your phone. Your head throbbing due to last night.
“Y/n. Where are you?” Jeff asked you.
“Come over to Harry’s. Got something to discuss.”
“I’ll be there in five.” You said before hanging up on the phone.
You washed your face, put on a large tee shirt and an oversized pair of sunglasses. You brushed your hair and slipped into your slippers. It was a ten minute drive to Harry’s house. The radio was silent. The windows were rolled down because you needed fresh air now more than ever.
You reached his flat and rang the doorbell.
“My my look who’s here.” Harry taunted as he opened the door to see you in an oversized tee shirt, legs bare and slippers. He couldn’t control all the thoughts that seemed to slip in and out his head as he saw your legs.
“Show me your eyes love.” Harry snickered knowing they must be bloodshot. You flipped him off and plopped down on the bean bag, groaning as you held your head.
“You seemed to have a lot of fun last night.” Mitch said, getting a stare from Sarah. “You should see the videos.” He added. Your head shot up at his words.
“Yep. They’re too good.” He snickered. You removed your sunglasses and pounced at Harry who began to play videos of you dancing on table tops.
“Give. Me. The. Damn. Phone.” You said in between breathes as you attempted to strangle Harry. You were about to smack Harry but he picked you up by your waist, throwing you on his shoulder.
“Put me down.” You stated firmly.
“Only if you don’t strangle me.” Harry said chuckling at your sorry state.
“I don’t make promises Styles.”
“Too bad. I’ll post it if you continue to be a brat.” He said.
Harry put you down, running a hand through your messy hair which you swatted off. He noticed how young you looked without lining your eyes, a different girl, perhaps even innocent. You looked like a doe. You looked beautiful.
“You’re drolling on the carpet Styles.” You said rolling your eyes at him.
“Am I supposed to deny that I find you attractive?” He questioned, his voice low and alluring. He spoke slow enough to make your thighs quiver. Your mind suddenly flashed you images of how his large hand felt against your waist last night.
“I’m too hungover for this.” The only defense left.
This was new to you. This feeling of loathing someone to no extent but also finding them undeniably attractive. Attractive enough to make your thoughts wander off to forbidden places and scenarios.
“What happened to your neck?” Sarah said, noticing the love bite that Harry left the other night. You rolled your head back as you rubbed your eyes with a yawn. Harry felt proud to say the least, he smirked and winked at you while you barely controlled the urge to smash his face in the table neck to him.
“Why am I even here?” You said groaning. “The work is done. The albums done. What do you possibly need for me now?” You added.
“Come to tour with us.” Jeff said, his manager persona now showing.
“It wasn’t in the contract Jeff.”
“Consider this, an impromptu decision.” He reasoned with you.
“I’ll do only concerts. No interviews. No playing for videos and no recordings.” You said.
You huffed a breath as you reached for the glass of water next to you. “That’s mine!” Harry whined. You flipped him off as you wore your sunglasses and went to sleep.
“Oh y/n what’s your Instagram?” Jeff asked. You scoffed at his question, “don’t have one.” You simply said. “Well, Harry follows his band members so-”
“No.” and with that you went to sleep.
The album was a success to say the least. Everyone seemed to recognise Harry as Harry styles and not as Harry from One Direction. It was bitter sweet to say the least. Harry was excited and enthralled to be able to embark a whole new journey.
The album release party was a success. But you weren’t there, Harry had called you not once but twice asking you why you weren’t there.
“Y/n, it’s already six, why aren’t you at the party?” Harry asked you on call.
“Because I didn’t plan on going.” A short answer. Your one word answers now began to become a bit longer but they annoyed Harry nonetheless.
“The whole band’s here.”
“I’m not part of your band Harry. I helped you write your songs.” You stated.
“But you’re going to tour with us.”
“That doesn’t mean anything.”
And now as Harry stood in front of the stage, waiting for the crowd to pour in, he wondered where you were. You had insisted on driving to the show venue on your own instead of travelling with the band. Harry tried to persuade you but you didn’t budge.
“Is she here?” Harry asked Jeff who only nodded no. Harry was getting worried now. He was supposed to get ready, but he was much to engaged in wondering about your whereabouts. It was his first show and your words about him being scared rang in his head.
“She’ll be here don’t worry.” Jeff said.
By the time Harry got ready, he spotted you, a cigarette in your mouth as you look towards the stage. You wore a latex, dark emerald coloured waistcoat that resembled a corset. It pushed your breasts together and ended just above the curve of your waist. You wore low waisted black bell bottoms. The waistcoat and the bell bottoms gave off the illusion of an hourglass figure. Your eyes were covered in your signature feline eyeliner, curving in the inner and outer corner of your eye.
“Y/n!” Harry called your name. You looked up at him, a lazy smile on your face as you disposed the cigarette.
“My my look at you styles. A fucking prince you are.” You said snickering. Harry stuck his tongue out at you. He wore a red blazer clad with black flowers and the same pattern was all over his trousers. His hair were unruly yet only added to his charm.
“Ya scared?” You asked him.
“No. I mean, I’m just…. excited yet scared you know?”
“You stick out like a sore thumb.” Harry said, his eyebrows raised at you as he scanned you up and down.
“Excuse me for not wanting to dress up as a fucking rainbow.” You said scowling at Harry who passed you a smile. “Y’know what would really go well with your top?” Harry said, his eyes twinkling. “What?”
“Wait.” Harry ran off of to his dressing room, fetching a silver cross necklace. The cross was heavy and large, engraved with swirls and very small rubies decorating it. Harry gestured you to turn around, his hands brushed against your skin as he snapped it’s lock in place. The cross rested against the curve of your breasts, demanding attention and praise. “How about a hickey to tie your look together?” Harry questioned.
“From you? Not even in your dreams Styles.” You said. Harry smirked at you and went towards the stage.
Harry felt alive. He felt free and invincible on stage. But you, you were the personification of sex. The minute Kiwi began to play, the crowds focus shifted from Harry to you.
You whipped your hair back and forth, your back arching, a cigarette encased in your pink lips, sweat gleaming down the curves of your waist, breasts and arms. The crowd went absolutely wild as you winked at them. Harry’s photographer, Lloyd was entranced with you. He couldn’t help but photograph you. Your eyebrows were sinched together in focus, your eyes closed, your mouth slightly open and your body fully arched.
After the first concert, the fans and media were deep diving into who you were and tried to uncover your identity. As the tour progressed, the crowd began to make posters stating things like “we’re here for y/n!” “Give us y/n!”
There were pictures of you everywhere, playing the guitar as your face morphed into an expression which Harry called your “orgasm face.”
Harry was asked about you during interviews as well, the media was left questioning about your identity and they found themselves allured by a recent stunt you pulled at a concert.
You jumped off the stage during Medicine and went up to a man, roughly around your age if not older. The man lit the cigarette in your mouth with his lighter as you winked at him and murmured “thank you love.”
The tour had finally ended. You were in your dressing room, your chest heaving up and down. The adrenaline after the show still lingering in your blood stream. You removed your top and were standing in your bra, the minute Harry barged in.
“Knock on my door ya’dick!” You said, crossing your arms over your chest which did nothing at all to ease Harry since your breasts were pushed up.
After months of sexual tension, Harry finally felt himself crack.
“Got to teach you some manners.” You murmured.
“Really?” He tutted, pulling you by the loop of your jeans.
You understood where this was heading. “Hmm.” You hummed, moving your hands slowly on the buttons of his shirt. Harry caught your wrist making you look up at him. He looked in your eyes, deep and seriously as if to contemplate his actions. You pulled him by his neck, close enough that your foreheads touched.
“M’gonna regret this.” He whispered. He didn’t give you a chance to respond as he connected his lips to yours, his tongue swirling in your mouth. His hands wandered down the curve of your spine and lingered there. You deepened the kiss, letting your hunger overpower you. He wasn’t close enough, you needed his skin next to yours, rubbing, you needed to feel him, you needed him.
There was a knock on the door, you immediately recoil away from Harry although his hands were still on your bare back. “Y/n, Vanessa’s here for you.” Laura, his assistant said.
Vanessa and you were supposed to head out to paris the next morning. Harry felt a hole cave in his chest, remembering about your departure.
“I’ll be there.” You said.
You kissed Harry, a sweet and soulful kiss. Not the one that was ruled with consumption and the urge to mark.
“You should stay.” Harry whispered, holding you.
“I never stay anywhere for too long.”
Harry looked at you, his eyes staring into yours as you squeezed his hand. “Who’re you gonna strangle now?” You laughed remembering all the times you tried to strangle and choke him, resting your head on his chest.
“I’ve got to go.” You said, slipping out of his grip, slipping on a tee shirt as you picked up your stuff.
Harry looked at you with a look of longing. How stupid. How cruel. How unfair. He thought to himself as he saw you leave.
“When will I see you again?” He asked you.
“When it’s the right time.” You said, kissing his cheek.
Authors note; how are we feeling about a part two? let me know in the comments section <3
"you can pretend all you want, i can see the fucking mess you're making of yourself." harry please
Warnings: smut, p in v, praise kink, mild use of recreational drugs
I introduce you to fratboy!harry... enjoy 😉😏
part 2 part 3 part 4
Harry Styles is an arrogant son of a bitch, but damn does he fuck good. You hated cocky men, hated guys who gloated and acted like the sun shines out of their ass. What you hated more though, was when they were actually right about the things they boasted about.
Harry had a habit of bragging about his 'indescribable sex skills', as he's so often claimed them to be... his claims being valid is something you definitely didn't want to happen. You needed something to roast him on, which is precisely why you challenged him into proving himself.
If he was shit in bed you'd have gladly proclaimed it to everyone, and wrecked the chip on his shoulder a little. But he really did have 'indescribable sex skills', and you hated how good he was making you feel.
"God I fucking hate you" you cried, arching your back off the bed as he rammed into you mercilessly. You were trapped under him, your legs pinned against your chest by one of his hands and your ass propped up onto a pillow.
