#harry one shot
harrysgraceland · 2 days
Faded Away IX
hi. a long awaited and need part 9 thank you all so much for all the love and support i appreciate you all so so so much. thank thank you thank you a special thank you to @cherryscinema :D CHECK OUT HER BLOG BTW SHES THE BEST ! i love love you thank you so much for helping me out with this part :) have a great week all of you ! i love love you i hope ur all doing amazing !
anyways talk to me in the asks ! don’t be shy friends let’s talk about anything and everything at anytime ! if you want to be added to the tag list don’t forget to ask !
let me know what you think of this part it was awfully draining to write :O don’t forget here’s the series masterlist !
song for this chapter ! this is me trying by our queen and savior ! taylor swift ! don’t forget to check out the series playlist
Anne rushed to Harry’s place after hearing his broken voice on the phone. She was close to her son this time and urged to comfort him and hold him in the way she knew he needed and wanted. She was his mother, it was her job to take care of him under any circumstances and decisions that he might have had, and throughout it all it was her job to comfort him and love him through it all. That’s why Anne was currently on the short drive from Y/N’s house to her son’s house to comfort him while he breaks in her arms.
Y/N was left confused much less than concerned in the bathroom with her dog soaked in the bathtub. Anne had taken the call, heard Harry’s tone and practically rushed out her door telling her that if she wasn’t back tonight that she would see her in a few days. She worried more so for Anne and the condition she had been left with after she had taken the call. She had never seen her in such a shaken worried state and in tears from simple words that had come out of her son. Y/N only let her mind wander to what Harry could have possibly gotten himself into before she stopped herself from drowning in concern and worry. She knew it wouldn’t be good for her and she also knew that she didn’t want to touch the topic of Harry that wandered freely in her mind. If Harry chose not to be around her at the point she needed him the most then why should she offer him herself in support of him when he abandoned her in such a way?  
She knew she was better off being alone with her dog then running back into Harry’s arms even if she still was in love with him. Eventually the love she had for him would fade, but that would only occur if she simply never fell into his arms again. And if she had gone up to his house with Anne she knew she would be falling for him just as hard as it was to get over him. It seemed unmanageable to get over Harry in the past, but being 5 months pregnant and occupied with the attention of work and a dog, she seemed to be getting over him slowly, with only a few occasional thoughts of him here and there. 
Of course Y/N could go on her own without Anne for a few days. She had done so for most of her pregnancy so far she only had occasional visits from Anne when given her ultrasounds dates. And that was her main concern, the fact she had an appointment in two days and she didn't know if Anne would be there or not. She assumed herself that if Harry was in a desperate measure of comfort, Anne would be spending the rest of her stay days that would be with her with Harry. That’s what brought her to main worry, dealing with being in a hospital on her own. Her and hospitals do not have a good history which is why she despises any form of doctor or appointment that requires her going to a hospital. Whenever she was forced to have an appearance in such a place she used to drag Harry with her, but now she had Anne, and with Anne she felt as if she didn’t need Harry which is probably why she felt as if she was getting over him slowly as well. 
“Worst comes to worst Cuddles” Y/N lifts the dogs legs from the tub he was happily in, “We’ll just call Gemma right” She groans as she finally gets Cuddles out of the bathtub in front of her, “Stay here” She tells him pointedly with a smile, “I’m going to go get your towel.” The one thing about Cuddles, was that for a dog, he was spoiled. He had the biggest playing area in her backyard, the biggest playing area in her home, a big dog bed, and an even bigger collection of toys. That wasn’t only her fault, everyone around her loved the dog, he had a charm that no other dog seemed to have and that’s what made Cuddles even more special to her.  She makes her way back into the bathroom where Cuddles was sitting with a dog smile plastered on his face and barking when she sees him. “Okay here’s what you’re gonna do” She points at him with a smile, “You’re either going to follow me, or you’re going to go sleep in your bed. Got it?” She asks him and almost like he understands her he barks in response. 
Y/N makes her way back into the in progress nursery room right next to her room and takes a brief look around the room. Anne and herself had managed to paint the room the cutest shade of green that simply warmed Y/N’s heart, and she knew that everything else she had to add into the room was only going to warm her heart even more. All she wanted was the best and perfect place for her baby and she hoped that by building this nursery she was in the right direction in providing the perfect place for her baby. Taking a breath she plops herself onto the floor of the room, and drags over the box of the crib that’s near her briefly looking over the box before simply tearing it open. “‘I’ve got to start somewhere don’t I?” She says to herself before she's taking out every type of wood assortment in the box. Before she can talk to herself again she hears the patter of Cuddles  running his way into the room. She turns over at the noise and soon enough he’s right in the doorway, “Alright Buddy” She calls him over, “We’re in for a long one with this” She points to the crib box, “So If i were you I would just watch, cause one of has got to do the building and I think that would be” She laughs lightly knowing that the dog doesn’t understand her at all but yet feeling the support he has to offer into the space of the room that will soon enough home the new best friend of her and the dog. 
As for Anne, true like her thoughts had told her she was sitting on the floor right next to her son’s doorway with her son falling right apart in her arms. She felt bad for him, regardless if she knew the background of the state he was in. Looking around her son’s home she felt crushed and broken herself seeing the several broken items, vases, pictures, anything and everything seemed to be broken on her son’s floor.  It wasn’t until she saw that every picture frame that was broken on her son’s floor were pictures of him and Fallon. Every other picture he had among his walls on furniture, they were all in place except the ones with none other than Fallon. 
She had rushed out of Y/N’s house so quickly she almost got lost on her way to Harry’s home. She had left Y/N’s place so quickly she never even had a second thought on what Y/N would say or do when she left her house. But a part of her knew the girl wouldn’t mind much if she was rushing out to help her son. Through the days Anne would spend with Y/N she saw the girl shift in no longer relying on the support system Harry had offered her for so long. Y/N seemed to be moving on, and Anne was not shy to admit the fact that she was proud of her for doing so. She knew the hurt Harry had caused Y/N she watched the girl fall apart for days over the thought and mention of her son. The question of what was going through Y/N’s mind as she rushed out her doorway never really came to Anne because she was so set on getting to her son. Much like she had to comfort Y/N when she lost Harry, it was Anne’s job to comfort her son and that’s what she was going to do. 
Anne felt bad. She felt terrible and a part of herself wanted to feel guilty. She was a mother she was allowed to hurt when her son was falling apart in her arms. But never did she want her son to hurt like this, she had seen Y/N hurt like this too much and guilt had always drowned her body, to see her son hurting like this made her feel sick.  Anne knew her son had not been the best person on the face of the earth within the past months, but even acknowledging and knowing so she knew he didn’t deserve to be in such pain as he was in. Harry wasn’t even letting out words to his mother, it was much simply sobs, and mumbles of words she couldn’t put together. 
She gathered he was clearly intoxicated upon seeing the several bottles laid around him, and it only made her feel more resentment towards her son. She couldn’t exactly pin out why she felt so bad for him, maybe it was because he was her son, But deep down she knew that regardless if she liked to admit it or not, her son had this looking out towards himself. Harry abandoned Y/N so easily and watching it all hurt Anne more than it seemed to hurt Harry, and he seemed now to be hurting the way Y/N did and never did Anne want to see Y/N or Harry, and even Gemma go through a pain like this ever. Yet again here Anne was watching one of her children fall apart in her arms and feeling complete resentment at the person in her arms. 
“Harry” She lets her hand run through his hair, “Love you have got to calm down” She tries to soothe him, but when she looks down she’s not even met with her son’s eyes, only the dark color of his hair was what her eyes saw. “Come on, Harry” She sighs lightly trying to at least get him to look up at her. 
This time, Harry responds, and Anne can actually put together the two words he lets out from his mouth. “I’m alone” He cries into his mother. 
“Oh Harry” Anne feels tears consume her vision, her son has no idea that this was the exact fear of his best friend, the same pain he caused her, he is now feeling on his own, “You’re not alone” She as soft as possible tries to reassure her son, “You’ve got me, Gemm-” 
“But I don’t have them mum!” Harry pushes himself out of the seemingly tight hold his mother has on him. He wanted his mother to comfort him, but he was letting his frustration from his pain take over him, and Anne knew she knew her son constantly did this in his emotional outbursts. 
“Harry” She got up and tried to make her way closer to her son wanting to hold him in her arms to comfort him, but Harry simply kept moving away and began to pace the open area in front of his mother. 
“They’re both gone” He shook his head, “I’m alone” He repeated to himself. Anne tried to get his attention while he chanted the same words to himself only causing him to break further.
Only when it got to the point that Harry had repeated the words, “I’m alone” so much to himself it started to break Anne and that was when Anne simply went up to her pacing son and wrapped her arms around him to soothe his words. Like always the boy simply fell into her embrace. 
“Love there are so many people out there” She whispers to her son as he shoves his face into his mother’s neck. “There’s so many people that are going to here with you, I promise you Harry you’re never going to be alone” 
“I lost the two girls I wanted the most in my life mum” He cried to his mother desperately, “I only wanted them!” 
Anne immediately knew he was referring to both Y/N and Fallon. Her heart ached for him, she knew he had led himself into losing Y/N but never did she expect or want to hear that her son would go through the heartbreak of Fallon so soon after. She couldn’t possibly imagine the hurt he was feeling knowing that he deemed Fallon as the one he was meant to be bonded with forever. She couldn’t imagine it and the best she could ever do was comfort him. 
Anne didn’t have much to respond to Harry with his desperate pleas and words. “Harry” She grabbed her son’s face from the place in her neck, wiping his tears “You’ll be okay, I’m here, love”  Harry only cried harder at her words and her heart only ached more for her son. 
After silent moments of his sobs, Anne finally decided that it was time to try her best and get her son to sleep. She knew the man could only soothe his pain and cries if he went to sleep, he wouldn’t have to face the pains he was enduring himself in. “Let's get you to bed darling” She continued to run her hands through his messy short hair.  When she felt his head nodding to her she sighed in relief, and soon enough the two of them were making their way up the stairs to get into bed. Anne watched her son take slow steps across his room, picking out his pajamas and looking around as if he was so unaware of his surroundings, and her heart broke even more. Her son didn’t seem to be feeling at home in his own home. 
Harry walked over to his desk, leaving Anne confused as to what he could possibly be looking for in such a  place at such a time. But when he stopped in front of the desk her heart broke even more than it already had been. Anne watched as Harry grabbed the picture frame in front of him and clutched it to his chest. He turned to her and if watching her son in this state hadn’t shattered her heart, then this definitely had him stomping on her heart.
Harry always found comfort in Y/N. After a long day of interviews, continuous shows, album releases, there was a constant through it all and it was Y/N. Whenever she sensed he was being overpressured, or knew he wasn’t doing his best or feeling his best Y/N was there.  She was everywhere whenever she needed him, and Harry couldn’t explain how grateful he was for her. She took care of him when he couldn’t take care of himself, and the most she ever did was take care of him when he wasn’t himself. In true form and works, Y/N had shaped everything Harry had ever worked towards. He knew if she wasn’t at his side like she constantly was, he wouldn’t have reached the level he had with his career.  She quite literally had designed every single thing in his closet, and every single thing he could have worn in his life since knowing her. Y/N was there whenever he needed someone the most. Whenever he longed for the comfort his mother was so far away to reach for, Y/N was there. She was there, and when she needed him the most he had left. Harry had left her on her own. Now as he clutched the picture of the two ex best friends into himself, he wished he had never left her on her own. He wished that she was there like she always was for him. He cried because she wasn’t there because of his own fault. He cried because he put himself through this. He cried because he wanted the love Y/N had to offer him. He cried because he wanted to be the comfort she had always offered him. 
Harry did eventually get into his bed. Anne managed to get her son into bed into much defiance and struggle that came from him. She managed to get him to bed, but she didn’t manage to get him to let go of the picture of his hold.  Harry went to bed with the picture of him and Y/N clutched into his chest, and his tears falling onto them. He fell asleep with a great ache and pain going through his body and his heart, and he knew that he deserved to go through the pain he was crying out of. He deserved it, and he fell asleep crying because he knew that he deserved it. 
Y/N she wasn’t in bed, she wished she was, but no she wasn’t. She was laid on the carpeted floor, huffing at the strength it took her to put together a crib. Who knew the amount of strength one would need to put together a crib. She never imagined it would have taken her the span of 2 hours. She assumed that by an hour she would be up and putting up the bassinet set she had bought. But nope it was now 12 and she was laid on the ground trying to catch her breath after she had used all her energy and strength to build a single crib. 
If simply painting the room and building a crib took all of Y/N’s night she didn’t know how much longer it would take to fully get the room perfected. But nevertheless she was excited for the process and the outcome, she was just exhausted, and hungry. 
“We need a long break after this one don’t we buddy” She huffed out turning her head to look at her dog, “Oh of course! You’re sleeping” She groaned and lifted herself up from her spot, quickly glancing around the room. Even though she was five months pregnant now it still took her a bit to fully come to terms and process. She was having a baby in just four months. She was going to have a baby. Something she never imagined, something she had never thought of. Never had she thought she would end up where she was now. Building a nursery room for a baby she was going to have. Never did she think that if she were to have a baby Harry wouldn’t be there.
When Y/N had thought of her future, Harry was always there, no matter what in any way shape or form, her best friend, the person she called her lover was there. Now that he was gone, she seemed to have quickly adjusted to a life without him. She figured if he can kick her out of his life that quickly, then she could easily adjust to a life without him. Surely and slowly she was, he rarely crossed her mind, but when he did it only brought an agonizing pain and panic surface into her body and mind. The man she had loved for so long had turned to be one of the men that she almost feared to be near. Not because of the person he was, she knew that deep down even everything the man had put her through recently, Harry was an amazing person with an amazing heart. But she feared the damage he would continuously do to her, she feared what else he would break in her, she feared that if she were to let him back into her life he would not only break her but break her child’s heart. 
Her baby was the most important thing in her life currently. Even if they weren’t born yet she wanted to protect them at all costs and she would do whatever it possibly took to make sure her baby was safe from anything and everything even if they had yet to face the world. But she knew that if she had to go through heartbreak she would protect her baby from the aches of heart she had been enduring for years in any way that she could until she no longer could. But if staying away from Harry was what it took, then she would stay out of his way like he desired. 
Y/N finished off cleaning all the little bits of trash that were scattered across the room of the nursery, and settled on leaving Cuddles sleeping in the work in progress room. She had no energy to lift his weight up and possibly settle him on her bed or in his own bed, so she simply left him to his peaceful slumber. Either way she knew that the soft dog would find its new home in the same room in the coming four months. Sighing she put all her energy into getting down the stairs of her home getting a quick snack and then making her way up the stairs once again getting into her room and quickly going through her night routine, making sure to leave the door of her room open just in case Cuddles awoke in the middle of the night and made his way into the room. She got into  bed and let her mind take over the future she had ahead of her with her baby with the occasional question of what Harry could be going through at the moment. 
Anne awoke to the sound of her phone ringing. Thankfully not to the sound of her son vomiting his insides in the toilet after last night, but the sound of her phone ringing going through Harry’s guest room. Groaning, she glanced at the clock that was settled on the nightstand next to her.  Her eyes widened when she came to notice the time hitting noon. She reached out towards her phone and upon seeing the contact name of “Y/N” she quickly answered the call. 
“Anne?” The girl let out what Anne heard to be a harsh gasp into the phone. 
“Y/N?” Anne began to rub the sleep out of her eyes, “Are you alright darling?”
“I can’t find the jelly and you were the last to use the jelly.” Y/N quickly spoke into the phone and Anne only giggled at this being the reason the girl was calling her. Of course she would be the one to call her at almost noon asking her where the jelly was.  But to Anne’s dismay she was helpless; she had no recollection of using the jelly at all, much less knowing where it was. 