He was hitting spots you didn't even know existed, already making you cum once when he went down on you before. Your whole body was on fire, pleasure shooting through your body every time he hit that spot inside of you.
"You can pretend all you want, but I can see the fucking mess you're making of yourself" he smirked, his position on his knees allowing him to thrust hard and fast with ease.
And a mess you were, tears falling from your face as he rubbed against your clit in fast motions. Your arousal was dripping down your ass and onto the bed, coating his cock in a thick cream that made the dirtiest sounds when he thrust into you.
"Shut up" you gasped, "And take off the fucking cap you look ridiculous" you insulted, attempting to knock off the backwards cap he had on his head.
Frat boys really were the bane of your existence.
"You talk a lot of smack for someone who was cumming in my mouth earlier, what happens when I decide to leave you hanging this time huh?" he mocked, slapping your hand away and propping one of his knees up so he could hover over you and wrap his hand around your neck.
"Don't you fucking dare" you warned him, grabbing onto his wrist as your eyes fluttered closed at the feeling of his fingers pressing into the sides of your neck, making your head all woozy.
"Then be a good girl won't you sweetheart?" he let go of your legs and let them fall on either side of his hips, reaching down to rub at your clit again, using fast side to side motions that had you crying out. You were already close again, your thighs shaking as you felt your orgasm building up.
"Don't stop, oh god, don't stop" you moaned, fisting the duvet on either side of you.
"Feels good huh? And here you were doubting I could make a girl cum" he smirked, "Tell me how good I'm making you feel, fucking say it" he demanded, keeping steady at what he was doing.
"Never" you groaned, your moans increasing in pitch as your high approached fast, ""m gonna cum, oh my-oh fuck!"
"No. Say it baby, tell me and I'll make you cum" this time he slowed down his touch on your clit, muffling your orgasm and reigning it back in. Fucker.
"Fuck, no no no! Go back to what you were doing asshole" you pleaded, slapping his wrist.
"Say it and I willllll” he drawled out his words, taunting you. He kept his touch on your clit light, still fucking you deeply but not giving you the satisfaction of what you wanted.
Harry had a bit of a praise kink, scratch that, a big praise kink, and having you admit how good he was in bed would’ve been the ultimate win in his eyes, especially after you had been shitting on him ever since you two met.
The moment you told him and everyone else you doubted that he could make a girl cum, he was determined to get you in bed and prove the opposite. And he already did on his tongue... now he wanted it on his dick.
“G-good, you’re making me feel so so good” you admitted, refusing to open your eyes and see the cockiness evident on his face at your words.
“Yeah, I fuck you good don’t I?” he returned back to his pace from before, returning the approach of your orgasm and making you moan out in relief.
“Yeah, you fuck me so good” you repeated, scratching at his back as your body tensed up. “‘m coming, oh I’m coming!” you cried out, your back arching making your breasts press against Harry’s t shirt.
“Scream my name baby, let everyone know who’s fucking you” Harry groaned, his hips shaking inside you as he felt you squeeze around him tight. Your orgasm waved over you in tight rounds of pleasure, one after the other flooding your clit with pulsing pleasure that made your body tingle.
You called out Harry’s name as you came, only doing so because you knew no one would be able to hear it over the loud music pumping downstairs. Harry followed suite, pressing his mouth against yours in a sloppy kiss as he came inside the condom, his grip tightening on your neck while you kissed him back.
“Fuckk” he groaned, pulling out of you before taking the condom off and knotting the end. He chucked it in the bin and collapsed on the bed beside you. Blindly reaching out for the box of tissues beside the bed, he passed you a few and cleaned himself up as well.
You didn’t say any type of thanks, cleaning yourself up quickly and handing Harry the dirty tissues when he held his hand out for them. “You’re welcome” he said with a tone of sarcasm, tossing them in the bin before rummaging through his bedside drawer to find the dart he had waiting for him.
You didn’t wait any longer, getting off the bed and adjusting your mini dress back in place, searching around the room for your underwear that Harry threw somewhere.
“You want some?” he asked casually, blowing out a breath of smoke before motioning the dart in your direction.
“Gee, two orgasms and a dart? Five star service from Harry Styles” you rolled your eyes, finding him laying there with his soft cock out and a hand tucked under his head while the other held onto the dart.
“You say it like you don’t love it” he snorted.
After rolling your eyes again and finding your underwear no where, you snatched the dart from his hand and inhaled a deep puff, holding it in your mouth for a little while before blowing it back out again. Harry reached for it but you held it in the air so he couldn’t grab it.
“This never happened, and if you even think about telling anyone I’ll steal your stash” you threatened, motioning your head towards his still open drawer and the small bag of darts hanging out of a sock.
Great hiding spot, note the sarcasm.
“Whatever baby, you let me know when you want a round two” he flashed you a dopey smile and made a grabby motion with his hand, the weed already hitting him and making his pupils dilated.
“Not gonna happen” you took another puff then handed it back before grabbing your bag off the floor and storming out of his room sans underwear, making sure the door was closed behind you.
You could deny all you want but you and Harry both knew it was definitely going to happen again.
harry is y/n's best friend, so she thought she knew everything about him. but, it looks like they both had some secrets: harry thought about her a lot more than she realized and y/n has really soft hands.
"C'mon, (Y/N), let's go to bed."
Harry's voice in her ear had (Y/N) jumping out of the half-asleep limbo she found herself in. Going back to his place after a gathering at Mitch's house had left her a little more than exhausted after she managed to wipe her makeup away and change into a sleep set she had buried in the back of his closet. Her previously styled hair was piled into a mess on the top of her head as she knuckled at her eye, letting Harry help her up off the couch with his fingers looped around her wrist.
"Your room?" she asked, voice a bit rumbly as she readily followed him.
"Yeah, that alright?" he checked, her hooded eyes barely catching the way he looked at her over his shoulder.
"If I can have your fluffy pillow," she bargained, coming more alive after the walk with her bare feet on the hardwood of his floors.
"You know," he started, (Y/N) able to imagine the roll of his eyes, "y'can jus' say you're spoiled."
"Is that a yes?" she prodded, climbing atop his bed while he went to his closet in search of his own pajamas for the night (which was really just going to be a pair of sweatpants that would very quickly turn into boxers after he shed the pants in the middle of the night).
"If it'll keep y'quiet," he called from the closet, door cracked to keep him concealed while he changed though he could still talk to her.
"You'd be devastated if I never talked to you again," she countered, snuggling right up to the fluffiest pillow in the bunch on his bed, the quilted puffs of his comforter settling around her form
"I have other friends."
(Y/N) rolled her eyes. She knew he would say that—as if she wasn't his best friend. "You're a dick!"
Faintly, from the crack in the doorway, she could hear him imitating her in a crackly, childish voice, repeating her words as if it were the strongest comeback known to man. She only rolled her eyes.
Leaving his closet, Harry came out with a bare chest and low sweats, the band of his underwear hugging his hips—his typical bedtime uniform. He looked much too smug as he tossed his clothing to the hamper in the corner of his room.
"You've got quite the attitude for someone who's getting to sleep in m'bed when it would be very easy to kick you out to the couch."
"You'd never kick me out—you like to cuddle with me too much," she countered triumphantly as he climbed into bed with her.
"I do not," he argued, features scrunched as if he couldn't believe she would ever suggest such a thing.
(Y/N) rolled her eyes, the sleep that had taken her before beginning to creep in again now that she was cradled in warmth and the scent of her best friend. "I give you twenty minutes then you'll be all over me."
And, maybe she did. But, that wasn't something she was ready to analyze this close to sleep.
"Goodnight, Harry," she settled, burrowing into the fluff of her pillow with the warmth of the quilt lulling her to sleep.
"Goodnight, (Y/N)," he answered in a decidedly gentler tone, the sound of his shuffling to get comfortable filling the space between them.
Just as (Y/N) figured he would, it was almost thirty minutes after she shuttered her eyes and sunk into the mattress with her back to him, that she heard him shuffling about again. The rustling of the sheets sounded once more, the mattress dipping just before she felt the warmth of Harry's arms wrapping around her middle. The quiet sigh he let out when he pressed his chest to her back let her know that he probably figured she was asleep, his covert cuddling going off without a hitch.
As much as the annoying best friend in her wanted to twist around and tease him for falling into exactly what he had denied, but that other part of herself that she tried to keep tied up and locked away in the back of her mind had her staying silent. Was it really such a bad thing to have her Harry cuddling into her, getting comfortable and warm before falling asleep? Was teasing him and telling him I told you so really worth halting the way he nosed into her neck, his breath fanning across her skin?
Besides, she was too tired anyway. At least that's what she was telling herself.
(Y/N) sunk into him, her body conforming to the strong lines of his own, feigning a stretch so she could drape her hand over his own where he settled into her softness. A few moments after she relaxed, she felt the way he carefully hooked his ankle around her own, socked feet curling together as Harry shuffled as close as he could behind her.
The strength of his thighs could be felt against the back of her own where she curled into him. Every block of his muscles were pressed against her back with the help of his bare chest, warm and strong though he softened himself to hold her in his half-sleep. The blanket on her form had nothing on the length of his arm thrown across her waist, hand and palm set against the soft of her tummy, only flexing once he felt her own touch find his own.
Yeah, there was no way she was leaving this.
Finding a soft place to sink into, (Y/N) allowed herself to be lured into the limbo of sleep for real this time, her breathing evening out as she began to lose touch with what was happening outside of the bubble of contact cradling her.
Until something changed in that bubble—something decidedly less soft than the rest of him curled around her.
Against the curve of her bottom, (Y/N) felt something hard pushing against her. Even with the haze of sleep having begun to blanket her, it didn't take much for her to connect the dots and realize what was going on.
He was hard. Holding her tight against his chest with her butt pushing against his lap, Harry was hard.
As far as she remembered, that wasn't the case when he had climbed into bed with her or even something she noticed when he first wrapped around her. Now that she had softened in his hold, conforming around his body and sinking into his warmth, she could feel that something poking against her ass.
Maybe she hadn't hidden her shock as well as she had hoped, at least with the way she felt Harry nose against the back of her neck and pulse his hold around her. "What happened?" he drawled sleepily, "Why'd y'wake up, (Y/N)?"
She knew there was no doubt a much more tactful way to broach the subject, but that wasn't anywhere on her mind as she spoke: "Ar-Are you hard?"
That had Harry stiffening up behind her, shuffling in the sheets and drawing away just enough she couldn't feel the pressure of his body directly behind her. Despite that, he still attempted to feign nonchalance with a breathy laugh fanning across her skin. "Uh—Maybe?" he laughed out, sounding just as stiff as his hold began to feel, "Sorry."
Just as he started unwrapping around her, his arm slipping from where it was anchored from over her waist, (Y/N) stopped him with her fingers lacing through his with her palm pressed to the back of his hand. "Wait, no—You don't," she stuttered, cutting herself off when she heard just how flustered she sounded, "You... You don't need to move if you don't want to."
"Oh?" he sounded, his body staying stiff though he didn't make any further movements to slip away, "Y'sure?"
(Y/N) didn't want to think about why she was so sure about him staying just where he was, if not moving to get back into the position that warmed her in the first place, and she decided now wasn't the time to analyze it all. "Yeah, it's fine," she chattered, her voice an octave higher than what was natural, "It-It's not a big deal."
He swallowed behind her, making careful movements to resume his hold on her, allowing that hold she laced over his hand to guide him back into place. "I—uh—I thought y'were asleep."
"Almost," she peeped, trying to remind herself this was only Harry. No reason for her to be nervous and stiff with him—he's her best friend. "Were you almost asleep?"
"Not quite, obviously," he joked, his smile audible as he gave a delicate pulse of his fingers with hers. While it definitely wasn't the first time they'd ever held hands, (Y/N) tried not to think about why this time felt different.
It's just Harry, It's just Harry, It's just Harry was the mantra playing in her head as she voice rose to her throat. "Can I ask you something kind of weird?"
"Were you thinking about anything? Like when you..." She didn't need to finish her sentence to make it clear where she was going with it.
A beat passed, silence having settled in the bedroom like an extra person.
"You don't have to answer that, by the way. I don't even really know why I asked, actually."
"No, 's alright," he told her, hand flexing under hers, "I jus'... I thought it was obvious."
She doesn't think she's ever been so grateful for the fact Harry couldn't see her face as she processed his words. "What do you mean?"
"I—Uh...I mean," he floundered, the tip of his nose brushing her skin as he ducked his head behind her, "I was holding you—touching you, so..."
Her mouth ran dry at the implication, her heart bubbling at the verbal confirmation of what she had been thinking—hoping. "So, you were thinking about... me?"
"I mean," he breathed the faint fan of a laugh, humorless, "yeah. I thought you kind of knew that. I don't think I've ever really hid it before."
(Y/N) wasn't even sure if she was breathing when she realized exactly what he was telling her.
He's thought about her before in a way that's had him in this situation? Had there been other nights like these where she really had fallen asleep and she had no idea she had been on his mind? How long had he thought about her like this? And, he'd supposedly never hid it? What did that even mean? Were there signs th—
"(Y/N)," he sighed out her name, beginning to slip away from her, "'M gonna go ahead and sleep in the guestroom, alright? I—uh—I didn't mean to have this conversation, especially not like this so..."
She hadn't even realized just how long she had gone silent until his voice filled the room, filling the void. After giving her a small pulse of his fingers around her own, he unhooked his ankle around hers and left her back cold after drawing away. Despite the sleep that had been moments away from cloaking her limbs, (Y/N) twisted between the sheets in a haste.
"Harry, wait," she bubbled out, finally catching sight of him for the first time since she bundled into his bed, "D-Don't go, please."
He looked resigned as he shuffled to the edge of the bed on the opposite end. His silhouette revealed the heave of his bare chest as he gave another sigh, the deep breath filling his lungs with his nose flaring. Dropping his gaze to his lap where he was stretched out with his arms stationed with his elbows sinking into the mattress on either side of him, he shook his head. "I don't think that's a good idea, (Y/N). I think I need to... be alone for a second."
If not for the dark, (Y/N) liked to think she would've seen a tint of pink on his cheeks.
(Y/N)'s mouth ran dry as she tried to find the right way to show him he didn't need to leave if he didn't want to. "You don't have to be alone, though," she swallowed, the comforter shifting around her as she inched just the barest length closer to him, "If you don't want to be, anyway."
A beat passed. Harry shifted just enough to look at her in the dim of his room, the glisten of his eyes barely glinting in the limited light.
"Do you want me to stay?" When she didn't immediately answer, her throat dry, she could see the way Harry's fists wrapped tight before he raise one hand to linger through his hair. "You have to tell me or I can't do anything. We need to be honest with each other, right?"
The deep rumble of his tone was almost as warm as the feel of his arms around her. The perfect coaxing method. "I want you to stay," she peeped, her voice a whisper between the two of them, "I want to help you."
"Help me?" he prodded, settled amongst the sheets once more though he kept his distance.
"Yeah," she said, a small nod of her head, "with—um—you know, that."
A quiet laugh left Harry's lips at her words. "Yeah, that, huh?"
His gentle teasing was enough to have her shaking her head against the fluffed pillow with a roll of her eyes. "H, stop," she complained, biting back her smile, "I'm trying to be nice."
"Being nice, to you, is offering to touch my dick? You've been pretty mean to me for years, then, and I had no idea," he prodded, throwing his hands up in the air as he sunk down into the mattress, feigned exasperation.
"You don't have to say it like that, sicko," she chided him, taking the initiative to shuffle just the smallest bit closer to him, the dips in the mattress joining together.
"Since when are you shy, hm?" he countered, turning to face her with a lopsided smile on his lips, cheek cushioned by the pillow.
"You don't know if I'm shy or not," she argued, feeling a warmth hit her cheeks, "We've never been in bed together like this before."
"What is this then, huh? How is this different than before?"
In the limited light, she could see the way he looked a little too smug at his line of question. She knew he liked to play around, but she never really allowed herself to think about what it would be like to see him playful between the sheets. This wasn't something she was going to be able to forget.
"You know what I mean, stop being annoying," she complained half-heartedly, rolling her eyes in an attempt to match the energy he was giving. As much as she was comforted by his teasing, that demeanor was hard to meet when her mind was somewhere else—stuck where he had been pressed tightly against her back.
Maybe she should have pulled her head out of that moment, thought a little more before she opened her mouth once more, but the slight pause after her words was too much of a temptation to let slip away. Despite the fact she could see Harry gearing up for his own teasing stab, she stopped him with her hands tightly bundled in the fluff of his comforter.
"Can I, though?" she whispered out, swallowing before elaborating "Touch your dick, I mean."
In the limited light, she could spot the way Harry's gaze widened for only a moment before he chanced a slide down from her eyes. He touched over the planes of her face, skating over the line of her nose and the pillows of her cupid's bow before flicking to her eyes once more.
"Alright, c'mere," he relented as if he had no other choice but to give into her beggings—as if he wasn't the one with the hard on at the moment, being propositioned by the person who caused it. With his back on the mattress, he opened his arm out to her, beckoning her to his side. "This is gonna be like the first time I taught you how to take a real tequila shot, isn't it?" he prodded, his arm wrapping around her form as she settled into his warm.
(Y/N) huffed at his question, nudging her elbow into his side with her arms bundled between them. Laying on her own side, she was granted his chest as her pillow, his hand spanning along the planes of her back. "This isn't the first time I've done something like this, you know that right?" she told him, one of her hands settling on the bare of his stomach, the position familiar despite the new circumstances.
The static around her shifted, telling her Harry had drawn closer. She felt him before the touch of his nose brushed through rogue strands of her hair. "But, you've never done it with me before, have you?" he murmured, his free hand slipping under the covers and finding her own, "Y'sure y'want to?"
She didn't even need to think before she was nodding her head, cheek smushed against the warmth of his chest. "I want to."
A gentle kiss was pressed to the top of (Y/N)'s head, something silly enough to get her cheeks heating despite the fact she had plans to do something much more scandalous than a little kiss.
"Wanna see?" he asked her, voice dripping down the length of her spine with his hand pulsing around her own.
If not for the fact he was loosely holding her hand, she's sure her entire body would have clenched to match the way her tummy did at the sound of his question. "Please."
"Ooh," he sung, "Polite now, aren't we?"
His teasing tone fell on deaf ears, her attention transfixed on the way his hand shifted from laying over hers to push the fluff of white comforter out of the way of his lap. The low waist of his grey sweats and the peeking waistline of his underwear were the frame around the bulge she had felt earlier pressing into the curve of her bottom.
She didn't even have half the mind to be embarrassed at the way her breathing hitched at the idea of seeing what was underneath, not even when Harry gave his own breathy laugh at her reaction. Her hand on his chest felt restless then, wanting to pluck through the layers of clothing covering him and following through on her offer to help him.
Her fingers curled, the tips pressing into the soft skin of his tummy. "Can... Can I touch you?"
His heartbeat under her ear stuttered, pounding hard against his ribcage just as he swallowed. "Yeah, go 'head, love. Let me jus'—"
Cutting himself off, Harry clutched her close to his side as he used his other hand to shuffle his sweats and underwear down his thighs. His cock sprung up once the waist of his briefs cleared his flushed head, ruddy and warm as he let out a muted hiss at the contact. (Y/N) was grateful for the fact he couldn't see her reactions with the way she was curled against his chest, leaving her to freely widen her eyes and mouth to drop open with a breath puffing out.
Sure, they'd been friends for a long while and weren't necessarily shy around one another, but there was always a line when it came changing or stripping down bare around one another. She'd never seen this much of his body this way—bare lengths of thigh, soft hips, and heavy cock was all new to her.
Harry's hand flexed against the planes of her back, a steadying weight against her form. "Alright?"