“Love, I don’t ever remember using the-”  Y/N interrupted her easily and quickly. 
“Anne, you used it yesterday morning for toast.” Anne had used hazelnut spread. Not Jelly. She remembers because Y/N specifically asked her to not use the jelly because she didn’t like the strong smell. 
“Love, I used the hazelnut spread” Anne let out a chuckle at the girl insistence.
“Anne!” Y/n was beginning to become frustrated, and it didn’t help that Cuddles was right at her feet trying to jump onto her legs, “Cuddles, Let’s not” Anne heard her try to calm the dog over the phone. 
“Darling I swear I used the spread because you said the smell of the jelly wasn’t being nice to you” Anne reminded her as she got up and made her way to the bathroom in the guest room. 
“I really wanted jelly today” The girl began to cry over the phone to Anne, and for once Anne didn’t feel a pang in her heart about one of her children crying she found it rather comical but she wasn’t going to admit that to the soft girl over the phone, she knew it would only send the girl into a deeper spiral of tears over jelly. 
“Darling” Anne tried to hide her light laugh through a sigh, “You can head off to the store can’t you?” She lightly asked her, trying not to make her cry even more. 
“I don’t want to” Y/N cried, “If I do that means I have to take Cuddles cause he’s being extra clingy today and-” 
“Love” Anne tried to interrupt her but it didn’t work. 
“The baby has been kicking all morning and I really don’t feel like carrying Cuddles into,” The girl continued to blabber on to Anne until she cut her words off herself, “Oh my god Anne” 
“Yes Love” Anne let her laugh sound through the phone this time. 
“ I found the jelly” She wiped her tears and laughed lightly at herself, “It was right in front of me” She shook her head even though Anne couldn’t see her. “I’m sorry” She let out quietly after not hearing Anne say any word back to her.
“Oh love don’t be sorry” Anne laughed, “I’m happy this was what I woke up to” 
“You’re just waking up?” Y/N asked the lady over the phone.  She knew Anne was one to wake up early and get her day started in the bright of the day. 
“Yeah, we had a long night over here” Anne sighed knowing that if the girl even knew about the situation she would run her mind crazy and that was the last thing she wanted her to go through at the moment. 
“Is he okay” Y/N felt as if she was obligated to ask, even if it wasn’t to know about the state Harry was in, but rather how Anne was after seeing him in such a state. 
“He’s okay” Anne sighed, “He’s going to be okay” Anne was almost telling herself those words more than she was telling Y/N.
“He’ll be okay” Y/N repeated after Anne, “He’s got you, he’ll be alright, he’s got the best person to support him that is out there” Y/N smiled into the phone and the words simply made Anne melt and want to break into tears over the emotional exhaustion she had to endure herself. 
“Thank you love” Anne softly told her not knowing exactly what to say. She knew that if she mentioned what had Harry had done with the pic of the two last night it would only make the girl feel bad, and she knew Y/N had no reason to feel bad, she knew her son had been cruel to her and she wasn’t going to allow Y/N to simply walk back to him like that after he had thrown her out in such a way. As much as she loved her son and as much as she knew her son needed it, she wouldn’t allow Y/N to do so.
“I’ll get back to my sandwich making so you can go take care of him, yeah?” 
Anne let out a light laugh at the girls words, “Of course love, you get back to your sandwich I’ll see you soon” 
“I love you Anne” The girl told her before Anne was repeating the words and the call was quickly ended. Anne sighed upon the day she had ahead of her. She didn’t know what could possibly come from her day with Harry. She got herself ready for what was the rest of the day ahead of her before she finally made her way up to her Son’s room. 
She expected her son to be asleep, she didn’t expect him to be on the floor of his room once again in tears with every single picture of not only him and Fallon, but of him and Y/N as well. But this time Anne only sighed and her heart didn’t break for her son, it only resented him. 
“Oh Harry” She sighed as she made her way over to him and took her place right next to him on the floor. She looked at every photo around him, all of them which she had seen or hadn’t seen, but every photograph had a story, one that Anne didn’t know but that Harry cherished always. 
“I miss them” Harry looked up at his mother with tears in his eyes, “I’ve really lost everything now mum” He continued to cry while looking at his mother next to him. “I don’t know how I could let myself lose them both” Harry is only now beginning to process how badly he had fucked up. He lost Y/N and he never wanted it to lead to losing her ever. He lost Fallon and of course it hurt him because he truly thought that Fallon was the one, he thought she was the one he was meant to be with and she threw it all in his face. 
“Harry” Anne picked up Harry’s hand from his lap, “I know it hurts, but if you just sit here it’s not going to change anything. I know moving on from Fallon won’t be easy-”
“She said she didn’t love me.” Harry interrupted his mother words, letting out the same words that hurt him to hear from Fallon, “She said she didn’t love me and she never has, she led me on for three years mum” He looked right into his mother eyes with tears drowning his face, “She only wanted me for everything I had except for me”
Anne took in his words slowly and it hurt to know that the girl had been so sweet to her and everyone around her son only for her to have been playing an act for three long years. The girl hid her reality of emotions behind the person Harry was. She hid her true self behind Harry’s kindness and generosity, making her seem like the ideal woman for her son when she was the exact opposite. “Well she missed out on the love you have to offer Harry” Anne had no other words to voice to her son she didn’t know what to say that could have possibly made him feel better at this point. She could never possibly imagine what it was like to be so in love with someone and then be told that the person had never loved you back. It hurt her to hear that her son had to go through that heartbreak. 
“I love her mum” He cried his voice laced with pain, ���I loved her and she just walked away as if nothing! She laughed about it to mum” His cries only became louder as he picked up a new picture of him and what was once the love of his life. “Mum she made me leave Y/N because she wanted me to herself, and she didn’t even love me! She had this sick idea where if I was all hers then maybe she would love me, but she just got tired of me. She got tired of me mum.” 
Harry repeated his words almost as if he was still trying to process them himself and Anne only moved to embrace her son tighter. “I left Y/N when she needed it the most for her.” He glanced at his mother who only had to offer a soft sad smile at him, “I walked away so easily from her because I really thought she was the one. I wanted her to be the one and she just threw me out. I left Y/N for her.” Harry’s reality hit him, he had really left his best friend behind just for the sake of having the one right in front of him. He had simply thrown Y/N out as if she had never meant a single thing in his life or to him. He was just now realizing that he was the person Fallon was to him yesterday to Y/N. 
As Harry’s thoughts ran wild over how much he had damaged Y/N Anne practically said it all to him. All of his thoughts seemed to be voiced by his mother.
“You did the exact same thing to Y/N Harry. You threw her out so quickly over Fallon, and now Fallon’s thrown you out. Darling it’s all coming back to you” Anne told him as nicely as she could not want to damage her son more. Through all  the pain he was feeling she wanted him to realize the kind of person he had been in the past months to Y/N. 
“Mum” He fell into his mother harder, fully into tears, “Do you think I will ever find someone like Y/N again.” He feared the idea of never having a best friend or person in his life ever again. He would end up alone, he would end up living his fears. His fears and insecurities were becoming his world and that was the one thing Y/N always made sure to not let Harry fall into. If Harry was deeply honest, what hurt him the most out of the two heartbreaks he was enduring was the fact he lost Y/N. What hurt him the most was what he was feeling and going through right now was what Y/N had to go through when he walked out on her. 
“Oh Harry” Anne looked at her son, “I can’t answer that for you” She told him the best that came to her mind. In reality she knew that Harry and Y/N would either end up as friends once again or simply be better off without each other. For her son’s sake she wished the two would find a way back to each other, but for Y/N’s sake she wished her son would stay out of her way. The girl was only now getting over him, and she knew if he were to simply walk back into her life it would be no good for Y/N.
“Would she ever want to be my friend again?” He cried the desperate question that was floating into his mind.
“Harry” Anne sighed, “I don’t know. You did so much damage to her in saying all that you said to her” She told him the truth even if it hurt him. 
“I didn’t mean it mum I swear-”
“But you said it Harry, and you said everything that you knew would hurt her when she needed you the most, Harry. That’s what hurt her the most Harry, you did it all when she needed you the most. Now she adjusted to not needing you anymore, she’s doing fine without you”
“She’s doing fine without me?” It hurt Harry to hear. Even though he didn’t want her to be drowning  in pain, especially pregnant, it hurt him to know how casually she sounded to be doing without him. Here he was drowning in pain and his mother had just told him the girl who he hurt so badly had now adjusted to being perfect without him. 
“Harry she’s five months pregnant now” Anne softly smiled thinking of Y/N, “She has much more to worry about then what could have possibly happened if you hadn’t left her in such a state. That girl was crying and was miserable for days after what you told her Harry, and now she’s over it she has other things to do than cry over you at this point Harry.” 
Harry let himself fall into his mother’s chest, he was proud of Y/N he knew how strong she was but he wished he was by her side through it all. “She’s doing all that alone. She doesn’t need me anymore” He cried into his mother’s chest, “Just like Fallon didn’t need me, she doesn’t need me either.” 
“It’s not like she doesn’t want you, Harry.” Anne reminded him softly, “Out of everyone who has wanted you the most in her life, she has wanted you the most Harry, she was open for you whenever you were closed for her. Now she’s closed and you’re open Harry” 
“I didn’t ever want it to turn out like this” He looked up at his mother from his spot in her chest, “I just wanted to be happy with Fallon and have Y/N on my side.”
“But when Fallon made you choose, you chose her” Anne began to run her fingers through her son’s hair. 
“She was supposed to be the one mum!”
“That’s what Y/N thought of you Harry, that’s what she wanted in you.” Anne let the feelings of the girl slip out of her mind. She never once thought that those words would ever escape from her mouth and slip into the ears of her son. She knew that among everything Y/N has trusted her with this was one the biggest things. Now she had gone and let out the girls’ most trusted words in the sake of comforting her son, and Anne quickly felt the slow guilt consume her slowly. 
“She thought I was the one?” Harry quickly picked himself up from his spot in his mother's comforting chest, “Mum?” He tried to get her attention, “She- she was in love with me?” He let the words process into his mind and he simply could not process everything the two had been through and promised each other that the girl was once again in love with him. 
The truth was, one year into the friendship of Y/N and Harry they had both mutually fallen in love with each other. It happened when Harry had Y/N tour with him, he had fallen in love with the outfits she had continuously made for him and practically demanded her to join him on his first debut tour. The people pleaser Y/N was she joined him on his tour not ever thinking that the two would fall so badly for each other. Harry had fallen in love with not only her style of designing but he had fallen for her too, and Y/N was quick to fall right behind him. Everyone on the tour crew could see it and notice it, there was no possible way one could have been blind to it. 
One night when Harry had gone off with the band for drinks he came extremely drunk. Immensely drunk that Mitch called the only person he knew would be able to contain the man in such a state, Y/N. Y/N was quick to respond to the call and almost immediately made her way over to the spot the crew was hanging out at to be at Harry’s care. She was quick to get the drunken man into her car and get him back to his hotel room. But it was a hassle, the man was full of several words and silly tactics. Among his words was his confession of love for the girl, and the girl had reacted so quickly in running out of the man’s room when he settled to sleep. She feared the idea of having her best friend turn into her lover, she feared that she would end up losing him in everything they were pushing themselves towards. She feared everything that came with being with Harry, but she never once feared the man Harry was. 
Y/N practically hid from Harry for the course of a week. She of course had her work of the various suits he wore done for him, but she always had Sarah or anyone else around her deliver it to him. She had found a way to avoid him at all costs, even when he was constantly blowing up her phone, even when everyone that was near her was telling her the amount of times Harry had been asking around for her. It was affecting Harry and everyone could tell, his temper began to shorten and he began to be moody at not being around her. That’s when Sarah and Mitch practically forced Harry to show up at her hotel door. 
When Y/n opened the door she was quick to shut it when she came to face him. She wasn’t in the place to face him, but she didn’t know that the man was clueless as to what he had said until he was pleading at the door to let him in. When she did, the man demanded her to tell her the reasons as to why she was hiding from him, and Y/N could only sit in silence for so long. So she simply let out her thoughts and feelings on how in love she was with him, she left Harry in full shock over the feelings she had for him. How could it be possible that the girl he loved so dearly loved him back so easily. The questions ran through his mind but he sat in silence, and Y/N only took it as his drunken words being lies. 
She apologized harshly and deeply to the man sitting in front of her, until he was silencing her with his mouth on hers. But Y/N was quick to stop his actions, she didn’t want him to only spring himself into a relationship because of pity. When the words came out of her mouth, Harry got defensive of himself, going crazy at what was now his confession of love for her. From that moment on there was no longer a disappearance of Y/N from Harry around the tour crew, the two were now inseparable, and the entire tour crew caught onto the fact that there had been a shift between the two. 
There had never been an official label to what they were. That’s what Y/N blamed their harsh romantic ending on. The two were intimate with each other, and maybe that’s what hurt Y/N the most out of everything. She gave Harry everything that she had once kept special and safe to herself. Everything that she wanted to give to the person that she deemed, “the one” she gave to Harry. That’s one of the mai9n reasons Y/N assumed she could never fall out of love with him. He held an immensely special place in her heart and in her life in general, and that was something she could never get rid of even if she tried. 
By the end of the tour, the two were still close, but no longer in the romantic sense that they were in. When they got to their homes in London, Harry almost ghosted Y/N. No matter how hard she tried to get in contact with him, no matter how many times she showed up at his door, he was gone. It hurt Y/N deeply, but when she showed up at his door one evening, and his current fling opened the door, Y/N broke. Y/N recognized the girl to be another one from the tour crew, and that’s when she called Sarah to ask if she had any insight of the situation between Harry and the girl in his home.  That was when Y/N had found out that the girl showed an interest in Harry at the last tour show, and the two had been consistently around each other since. 
No one including Harry and Y/N knew what they deemed themselves to be in the romantic sense. Were they dating? Were they simply extremely close friends with benefits? No one knew what they were including the two, so Harry had the right to go off with another girl. But that didn’t mean he had the right to simply ghost Y/N the way he did so abruptly. That’s when she showed up at his door one late night in full tears screaming at her best friend for what he had done to her. Harry only deeply apologizes recognizing his wrong doing and then told her that the thing they had between the two couldn’t go on. That’s when Y/N made the two promise they could never fall in love with each other again. That’s when she made him swear to never come near her in a romantic sense. 
Harry easily moved on from her, but she never easily moved on from him. Even after the incident the two were close friends, of course it hurt Y/N to be near him and not have him be hers but she got over it, because he seemed to be doing perfectly fine with his new love interest. He was doing fine so she would try her best to be fine without him, and so she was. She was fine but she was never out of love. She supposed the only reason she clung onto him and kept him around was because he was the only person she actually had. 
When he heard his mother say the words that the girl was in love with him. It’s almost as if everything in Harry practically broke again. He felt terrible,  he felt terrible for what he had done to the girl back when they were on tour and now. He felt terrible because he knew that a part of her always loved the girl, he felt terrible because he knew how special the spark they had on tour was to Y/N. He knew how special their love was to Y/N and he had broken it not once, but now twice. 
“Mum I broke her twice” He paced the room, “She trusted me all of these times and I broke her two times!”
“And she got herself back up both times Harry” Anne  looked at her pacing son, “If she can get back up so easily you should be able to get up from this and fix everything or move on” Anne wanted to encourage her son to move forward from every idea that was possibly tormenting his mind, she wanted him to not wallow in the sadness he created for himself. 
“What if she doesn’t want to fix everything mum?” He let his worries out to his mother. 
“Then you have to move on, Harry” Anne sighed. 
“What if i can’t move-”
“Harry” Anne interrupted him, she picked up a photo from the ground, “If you really want to fix things you will find the right way to do it. If you don’t then you will find someone to move on with” But Anne still had a question running through her own mind, “But I have to ask you darling” She got up from her sitting spot on the floor of her son’s room, “Do you want to fix things for Y/N or for your benefit?”
Harry groaned at his mother’s question because if he was honest he himself didn’t know the answer to that question. “Mum, for the both of us” He let out quickly making up his answer, “I’m going to fix it for her, and me” 
Anne smiled at her son’s words and made her way over to him and embraced him into a tight hug. She pulled away and reminded him of one single thing, “Just remember Harry, it’s not just her now, it’s her and her baby” 
“I feel so bad for leaving her when she needed me the most, '' Harry blurts at his moms reminder. 
“You should Harry” Anne responded, “She has been with you for everything, and if you didn’t let her go the way you did she would be here too” She told him. 
“I wouldn’t be in this position if I just chose her over Fallon” He looked down at the ground, “I’ve been the one for her, but I’ve never treated Y/N as if she was the one for me” His tears begin to blind his view again. 
“Harry” Anne sighed, “If you’re only doing this because you know now that she’s in love with you.” She shook her head, “Then maybe it's better for you to just move on.” 
“Mum” Harry looked at Anne, “I think a part of me has always wanted her to be the one” 
“So then why haven’t you acted on it Harry” She tried to cover up her knowledge of the instinct where she knew they were bound to end up together. “She asked how you were doing today” she blurted out for who knows what reason. 
“She came?” His eyes widened at the thought the girl would ask about him. 
“She called me asking me about something, I was at her home last night, helping with a few things she wanted to do.”
“She really is doing fine without me isn’t she?” Harry asked his mother with tears still blocking his view. 
“Harry,” Anne sighed, “You barely tried to keep her in your life, so she walked away from the idea of you being in hers” She looked straight at her son, “ I know it wasn’t easy for her” 
“I’m going to try to fix it mum” Harry cried, “If she lets me I’ll fix it. I’ll be there for her and the baby like I should have been from the beginning” Anne could hear the desperation in her son’s voice. 
“What if she doesn’t want it fixed Harry,” Anne began to tell her son, “She’s going to have a baby it’s not just her now, it’s her and her baby. As a mother she will protect that child from anything, and what you put her through is one of the things she will make sure her baby doesn’t go through Harry” 
Harry didn’t know how he intended on getting Y/N back into his life. But he now knew the girl was in love with him, and even if she was trying to get over him he would try his best to get the girl to allow him back into her life slowly. He would do anything and everything to be in the comfort of his best friend’s arms. He wanted to be there for her in any way he could, and it all began with him fixing things with himself, and then fixing things with Y/N. If he could get over Fallon in a bit of time, he would only be able to get to Y/N quicker and that’s what his heart called out for the most. 
His heart called out for finding “the one”. His heart called out for him to be heard, to be comforted, to be cared for, his heart called out for Y/N.  And Harry would do anything to follow his heart this time. He wanted to be the person she was for him. He wanted to be the comfort, the care, the love that his heart asked for, and he would do anything and everything just for her. 
tags : @imanewsoul @lomlhstyles @sunshinemoonsposts @thiyaabs @lgigilsworld @tiaamberxx @marzhshaim @harryspirate @groovychaosavenue @blackbookwhore @behindmygreyeyes @crazykendra @qualitygiantshoepsychic @harringt8ns @missmielyhoran @gem1712 @straightnogayhs @tenaciousperfectionunknown @lovrave @sophiaedits @haroldsstuff @jerseygirlinca @feestyles @michellekstyles
149 notes · View notes
moonchildstyles · 3 months
Tumblr media
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.
wordcount: 13.5k+
"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 !
4K notes · View notes
stylesloveclub · 2 months
In which y/n is pretty sure her neighbor hates her, and Harry needs someone to take care of his bunny.
For y/n, the month of December was truly the best part of the year. 
She absolutely loved getting into the holiday spirit: whether that meant hanging multi-colored fairy lights around her bed frame, baking snowman shaped cookies for her friends and family, or busting out her reindeer printed fuzzy socks – she loved it all. 
And, more importantly, she loved getting three weeks off from school. Winter break meant the end of finals week, which meant no more flashcards waiting to be memorized or textbooks waiting to be annotated. Just pure holiday bliss and seasonal joy. 
The only part of the holiday season that y/n wasn’t particularly fond of was New Years. 
While many considered the new year to be a “new beginning,” y/n only really thought of it as the official end to her holiday joy. She never really indulged in the thought of new year’s resolutions – in fact, she found them to be quite silly. Why on Earth would someone create a half-hearted promise to themselves, knowing very well that they would give up on their goal one month into the new year? It seemed like a far too disappointing cycle for her. 
But this year… this year was different. 
The ending of this year also meant that the lease on her current apartment was ending. Now, don’t get her wrong! Y/n doesn’t hate her roommates or anything. She’s actually incredibly close with the three girls that she’d spent the last two years living with, and considers them to be some of her closest friends.
But, as the months went by, y/n realized that a two bedroom, one bathroom flat was far too small for four girls to peacefully coexist in. They were always nagging each other to clean the dishes, fighting over who gets to shower first in their tiny bathroom. And honestly… she was getting really tired of listening to Nia (a business major) rehearse presentations at 3 AM. 
So, when y/n timidly mentioned that she was thinking about moving out, the three other girls agreed that their living situation wasn’t the most ideal, promised that they would still remain besties even if they didn’t live with each other, and began to search for their own places so that they could turn in their keys at the end of the year. 
For the first time in her life, y/n had a place of her own. And that was honestly the best thing the new year could’ve brought for her. 
It’s safe to say that the first morning y/n wakes up in her new apartment is undoubtedly one the most euphoric moments she’s ever experienced.
The window facing her bed allows for the morning sun to light up her room, slowly rousing her from her slumber. She blinks her eyes open, and it takes a moment for her to fully recognize that: no, she’s not dreaming and yes, she’s actually in her new apartment!
She sits up and stretches, flexing her muscles and twisting her back until she hears the delicious sound of her spine cracking – a sign that she’d slept through the night like a baby. Glancing out the window, she notices a little bluebird perched on her balcony’s railing. 
Yes, a balcony! 
It had actually been one of the main reasons she chose this apartment building. Although it was a rather small balcony, she immediately fell in love with it. The railings were twisted and had a rustic look that reminded her of the balcony Juliet would stand on in a Shakespearian play, and it overlooked a beautiful cobblestone street. When she first saw the balcony during the apartment tour, she immediately envisioned herself spending her mornings out here with a nice cup of tea, maybe doing her assigned readings out in the fresh air. There was just enough room for y/n to make a cozy little nook for herself, with fairy lights strung around railings and fluffy pillows piled on loveseats for her to chill out on.
She scrambles out of her bed and rushes over to the window, smudging the glass with her fingertips as her palms press flat against it. The glass is ice cold to the touch and fogs up around her nose, a sign of how cold the morning air outside must be. Dressed in a pair of flowery sleep shorts and a sweatshirt with her university’s logo embroidered on the front, she’s hardly dressed appropriately – but she slides the glass door open anyway and steps out onto the balcony. She can’t help it, she’s just so excited! 
As soon as she slides the door open, the chilly air invades her senses, her lungs burning and legs prickling with goosebumps. She leans her forearms on the railing and looks at the street below, empty of any cars or people. Directly across the street from her building, she sees a small antique store, and right next to that, a cute little cafe with cartoonish snowflakes painted onto the glass windows. Dozens of other restaurants and boutiques line the street, not yet open but anticipating the rush of people that would most likely flood in within the next few hours. y/n makes a mental note to herself to text her ex-roommates and invite them to visit the coffee shop she currently had her eye on.
Yeah, maybe it was a little cold, and maybe there’s nowhere to sit, but honestly, all y/n could think about was how much she loved her brand new balcony in her brand new apartment. 
Life couldn’t get any better than this. 
Harry isn't too big on New Year’s resolutions. 
You see, he’s not fond of forcing himself to do things (the more pressure he has on himself to finish something, the less he wants to do it), and he really doesn’t like dealing with the inevitable end of year disappointment that comes with not finishing what he starts. He knows the chances of him actually going through with his resolutions are quite slim, so he doesn’t find a point in establishing any.
Therefore, he really only has one goal for the upcoming year. Don’t let Thumper die.
Thumper is the love of Harry’s life. When Harry realized just how lonely living alone could get, he decided he needed a companion to love and care for. He had the fullest intentions of going to his local adoption center and befriending a little kitty like Evie (his cat back home) so that the two cats could get along when he visited his family. But, when he stepped into the adoption center and saw Thumper, tiny and frail compared to most bunnies his age, he knew he had found his new best friend.
So really, Harry’s only “resolution” is something he knows he wouldn’t be giving up on any time soon.
As he brews himself a steaming vanilla latte (with a shot of caramel cream on top), he gives Thumper a little bit of food, petting at the bunny’s furry cheeks as he nibbles some hay from his fingers. When he turns away momentarily to pour his brewed coffee into a mug, the rabbit proceeds to thump its clunky hind feet (hence the name), begging to be the center of Harry’s attention once again. 
Obviously, Harry could never ignore his bunny’s pleas for love – so he quickly picks up his mug in one hand, and, similar to the way a mother holds their newborn baby, coddles Thumper to his chest with the other. Thumper tends to get uneasy when he’s high up from the ground, usually thumping against Harry’s forearms to display his displeasure, so Harry always makes sure he’s sitting or lying down when cuddling with his bunny. Taking a seat on his pink sofa, he turns the TV on to a random news channel and gently runs his hand up and down Thumper’s back, cooing every time the fluffy bunny twitches his tiny nose with approval. 
Once Thumper is happily settled and Harry’s finished with his coffee, he places Thumper back into his comfy den and puts his dirty mug in the sink. Grabbing the watering can from right underneath, he fills the can until he has a suitable amount of water for the flowers he grows on his balcony. 
Whistling along to a happy tune (“Whistle While You Work” from Snow White), he steps onto the balcony and takes a deep lung-full of the pristine air. The sky was serene, the morning dew was fresh on the railing, and everything was at peace.
That is, until an unrecognizable voice far too energetic for the tranquil calm of the morning startles him. 
Harry drops the watering can out of surprise and whirls around, yelping out a “bloody hell!” before his eyes land on a stranger.
“Who are you?” he grumbles, putting a hand on his chest to calm his pounding heart, thumping hard from the scare. 
The girl’s eyes widen, clearly not having expected to get such a reaction from her neighbor, and she carefully introduces herself, much quieter than the initial greeting she’d just given him. “Umm, I’m y/n. I just moved in.” She flashes him an apologetic smile, “Sorry for scaring you, wasn’t my intention.”
Harry looks down to assess the damage his startle caused. His watering can is on its side, laying in a puddle and steadily leaking out water, while his sock-covered feet are soaked through (one his biggest pet peeves are wet socks). 
Looking back up to the girl, he sees her nervously chewing on her lip and fiddling with the hem of her sweatshirt. She seems more scared of him than he had been of her, and very timidly makes eye contact with him, praying that he wouldn’t explode on her. 
Harry saves his breath. 
“That’s alright,” he responds as nicely as he can muster up (wet socks = grumpy Harry), picking up the watering can from the floor. He runs into his apartment, slipping on a new, dry pair of socks, refilling the watering can, and grabbing a towel to clean up his balcony. 
Y/n still has her brows furrowed in distress when he comes back outside, quickly confessing, “I really am sorry… I didn’t mean to make you jump. I was just excited to meet my new neighbor, I guess.”
He doesn’t make eye contact with her when he says, “Don’t worry about it. Everything’s okay. No need to fret,” focusing his attention, instead, on making sure the floors are dry.  
“I just moved in yesterday you know! I dunno if you saw all the boxes n’ stuff, but that was me!” Christ, was she still there? He thought she would’ve gone back inside after he gave so little attention to her.
Again, he barely looks in her direction when he responds, “I hadn’t noticed anyone was moving in.” His answer is short, clipped, and uninterested.
The girl carries on the conversation, “Yeah, I’m super excited about moving in and everything! It’s my first time living without anyone and it’s just so nice to have all this space to myself– y’know I made some cookies last night, and I was gonna bring ‘em over later today to introduce myself but since we already met I could totally bring them over–”
Harry cuts her off right there. “Don’t put yourself through the trouble,” he says tersely, sparing her one final glance before walking back into his apartment. 
He holds eye contact with her as he slides the balcony door shut. 
Y/n’s positive she’s made her neighbor hate her.
She’s drinking coffee with her ex-roommates, Sameera, Savanna, and Nia, at the coffee shop she saw earlier that morning from her balcony window, explaining her conundrum.
“I just don’t know what to do! I didn’t do anything to make him hate me. I mean, except for balcony thing, but obviously I didn’t mean to scare him! He wouldn’t even look at me!”
She tried to make things up to him, greeting him calmly on the balcony the next time they were out there at the same time, but only managed to get the grimest acknowledgement from him. He avoided eye contact with her whenever they passed each other in the hallways, would shut his door if he ever saw her coming out at the same time as him, and would stay silent if they ever got caught in the elevator together. 
He hates her, she’s sure of it. 
At this point, she’s honestly just given up, opting to just sit with her mug and book silently when he watered his plants on the balcony each morning. Far better than the hurt she’d feel when he’d inevitably ignore her if she tried to make small talk again.   
“Maybe he’s got a fragile sense of masculinity and is embarrassed that he got scared by a girl,” Nia says, taking a bite of her croissant, “so now he can’t face you anymore.” 
Sameera adds on to that, “Or he’s intimidated by you. Is he ugly? Ugly guys tend to be intimidated by pretty girls.”
Y/n is quick to deny this with a furrow in her brows. “Oh, but he’s not! He was really cute,” she pouts. Considering his reluctance to make eye contact with her during their short conversation, y/n had plenty of time to unabashedly admire her next door neighbor. He had chocolate brown hair, swept atop his head in messy waves and bright green eyes that glimmered in the dreary, gray morning weather. And though he had an intimidating demeanor, with his short attitude and furrowed brows, the fact that he was wrapped up in a fuzzy, lavender sweatshirt made him ever so endearing to her. 
Call her crazy, but she has a bit of a crush. 
“What’s his name?” asks Savanna, chiming into the conversation for the first time. 
Y/n has to think for a moment before she responds. “I don’t think he even told me! I just said hey and he walked away from me!” She sits back and crosses her arms, huffing sadly, “Maybe this is a sign from the universe that I should just stay away from boys in general.”
“Don’t say that!” Savanna defends, “You’re beautiful and a total sweetheart. Nia’s right, he probably just has a bruised ego for now. Just be yourself and I’m sure he’ll come around.”
Being herself doesn’t work.
Yesterday, when she’d clearly been running with all of her groceries to catch the elevator, he made direct eye contact with her as the doors shut. Made no effort to hold the elevator for her. Just watched her struggle with her groceries as the elevators closed.
Y/n accepts the fact that he’s probably not going to come around.
It’s 10 PM on a Tuesday night when someone comes frantically knocking on y/n’s door.
She’d just been painting in her living room (a casual hobby of hers), dressed in a pair of dark blue, denim overalls splattered with paint, when out of nowhere someone was at her door, knocking as if they were in a life or death situation. 
She has no idea who it could be, and is honestly a bit frightened considering this person is pounding on her door so violently, but she hurries over to the door. Peeking out of the peephole, she’s met with a very familiar furrowed brow. 
It’s Harry, her next door neighbor. Except, for the first time, he looks more stressed than angry. 
She opens the door, a bit embarrassed in her messy painting overalls. She chews on her lip and she stands nervously behind her door, almost as if she’s using it to protect herself. “Hi?” she says timidly, worried about why he might be at her door. Had she done something to make him angry? Was her music too loud or something? 