Gone was the teasing and the silent laughter. His tone was mellow and attentive, a whisper as if there was anyone around to overhear.
"Uh-huh," she breathed, watching the way the blocks of muscle lining his stomach jumped at the fanning air grazing his skin, "Just... It's big."
As much as she didn't want to add to his inflated ego, there was no way she could lie to him with the evidence right in front of her. He was thick and flushed, a ruddy mushroom head with a vein snaking along the length of his cock. A trimmed nest of hair bordered his base, dark and curling. She itched to wrap her hand around him, feel how heavy he was, the warmth he would carry. Would her fingers complete a circle around his shaft or would she just barely make it? Would he be as soft as he looked?
"Y'can touch if y'want, love. Don't need to be scared—'s jus' me."
The soothing rumble of his voice under her cheek brought her back to reality, finding her fingertips denting the skin of his stomach. Her nails made tiny crescents in the soft skin just under his butterfly tattoo, anchoring her down to keep from reaching despite the clear permission she'd been given to do so.
But, like he said, it's just Harry. Her best friend. Who apparently got hard while thinking about her.
"It's alright?" she prodded, sliding her hand just a fraction of an inch lower over his tummy.
"Promise, (Y/N)," he murmured, dropping another kiss to the top of her head.
When she didn't immediately move, she caught the movement of his hand from the corner of her eye, the same one that had stripped his lower half. He placed the span of his palm over her hand, warming her skin before he curled his fingers gently around. Using that tender grip, he tentatively moved her hand for her, gliding across the strength of his abs and down the stretch of his pelvis. The skin grew soft as her fingertips met the dark curls at his base just before Harry tugged her upwards, guiding her to wrap her fingers around his shaft with his own mimicking the hold around her.
"This alright?" he prodded, his thumb running along the outside of her own in a soothing stroke.
All she could manage at the moment was a small nod of her head, cheek skimming the bare of his skin. It didn't take any prompting of his hand to get her to begin a slow stroke over his length, Harry's hand following right over her. A quiet shifting in his breathing happened under her ear, lungs stuttering at the first shallow touch. His hand dropped then, leaving her to take care of him while he reached for the creases in the sheets at his hip instead.
She familiarized herself with the weight of him in her palm, warm and heavy. The vein snaking around his length pulsed every time she tightened her hand in an experimental flex. His head was spongey and warm when she chanced a small skating of her thumb over his slit, wetness beginning to seep out the longer she touched him. Harry's breathing was shallow though quiet in the silence of his room, leaving her to concentrate on the movements of her hand and the gentle reactions he gave her.
"Yeah, love?" he responded, a lot less composed than he was a mere moment ago.
"Do you like how I'm doing it? Do you like it this way?" Her questions were shy, but he had told her he would show her how he liked it. As much as she knew he was teasing her before, she hadn't ever done this with him before, obviously, and wanted this to be good for him. The fantasies that had him budging up in his pants, she wanted those to fall flat against the reality.
The hand that had been spanning her back, warming her skin through her thin top traveled upwards until he was stroking over the messy strands of hair on her head. Gentle fingertips carded through, scratching over her scalp with a tender ease. "Doing really good, love, real good," he breathed out, a smile in his voice she would have wanted to see if not for the enticing sight in front of her, "Maybe a little tighter, though, sweetheart. Y'can be a little rough, 's alright."
She nodded her head, cheek cushioned by his stomach. "Okay, let me just..." she trailed off, reluctantly slipping her hand away from his length as she shuffled over his form. Running her clean hand through her hair, she caught a glimpse of him through the strands from the corner of her eye, his gaze dark and heavy on her with his bottom lip caught between his teeth.
That gaze followed her as she bent over his length, her breath fanning across his flushed tip as he twitched with a sigh falling from Harry's lips. "What are y'doing, love?" he murmured, his hand that had been warming her back now coming up to brush her hair out of her face.
"I-I don't want to hurt you," she started, bracing her hand on the thick of his thigh, "So I was going to..."
(Y/N) cut herself off as she pursed her lips, saliva falling from between them to drop on his prick. From her peripheral, she could see the way Harry's gaze could have been perceived as pure black the way his pupils blew up. His hand in her hair tightened, keeping the strands from obscuring his vision. The warmth of his eyes traced over her profile, heavy and hot as she used her other hand to pass her fist along to spread the drop of spit. The pad of her thumb swiped over his head, bringing her saliva and the blurt of precum that made it's way out as he watched her over him, slicking over his length and covering him.
A whispered curse fell from Harry's lips, fanning through the warmed air between them with his eyes fighting to fall closed. Slick noises escaped from under her fist as she stroked over his length, warming him with her palm. She took his request, tightening her hold on him and quickening her pace to something rough. In reaction, she saw the way his thighs tensed, fist clenching in the wayward sheets at his hip while his other held her hair in a firm grip.
"Better?" she prodded, looking to him with a flutter of her lashes.
"So good, baby," he nodded his head, trying this new petname for her without much thought, "So nice to me." It was a bit silly what he was rambling out with hooded eyes and puffy lips, but that didn't stop her heart from attempting to beat out of her chest and her stomach from tightening. "Settle down on me, (Y/N). Relax with me."
His hands on her hair trailed down her body, returning to her back as he urged her to replace her spot on his chest. Cushioning her cheek on his tummy, (Y/N) warmed him, the movements of her hand lagging for only a second before she picked up again. This way, she could hear the rhythm of his heart, the pacing of his breathing underneath her. She felt each of his reactions before she heard him.
Harry had to prioritize his breathing, small moans and curses falling from his lips as he ran his hand in sporadic circles across her back. (Y/N) stayed as quiet as she could, insisting on hearing every tiny noise he made while she worked over him. She wanted to remember every detail of this moment.
Her hand glided over his length, feeling every ridge and vein with her thumb swiping over his spongy tip. Everything was slick and sticky, exactly how she felt between her thighs as she watched the way she took care of him.
The hand in her hair tightened for a moment, grabbing her attention just before Harry's rumbled tone filled the bathroom."This might be kind of weird to say but—"
"I think we're kind of past weird at this point," (Y/N) let out a laugh, feeling Harry's chest heave with his own breathless one. His laughter was cut off with a shuddering breath as she circled his slit with the pad of her thumb, precum following out right after.
"I was jus' gonna say that y'have really soft hands," he continued, voice sounding strained as he finished, "Like—Like, I know we hold hands sometimes, so I knew they were soft, but I don't think I've ever realized how soft and warm y'are, love. 'S re-really nice."
Normally, she would have ribbed him with a tease for going so soft on her (as if that didn't make it heart flutter, but that wasn't something she wasn't going to talk about), but all his compliment elicited in her was warm cheeks and a stuttered heart. "Thanks," she smiled.
"Don't let it go to your head," he chided, his hand squeezing down to her shoulder as if to scold her, "You're already a narcissist."
As much as she was sure he wanted to sound biting, just like he was when he really teased her, everything he said came out with a sigh and a gentle squeeze to her skin. There wasn't much bite to be had with a breathy voice. Instead, (Y/N) only turned her head just enough to press a soft kiss to his tummy, her hand bundled between her chest and his side reaching out to pet over his skin.
Her eyes were glued to his length as he jumped in her hand, another streak of warm precum falling down the length as she roughly stroked her hand down his shaft. He was covered in a pearly sheen, her hand coated in his spit and the slick of him. She could feel the way the prominent vein along the bottom throbbed, his thighs wound tight and tense on either side of her hand.
"Are you close?" she prodded, noting the way he was forcing himself to keep his hips from bucking upwards into her fist.
"Um—Yeah," he got out, swallowing around his tongue, "Kind of lame, but, y'feel really good, love. Not gonna take much more to f-finish me off."
"I'm happy you feel good," she murmured, quickening her pace and tracing her thumb over his tip just the way she was learning he liked. A quiet laugh could be heard under her ear.
With her hand tight over his length, she worked him over faster and tighter than she had started, the slick noises loud in the quiet of Harry's bedroom. She saw each reaction of his prick in her hand, along with the pounding of his heartbeat under her ear. His hand on her back turned heavy, fingertips digging into her back. Even his hips twitched as he tried to restrain himself from fucking into her hand.
"I-I'm gonna cum, baby, okay? Ju-Jus' let go if y'don't want the mess, fuck," Harry prattled, sounding a bit out of it as he tried to speak. A string of curses interrupted him before he was able to continue, "So good, baby, so fucking good. Can't believe you've been h-hiding this from me."
"I didn't know you wanted me to touch you—wasn't hiding," she countered, sure it was falling on deaf ears.
"Always wanted you, baby, can't believe y'didn't know that," he grumbled out, his hips shifting just as she felt another twitch of his cock in her hand. "F-Fuck, love, 'm cumming, 'm cumming."
Just as he spoke, his thighs clenched, balls tightened, and cum spurted out of his tip. Despite his warning about the mess—a completely warranted warning as far as she could see—(Y/N) didn't remove her hand. His warmth roped down her hand, dropping down over her fingers and slicking her even more as she continued working him through the high. Every pump of her hand granted her a whispered curse or a stunted breath. Harry's hand on her back kept her squished against his side, warming her more than the crewneck she had adorning her body.
The mess he made came to a dribble, only small streams coming out when (Y/N) squeezed with her stroking. Ropes of his cum mostly decorated her hand with small spots having landed on the curls bordering his base and the strength of his thighs. Soon enough, it was too much, Harry hissing as she continued to touch him, (Y/N) taking the cue and removing her hand.
She felt drained as she laid on his tummy, hearing the erratic rate of his heart as he softened. Her eyes came to a close as if she had been the one that had been drained of an orgasm, breathing along with him as he hugged her as well as he could with only one arm around her. (Y/N) cuddled close to him, placing a distracted kiss to his stomach once more.
Allowing him extra moments to come down, (Y/N) used her clean hand to help ruck up his pants, tucking him back inside his underwear and sweats. The displaced comforter he had pushed out of the way what felt like hours ago, had been tugged back up over his hips, cushioning around him.