His hair, normally curled atop his head neatly in chocolate colored swirls, now sticks out in every direction as if he’d been running his hands through it constantly, and his eyes are wide and frantic. “My sister…” he pants, out of breath as if he’d run a mile to get here, “She’s in labor. I-I have to go to see her, could you–,” he pauses to catch his breath, chest rising heavily. “Could you please take care of my bunny while I’m gone?”
She blinks for a second. This man, who’d been so cold and mean to her ever since she moved in, was in front of her door… begging her to take care of his bunny? 
“Oh!” This was definitely not what she expected when she opened the door and saw Harry standing there. She thought that he was for sure about to yell at her for something, tell her to turn the music down or blow out her candles because he could smell them from his apartment.
This, however… this she could work with. Maybe it would make him finally come around.
“Yes!” she exclaims, after a second. “Oh my gosh, yes, of course! What do you need me to do?”
His shoulders sag with relief. “Thank you,” he says gratefully, letting out a deep breath. He knows that he hasn’t necessarily been the nicest to her and had been worried that she might tell him to fuck off (rightfully so), but he was desperate, and thankfully… she’s an angel. 
He ushers her into his apartment, which (as respectfully as she can put it) looks like a tornado has just passed through it. A pile of unopened mail sits on his kitchen counter, abandoned in his rush to get packed, and what seems to be his dinner sits half eaten on his dinner table, fork thrown onto the table next to his plate with a piece of broccoli still hanging onto it. A lone suitcase sits in the middle of his living room, piled with clothes that aren’t folded – just haphazardly thrown in there. It’s abundantly clear that he’s been frantically rushing around his apartment, trying to pack all his stuff together while also figuring out what to do with Thumper.
“Sorry for the mess,” he apologizes over his shoulder, double checking that she’s still within earshot with how fast he’s running around into his apartment. “I-I wasn’t planning on having to go see her so soon, she’s not due for another three weeks,” he rambles, messily shoving a pant leg into his suitcase as he zips it up. “But then she called, and she’s all alone, and–” he looks up at her with wide, earnest eyes, “I just have to be there for her.” 
“Hey, don’t be sorry,” she says gently. “I totally get it. It’s no problem.”
He stares at her for a second, eyes flickering between hers, a soft look in his eye. It seems like he’s about to say something– but he stops himself. Instead, he walks over to a large bunny playpen, filled with hay and piles of soft blankets and towels. 
Sitting atop one of those worn-out blankets is a fluffy white bunny, nibbling softly on a piece of hay. Harry reaches in and gently picks the little bunny up, who fits perfectly in the palm of his hand. “This is Thumper,” Harry introduces softly, his finger gently petting along the little bunny’s back. “Thumper, this is y/n. She’s gonna take care of you while I'm gone.”  The little bunny’s nose twitches softly, chewing on his hay mindlessly.
Y/n doesn’t know what she expected from Harry, but it definitely wasn’t this. From all of her interactions with him, he just seemed so cold and mean and intimidating! But watching him pet his little bunny that sits so peacefully in his large, tattooed hands… hearing him talk to this tiny ball of white fur as if it’s a real person… well it just makes Harry look like a bit of a softie, to be honest. It’s a side of her grumpy neighbor that she never could’ve imagined. 
“Hi Thumper,” she coos, taking a timid step forward. “You’re just the cutest thing in the world.”
“He is, isn’t he?” Harry says proudly, a soft dimple in his cheek as he smiles down at his bunny that he loves so much. 
Passing Thumper over to her, he maneuvers her hands so that the bunny is resting comfortably. “He likes to be held like this,” he instructs, his hands brushing against hers, “On his stomach, so he can look around. Sometimes he gets a bit nervous when he’s too high up from the ground for a long time, so if he starts thumping that just means he wants to be put down again.”
She nods, copying the way he’d been holding Thumper to the best of her ability. The bunny feels so small and fragile in her hold and she’s terrified of hurting him – but Thumper just twitches his nose gently, completely unaffected by whatever is going on around him. 
“This is where he sleeps and spends most of his time,” Harry continues, pointing down at the little den of blankets. “But if you can, try to take him outside for at least an hour everyday. I made the balcony bunny proof and there’s a little grassy area out there with all his toys, so just let him hop around there for a bit. Maybe hang out with him if you can, he’s really playful. It’s just really important for his health, to be outside and have some playtime.” 
He puts his hands on his hips and stares at his bunny, who seems totally content in y/n’s arms. A weight is lifted off his shoulders, seeing that Thumper feels comfortable in the arms of this half-stranger. It makes him feel a little less guilty for having to leave him so suddenly. 
Harry checks the clock. “Shit!” he cries, gathering his bearings once more. His sister lives almost two hours away, so he needs to leave now. 
She follows him, Thumper still in his arms, as he scrambles towards the kitchen. “This is his food,” he says, pulling out a bag of leafy, green vegetables – a nice mix of lettuce, kale, cabbage, and parsley – from his fridge. “Give him a bowlful of these veggies twice a day. He’s not on a really strict schedule, just give him some whenever you have breakfast and dinner. And you saw, he has a bunch of hay in his cage too, which he snacks on all day, so it’s okay if you’re a little late.” 
He’s running around his apartment, grabbing things and shoving them into his suitcase at the last minute, and calling out instructions to y/n as fast as he can – frantic, stressed out, with absolutely no time to waste. Y/n watches him with wide eyes, absorbing everything he says, while Thumper sits in her arms quietly completely unbothered by Harry’s frantic bustling. 
“Um, if he’s being annoying or thumping or anything like that, give him a treat – they’re in this jar – and he’ll probably calm down. I’m pretty generous with the treats ‘cos he’s just such a good bunny, but also he needs to watch his diet, so I’d limit him to like… 10-12 pellets per day.” 
He runs to the living room and picks up his suitcase, dragging it to the door frantically while still spewing out instructions. “He loves cuddling, and he’s a really good bunny so you can leave him on the couch or on my bed and he won’t like– chew anything up. And if it gets really cold at night he has a heating pad in his playpen, just put it in the microwave for a minute or two, and he’ll get on top of it if he wants.”
“Here’s my number if you need anything,” he says, scribbling down his phone number onto one of the abandoned pieces of mail sitting on his kitchen counter. “That’s a three, I know it doesn’t look like it, sorry!” He slams the pen down on the counter and runs into his bedroom, then hurries back out with a backpack, filled to the brim with all his toiletries and other essentials. What seems to be his phone charger hangs out of the front pocket, just about ready to pop out and fall to the ground, but he shoves it in and somehow manages to zip up the overstuffed bag. 
“Okay,” he sighs, letting out a deep breath. Now that he’s all packed up and ready to go, he lets himself slow down for a second. He takes a look around to make sure he hasn’t forgotten anything, then turns around to face y/n. Thumper looks up at Harry with his cute little eyes.
“Alright bud, I gotta go,” he whispers quietly, petting the bunny’s cheeks. “Be good, okay?” He leans forward and presses a little kiss against Thumper’s forehead, his cheek brushing against y/n’s arm, who still has Thumper coddled to her chest. 
“I should be back soon,” he says to y/n, looking at her with gentle eyes. “Thank you again, for taking care of him. I know it’s all last minute.”
“Don’t worry about it,” she says with a smile.
Harry smiles back at her softly. The first time she’s ever seen him look at her with a smile. It makes her heart flutter happily, one step closer to making her neighbor stop hating her. 
“Here’s the key to my apartment. I… I’ve got to go now. But text me if anything happens.”
With a final deep breath and a pat on Thumper’s head, Harry heads out the door and runs to the elevator.
And then it’s just y/n and Thumper, alone in Harry’s apartment.
Who would’ve thought. 
Y/n doesn’t really have much experience with bunnies… but she imagines that if she were a bunny and her bunny Dad randomly left her with a stranger in the middle of the night, then she’d be a pretty stressed out bunny. 
Luckily, Thumper seems pretty relaxed. 
After Harry left, she just put him back into his playpen and watched him chew on some hay and relax on his comfy pile of blankets. She warmed up his heating pad, just as Harry instructed, but Thumper didn’t even need it. He just headed to bed like a good little bunny and went through the night peacefully, with only the occasional twitch of his nose and a little scuffle as if he were having a rabbit dream.  
Just to be safe, y/n spent the night on Harry’s couch, sleeping right next to Thumper’s little pen just in case he started thumping in the middle of the night and needed some attention. In the morning, she scuttled back to her apartment to make herself a quick breakfast, then hurried back to give Thumper his morning veggies. And in the time that she’d normally spend reading on her own balcony, she instead went out onto Harry’s balcony and watched as Thumper happily hopped around in the grass and played with his little bunny toys. 
She runs into very little problems while bunny-sitting for Harry, and actually finds herself particularly fond of this fluffy little creature. But she wonders, even if she has no questions for Harry, should she still send him a text? He left her his number in case she had any questions, but he’d probably wouldn’t mind an update text either? I mean… if she were a Bunny Dad and she had to randomly leave her bunny in the middle of the night, then she’d probably want to know that her bunny was safe and happy! 
After much overthinking and lots of nervous pacing around Harry’s kitchen, she decides to send him a text. A simple, “Hi, it’s y/n!” accompanied with a cute picture of Thumper, chomping on some lettuce with his floppy ears hanging cutely and his big eyes glimmering. She then follows it with another text, saying that they just ate some breakfast together and went out on the balcony for some morning playtime.
She throws her phone down after she sends the text, beyond nervous to be sending messages to the grumpy neighbor that had scared her for so long. She jumps when her phone chimes with a message less than a minute later, apologizing to Thumper who gives an annoyed thump, as if he’s telling her to stop being so dramatic. 
“How’s he behaving?” reads Harry’s response. 
“Like an angel!” she says. “Slept through the night without any thumping and had lots of fun playing in the grass.”
“Good,” he texts back, and she thinks that’s the end of it. But after a minute another message comes through. “Give him an extra treat from me, he deserves it :)”
A smiley face! Who knew grumpy Harry knew how to use smiley faces. 
She sends back a picture of Thumper with his treat. And a smiley face for good measure. 
Harry comes back home five days later.
He’d managed to make it to the hospital just in time. His sister had been in active labor on her own for about four hours at that point, and spent another four hours in excruciating pain once Harry got there. His mum arrived around 45 minutes after he did, and Miles (his sister’s husband, aka the father of this child), arrived last, only about 30 minutes before she was fully dilated and ready to start pushing. 
All of them had scrambled to make it there on time, considering how unexpected and early his sister went into labor. He’s just thankful that Miles and his Mum were there too, so that he wouldn’t have to be the one holding her hand while she pushed (as supportive as he wanted to be, he had to leave the room or else he would’ve passed out). 
The baby did come a bit early, but after a few tests the doctors said that she was fine, just a bit smaller than usual! They spent the night in the hospital, just to be safe, and were discharged to go home as a happy little family the next morning. 
Harry and his mum stayed with Gemma and Miles in their cozy little for a few days, helping around the house while the new parents rested and recovered. Harry helped with the finishing touches of the nursery and went out shopping for extra diapers and baby toys, while his mom cooked homey meals for her kids and tutted over her new granddaughter.
It was nice for them to be all together again, celebrating the newest addition to their happy family, but after a few days the guilt of being away from Thumper for so long was growing too heavy. His mum promised to stay with Gemma and make sure that she’s recovering well, and with a kiss to his newborn baby niece, he headed back home to his precious baby bunny. 
He unlocks his door, dragging his suitcase in behind him, and faintly hears a soft, sweet voice from inside. He abandons his suitcase and tiptoes closer and closer to the voice. He finds y/n, out on his balcony with Thumper. 
“You are so cute!” she says to Thumper, sitting on her knees and rolling a little ball towards him, which Thumper nudges back with his nose. “I wish I could give you another treat, but your Dad said not to give you too many… I dunno though, should we break the rules a little bit? One extra treat since you’re being such a good bunny?”
Thumper’s nose twitches excitedly, as if he knows that she’s about to reward him with another treat, and Harry’s heart flutters in his chest. This scene – y/n, talking to his little bunny as if he’s a real person, coddling him and giving him treats – it’s a bit endearing. He tries to stop the soft smile growing on his face, to ignore the fuzzy feeling in his tummy… but he can’t help it. He’s endeared. 
He tries to casually lean against his couch and watch the scene for a few more moments, but he accidentally knocks a pen off of his coffee table, making y/n yelp and turn around. “Oh!” she bubbles, “Hi Harry!” 
He straightens himself out and clears his throat, wiping the silly smile off his face and trying to come off as neutral as possible. “Hello,” he says, with a polite nod of his head. 
“How was your sister? Did you have a nice trip?” “Y-yeah it was good, thanks,” he twists his hands nervously behind his back. “She had a little baby girl. Healthy and happy. It was really nice.” 
Y/n’s eyes round out, a soft glimmer in them. “Oh, I’m so happy to hear that.” 
He ignores the fluttering in his stomach, and wipes away the nervous sweat of his hands onto his pants. “Um– How was Thumper?” 
“A right angel!” she exclaims, picking Thumper up and handing him over to Harry. “Wish I could steal him from you. If you ever need me to watch him again, don’t be afraid to ask, I loved hanging out with him.”
Harry can’t help the dimple that pops out on his cheek, blushing slightly at her kind words and pretty smile. “I– Really, I can’t thank you enough.”
“No worries, honestly! Just don’t be a stranger,” she says, a playful glimmer in her eye. 
The next morning, sitting on her balcony with her mug in hand, she watches anxiously as Harry steps out of his apartment with his watering can. 
Would things go back to normal, with him ignoring her and hating her and pretending she doesn’t exist? Or… has he finally come around?
She holds her breath as he slides his balcony open. He looks at her. She looks at him.
He breaks a smile. “Good morning,” he says, dimple in cheek.
She exhales. 
“Good morning, Harry,” she responds with a grin.
Y/n hates thunderstorms. 
She hates the sound of thunder, hates how loud and unexpected it is. Hates how her entire body trembles when thunder crashes outside her window, hates how she can feel it shake her apartment. And lightning… don’t even get her started on lightning! She has a recurring nightmare that she’s sound asleep, only to be woken up by electrocution ‘cos the lightning bolt decided her bed was the perfect place to land. 
Now, when she lived in her old apartment, she was lucky enough to have amazing roommates who would comfort her during really bad storms. She could sit and talk with Sameera until the storm passed, watch a movie with Savanna to block out the sounds of thunder. Sometimes, if the storm was really bad, Nia would even cuddle y/n to sleep so that she’d calm down. Y/n would bury herself in her roommate’s loving arms, hiding her face in Nia’s chest as she willed away the anxiety attacks and tried not to cry every time she felt the rumbling thunder outside. 
Now that she lives on her own, however, she has nobody to comfort her. 
She thought it’d be fine, told herself that she’s far too grown to still be hiding in her closet whenever it rained a little bit outside! So she climbed into her bed, snuggled herself under her blankets, and turned on a movie, ignoring the storm outside to the best of her ability. With her pretty fairy lights turned on, her favorite movie playing (Pride and Prejudice 2005), and her headphones blocking out all the thunder, she was 100% confident that she’d be able to get through the night all on her own!
That is… until the power went out. 
Her movie paused, her heater went silent, and her fairy lights suddenly turned off. She tried to turn on the main light in her room, but the light switch flicked on and off with no effect. Same with her desk lamp, and the light in her bathroom. Everything was pitch black.
Sitting in the dark, with only flashes of lightning to illuminate her room… it was terrifying for y/n. 
She scrambled to turn on the flashlight on her phone, and felt her heart drop when she saw that she was only at 9%. How was she going to survive the night without her phone? She rushes around, trying to see if she has any extra flashlights or candles… but her emergency flashlight has no batteries, and although she has a wide variety of candles to choose from… she has no matches in her new apartment. 