"C'mere, sweetheart," Harry crooned, voice tired as he spoke for the first time with clarity in his tone, "Let me clean y'up."
(Y/N) turned to face him with a soft smile on her lips, shuffling closer to him despite the arm he refused to drop from around her. He sat up in lethargic movements, back against the headboard before he reached towards the box of tissues he had standing on his bedside table. He gave her a tender look as he reached for her wrist, a gentle grasp around her hand.
"You alright?" she asked as he cleaned off her hand, twisting and folding the paper as he dirtied it.
A breathy laugh fell from his lips, the sound not feeling the same now that she kew what it was like to hear it from his chest. "Yeah, I think 'm doing alright. You?"
"I'm good," she smiled, twisting her hand so he could clean up her fingers where he had dripped over her.
"Give me a minute, and we'll take care of you, yeah?" he told her, looking at her through his lashes before he dipped his head down and pressed a delicate kiss to her fingertips. He tossed the soiled tissue in the bin sat a few feet from his bed, the discarding something of an afterthought as he lingered in his kiss.
"What do you mean?" she asked, mind swirling as she replaced herself against his chest, cheek on his shoulder.
A careful kiss was pressed to the top of her head, his arm wrapping familiarly around her waist. "'S not fair that 'm the only one that feels good tonight, is it? Gotta take care of m'girl, too."
My girl—something else she was going to have to think about later.
Tipping her head, she looked up at him with a quiet shake of her head. "We don't have to do that, it's okay."
A furrow touched his brow, his other hand coming up to cradle her jaw. "I want to, baby. 'M not trying to take advantage of y'being so nice to me—can't be the only one cumming tonight."
"No, no, it's okay," she stopped him once more, giving him a gentle smile, "I'm too tired, I just wanna sleep with you."
His gaze dropped over her features, tracing each plane before stopping on the pillows of her cupid's bow. He looked unsure until he matched her eyes once more. She really was too tired, she wasn't lying, especially after the work she put into that.
"Can I kiss you, then? If it's not too... weird."
"I think we're kinda past weird tonight, right?" she smiled, the grin growing when Harry nudged his nose gently against hers. "You can kiss me."
That was all Harry wanted to hear before he dipped his head down and pressed his lips against hers. The kiss was decidedly softer, less urgent than what had happened in this same bed only a few moments earlier. It was a funny thought, (Y/N) tried to fend off. She had jerked him off before she had ever even kissed him.
The contact was innocent, quiet and fleeting. Harry shared small pecks with her, seals of his lips over hers over and over before he slotted his bottom lip between her two. His body was her anchor, arm around her waist and his hand on her jaw keeping her settled in the moment. He only stopped when he could feel her smiling against his kiss, drawing just enough away to nudge his nose against hers once more.
(Y/N) fluttered her eyes open to catch him already looking at her, a smile on his lips that matched the one that had bloomed on her own. His hand on her cheek grazed his thumb over the height of her cheekbone before he dropped to wrap both arms around her waist. He hugged her tightly against his body, prompting her to cling to him with a hug around his middle.
Her face was tucked against his neck as he spoke to her, the full of his lips brushing over the sensitive skin of her neck. "You're m'best friend, baby. You know that?"
She couldn't help but feel like he meant it a little bit differently than when he'd said it before.
"You're my best friend, too, H."
She definitely meant it in a different way than she ever had before.
thank u smsmsmsm for reading and to whoever requested this little idea a super long time ago!!! sorry for any mistakes and ig you have any ideas or requests of your own pls send them in !!!
worth the risk
Y/N attends the Golden Globes and has lots of questions to answer
word count: 2738
a/n: hola amores!!!!! this series has been so much fun to write! happy reading. let me know what you want to see next :D
part one // part two
“You know what to say when they ask,” Bee reminds you as you sit in your makeup chair, letting the glam team do their job. You’re going for an elegant but simple look that the cameras will be able to capture. You loved wearing bold red lipstick, but for tonight you were doing a pink shade, a touch darker than your natural lip color, to allow the jewelry you are wearing tonight to speak for you on the carpet.
“Yup,” you frown at the mirror where you can see Bee taping away on her iPhone. “I will tell them I let him take me to his house and have his way with me.”
“Y/N!” Bee hisses. “Be serious.”
You’re fed up with all this information for one meeting with Harry. It started as a date, but you doubt anything more will come of it now due to all this unnecessary drama. There hasn’t been a chance for you or Harry to talk about what you’re both looking for in a relationship or if you were interested in seeing each other again.
“Yes, I know.” You take a sip of your chamomile tea, trying to relax. “I’ll say we had coffee, and he’s even nicer in person.”
Bee sets her phone down, able to pick up on your bitterness. “If you had let me know you were going to meet him, we could have prevented this.”
You don’t regret meeting Harry because you got to spend a carefree afternoon with him. It did lead to unprecedented changes in your plans. You think back to sitting in an office instead of Harry’s house for dinner like you had planned.
The office was cold, and the tension in the room was high. Harry sat to your left, and Bee and Jeff, your managers in front of you, stern looks on both their faces. It reminded you of when your parents sat you down and gave you an hour lecture about sneaking out. The talk was so boring you never snuck out again.
“There are pap pics of you everywhere,” Jeff informs you.
It is evident to you where this conversation is headed.
You feel yourself shrink into your chair. This is not something you had planned. Neither did Harry. After your “date,” you planned to meet the following day at five pm, where Harry would have food waiting, and you’d arrive with store-bought wine. You were driving to his house when you got the call. Harry was quick to inform you he had an urgent meeting to attend, and you shared that you did as well. The dots clicked much faster than you liked.
Bee explained that there was no way to stop the photos from going out. This was simply a warning to them to prepare statements if necessary.
“We’ll cut Y/N’s trip short, get her back to America,” Bee tells Jeff as if you weren’t even there able to make a choice for yourself.
“Hey, I’m supposed to visit my sister and my nephew,” you argue.
Bee sighs, knowing you’re right. You haven’t been able to visit them, and it’s all you talked about on your flight. “Call her and ask her to see you tomorrow. You’re coming back in February.”
Bee dismissed your concerns, but you were thankful for the extra day. Jeff pulled out a tablet to show you the photos. There is nothing scandalous. It’s you and Harry facing each other with similar smiles. The last photo is the one that you know is the one that caused all this ruckus. Harry is photographed kissing your cheek. It’s friendly. Nothing to signify more happened or that it was a date. It was simply two friends getting coffee.
“Are you putting out a statement?” Harry asks.
“No, Harry. What for?” Jeff deadpans.
You see Harry frown, but he doesn’t fight his manager because this is Harry’s MO, ignore and move on. You’re not used to this. Sure, you’ve had articles written about you, but you have always been the sole focus, not you being linked to Harry Styles.
“Does Harry have anything to announce? Take away the focus from the photos when they drop.” Bee is always ten steps ahead, and here is another time.
“We have yet to announce his LA opening act,” Jeff offers. He looks towards Harry, who sits there pensive. Harry looks like he would rather be anywhere else than here.
“Wet Leg would be a good distraction,” Harry tells Jeff shrugging as if he’s used to all this fuss.
You were taking this too personally. Harry didn't owe you anything. He didn’t have to say he was simply having coffee with a friend. You were not allowed to say a word because you were insignificant compared to Harry’s world and fame.
It did not feel nice, and you were ready to return to your hotel.
“Y/N has the Golden Globes press in a few days. We’ll officially blacklist his name.”
You sit there, letting Bee take control of your life. You had forgotten this part of fame. You knew it was too soon for you and Harry to be protecting each other. You went on one date. There was not enough time for feelings to grow, but you did wish things were different because you’re certain after today’s fiascos, you’d no longer be hearing from Harry.
Bee bid her goodbyes as she took a phone call, and you took that as your cue to leave. You wished both men well and hurried into the elevator, eager to get out of the building and hopefully never return.
“Y/N, wait.” A body slips through the elevator doors, and you’re startled to see Harry.
He has a shy look, and you know this is awful for both of you. You had been lost in your own thoughts that you didn’t see how this affected him or how often he must do this with his team to protect his image but mostly his privacy.
“I’m sorry,” he apologizes. You shake your head to stop him, but he keeps going. “You’re getting the brunt of everything being in interviews and red carpets while I can hide at home.”
He has a point.
“It’ll be fine,” you brush him off, pressing the first floor of the elevator. “Well, I hope,” you joke.
Harry clears his throat, “I was looking forward to this evening.”
You feel your face flush, not having expected to hear him say that. “Really?”
“Mhm…I-I really enjoy your company,’ he whispers in a low voice, careful to keep his focus on you.
You nod, “ditto.”
Harry hears the ding of the elevator, and as he waits for the doors to open, he does something that could get both of them into deeper water, but he doesn’t seem to care. “W-would you still want to come over?”
You turn to look at him, “didn’t we just get told not to see or speak about each other.”
Harry shrugs, “I was never one for following the rules.”
You sigh in disbelief.
“Plus,” he adds on. “What they don’t know won’t hurt them?”
At that moment, you decided that Harry was worth the risk.
Red carpets were overwhelming, and you were looking forward to reaching the end and allowing yourself to have endless drinks of champagne, but before all of that, there were interviews to get through. You were dressed in a glamorous black and white gown by Carolina Herrera with Tiffany & Co. jewels with Christian Louboutin heels. You were going for an old Hollywood look, and your team helped you deliver. Dani, your stylist, knew it would be a stunner on the carpet.
The carpet was full of artists you loved and admired. Your co-stars would stop you for a chat and have you pose for a few photos. It was the most fun complimenting others on their look of the night, but it was mostly amazing to talk about the shows and movies that were being honored tonight.
The first interview went smoothly. It was simple questions of who you were wearing and what was in your bag kind of interview. You knew if the others continued like this, you would be fine.
Maeve, your wonderful assistant, you’d go as far as to call her a close friend now led you to the next interviewer. Reece was someone you immediately felt at ease with for some reason. You had heard about how they began their career on social media and grew it to what it was today, being able to interview on red carpets and work behind the scenes of different productions. He was courteous in greeting you and complimenting your outfit, and you did the same in return.