She’s thoroughly fucked. 
A bolt of lightning strikes outside, followed by a crash of thunder that makes y/n yelp and fall to the floor. She’s on the verge of tears, with nowhere to turn and nothing to comfort her… when she gets a text.
Harry: Everything alright in your apartment? 
Her hands tremble as she types out a response. 
Not really :( she responds. trying to find a flashlight or something but im having no luck and my phones gonna die soon :( 
Another rumble of thunder shakes her apartment. She closes her eyes and tries to regulate her breathing with shaky inhales and whimpery exhales. 
Harry responds a minute later.
Do you want to come over to mine? 
1K notes · View notes
ineffablywriting · 19 days
to love someone
Tumblr media
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
904 notes · View notes
fetusharryluvr · 3 months
knight in shining armour
Tumblr media
in which a single mother moves in three doors down from harry, and her two year-old finds herself outside his flat…
Tumblr media
Harry fumbled with the keys after locking the front door to his flat, shoving them into his pocket. Whilst humming some random tune that, if you asked him where he’d heard it, he wouldn’t be able to tell you, he turned around, stopping in his tracks when he was met with a strange sight. A little girl standing all alone in the hallway. Well, ‘little girl’ may be a bit of an overstatement, she couldn’t have been any older than two.
He crouched down so he was more at her level, giving her a warm smile, “Hello, little lady.”
The 2ft child sniffled, rubbing her nose with one hand and giving Harry a small wave with the other.
“Where’s your mummy, love? She must be worried sick.” He felt a bit silly asking her, nor did he expect her to tell him, but what else do you ask a toddler wondering about on their own?
She pouted. Her little lip started to quiver, and she looked up at the man with sad, puppy dog eyes.
“Hey, it’s alright.” He soothed. He stretched out his tattooed arms, picking up the girl and propping her up on his side. “It’s okay, bubs, we’re gonna find your mummy.”
He carried her around, trying to work out where she could have possibly come from. The little light bulb inside his head lit up when saw the door to flat 106 was slightly open. Despite that, Harry didn’t want to intrude into your home, so he lightly knocked three times.
It took a couple of minutes for you to open the door, and when you did, your face fell, eyes widening at the sight of your daughter in the arms of a stranger.
Harry could clearly see how worried and confused you were, which why he was quick to jump in and explain. “She was wandering outside my flat. I saw your door was open and I assumed she’d gotten out. Uh, I live three doors down - flat 109.”
“Oh my god,” Your voice was shaky, as if you were on the verge of tears. The brunette loosened his grip on the toddler, allowing you to take her from him and hug her tightly, her little arms wrapping around your neck. “I’m so sorry. I was too focused on the washing up— I must’ve left the door open— I didn’t realise she got out.”
Harry simply nodded his head and smiled. He didn’t quite understand why you were apologising to him. You had nothing to apologise to him for. “She’s adorable.” He stated, unable to pull his eyes away from the little angel.
Just as intended, his words brought a bright beam to your face. “Well, I definitely think so, but I suppose I’m biased.”
“I’m Harry, by the way.”
“Y/N.” You informed him. “An’ this is Noelle.”
Now he could see the both of you side-by-side, Harry realised just how similar you and Noelle looked. She was like a mini you, and, my god, you were gorgeous.
“Do you wanna come in for a coffee?” You offered, “As a thank you.”
“Yeah, I’d love to.” He smiled, and you were secretly relieved. You couldn’t thank him enough.
Harry followed you inside, shutting the front door behind him. He looked around in reverence. For such a small flat, you kept it unbelievably tidy, especially considering you were the mother of a toddler. The rug by the sofa was spotless, with a plastic container full of toys in the corner of the room, and a rather empty bookshelf in the other corner - which consisted of a small collection of Paddington Bear books stacked in alphabetical order, and a couple of true crime novels.
“You’ve got a lovely place.” He observed.
“Thank you. It’s not ideal, but it’s got the extra room for Elle.”
Whilst you hovered around the kitchen counter to make coffee, Harry sat himself down at the table, making faces at the little girl in the high chair opposite him. “Have you lived here long?” He asks, “‘S just I haven’t seen you around before.”
You grabbed two mugs out from the cupboard, “We moved in two weeks ago. The rent on my old place was gettin’ too expensive. Plus, Elle was getting too big to be sharing a room with me.” You heard her laughing, prompting you to turn around. Harry was playing a game of peek-a-boo with her, causing her little lips to turn up in a wide smile. “She likes you.”
“Yeah?” He peers over his shoulder at you with an endearing grin.
“Yeah.” You nod, returning the expression. “She’s normally not great with strangers, but that’s probably the most I’ve seen her smile in a long time.”
He turned back around, continuing his string of goofy faces. “Well, she’s got a beautiful smile. Just like her mum.”
You bent down and opened the door to the fridge, hissing out a quick, “Shit.” Under your breath.
“Are you okay?” Harry asked, concerned.
“We’re out of milk. I’m so sorry.” You sighed, rubbing your temple. It was clear in your tone that you were embarrassed.
Much to your surprise, Harry wasn’t mad. Far from it, in fact. “It’s okay.” He softly assured you.
You shook your head, beginning to feel another headache coming on, something that tended to happen when you didn’t get enough sleep. “No. No, it’s not. I should’ve checked— I could’ve sworn I had at least half the carton left—”
“Y/N.” Harry calmly cut you off, “Really, it’s okay. I don’t mind.”
“I’ll pay you back somehow.” You assured him. “I promise.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
“I want to.” You nodded, not wanting to take no for an answer. “I can’t thank you enough for bringing her back, I dread to think what would’ve happened if—” You couldn’t finish the sentence, but the look on Harry’s face told you that you didn’t need to. “You’re our knight in shining armour.”
You visibly cringed the second the words left your mouth, “Sorry,” you laughed. “Been reading too many fairytale stories.”
His cheeks flushed red. “No, I like it.” He breathed out a chuckle, whilst Noelle wrapped her hand around his forefinger. “I’m always happy to help a little damsel in distress.”
2K notes · View notes
gucciwins · 14 days
idk if u do requests but a fic about Harry’s “how is your head?” show interaction would be amazing 🥲 where he gets the fan backstage and well we know where this goes!!
a few weeks since i've written anything so i hope you enjoy 🤭 word count: 2461 warnings: smut (male pleasure) would love hear your thoughts!!! 🤍🤍🤍
Australia had been a dream from the moment he arrived. Tonight’s show had managed to leave him breathless. He takes a minute to eye the crowd as he walks down the stage to sing Matilda, a change of pace for the night. A sign right in front catches his eye, and he knows he has to read it. There were two people dressed in their best outfits. One stands out to him, the bold red lip standing out against her black top. Safe to say, Harry had always been a fan of red-painted lips. The fan holding the sign has it over the barricade, not blocking anyone’s view. He bit back a smile; she was considerate. He glanced at Ny Oh and decided he would rather indulge in his curiosity than be left with the unknown.
Harry grabs his mic and points down to their signs. “Now, there are two signs here. What are your names?”
“Twenty-six,” the blonde hair person answers, making the red-lipped beauty laugh.
“Asked for your name, not your age,” he corrects her. 
The blonde points to herself, shouting “Violet,” and then points to the beauty with red lips, “she’s Y/N also twenty-six.” Harry holds in his laugh but is thankful nonetheless.
“Right, well, your sign says your bestie broke your nose during Melbourne night one. And yours says I broke my bestie’s nose.” Harry shakes his head because it’s a bit odd. Also, the fact that he didn’t spot her in the crowd a few nights ago makes him happy to have spotted her now.
Y/N was doing her best to stay calm because Violet was doing all the freaking out for her. Violet said they had to make the signs as a joke, and if nothing came about, it would make good photos and a great story to share. Well, now Y/N’s feeling grateful to have listened to her. Y/N knew that many said Harry loved eye contact, but she didn’t understand that until today. He was speaking with Violet, but his eyes had not left Y/N’s. He was far enough that she couldn’t note how green they were but close enough to know they had a shine to them under the moon.
“It was an accident,” Y/N is quick to shout.
Harry repeats her words laughing, “well, I’d hope so.” He makes a joke making sure his eyes are on her, hoping she’d find it funny. Y/N takes the teasing in stride. He notices her phone is in her pocket and notes to keep an eye on that during the show.
“Remember, violence is never the answer,” he teases.
“It was her fault,” Y/N shares feeling the need to explain.
Harry’s mouth drops open in disbelief. “Why was it her fault? Her nose is broken.”
Y/N and Violet share a look before falling into a fit of giggles. “I hit her head,” Violet confesses. 
Harry listens to them explain and recaps to the crowd. “You headbanged too hard and hit your nose on her head. I didn’t think Satellite was a dangerous song, but here we are now with a broken nose later.”
Y/N knows her time with Harry’s eyes on her is ending soon, so she does something she never thought of doing until she feels his eyes on her.
“No one has asked me how my head is,” Y/N tells him, faking a pout.
He looks dead in her eyes, “well, it’s what happens when you break your friend’s nose.” Harry has those pouted lips imprinted in his mind and doesn’t have the heart to not check back in with her. “How is your head?”
Y/N shrugs, “never had any complaints.” She sends him a wink laughing as his mouth falls open. He walked himself right into that one. The stadium is laughing, and Harry feels his cheeks warm up because he pictures those red lips wrapped around his cock and tries to will the stiffy she caused away.
“We are in Australia, aren’t we?” Harry forces himself to look away from her and instead transition into the saddest song of the night. 
The show had Y/N dancing and singing with her best friend. Call her crazy, but she felt Harry come down the stage staring at her, putting on all his best moves to woo her. Y/N had always thought Harry was pretty, but tonight in his pink ringer tee, she thought he was sexy. Harry can wear anything and make it look good because he wears the clothes, and his confidence shines through every time.
The show’s ending comes far too quick. A female security guard makes their way to Y/N, offering her a handshake telling her she has a nice top, and walks away. No one seemed to think anything about it, and she knew that meant no one saw the paper she slipped into her hand. Y/N carefully opens the note telling her to come towards the side entrance because a band member wanted to meet her. A little mention that it’s okay to bring her friend. Y/N decides to enjoy the final song and then share the news with Violet because they were saying yes to going backstage. 
Violet could not stop talking as they let the fans move around them. Y/N spotted the security who gave her the note and signaled Y/N to come to her. She helped them around the barricade and took them backstage. Y/N didn’t know what to expect, but she sure didn’t expect to see the Love band sitting on couches, drinks in hand. Y/N and Violet tried to act cool but knew they must look like deer caught in headlights. 
“Hi, welcome,” Ny Oh greets. “Your story was hilarious.” 
Y/N feels her face flush because it’s kind of embarrassing. She told a sold-out stadium her head was good; specifically, she told Harry Styles. Her favorite singer. 
Pauli’s eyes light up in recognition, “oh, you, too, had the best sign so far. Hope you’re okay.” Pauli tells Violet. 
Violet thanked him, quick to tell the band how amazing they were. Y/N chimes in and is grateful for how welcoming the band has made them feel. Y/N hates to ruin the conversation but has to use the restroom. Lloyd offers to walk her, which she is thankful for. He points to a room, telling her to take her time that no one was using it. Y/N thanked him before going in to do her business. She walks out and jumps in surprise to see someone sitting on the couch. Not just anyone, Harry Styles. 
He smirks, noting how jumpy she is. “Sorry, love.”
She shakes her head, “no, uh, they told me it was okay to use the restroom. Sorry if I’m bothering you.” 
Harry shakes his head. “All good. Y/N, right?” 
“Right,” she confirms for him. “And you are?” 
Harry chuckles under his breath, she’s cheeky, and he loves that. “‘M Harry, love.” 
Y/N nods, taking him in. He quickly got out of his outfit for the night and now is only in a hoodie and sweats. She goes to excuse herself, but Y/N knows she doesn’t want to leave his side, not when this might be her only chance at meeting Harry. 
“You were amazing tonight. Seen a few of your shows, truly a sight to behold.” Y/N gushes, not caring if he might think of her as a fangirl for saying so because he deserves the praise.
Harry bends his head, “thank you,” he whispers. He’s nervous. Y/N can tell because he’s playing with the rings on his fingers, but when he raises his head, Harry stares at her like he’s ready to devour her, and Y/N is prepared. She knows this might be for one night but doesn’t have it in herself to tell him no. 
“Haven’t done this before,” he explains.
Y/N takes a step closer to him. “A conversation or a one-night stand.” 
“Asking a fan backstage.”
Y/N feels her breath hitch at the confirmation that he was the one who invited her backstage. “Can’t say I have either.” 
Harry laughs, “Sure, you haven’t. You’re kind of hard to miss in the crowd.” 
She can’t help how quick her face warms up at the compliment, “Last time I dated someone in a band, I was in uni, and he played the bass. Can’t say it ended too well.” 
“Fuck him then.” Harry shrugs, standing up from the couch and stepping close to her. “You don’t have to stay if you’re not comfortable.” 
“And if I want to stay,” she breathes out.
Harry smirks. “Then I’d say get on your knees because it seems you’ve got something to prove.” 
Y/N was not expecting him to be so forward, but she had never backed down from a challenge. Y/N loved pleasuring her partners something about having them at her mercy always got her wet and made for the perfect foreplay. “Are you sure?” Y/N checks in with Harry.
“Yes,” he breathes out, overwhelmed seeing her on her knees for him. 
With one firm tug, his sweats slide down and frees his dick. He’s hard, and Y/N swears she’s never seen a prettier cock. Y/N palms his bare length, relishing the feel of his smooth skin against her hand. Y/N lets her hand rest, one on each thigh, and her eyes linger on his tiger tattoo for a second too long. She leans in, pressing a soft kiss. Y/N hears him let out the most delicate moan, which urges her forward. She lets her tongue grace the drop of arousal glistening on the tip of his cock. Harry moans out her name, wanting her to take him in her mouth already. 
“Perfect,” he rasps out.
That’s all she needs to begin. Opening her jaw wide, she takes him in her mouth. Her tongue swirls and her cheeks hollow out as she sucks. Harry’s hand finds its way to her hair while she sucks his cock deep in her mouth, showing him how much she wants this. How much she’s enjoying him in her mouth. Y/N sinks her nails into his thighs, and Harry hisses at the pain tightening his grip on her hair, making Y/N moan, needing more, wanting more. 
Y/N tilts her head back and peers up at his eyes through her lashes, feeling his length bump against her throat. She notes the heat and desire in his green irises, letting him take a bit more control as his fingers tighten around her hair and move her head to a rhythm that suits him, and Y/N lets him fuck her mouth.
She feels her jaw ache, but she loves this feeling and wants to give him everything he asks for. She wants to be good for him.
“You are so fucking beautiful. Down on your knees for me, staining my cock with those red lips. Fuck, Y/N.” She moans on his length, loving his praise and attention. “You like this cock? Going to let me take what I want like a good girl.” 
Y/N nods or tries to as she keeps him in her mouth, not ready to let him go. He moans as he pushes himself deeper, he has all the control, and Y/N loves it. She’s at his mercy. He’s taking what he wants. Y/N’s fish wraps around the base of his cock, wanting him, no needing him to come down her throat. Y/N shifts closer, leaning into him, wanting him deeper. His taste overwhelms her, and Y/N knows she’d never have enough of him. 
His movements turn frantic, but it doesn’t stop Y/N. “Y/N, fuck, baby. I’m going to come.” Harry tries to pull away, but Y/N snakes a hand behind, clamping it down on his ass, and pulls him closer. “Fuck baby,” he grunts. Harry throws his head back and lets himself spill into her mouth. She feels every twitch and moan he lets out as he holds her head close to his body as he unwinds. 
Y/N is addicted. Blow jobs were fun when your partner was great, and Harry was amazing. He seemed to know how much she could take and pushed her far enough that she got pleasure out of it as well. Y/N pulls away and stares at his cock, her mind full of thoughts of how his cock might feel between her legs, but she won’t be presumptuous. 
“Alright, baby?” Harry asks, careful to tuck himself away. Y/N falls back, leaning on her knees, breaking her gaze from his cock to his eyes. 
“Good,” she promises. He offers her a hand up, and she takes it. Y/N tries her best to hide her disappointment but also knows she needs to go home with Violet, suddenly remembering this wasn’t the most private place for either of them. 
“Are you from here?” Harry asks as he fixes his rings. “Accent is a bit different.” 
Y/N laughs, fixing the sleeve of her shirt. She knew what this was and kind of hoped for more but fuck, how couldn’t she want more? He was so good to her. Y/N wishes it had lasted longer, but she knows she’ll never forget it, so she lets him talk about something else to keep it from getting awkward.  “I’m from London or living there now.” Y/N accepts the wipe he offers her to clean up her smeared lipstick. 
“You know I’m doing a show in London,” he throws out there casually. 
Y/N looks away from the mirror to hide her smirk. “Are you?”
“Mhmm…” he comes up behind her, keeping a distance but close enough for her heart to speed up. “Maybe we could meet up.” 
Y/N turns around, lifting her head to meet his gaze. “Guess it answers that question.” 
Harry stares at you, puzzled. “Which is?” 
“How is my head?” She smirks, and Harry blushes red. Y/N is basking in this more timid Harry after she had his cock in her mouth. 
“Well, how about you meet me later tonight, and I’ll show you how my head is. Then we’ll see if I can see you in London.” 
“Wouldn’t that be a few months away?” Y/N asks, confused.
“I’m a patient man,” he assures her. 
Harry kisses her cheek, placing a piece of paper with his number on it in her hand. “See you tonight, Y/N.” He leaves her in the room breathless and excited about what’s to come. 
808 notes · View notes
jarofstyles · 3 months
2022 Fic Favorites!
Here are some of our favorite fics from 2022 and some we continue to reread!
Tumblr media
American Honey- @londonbelow
Pleasing- @stylesloveclub
Under Summer Skies - @helladirections
Firemanrry- @jawllines
In My Feelings - @harrystylescherry
You’re Someone I Just Want Around- @adashofniallandasprinkleoflunacy and @sunflowervolvimp3
Peaches and Cream- @atlafan
Gravity- @moonchildstyles
Shy- @moonchildstyles
The Witching Hour- @moonchildstyles
Mermaidrry- @jawllines
Baby Honey- @finelinevogue
Mixed Signals- @gurugirl
Don’t Worry Darling- @shroombloomm
Flower Girl- sushirrrry
Safe- pawriter19
Spotlight- kiwiharryy
Ladybug- _screamingcolor
Informed Consent- alisonfelix
Lucky Penny- alisonfelix
Ambit- writhali
Bambi- Vanillasoy
Lethal- authorlana
973 notes · View notes
sweet-creature101 · 11 days
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.
Tumblr media
“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.
Only angel
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
909 notes · View notes
harryspugh · 1 month
INTERESTING… — one shot.
Tumblr media
pairing: harry styles x reader
summary: emotions get in the way of award presenting.
warnings: kinda angsty?
NOTE: i just love petty 2000s drama… like the christina/eminent beef was great. obviously didn’t want this to be a copy paste, so i changed up the situations bit. hope you enjoy!!! (btw this is the edit that inspired me)
[ word count: 1,1k+ ]
Tumblr media Tumblr media
You were usually pretty calm when it came to award shows, especially when presenting them. There was no pressure, no disappointments, and most of the time you got to meet a celebrity you wouldn't usually approach or give one to a friend.
You were now backstage, waiting for your name to be called on stage to present “Song Of The Year” for the BRIT Awards. Which felt like a full circle kind of moment since last year you had received the award, and now had the honour to give it to someone else. But there was one factor that made you slightly nervous; your ex boyfriend is a nominee.
Now, the chances of him winning were one in nine, but As It Was had already won a Grammy for the same category, so really, the odds were not in your favour. You wanted to believe the people at the BRITs wouldn't do that to you, or even your own manager, but luck didn't tend to bend to your will,
When you were finally called on stage, you grabbed the envelope containing who the winner was, and resisted the temptation to peek at it. You lightly grabbed the long fabric of your dress, not wanting to trip because of it, and made your way to the podium.
“Hello, BRITs!” You smiled at the audience, the microphone away from your face so that your laugh wasn’t audible, “Last year I was up here, not giving away, but receiving this award. It was a very happy moment for me, and I hope that it is too for whoever wins this award. This is Song Of The Year, here are the nominees!”
You turned your head to the big screen, as each nominee was displayed you couldn't help but silently hope in your head that Harry didn’t win. Not because he didn't deserve it, no, in fact he was probably the most worthy of the award. But because you couldn't bear that being your first interaction after months of no contact. 
“And the BRIT award for Song Of The Year goes to…” You carefully held the mic so you could open the envelope. 
The moment you saw who had won, a frown appeared on your brows, “Haha… Interesting…” Was what you had muttered under your breath, cursing in your head when you realised it had been picked up by the microphone. 
You plastered the world’s most fakest smile, and through gritted teeth, shouted out the winner, “As It was, Harry Styles!”
You didn't even clap when you placed down the mic on the podium, leaving it for Harry to pick up and use. You held the envelope in front of your body, hands clasped on the award, as you waited for Harry to get on stage. You couldn't actually leave until after he received his award, but you wanted to put the most amount of distance between you.
Your grip tightened just a little bit more when you saw Harry walking up the stairs to the stage, your knuckles started to turn white, but you paid no mind to them. Seeing him so close, after so much time, stung more than it should have.
Your eyes connected, and it suddenly felt like a contest on who would look away first. You made no move to step forward, letting him come to you. When he finally reached you, you gave him his award like it had the plague on it. You knew it was petty, you knew you would get a scolding for acting this way, and you didn't give a shit. 
For a second, you thought he was going for a kiss on the cheek. In fact, you would bet the thought had crossed his mind. But, as if reminding himself of who was standing before him, he didn't. You were thankful he did not because you didn't know how you would have reacted if he had. 
“Hello! Um, this album and this song…” He had started his speech, but you tuned him out. You just wanted to get the hell out of there, ready for the mouthful you were about to give both your manager and whoever decided it was a great idea to have you present the award.
When he finally finished his speech, you almost bolted away from the stage. You sucked in harsh breaths, the cool facade you had tried maintaining, quickly dropped the moment you were backstage. You swore that his eyes drifted to you when he finished speaking, but your face was on some still spot where you could drift away. 
You took your earpiece out with a little too much force, almost taking out your earring in the process too. You were ready to curse out someone when you heard your name being called out, by the one person you didn’t want to hear it from.
Your steps didn’t falter, ignoring the staff's stares, you made your way towards your team. You suddenly came to an abrupt stop when your arm was grabbed by Harry, who spun you around.
“Come on, Y/N, look at me.” You had to resist the urge to roll your eyes at his tone, his voice was so soft and sweet it almost made you want to hug him.
You lifted your eyes from the floor to him, immediately noticing the little smile on his lips. You mentally cursed yourself for even looking at his lips. 
“What, Harry?” You bit out, watching his smile falter at the abrasiveness in your words.
“I… It was nice seeing you again.” He carefully said, as if weary of how you would react.
“Oh, was it?”
“I would’ve liked seeing you in another context, but, yes, it was.” 
You stood in front of him silently for a few seconds, trying to come up with an answer. All that came were things you definitely couldn't say, and others that were too polite.
“Wish I could say the same.” Harry’s wince at your response was anything but satisfying, it only made the pit at the bottom of your stomach grow. You gulped down the knot in your throat and stepped out of his grip, watching as his hand awkwardly fell by his side.
“Look could we maybe—” His words were cut off by your hand in the air, shaking your head at him.
“Congrats on your award, Harry.” The moment you said those words you turned around and walked away. It was easier to ignore the problem than to face it, especially at an award show. Even when you felt his piercing gaze on your back, your feet continued moving along. It was easier said than done, but you hoped you didn't cross paths with Harry anytime soon. 
428 notes · View notes
harrieatthemet · 1 month
One Is Enough II
(part I)
in which Harry’s horny and you’ve got a smart mouth.
“Not tonight.”
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.” 
905 notes · View notes
harrysgraceland · 8 days
Faded Away Materlist !
In where Harry gives up his best friend when she needed him the most, and now they both have to navigate themselves without each other. After Harry experiences a second heartbreak will he  work his way back into Y/N’s life? Will she let him back into his life that easily?
that’s the basic summary so i don’t give anything away that’s it.
Tumblr media
Series playlist
Faded Away one
Faded Away Two
Faded Away Three
Faded Away Four
Faded Away Five
Faded Away Six
Faded Away Seven
Faded Away Eight
Faded Away Nine
426 notes · View notes
moonchildstyles · 2 months
Tumblr media
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.
wordcount: 6.2k+
"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 !!!
2K notes · View notes
strawnarrries · 2 months
Tumblr media
Summary: It is finals week and boyfriend/fratboy!harry helps you study, but ends up being more of a distraction than he is a help.
Requested: nope but always open!
POV: 2nd
Warning(s): smutttt
You Harry
you know i'm studying
Wanna come over
im studying
i have to get at least a 68 to pass a&p and i do not wanna retake this class its literally hell
Oh 68 that's nothing
harry this stuff is so hard ive never studied so much and knew so little
its cumulative too
Come over and I'll help you study
i dont believe you. we never end up studying when we try...
Baby I wanna help you. I haven't seen you in so long I feel like you're killing yourself over these finals
i have to
Let me help you then
Studying with someone else helps you remember things easier
you promise you'll help me and not distract me?
I can try
ughhh ok i'm omw
You sighed to yourself, knowing that this probably was the worst decision you could make at the moment. But you missed him. Since finals week was coming up, you have been slaving away in your dorm, trying to ingest as much material as you could so you would pass your tests.
You didn't even bother to change your clothes. You packed your bag, slipped on your shoes, and were out the door in a span of 10 minutes. Once arriving at the frat house, you texted your boyfriend to let him know that you were there. He greeted you at the door, unlocking it and letting you in. He wore a uni shirt and grey sweatpants. He also had his favorite snapback, the black one he wore constantly, sat backward on his head. His curls were peeking out from under it, making butterflies swarm in your tummy.
"Hi pretty girl," he grinned at you, knowing you loved when he called you that.
"Hi," you smiled, hugging him.
You followed him up to his room, closing the door behind you. Luckily his roommate had class for a couple of hours and wouldn't be home for a while, leaving you plenty of time to study with no distractions (hopefully).
"I missed you," he hummed as he sat on the edge of his bed with open arms, urging you to greet him.
You set your bag on the floor and slipped off your shoes, stepping in between his legs. You pressed a sweet kiss to his pink lips before wrapping your arms around him while he wrapped his around yours. You melted into his arms, letting him hold you for a moment, "I missed you too."
You laid your chin against the top of his head, the fabric from his hat slightly scratching your skin, "I'm so tired of studying. I literally feel so drained."
"Why don't you take a break with me? We can cuddle and watch an episode of that one show we're watching."
"Okay, but just one episode 'cause I need to study," you replied, lifting your head to look down at him.
"Okay, baby. C'mere," he urged, scooting back to lie against the headboard.
You snuggled up into his side, enjoying his warm embrace and letting yourself relax into him. He grabbed the remote from his bedside table and turned on the little tv he and his roommate set up in their room. He turned on the show you two were currently watching together and pulled you close to him.
Once the show ended, you sighed and got up to dig into your backpack, "Okay, I have to study now."
"Ya want me t' quiz you?" he asked as you sat back down on the bed next to him.
"Yeah," you nodded, handing him your purple notebook.
He began flipping through your pages and pages and pages of written notes, gasping, "Holy shit, you have to know all of this?"
"Yeah, it sucks."
"'m not looking forward to taking this class," he sighed, maneuvering his body so he was now sitting across from you.
"I'll help you," you replied.
"Aww, I knew I picked the right girl," he grinned at you.
"Seriously? You only picked me 'cause you knew I'd help you with school?" you teased.
"And 'cause you give great BJs, duhhhh!"
"Oh shut up. I'm pretty confident on the labeling part so quiz me on this part," you told him, pointing to the wordy portion of your notes, "I drew stars next to the ones I need to study more."
He went through your notes, coming up with questions and quizzing you, helping you find ways to retain the information on the ones you got wrong. He had gone through about two of many pages so far and you could tell he was starting to get bored, the mischievious side of Harry slowly creeping out.
"Mmm," he hummed and you could see the wheels turning in his head, "why dont we make this a game and for every question you get wrong, you take off a piece of clothing."
"Harrryyy!" you whined, "you told me you wouldn't distract me."
"'m not!! 'm just making this fun so you'll remember it better."
You groaned dramatically, "you're lucky you look hot right now."
"'s the hat innit?" he smirked that sly smirk of his and you hated him for it.
You rolled your eyes, confirming to him that he was correct. Harry in a backwards hat always got you going and he knew that.
"Okay, go."
"Kay," he began, skimming over your notes to construct another question for you, "What is the substrate of glycolysis?"
"Good. What are the secretions of the small intestines and their functions?"
"Oh gosh okay," you grumbled, thinking for a moment, "maltase breaks the bond between two glucose molecules of maltose, sucrase breaks sucrose into glucose and fructose, and lactase hydroylzes lactose to glucose and galactose."
"What are the steps of peristalsis?"
"Fuck," you sighed, rubbing your eyes and ignoring the awful way he tried to pronounce that word, "I dunno, each step involves contraction of something to help move food."
He smirked at you, giving you a moment to think, secretly hoping you wouldn't remember.
"Ugh, I dunno, what is it?"
He told you the answer and you groaned, frustrated with yourself for getting that one wrong again.
"You know what that means," he sang.
You glared at him and pulled your hair out of the ponytail, slipping the hair tie on your wrist. Your long hair fell down your shoulders and you shook it out to make it look presentable.
He scoffed teasingly, "that doesn't count!"
"Yeah huh, it's an accessory," you argued.
"I said clothing item."
"Fine," you replied, slipping off a single sock and tossing it across the room.
He smirked at you, speaking back in a challenging tone, "you're really gonna play like that. Okay."
He continued to ask you questions, choosing the hardest questions with the wordiest answers to make the process faster. By now, you had both socks off, your pajama pants off, and had just taken off your sweatshirt, leaving you in just your underwear.
"How many erythrocytes are produced per second?"
"Umm, a thousand?"
He began giggling at you, "baby, you're way off. It's 2 million."
You sighed and began reaching behind your back, fumbling with the clasp of your white bra. You took your sweet time, watching his reaction to you. You unclipped your bra and let the straps slide down your shoulders, revealing your breasts to the cool air. Your nipples pebbled at the temperature change and you watched as he eyed you. He was such a boobs guy. The way he looked at you made you melt, butterflies erupting in your stomach. Complete love and lust clouded over his pretty, green eyes while he unintentionally bit his bottom lip before his eyes trailed back up to yours with a soft grin on his pink lips.
"Phew, just got hot in 'ere, huh?" he joked as he shook himself out of his trance.
"You act like you've never seen 'em before," you blushed.
"My girl's hot, I'll never get used to it."
"Next question."
"Okay, what are the similarities between of extrinsic and intrinsic pathways?"
"They both lead to the activation of prothrombinase which activates thrombin which converts fibrinogen to fibrin."
"No that's right!" you retaliated, extremely confident in your answer.
He carefully tossed your notebook to the floor, beginning to hover over you and finger at the elastic band of your panties, "why don't we just say it's wrong and go ahead and take these off you."