Reece smiled at the camera before turning his attention back to you. “Alright, I’m going to ask you Globe related questions.”
“Sounds perfect,” you place your hands over your stomach, making sure your shoulders are pushed back and that you’re camera ready even though you know the camera has been recording from the moment you made it to his side.
“Are there any shows or movies from this past year that were your favorites?” Reece asks.
“Besides my two shows,” you tease. “Abbot Elementary and The Bear were my standouts. For movies, it’s clearly Everything Everywhere All At Once and The Fabelmans,” you gush. The answer was one you did not have to think about. You’ve been doing your best to keep up with all the new movies and shows released last year.
“You have amazing taste,” Reece tells you. He continues on to the following questions. “Any world that has been in movies or shows in the past year that you would actually live to live in?”
You laugh, “too easy I would love to be neighbors with Selena Gomez, also known as Mabel in New York. I’d be such a big fan of the podcast.”
“That would be fun, even with all the murders,” he comments.
It’s easy to settle your nerves in front of a camera, but you’re itching to answer the last few questions. “Is there a favorite line reading you've loved?”
This one comes to you quickly. “Ah, it has to be Angela Bassett “I am Queen of the most powerful nation in the world! And my entire family is gone! Have I not given everything?””
Reece places a hand over his heart. “Hits too close to home. Thank you, Y/N.”
“Of course, Reece. Have a nice evening.”
He shakes your hand but holds it for a second. “Sorry, one last question, please.”
You decided to indulge him and gesture for him to go on.
“One last question then, favorite spiderman?”
You fake a gasp. “Stop, how dare you. I love all three of them. All are so special.” You mean honestly. “But Andrew holds a special place in my heart. He’s my best friend. Sorry to Tommy and Tobie.” Andrew is someone you met during a film festival, and you instantly clicked. He’s that older brother you always wanted, and now he’s someone you go to when you need support when the industry can get too much.
“Well, Y/N have a wonderful evening,” Reece bids you goodbye, and off you go.
“You too, Reece.” You mean it genuinely. “It was a pleasure speaking with you.”
Maeve assures you it went well and gestures for you to keep walking. You stop for more photos and are on your way to your next interview when you run into Jennifer Coolidge. She wraps you in a big hug and poses with you for everyone screaming her name. She sends you off with a kiss and a promise to see you inside. Tyler James William is someone you approach because you’d never forgive yourself if you didn’t. You stand in the middle of the carpet, gushing over each other, and it isn’t until you’re both being ushered away that he promises to get in touch soon.
Jean Smart, your co-star in Hacks screams as soon as she sees you. Jean is your favorite person, and you’re quick to let her sweep you away. It’s easy to get lost in conversation, forgetting where you are, and she promises to see you inside soon, seeing as you’re seatmates. It’s an honor to be nominated for such a prestigious award, but you already know there is no award going home with you today, and that’s okay because your time will come.
You’re guided to one final interview with the one and only Amelia Dimz.
“Hi, Y/N, how are you?” She greets with a red carpet smile.
“Good, thank you very much.” You take a second to look her over, and you know you have to say something because she looks absolutely smashing. “Can I say you look stunning?”
Amelia laughs, slapping you, lighting with her cards. “Stop, or I’m going to have you take me on a date.”
You shrug, “I would not mind at all.”
“I have invited you to eat some chicken with me,” she tells you accusingly.
“Have received no such news. We’ll be in touch,” you promise, making sure to give Maeve a look to look into the chicken shop date for when you’re in London in February.
“Alright, alright. What’s your dating advice for me?” Amelia asks, patiently waiting for your response.
You think it over for a second, look at the camera, then back to Amelia. “Date me,” you say with a smile.
“Oh,” Amelia blushes, losing her train of thought for a second.
“Back to your question,” you tell her, giving her a minute to compose herself. “Put yourself first. Anyone would be lucky to have you.”
She thanked you, her cheeks flushed but continued on. “Do you have any fashion advice?”
You rock on your heels and shrug. “Be comfortable.”
“Right, thank you, Y/N.” She leans in to give you a hug. “One final question,” she whispers. She is giving you the option to say no.
You know what she wants to ask and fuck it, you find yourself nodding yes. Bee has always said she loves a good headline on nights like tonight.
“You were seen out getting coffee recently with a certain English man,” Amelia is careful not to mention his name, but everyone will be able to connect the dots rather quickly. “Do you consider coffee with someone a date, or is that too casual?”
You can answer this one of two ways. There is Bee’s answer where you’re vague, or you can do it your way and create a bit of fun for fans at home and yourself.
“Depends on the company, absolutely.” You share, you’re biting back a grin making sure not to look over at Maeve, who looks ready to drag you away. “If it’s an English man asking you for coffee, it’s absolutely a date.”
Amelia turns to the camera and shakes her head laughing. “Well, there you have it.”
You flash the camera with a big smile and wink. “Bye, Amelia, hope to see you soon.”
You breeze through the last bit of the carpet, waving at the final cameras as you reach the safe space where your every move is no longer being followed. Maeve grumbles how Bee will have both your heads, but you’re having too much fun to care. Maeve hands you your phone, telling you it has been buzzing for a while.
You ignore messages from Bee and your sister and go straight to the newest message from your contact, Harry, with a purple heart. He thought you should give him a fake name, but you’d never because you know your phone's privacy is entirely yours.
You look gorgeous.
I’m really jealous of everyone seeing you in that dress in person.
I hope you enjoy your night.
I know you must be getting date offers left and right please reject them.
I’ll be in LA in a few weeks.
Dinner and wine at my house when I arrive?
You laugh because Harry is smooth. After dinner at his house, you both decided to take back a bit of control in your life and would continue to see each other behind closed doors. This was just Harry confirming the plans you had set in London.
It’s a date.
Not all secrets were bad, especially ones that were as pretty as Harry.
Summary: Harry is y/n boyfriend of twenty months. He’s still the shy boy around her, but now more comfortable. It leads to it that Harry stops wearing long big clothes and have sex with out a shirt.
Pairing: shy boyfriend!harry x fem!reader
Trigger warnings: mention of throwing up, use of pet names, praise, mention of handjob, short mention of sucide, unprotective sex, aftercare
A/N: I write for Niall too, I would like to write more about him. But I don't enjoy it when no one reads it and I hardly get any feedback. It is demotivating for me. I don’t write much smut, so it isn’t my best, but it’s soft and caring.
After thirteen months y/n dad insisted on meeting Harry. He knew it got serious between them. Y/n was never so long with someone in a relationship. Her ex-boyfriend just broke up after seven months and the next day he had a new one. Y/n knew something was wrong but she couldn’t prove it.
“Y/n when can I meet your boyfriend?” Her dad asks her softly. He brought her a glass of water. She stayed home, she got sick to her tummy overnight. She couldn’t rest well the night before the whole night she sat before the toilet and puked.
“He’s really shy. He doesn’t like to talk to new people,” she swallowed the water down. She lost a lot of liquid over the night and it stopped only this morning.
Her dad opened his mouth, “I love you. I just want to make sure he’s the right guy for my little girl.” She hugs him tightly. “Try to sleep a bit,” y/n lays her body on the warm sheets. “If you need anything tell me,” she gets a kiss on her forehead.
Y/n tried her best that Harry doesn’t come over the next few days. She doesn’t want him to get sick either. But he loves her too much not to. He wore a big fabric jacket from her. His favourite actually. It’s just a plain dark blue jacket.
Harry rang the doorbell, he can feel how sweat builds on his hands. He decided to hide his face with the hood. He has never seen y/n dad. “Is y/n home,” he asked quietly. Her dad is almost as tall as Harry.
Harry saw her dad a few times and he finds him intimidating. She told him that her dad is the sweetest guy he’ll know. Something important that she told her prince is that her dad is young.
Y/n dad let her in and brought him upstairs into her room. “Look who’s here,” y/n turned her body to the door. The corners of her mouth curled up when she saw him.
She missed doing his hair so she made him braids, her eyes shining. She kissed him a lot and in return H helped her with the school stuff she missed. “Do you miss me?” He asks insecurely. He never asks anything like that. He doesn't want to sound clingy.
“Of course I did,” y/n couldn’t help but smile from eye to eye. It’s been four days since she wasn’t in school.
The next visit to the sick. Y/n can tell something is wrong with him. “Wanna talk about it,” she put some colourful hair clips in his hair. She stroked his knuckles. He told her how pretty he feels when she puts them in his hair. She sees some tears on his cheeks shining.
“Don’t like seeing you sick,” he says. Something is off with him. He’s quieter than she’s used to.
Luckily it wasn’t something serious. Y/n just ate some old food and her stomach did not tolerate it. “My dad wants to have dinner with you,” she says.
“Is that okay, I mean you don’t like talking to new people?” He nods. “Great, he'll be happy to meet my Harry.” Her smile is so big it might burst.
After fifteen months y/n found out the word shy doesn’t exist in her dad‘s vocabulary. “Sweetie, can I talk to you in the kitchen?” Her dad asks softly, Harry looks up. He hates meeting parents, it’s the second time he agreed to this.
He loves y/n so much. Harry couldn’t say no to her begging.
“What’s wrong dad?” She asks.
“Did I do something wrong? Did I upset him?” Her dad put the dirty dishes into the dishwasher.
“He’s shy. I already told you that,” she’s looking at Harry. He picks his nail polish and his leg is bouncing.
He raised his eyebrows, “what can I do to get him to talk to me?” Her dad is insecure; he never had to deal with a person this shy or shy in general.
“Talk to him about something he likes,” she put some ice cream in the bowl.
“And that is?”
“Music, he’s amazing at singing and playing the piano.”
Her dad took her advice and talked about music. He opens up. She whispers some praises in his ear and holds his hand under the table. It turned out that y/n dad loves him. He never said it to him but y/n told him. She knows the signs. He’s really happy about it after his lover told the prince. He even told his mom and she saw how happy her son is after this dinner with his girlfriend's dad.