Your breath hitched in your throat and you could feel your abdomin clench in anticipation. You let him dominate you, leaning back against the pillows while he hovered over you, "You wanna do that? Think it's time for a break?"
"Yeah," you nodded breathlessly, your hands coming up to grip at his shirt, "kiss me."
He dipped his head down and attached his lips to yours, moving them in sync. The kisses deepened and deepened and each one got more heated than the last. He pulled away with the smack of his lips against yours, slipping his fingertips into your panties and pulling them down your legs, tossing them onto the pile of your clothes on the floor.
"You're wet," he smirked, eyeing your glistening center.
He let his fingers run up and down your folds, spreading your wetness. His fingers landed on your throbbing clit, rubbing it how he's learned you like it. You let out a breath in relief, your hips bucking up into his fingers.
"You're such a bad influence," you breathed out as he hovered back over you, eyes fluttering closed at the feeling of his lips on your neck.
"But you love me," you felt him grin.
"So much," you smiled back.
His lips worked against your neck, leaving marks you knew you would complain about later while his fingers worked your clit, allowing all the stress from finals week to rise off your shoulders. You relaxed into the bed, enjoying the heavenly feeling of your boyfriend loving on you.
You tugged on his shirt, pulling it up towards his head, acknowledging you wanted it off. He sat up on his knees and took his hat off before grabbing onto the collar of his uni shirt and pulling it up over his head, tossing it onto the floor next to you, his growing collection of tattoos now on full display for you.
He began to lean back down before you stopped him, "wait, keep your hat on."
He smirked at you before he picked his hat back up and slipped it on his head backward, little curls peeking out from the sides. You giddily giggled as he hovered over you again and he kissed you, "Mm, you look so sexy with a backwards hat."
"Oh yeah?" he replied, his ego rising as he trailed his kisses down your body.
Landing on your chest, he took your right nipple into his mouth, kissing, sucking, and licking. You hummed in content as your hands wrapped around his warm skin, holding him tightly to you. He gave your other nipple the same attention before you pulled him away, "Kiss me."
He hovered back over you and kissed you, his right hand sliding down your body and coming in contact with your throbbing center again. His fingers slipped through your folds, spreading your wetness once more, feeling just how turned on you are for him.
"Fuck," he mumbled mostly to himself as he began to rub small circles on your throbbing clit, "you really do like the backwards hat, huh?"
You just moaned in response as he slipped one finger into your opening, thrusting it in and out before easily adding a second. He curled his fingers up, hitting that special spot that made your back arch.
"Want you in me," you whimpered softly into his ear, sending shivers down his spine.
He didn't think twice before he got up and slipped his sweatpants and briefs off. He pulled open the drawer on his bedside table and took out a condom, slipping it onto his hard shaft. He got on his knees in front of you, lining himself up with your entrance. He grabbed onto both of your ankles and rested them on his shoulders. You felt your thighs stretch as he leaned over you. His member slid into you, both of your jaws going slack as he began to move in and out of you, finding a good pace.
"'s that feel good?" he asked.
"Mhm, it feels so good," you whined softly, feeling your orgasm beginning to coil in your stomach.
He always made you feel so good. He knew your body like the back of his hand, knowing exactly what you liked and disliked. It took a while for you to figure out what you liked since you were a virgin before you started dating Harry. He was such a sweetheart though, always so patient with you and making sure you were comfortable. He never got mad at you when he wasn't able to get you to finish and he always encouraged you and showered you with compliments when you pleasured him, even though you were convinced you were doing a horrible job.
He loved to make you feel good and was invested in learning about your body and what got you going. He craved the opportunity to give you pleasure rather than receive (although he does love to receive), which was the opposite of most boys your age.
Now that you're way past the learning about each other stage, he never fails to make your back arch and your toes curl, struggling to not scream his name and let everyone know how good he was making you feel.
"Faster, Harry, go faster," you moaned softly.
He sped up his pace, the sound of skin slapping and your wetness filling your ears before he slowed down again, but still slightly faster than his original pace, "We can't be too loud, baby."
You whined, this time in frustration, "I wish we lived alone so bad."
"One day," he hummed, "I promise."
You let out a soft whimper, your walls subconsciously clenching around him and causing him to groan softly into your ear. He pressed kisses just under your ear lobe and shivers ran across your body.
He lifted his head up to look at you and your eyes connected with his. He was gorgeous. His skin and tattoos were glittering under a thin layer of sweat, his eyebrows furrowed together in pleasure and his mouth was slightly agape with uneven breaths and occasional moans slipping out. His chest and arm muscles were tensing with every movement he made; all that football he was playing paid off for you. The backward hat on his head was also making every 100x hotter.
He let out a soft smile at you and you smiled back at him, hands cupping his cheeks to pull him down to kiss you. His lips moved against yours and his thrusts slowed down as he kissed you, most of his attention now on slipping his tongue past your lips and tasting you.
"Oh, I wanna scream," you whimpered softly against his pink lips.
"Me too," he grunted, "you feel so good."
Those words went straight to your core and you gripped onto him tighter, your painted fingernails digging into his back. Your hips bucked up and slightly circled under him, desperate for a release. His swollen, red tip hit your special spot with every thrust of his hips and caused your toes to curl.
He leaned down slightly and used his elbows to hold himself up rather than his hands. His thrusts got sloppy and you could tell he was getting tired but was still determined to bring you both to the edge. The stretch on the back of your thighs became too much and you instinctively moved your legs off of his shoulders. He sat up slightly so you could get them under his arms and comfortably lay them on the bed. He leaned back down on his elbows and pressed a few sweet kisses to your forehead, moving a few strands of hair out of the way as he began to grind his hips against yours.
You wrapped your legs around his waist, squeezing him tightly and pushing him deeper into you. His lips trailed down your face, across your jaw, and to your neck, making sure to pay extra attention to what he knew were your sweet spots.
"Wantcha t' ride me," he hummed, as he pulled out of you.
He rolled off of you, falling against the sheets next to you in a huff. He lifted his head slightly to take off his snapback, ruffling his sweaty, but gorgeous, chocolatey locks.
"Can you sit against the headboard?" you asked.
He obeyed and sat up against the headboard, slipping his hat backward onto his head comfortably. You sat up and straddled his lap, now face to face and chest to chest with him. You wrapped your hand around his length, giving it a few pumps before positioning it at your entrance. You sank down onto him, both of you watching as he disappeared inside of you. You paused for a second, giving yourself time to adjust to him.
"Mm, you look so pretty like this," he whispered, hands reaching up to cup your breasts, kneading them.
You smiled at him, before leaning in to kiss him, "I love you."
"I love you too."
You began to grind onto him, pressing your forehead against his. The little curls peeking out from under his hat tickled your skin. He placed both hands on either side of your waist, guiding you with every movement of your hips. He was so deep inside you that you could feel every inch of him. Your hands cupped each side of his neck, subconsciously pulling at the curls around the back of his neck, the ones that peeked under the brim of his hat.
You loved this position. It always felt so good. He was in the perfect position for you to kiss him and watch him. He got so deep inside of you, rubbing up against your sweet spots. With every thrust of your hips, his pelvic bone, and the patch of coarse hair there stimulated your clit, something you needed to be pushed over the edge.
He dipped his head down and began pressing open-mouthed kisses to anywhere his lips could reach; your neck, your collarbones, and the swell of your breasts, leaving more marks to your collection. You always loved when he kissed you like that. The feeling of him inside of you and his warm lips on your neck had you going feral and you could tell he was too.
"Fuck, Y/N, you close?"
"Yeah," you moaned.
"'m not gonna last much longer, I need yeh t' cum," he whimpered painfully against the skin of your chest.
"Almost there," you breathed out.
You moved faster against him, giving everything in you to get yourself and him to finish. He bent his legs and pressed his feet flat on the bed, gripping your hips tighter. He began moving his own hips under yours, your thrusts meeting his.
"Oh, Harry, that feels so good. Please don't stop. Don't stop."
"I know you're close, baby, I can feel it. Let go for me, c'mon," he grunted back.
And that was all you needed to let go for him. The knot in the pit of your stomach released and your entire body was numb with pleasure. You wanted to scream so bad but you held your breath to help stay quiet. Your eyes were squeezed shut, your lips pursed and your face was scrunched up as your orgasm ripped through you.
Harry's grip on your hips tightened more, leaving marks on your sensitive skin as his orgasm shortly followed yours. You continued to move against him, trying to drag every last second of your releases. Coming down from your highs, you began breathing heavily, feeling the relief washing over you.
You relaxed on him, your chest against his and your arms wrapped around each other. You rested your head on his shoulder, taking a moment to catch your breath while you felt him soften inside of you. You lifted your head up to look at him and blushed slightly at the look on his face. His eyes were hooded, his skin slightly glistened with sweat, and his lips parted as he breathed heavily, a smirk growing, "That was so hot."
You rolled your eyes teasingly, getting up and heading towards the bathroom to clean yourself up, "I swear I can never get anything done with you."
He chuckled softly before calling back to you as you walked away, "Face it, baby. I'm irresistible."
503 notes · View notes
stylesloveclub · 4 months
In which y/n tends to make a lot of spontaneous decisions when she’s drunk, and Harry’s a tattoo artist. 
On any average work day, Harry sees a lot of people come through his tattoo shop.
The majority of them are people who’ve gotten tattoos before – usually big burly men who come in to add a new tat to their sleeve, or teenage girls getting a secret butterfly on their side boob. There are the artsy people who come in for some detailed line work, and there are the silly drunk people who get a smiley face tattooed on their ass. Sometimes he’ll have someone come in for their first tattoo ever, shaking in their seat and tearing up before the tattoo gun even touches their skin.
Very rarely does he have someone come in for a piercing. But when they do, they’re usually older girls coming in for a helix or a belly button piercing. 
Not five year old girls, wearing sparkly pink shoes and a sunflower printed dress. 
“Hi!” Harry’s eyes flicker up to the lady standing behind the little kid. “Do you guys pierce ears here?”
“Erm… for her?” Harry says skeptically, pointing at the little girl. She can’t be older than five years old, standing with her thumb in her mouth and hiding behind the legs of the lady she’d come inside with. The lady seems young, probably the same age as him or a bit younger. He assumes the little girl must be her daughter. 
“Yup!” the mom exclaims (or maybe a nanny, or aunt… Harry doesn’t really know. Or care.) “We wanna get her ears pierced for her birthday!” She looks down at the little girl with a glimmer in her eyes. 
Harry contemplates saying no, he really does. He doesn’t like having kids in his shop— or anywhere near him if we’re being honest. They have snotty noses and sticky fingers and cry way too loud for him to be able to tolerate them. But this little girl seems relatively nice…  she’s been quiet so far, and her nose is clean. Plus, the shop’s not busy today. Even if she did start crying, she wouldn’t scare any customers away. So he decides to be nice – just this one time.
“Sure,” he sighs. “I can do her.” He decides to do it himself instead of assigning the job to one of his employees. He’s been here the longest and has the steadiest hands, so he can get this over with the quickest. 
He has the woman (y/n, he learns from the paperwork) sign a couple of papers, then has the two of them pick through the earring options that they have on display.
“Which one do you like the best, Lola?” Harry overhears her asking the little girl. Or– Lola, as he’s overheard. 
Lola, still sucking her thumb, points to a pair of heart-shaped pink studs. “Tha’ one,” she says through her stuffed mouth.
“Oh, the hearts are so pretty!” y/n says giddily. “Good choice sweetheart.” She looks up at Harry. “Could we get those ones, please?”
He nods, and makes note of it in their paperwork. 
“Follow me,” he says, leading them into the back room where he usually does the piercings. He motions towards a black, leather table that his clients usually sit or lay down on when getting their piercings done. The table is too tall for little Lola to climb onto all by herself, so y/n picks her up and plops her down on the seat. Her little sparkly shoes dangle from the edge, hanging two feet above the floor. 
Harry washes his hands and takes out his sterilized materials from the cabinet in the room, as well as the pair of pink earrings that Lola has requested. A pair of black gloves fit onto his hands tightly. He then sits on a little rolly stool and rolls over to where she’s sitting on the bench. 
“M’gonna disinfect your ears now,” he says to the little girl, tearing open a package of alcohol swabs. She just nods quietly, thumb in mouth. He can tell that Lola is nervous, her eyes wide and scared with her legs swinging nervously. She keeps looking over at y/n, who’s sitting on a chair right next to the table. 
“Are you excited Lola?” she asks enthusiastically, trying to hype the little girl up. 
It doesn’t work. Lola’s little eyes start to grow watery, her chin wobbling as she shakes her head no. “M’scared,” she whines, a frown taking over her face. 
Harry rolls away as soon as he sees the tears. Maybe this was a bad idea.
“Oh no, Lola!” she exclaims, squatting in the spot Harry had just been. She grabs Lola’s hands in hers and looks into the little girl’s tearful eyes. “Don’t be scared! We don’t have to pierce your ears if you don’t wanna baby.”
“But I do!” Lola whimpers. 
“Well then what’s the problem bubs?” she asks soothingly.
Lola looks at Harry, then leans over to (not so successfully) whisper in y/n’s ear. “He’s scary,” she says, the pout on her face only deepening. Y/n looks over at Harry helplessly.
Ah, yes. He supposes his all black clothes, tattooed arms, and black painted nails weren’t doing much to comfort the little girl… maybe he is a little scary.
“Hey,” he says rolling back to the table, his voice somewhat softer than the deep, grumpy rumble it had been before.  He’s gonna have to really up the niceness if he wants to get through the session smoothly. “Nothing to be scared of, little lady. It’ll just take a second and s’not even gonna hurt.” He gives a tight smile, the best he can muster up despite his apprehensiveness about talking to a kid on the verge of tears. 
“Y’hear that, bubs?” she reassures the little girl with a big smile on her face. She plays with Lola’s hands encouragingly. “Come one, you’re a big girl. You can do it!”
Lola sniffles deeply and wipes her eyes with her tiny fists. “M’a big girl,” she affirms with a confident nod. 
“Good girl!” y/n says, giving Lola a stellar high five. She gets up from where she’d been squatting and goes back to her seat, letting Harry roll back to where he’d previously been.
“I’m going to wipe your ears again, okay? We’ve gotta make sure they’re nice and clean.” Harry explains. He’s added a bit of an enthusiastic kick to his voice, really selling the “I’m not a big meanie!” vibe to Lola. She nods, a few leftover tears hanging onto her long eyelashes.
She winces when the cold wipe touches her earlobe, and Harry fears for his life. Was every little thing going to make this little girl cry? He decides to distract her. “How old are you, Lola?” He asks the first question that comes to mind. 
She holds up five fingers. “Wow! Five years old!” he bursts. “You’re a big girl!” 
That makes her smile and nod happily. Harry internally lets out a sigh of relief. He got a smile out of her, who would’ve thought! 
He takes a sterile pen and marks two dots on Lola’s earlobe for where the piercing would go. “What do you think?” he says, turning to y/n. She nods and holds up an excited thumbs up. 
“Okay, Lola,” Harry says nervously, pulling out the needle he’d be using to pierce her ear. He cleans it below the table so that the little girl doesn’t see it and start crying. “M���gonna need you to stay very still for this next part. Okay, sweetheart?” Lola agrees, but her composure falters when he brings the needle into view. “I know it’s a little scary, but I need you to be brave. Can you do that for me? Be a brave girl for me?”
She nods her head. “Brave,” she mumbles to herself. “Brave girl.”
He realizes that the clamps that he usually uses for piercing ears is too big for Lola’s small earlobes – but it’s okay. He’s done so many impromptu piercings that he has a shit ton of experience not using the proper equipment. Instead, he just holds the skin of her earlobe tightly and stretches it taut so that the needle would go in smoothly. 