Sixteen months into their relationship and y/n had only seen Harry in oversized hoodies, sweaters, jackets and long-arm shirts. Even when he wears long-arm shirts he wears a big jacket over it.
“I love you,” she murmurs in his chest, “so much.” Harry pulls her more into his body. “I love you, my lover.” Her grip on his body is strong. He pressed a kiss on her soft hair.
Harry loves these moments. He can be himself and he knows y/n won’t judge him. Harry heard those words for the first time from his lover.
Her prince didn’t like them. He pinched his eyes shut. It made Harry feel uncomfortable. He felt the knot in his throat tighten. The prince never thought that “I love you” would make him feel that way, again. He knows this time it’s different. His knuckles turned white from the way he holds his jacket. His chin rests on the top of y/n hair. “What’s wrong,” all she can see is his white knuckles. He feels sick to his stomach.
“Nobody will ever love me,” these words came so easily over his lips it hurt her to hear them. It sounded so painful in her ears. “You are lying! You don’t love me, it’s a fucking lie." She can hear his sobs.
“Harry,” she touched his white knuckles. He put some space between himself and y/n. His sobs are getting louder. He felt pressure, the feeling of the knot went to his chest. “What is wrong? Don’t you feel the same way about me?” She loves him, she never said that to anyone. It was the first these words came over her soft lips. She wasn't sure if this relationship works anymore. It can’t work anymore.
“You can’t love me,” the tears in her eyes form. Y/n was so vulnerable with him, and he just said those words. “Please don’t love me, I don’t deserve it.” It sounds like he doesn’t care about her. “I’m a freak.”
He always said those words but never got them back.
“Sunshine,” he turned around y/n only called him a couple of times, sunshine. “Don’t say those things about yourself.” He pinched his eyes shut; he never broke down before her. “Can you tell me what’s wrong?”
“My ex saw me shirtless,” y/n sits down on the ground with him. Her soft fingertips wipe his tears away. He leaned into her touch. “I-I was really happy.” He swallowed the sobs.
“Yeah?” He nods, “then why are you freaking out about those words?” She asks softly. Harry takes a deep breath and tries to calm himself down. Y/n helped him a lot during the process.
“I had sex with her, without my sweater. She said it’s okay we’ll leave the lights off,“ he took a deep breath before the next thing he’ll say, “she switched them on. Everyone in school was wondering what was wrong with me.” Y/n touched his hand gently, “I loved her,” he let go of his jacket.
“I would never do that to you,” Harry doesn’t answer her. He doesn't feel good.
“I’m a freak,” he whispers into her smooth skin.
“My little freak,” she corrected him. A small chuckle came over his lips.
“Your little freak?”
“All mine, every inch is mine,” his smile grew bigger. His fingers fumble with the zipper of his jacket. She helps him out of his jacket, “are you sure?” A secure smile plays on his lips. She takes the hem of his long-arm shirt in her hands and pulls it over his head.
Y/n is scared to look at his chest, his lips placed a lazy kiss on hers, “it’s okay. You can look,” his palms are sweating. Y/n hears his sniffles. “I want you to see my body, it’s okay. I really want it.” His tears are still rolling down his cheeks.
Y/n lowers her head, she takes his body in. All the tattoos he hid underneath his big clothes. His pale skin and his body look so beautiful. She takes every inch in. Her eyes couldn’t leave his body. “It’s hard to believe you hid that beautiful body of yours, all that time.” She loves his butterfly tattoo already. “Thank you.” Y/n leaves her hands by herself, she doesn’t know if he wants her to touch them.
“You meant that I love you?” She hums, “I love you too,” on y/n cheeks and runs happy tears down. She never heard those words before. “I want a hug,” he opens his arms for her.
His girl always feels so safe in his arms.
After seventeen months she saw him walking around in a shirt at home only around her and his parents. He told y/n that he got bullied and had to change schools. He was suicidal, it this changed when he meet y/n. He wanted to be her friend and now he’s more. He told her about it and she felt sorry for him. No one deserves this.
“Harry,” she whines, “come back, it’s mine, please,” a whine came over his lips. She saw Anne in the kitchen cooking some food. She ran after him, he stole her blush and held it high in the air. She couldn’t reach it. “Harry,” she whines, “that’s unfair!” She pouts.
“Told ya, only need some compliments and you have the same effect,” she’s wearing a big shirt from him and his boxers. It’s now her shirt. He pressed his lips against her light pink lips. “It’s now mine,” she tugs his arm a bit down but he takes her blush in her other hand.
“Your 180 centimeters, that’s not fair,” she walks into the bathroom, maybe she finds something from Gemma. He pressed his lips against her ear and whispered softly something in her ear. “Pervert!”
“Can I do your blush?”
After twenty months, Harry is so comfortable with y/n that he sleeps shirtless. She couldn’t help it but always touched his skin. She draws little hearts on his back. It’s his favourite thing she does.
He knew she was the right one for him. For the first time, he saw her. Her little smile and her rosy cheeks and her hair, she’s perfect. She heard from his friends how kind she is and that she babysits on the weekends to get extra money.
He saw her often in the schoolyard enjoying herself with her friends. She laughed so much and she still does. The sun makes her skin glow. He has seen that glow so often on her.
His parents and her dad are really good friends, but Harry was too shy to say hello so he stood by his mom like a toddler who wants to leave. Now she's sleeping next to him cuddling by his side, little puffs of air leaving her lips.
He yawned and noticed his hard one. At first, he didn’t notice, but now it’s painful and he wants y/n to help him out. Most mornings it doesn’t happen but when it does he wants y/n help.
“Love please wake up,” he whispers in her hair. “Please, love you so much.” His lips leave some wet kisses on her neck.
“You're needy,” she murmurs and nuzzles her face more in his chest. Y/n kissed his chest. She loves his smooth, soft skin. “Go back to sleep.”
“Can’t ’M hard, hurts,” she can’t see his pout, “please baby,” he whines. Y/n couldn’t ignore it anymore. She wants him to cuddle with her.
“Handjob?” She asks.
“Need you wrapped about m’cock, please.”
“Go on,“ she whispers in his chest. Harry pulls her cozy pyjama pants down and his sweatpants. He dips his fingers in her warmth, she’s ready for him. All his whining got her worked up. She doesn't want to admit it, but it’s true.
“Can we go bare?” She doesn’t answer, “buy you a plan B after it.” She nods, “words, pretty girl.”
“Please,” she whines. Y/n opens her eyes a bit and sees him as nervous. “Just me is okay.” His head drops to her shoulder. “You don’t have to be dominant, be my Harry, please.” She keeps her fingers in his hair. She knows it calms him and he feels comfortable with her hand in his hair.
Harry grins his hips into hers, he gets some moans and whimpers out of her mouth. “Never wanted to do it without a shirt before I met you. Just nervous,” she feels his lips on her neck. She’s so happy to hear this come over his lips. She thought he didn’t want her to see him without.
It’s true love.
He’s careful with her, Harry knows that his girl is sensitive in the morning. They once had morning sex. She’s so whiny and audible in the morning. Y/n never was so loud until that one time. Y/n tried her best to keep her eyes open to see her pretty and vulnerable boyfriend. A gaps came over her lips, “love you too,” she whispers back.
A big smile creeps onto his plump lips. Her prince noticed how her eyelids fell shut, “stay awake,” he held her face “’M not going to do anything when you sleep.”
“I'm tired and wanna sleep again,” she whines.
He sees the tears build in her eyes, “‘s okay not long anymore then we can cuddle.” Harry knows how much she loved her sleep. She pulls him down on his neck and keeps his thrusts deep.
She tugs and reaches her hand through his hair “love you,” the sunlight leaves a beautiful glow in the room. She moans and whines into his neck.
It’s a beautiful late summer day.
“Look at me, please,” her prince keeps his eyes on her face. She’s glowing thanks to the sun. “Love you so much.”
They are so in love.
His soft lips left some light kisses on her own lips. His thrusts are slow and steady. She can’t help but pulls him deeper. Harry moans and whimpers too. He’s sensitive too and doing it without a condom feels incredibly good for him too.
Morning sex is the best.
All her soft whimpers and moans were music to his ears. The room is filled with sex sounds. Harry’s thrust is getting harder, clenched down on him. He hits all the right spots.
He stops a whiny sound coming out of her mouth, he pushes y/n soft, small hands from his shoulders. “Prince, are you okay?” She asks with a sleepy voice.
She knew he would always be the shy boy. It gets better but some days he doesn’t talk at all and keeps quiet around her. “Will you tell me what's wrong with you?” Y/n kissed his damp skin.
“I want to cover up.” He said with a broken voice.
She pouts, “really? Wanna draw some hearts on you.”
“That would help,” he smiles again. He takes his big hand in her small palm. He grounds his hips deeply inside her. Y/n immediately clenched down on him. She’s close, she draws hearts on his back and fills the air with pornographic sounds. “Fuck– come for me. Get me all dirty please,” he continues his deep thrusts.
Some whines and moans escaped both of their lips. He kept the pace filling her up to the brim, pleasure filled both of their systems. Harry peppers kisses around her covered chest, and kitten licks her breast. He teasingly took one of her clothed nipples into his mouth and sucked lightly. Each time he did that she moaned. “You are so handsome,” her fingers go through his damp hair.
Her orgasm came over her. She whines and moans into his mouth and Harry is close too. His balls are heavy and waiting for release. “I‘m– fuck close,” his eyes roll back in pleasure. He finished in y/n for the first time. His head drops to y/n shoulder as he rides his orgasm out. He stayed a short moment inside her warmth.
Her lover gets a warm washcloth, wipes her mess, cleans. As he promised her he cuddles again with her. She’s so tired all she wants to do is sleep. Harry helped her into some new boxers and a shirt. “Love you so much my angel,” he pressed a soft kiss onto her hair. He wore some boxers too and kept kissing y/n and thanked her.
“Love you too,” she murmurs. Another sentence she said was; “I’m obsessed with your body,” before falling back asleep. It made him smile so much and some happy tears ran down his cheeks.
They are definitely doing it again without a condom.
summary: in which y/n is a small artist who got recognition because harry mentioned liking her music in a interview.
I’m sorry I’m not that active school is messing me up 😭
ALSO IM PROBABLY GOING TO MAKE MORE PARTS GIVE ME IDEAS PLEASE
face claim: gracie abrams
Liked by hsfan1, yourinstagram and 17,862 others
hsupdates During the interview with Zane Lowe, Harry mentioned listening to y/n l/n songs a lot in the studio while making Harry’s House!
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harryfan1 I just started listening to her music cause of harry and her songs are so sad but so good 😭
harryfan2 THE WAY HE STARTED BLUSHING TALKING ABOUT HER
yourinstagram stop 🥲
harryfan3 THE WAY HER FOLLOWERS WENT UP-
harryfan4 her music is so therapeutic omg.
Liked by paulithepsm, harrystyles and 276,761 others
yourinstagram Harry listening to my songs?? literally crying my 1D heart can’t take this right now. literally owe him my whole existence, thank you thank you thank you
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harryfan1 SHES ONE OF US 🙏
harryfan2 THE PILLOW 😭
↳ yourInstagram literally my favorite ever.
paulithepsm harry has been looking at his phone for the past 10 minutes trying to figure out what to comment.
↳ yourinstagram stop not you calling him out 😭
↳ harryfan3 PAULI YOU’RE EMBARRASSING HIM
harrystyles pauli took my moment.
harrystyles your music’s incredible.
↳ yourinstagram ohmygod..thank you 🖤
↳ yourfriend now she was the one freaking out
Liked by harryfan1, y/nfan2 and 5,828 others
y/nupdates harry styles at y/n show today in LA!
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y/nfan1 SHES LITERALLY GOING TO FREAK OUT
harryfan1 I’m so excited to see her reaction 😭
harryfan2 HOW DOES HE ALWAYS FIND THE CAMERA
y/nfan3 y/n and her bad eyesight is not going to be able to see him 😭
liked by harryfan1, y/nfan1 and 11,761 others
y/nupdates “this is one of the first time I wear my contacts on stage and tell me why harry styles is in the audience right now? now I feel like I have to sing better..are you having a good time? yeah? okay thank you so much for coming..I feel like I’m going to have a heart attack” y/n talking to Harry in the crowd tonight!
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y/nfan1 SHE SAW HIM
harryfan1 her reaction is cute omg and harry smiling through the whole concert-
y/nfan2 I’m so proud to see her this far in life 🥲
harryfan2 no cause why do I actually ship them together??
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harrystyles Love On Tour. North America.
And thank you to yourinstagram for saying yes to joining me on tour.
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y/nfan1 ITS OFFICAL I HAVE TO TRAVEL TO SEE THEM
harryfan1 STOP THIS IS REAL???
annetwist so excited!! ❤️
yourinstagram guys just fyi it took him 3 weeks to convince me to go on tour with him.
↳ harrystyles 🤦♂️
↳ y/nfan2 HER MAKING HIM BEG
harryfan2 HARRY USING A EMOJI????
↳ yourinstagram trust me I taught him how and I didn’t even get a thank you.
↳ harrystyles thank you?
One Is Enough II
in which Harry’s horny and you’ve got a smart mouth.
This’ll be the fourth time just this week alone. Although, to him, it feels like the millionth. He can’t remember ever feeling iced out like this; blown off or punished so cruelly.
The front of his body pressed up against you, his head just aside yours as he tries to sway your answer. In their journey down to the opening of your pants, fingers hungry to undo the zipper, he lets his hands fall flat atop your stomach.
So you wince.
His frown lines deepen when he feels you to start to writhe a bit, trying to shake his grip off until he fully succumbs his release. Reluctantly he surrenders before letting out a sigh; sexually frustrated and completely confused.
He figures it’s better to just ask outright, “M’I being punished f’something?”
He sounds defeated when you turn to look at him, eyebrows knitted in confusion when he gets a look at how painfully uninterested you appear.
Yes and no. And perhaps you’re not playing a very fair game or even so much as giving him the benefit of the doubt. You’re mad at him for something he said without him fully grasping the weight of it. But you’re also a little scared, maybe, so what better way to sort that out than to completely withdraw and retreat. Maybe lie a little, too.
“Why would you think you’re being punished?”
His eyes widen a bit before his brows follow, raising them almost as if he’s challenging you to keep being dishonest. He knows he’s being punished, which is exactly why he asked. Now he just wants to know why. You don’t seem mad. Disconnected a little, maybe. All he wants is to fix that.
“Dunno,” he pouts, his hands reaching out to grab your hips and create a little less space between the two of you, “maybe ‘cos I’ve been dying to touch you and y’wont let me.”
He takes your pause in response to prove his case a little bit, work the middle and show you how you’re only punishing yourself. Pushing all your hair to one side was a good start, because he’s got full access to your neck now. And before he goes to lick that favorite little spot of yours he lets his thumb trail the line of your jaw.
“Won’t let me..” he trails, mouth hovering just above your own to taunt you, “spread apart those pretty legs..”
It has been long. That familiar cold shot of chills down your spine is a brutal reminder. When his mouth moves to your ear, breath hot before he leaves an open mouthed kiss to your jaw, you’re about ready to fold.
“Won’t let me fuck you,” he’s practically out of breath, he wants to so bad, “please let me fuck you.”
The frustrating thing with him is he knows all the right spots to work. He knows what strings to pull, how to be persuasive. A sweet talker. Most times it would work. Except when his finger brushes over your nipple beneath your tee, sore to the touch, there’s a bitter lull of realization. And now the words ‘one is enough’ are resurfacing in your thoughts.
“Just,” and he’s truly puzzled when you give him a soft nudge off you, “I really don’t feel well that’s all, Harry, really.”
There’s no time allotted for a rebuttal on his behalf. Before he can even open his mouth to get serious you’re walking off, an exasperated sigh lingering in the kitchen long after you’ve exited.
He’s left in the kitchen; hard, disappointed, and even a little annoyed. If you were sick, fine. He wants you to at least lean on him to help. He can play the doctor role quite well, and rarely ever minds if at all.
But you’re dismissive, avoidant; anytime he tries to talk, you’re abrupt in response or completely removed altogether. He won’t outright accuse you of pretending to be ill. He’s not a dick and yes, he has empathy. However he is fed up, especially right now.
He’s sat aside you at the dinner table, his sister, his mother, and a few friends scattered about right across from him. A pre birthday dinner was Gemma’s idea; something intimate to celebrate Harry in between his shows. And everything seemed fine. Conversation was flowing, laughter prominent, the drinks abundant. The champagne was popped before Gemma brought out the cake an hour ago, but you didn’t even touch it. And you’ve barely said a word all night.
“Oh no,” it’s your third refusal of the night, “ thank you though, m’alright.”
Gemma's brows are furrowed at you, freshly opened wine bottle pressed snugly to the palm of her hand as it teeters a few drops into a barren glass. Your barren glass; one that you didn’t even ask for nor want. Regardless it’s in front of you now and stained with a stray drop from the open nozzle.
Gemma’s in front of you also, eyeing you curiously as she repositions her arm so she doesn’t spill the half empty bottle of red wine all over Harry’s expensive white rug.
“Did we bring th’wrong bottle?” she doesn’t put the cork back in yet because she’s not convinced.
It’s definitely the right one; your favorite, even. It was a courteous gesture on her behalf and you even feel a tinge of guilt for declining. Especially because you know she called Harry in advance to ask what you preferred.
“Love,” his tone is hushed, exercising a bit of modesty as he leans in closer to your ear, “just have a little.”
You certainly don’t want to be berated, especially from Harry of all people. Not when just a few hours ago he griped on and on over a plate of Rigatoni about how stressful the baby has been, how glad he was she went down for the night. You couldn’t help but flinch when the ‘two under two sounds like a bloody nightmare’ remark came out of his mouth, piggybacking off a chuckle and squeeze to your knee.
“I don’t want any Harry” you hiss, but frown as Gemma’s expression remains the same, “m’sorry Gem, just don’t really feel like having a glass.”
Of course, there’s a much more justifiable reason. Any other circumstance and you’d be happy to divulge, not just in the wine but in what should be exciting news. Exciting for everyone at the table except the most important person.
A small shift in energy invites itself to the dinner table, likely because you just very blatantly snapped at Harry in front of guests. So Gemma redacts her offer, assuring you it’s no problem as she slides the bottle back to the center of the table. Jeff shifts awkwardly in his seat, instinctively reaching for his own glass to take a bit of the edge off. And everyone else promptly follows him, as well.
You’re a bit stiff in stature as you wait for Harry to recoil and move his arm off your chair. And he does, reluctantly but swiftly before settling into his own seat to create a bit of space between the two of you. It’s a little uncomfortable now; nobody really knows what to say. The expression on your face is a tell tale sign you’re keyed up and Harry’s meekly put off at your lack of manners.
“Hm,” his unconvinced hum echoes off the rim of the glass at his lips, “could be this mysterious illness she’s got.”
The needling on his behalf has been teetering on insufferable for days. He’s managed to really work your last nerve, especially tonight because this is now his 4th snide remark about your ‘illness’.
Leaning back in his seat, he tilts the stem of the glass up before raising his eyebrows at you. Almost like he’s challenging you, something he’s been doing a lot of since your dinner with Anne. He’s blissfully unaware of the mounting tension you’ve been combatting, unfortunately something that comes as a result of withholding a secret. But your patience has expired and you’re trying to refrain from digging the heel of your shoe into the toe of his loafer. Now you’re just fucking annoyed.
“Or could be that I’m 10 weeks pregnant,” your smug sarcasm is dry, drier than the red wine that's now dribbling from the side of Harry’s mouth, “cheers, though.”