“Okay Lola, take a deep breath in,” he instructs gently, piercing the needle through her skin in one smooth motion, “...and out.” He quickly follows through with the heart shaped studs and secures it with the backing. “You did it! One ear done!” 
She looks up at him confused. “That was it?” she asks, reaching her hand up to feel if the earring is actually there. 
Harry catches her little hand and brings it down to her lap before it makes contact with her piercing. “Ah, ah-” he tuts, “we can’t touch it okay? You gotta let it heal or else it’ll start to hurt.” He notices the way her little fingers wrap around his hand as he holds them still in her lap. “Are you ready to do the other ear?” he asks patiently.
She nods a bit more enthusiastically this time, no longer scared.
“Atta girl!” he exclaims, piercing the other ear in the same manner. He sanitizes her ears one last time and makes sure that everything is secure before holding up a mirror for the little girl to see her reflection in. “What do you think?”
Lola’s eyes go round, glimmering happily. “Pretty,” she says, looking at y/n for confirmation.
“So pretty, Lola!” she exclaims, standing up and pinching the little girl’s cheek. “M’so proud of you, you’re such a big girl! Thank you…” she looks at Harry, trailing off at the fact that she doesn’t know his name. 
“Harry,” he fills in for her. He rolls away from Lola and throws away the trash.
She smiles softly. “Thank you, Harry.” 
It’s a quiet night at the tattoo shop, which Harry is thankful for. 
There’d been a few appointments earlier in the day, larger pieces that people had scheduled months in advance because they took a lot of consultations and took long chunks of time to tattoo – but there had barely been any walk-ins. It’s a Thursday night, so of course his business isn’t bustling the way it would be on a Saturday. 
Harry decides to start cleaning up – if he’s lucky, nobody else would venture in before their closing time and he’d be able to get home a bit early. (His little cat is waiting for him at home!) He wipes down the tattoo chairs and puts away all the needles, sweeps the floors and turns off the lights in the staff room in silence, until suddenly, he hears the bell above the door ring and someone clumsily stumbles in. It’s y/n. 
Harry looks at her. She looks at him. 
“Hi…?” Harry says, his voice a little doubting, a little bit confused. Why was she back? 
She stands in front of him nervously. “Um…” she’d stumbled into the tattoo shop with such confidence, but finds herself suddenly nervous and unable to speak under Harry’s intimidating gaze. “Hi.”
She won’t lie– she’s a little, teensy weensy bit drunk right now. She’d been at the bar across the street with a couple of her girlfriends, just hanging out and having fun, when she spilled to them about the hot tattoo artist who worked at the shop across the street. 
She’s had plenty of fleeting crushes in her life, but none have been as quick and captivating as her crush on Harry. With his deep voice, green eyes, and tan skin, he’s cast some sort of spell on her. She’d been in his presence for what… a total of 45 minutes? And yet she can’t get him off her mind!
He was just… really hot! And he had that sexy, mysterious vibe to him…. With all those tattoos and the rings and the black eyeliner… gosh he was straight out of some bad boy romance novel! If it weren’t for the fact that she’d been with her five-year old goddaughter when she met him for the first time, she’s sure she would’ve started acting up. He was just so attractive! 
In her tipsy state, with her cheeks warm and a fuzzy feeling in her chest, she couldn’t help but rant to her friends about it. She’d met the hottest guy ever, and she’d never have the chance to see him again! It was tragic!
Well… it doesn’t have to be that way, her friends told her. What was stopping her from heading over to the tattoo shop right now? 
No, she thought to herself. Going over to the tattoo shop, drunk, with absolutely nothing to say except Hi, I think you’re hot? She could never do that…
The vodka lemonade in her system said otherwise, though. That, along with all her friends who hyped her, had somehow managed to convince her to venture across the street and visit her dreamy tattoo man! 
So now she’s in his tattoo shop, with absolutely no idea of what to say or how to act. 
“How can I help you?” he asks after a tense second of silence. 
“Um…” she doesn’t really have a game plan, but she decides on the spot, “I want a piercing.” 
“A piercing?” he clarifies. She nods. “Okay… where?” 
She points to the shell of her ear. “You want a helix piercing?” he asks once more.
“Yeah,” she says confidently, accompanied by an eager nod of her head.
“Okay…” he mulls it over for a second. “Are you… y’know– like, in the right headspace to do this?” Something is telling him that she’s not completely sober, and he doesn’t want to do something that she’d regret. 
“Yeah, yeah!” She brushes it off nonchalantly,  “I only had like, one drink! And I’ve been meaning to get a piercing, especially after I came in here with Lola.” 
The first half of that was a lie– she had like, three drinks. But, it is true that she’d been thinking about getting her helix pierced for a while. She’d always thought they were cool, and had thought to herself that she’d like to get it done. She just never had taken any initiative on that thought… until right now, at least.
“If you say so…” He’s still a bit doubtful, but he supposes his slight suspicion isn’t enough of a reason to refuse service to her. 
He brings her the paperwork on a clipboard and gets all his required equipment out as she fills it out. “Which do you want?” he asks her, pointing to the wide variety of helix piercing options displayed. 
“Um…what do you recommend?” She’s normally much more prepared and would have done a bunch of research on what kind of jewelry would heal best or what type of metal was safest… but again, this decision was kind of made on a whim.
“I always tell clients to start off with a stud, and then if you want you can switch it out for a hoop once the piercing has healed.” 
“Yeah, that sounds good.” A pretty, butterfly shaped stud catches her eye. “Can I do that one, please?”
He nods. Grabbing his equipment, he decides that y/n is gonna be the last customer of the night, so he flips the sign on the front of the door to read closed, and leads her into the backroom, the same room where he’d pierced Lola’s ears.
“Where’s your daughter?” he asks, turning on the lights. Y/n follows behind him, and sits on the bench that he guides her towards. 
“Oh, she’s not mine!” “She’s not?” Harry had assumed that was her daughter with how close they were and how easily y/n comforted the little girl. 
“Lola’s my goddaughter!” she bubbles. “She’s at home with her parents right now. I just got to take her out this week for a little pre-birthday surprise.” 
“That’s cute,” he hums. With a pair of black gloves on his hands, he rips open the sanitizing pad and stands in front of y/n. The cool alcohol wipe feels refreshing against her ear, a striking contrast to how flushed her face feels. 
Harry’s eyes are dark and stern as he focuses on his job. His knuckles nudge her chin, angling her head in a way so he could clean the backs of her ears too. She’s looking up at him with wide eyes, captivated by his every movement. With how close he’s standing to her, she can feel his breaths against her cheek, see the sparks of gold embedded in his green irises. She can’t help herself from staring at his pretty pink lips, how they pout as he marks the spot he wants to pierce. 
Now, usually it makes Harry really uncomfortable when people stare at him while he’s doing their tattoo or giving a piercing. He’d rather they just close their eyes, or stare at the staring, anywhere else but at him! But with her… he doesn’t fully mind it. She’s kind of cute, he has to admit.
He holds up a mirror for her. “Look good?”
She nods. She barely looks into the mirror and doesn’t overthink the placement of it at all. Somehow, she trusts Harry wholeheartedly. 
He takes the needle out of its sterile packaging, and y/n eyes it nervously. “Do helix piercings… hurt a lot?” she asks with a timid voice. The sight of a needle coming towards her face has sobered her up quite a bit. 
“Not necessarily.” He notices her nervous eyes, “They obviously hurt more than a lobe piercing, since it’s cartilage, but s’only like a pinch.” 
She still looks frightened. “Can you, um– count?”
His eyes narrow slightly, and she feels like he’s judging her. But he agrees nonetheless. “Sure. Ready?” She nods her head as best as she can with her ear pinched between his fingers. “3…2…1.” She squeezes her eyes shut and takes a sharp breath as the needle pierces through her cartilage.
She exhales with a shaky breath. “Ow,” her eyes open, stinging with tears. 
He looks at her with a furrow in his brow. If she knew him better, she’d know that he’s concerned. But since they’re practically strangers, it just looks like he’s annoyed with her. “Did it hurt?” he asks.
“Little bit,” she mumbles. “I think it’s just the thought of a needle that’s making me a wuss. I’m not good with needles.” She sniffles a bit, but her tears aren’t heavy enough to fall from her lashes. 
“Well that was the hard part,” he says, somewhat reassuringly. He follows through with the butterfly shaped stud, and secures it in the back. 
He holds the mirror up for her once more, and she gazes at her own reflection in awe. “It’s so pretty,” she whispers. The butterfly glimmers prettily on her ear, the jewels that make up the wings shining under the white lighting. He sanitizes the piercing once more, then takes a step back.
“Make sure you avoid touching the piercing, ‘cos that’ll irritate it and also potentially infect it. Little bit of swelling and redness is fine for the first few days, but if it persists or gets infected then go to the doctors.” He takes his gloves off and throws his trash into the bin, then grabs a bottle of an aftercare solution, “Y’have to wash it 2-3 times a day for the next 3 weeks, then once a day after that. Don’t go swimming or submerge it under water, don’t pick at it or play with the piercing, avoid sleeping on it. And if you think anything is wrong then feel free to come back and we’ll check it out for you, yeah?” 
She nods her head diligently. “How long does it take to fully heal?” 
“Helix piercings take anywhere from six months to two years to fully heal. The better you take care of it, the better it’ll heal.”
Her eyes widen, “I didn’t know piercings took so much work.”
He eyes her curiously. “What made you decide to get pierced today if you didn’t know anything about it?”
“Oh, I was just… like in a fun mood,” she explains, avoiding the fact that the only reason she’d come in here was because she wanted to see him, the hot tattoo artist she’d been fantasizing about for the past week. “Me and my friends perform at the bar across the street every Thursday night, and we got some drinks afterwards and I just… decided to do it.” She smiles nervously.
“You perform?” he asks.
“Oh, yeah!” she bubbles excitedly. “I mean, I just play the keys, but my friend is a really good singer and it’s a lot of fun. S’right across the street, you should check it out one day!” 
He hums. “Maybe one day.” 
Y/n didn’t really think much of it when she told Harry to come check out one of their performances. It just kind of… slipped out. 
She didn’t think he’d actually show up! In fact, she thought she’d totally fumbled with him! She just got a piercing from him, and that’s it. No phone numbers, no flirting, nothing.
But here he is, sitting at a bar waiting for her as she walks off stage. 
“Ruby,” she whispers to the lead singer of their band. “He’s here.”
“Who?” Ruby whispers back, looking around inconspicuously.
“The tattoo artist,” y/n says nervously. 
Ruby’s eyes widen. “Where?!” she gasps excitedly. 
“Long hair, sitting by the bar with a drink.” 
Ruby finds him easily, “Girl… he’s hot.” 
Y/n nods. “What do I do?” 
“Go talk to him, duh!” Ruby spares another glance towards Harry. “He’s looking at you. Go over there right now, or I’ll do it for you.” 
Y/n’s palms sweat and she looks at Ruby helplessly. She’s nervous! But Ruby just raises her eyebrow and gives her a look, one that tells her to suck it up and go flirt with her dream man. 
With a deep breath, she walks to the bar, eyes glued to the floor and desperately avoiding Harry’s eyes until she’s right in front of him. “Hi,” she says.
He takes a sip of his drink, some type of golden whiskey sitting in a crystal glass. His eyes glimmer with familiarity. “Hi.”
“You came,” she says, fingers twisting behind her back. 
“I did.” He flags the bartender down. “Are you drinking anything?” 
“Oh, um… just a strawberry marg.” She smiles to herself– he’s buying her a drink! That must mean something, right? “How much of the show did you see?”
“Just the end. Had to close up shop and all before I came.” 
She nods understandingly. “How, um… What did you think?” Her drink arrives and she takes a long, nervous sip.
“It was good. You were great up there.” 
Her cheeks grow warm and she hopes Harry can’t tell how happy that small comment made her. “Thanks,” she says with a soft smile. 
He takes another sip of his drink, and says nothing more. He’s got an intimidating demeanor, one that makes y/n shrink into herself, and yet she doesn’t want to leave his side. She’s attracted to him, obviously, but also intrigued. His mysterious ways have captured her attention, his quiet personality something y/n wants to unravel.
She coughs dryly, even though her throat doesn’t itch or anything, and awkwardly takes a sip of her drink. She wishes she had something to say to Harry, and wonders if she should just walk away to save herself from this painful silence. 
“Y/n!” One of her bandmates, Benji, somehow hears her prayers and wraps his arms around her shoulder. “Killed it on the keys tonight! So groovy babe, you’re amazing.”
“Thanks Benji,” she mumbles, her face heating at the extravagant attention he’s drawn to them. Harry observes her quietly, not even acknowledging Benji’s presence – just watching her. He takes another long, quiet sip of his drink. 
“This a friend of yours?” Benji asks, nodding towards Harry. His arms are still wrapped around her shoulders, his hands rubbing up and down her arm warmly. She can feel Harry eyeing the contact.
She clears her throat. “Yeah, this is Harry. He tattoos at the shop across the street.”
“Oh, sick! Nice to meet you man.”
Harry tips his drink in acknowledgement, but still says nothing. 
“Listen– me, Ruby, and Char are heading to Nora’s apartment in like, thirty minutes. You wanna come with? You can ride with me.”
Y/n glances at Harry, but he’s looking down at his drink, swirling it softly. The ice clinks in his glass softly, somehow standing out to y/n’s ear despite how loud the bar is. “Um, I’ll let you know, okay? I’ll text.” Benji pats her arm with an affirming nod, and heads back to his table where the rest of their friends are sitting. 
“S’that your boyfriend?” Harry says, finally looking up. His brows are furrowed, as usual, and his green eyes stare at her intensely. 
“Oh, Benji?” she laughs. “No way. He’s dating Nora.”
He hums. “No boyfriend at all, then?” 
She shakes her head softly, “No boyfriend.”
“Good,” he says, setting his glass down. “Would suck if I was trying to hook up with a girl who’s taken.”
 “You– what?” Her heart stutters in her chest, and she forgets how to breathe. “You want… with me?” 
He sets the drink down and stands from his stool, towering over her. Looking at her with those intense, green eyes, he unabashedly glances down at her lips. “What are you doing after this?”
“Um.” Benji’s invitation flashes through the forefront of her mind. Her eyes flicker between his nervously, looking for any signs that he might be messing with her. He’s dead serious. “Nothing.”
“I live just a little bit away. Do you want to come to mine?” 
“To yours? To um– like, you know…” her brain is going haywire and she can’t get a proper sentence out. “Like to… hook up?”
He nods, eyes hard but honest. “Would you want that?”
“Yeah!” She realizes how eager she sounds, and tones it down. “I mean, yes. I’d want that. I would want to go to yours and would like to, um… you know. I would wanna…” She stumbles over her words, struggling to formulate her thoughts into coherent words. She shakes her head and looks at the ground shyly, embarrassed that she can’t get it out.
Harry steps forward, lifts her chin, and gives her a kiss – mostly to shut her up, but also to test the waters, see if the chemistry is there. Her eyes flutter shut, her hands lifting softly with the intention of grabbing onto his arms, but too shy to actually touch him, so they just hang in the air between them. Harry, on the other hand, cups her jaw with the hand that he’d use to tilt her chin upwards, while the other hand rests on her hip. He puckers his lips softly against hers, sucking her bottom lip gently. 
His grip on her hip tightens as they kiss, and she relaxes into his touch. The whirlwind of thoughts disappears in the kiss, the anxiety of trying to speak with him and knowing how and where to touch him vanishes in seconds. Her hands finally feel comfortable enough to touch him, resting gently on his chest, fingers grabbing onto his shirt unconsciously. He pulls away with a soft click. When her eyes gently flutter open, glazed over with puppy-like eagerness, he confirms to himself that the chemistry is definitely there.
“Ready to go, then?”
Harry’s apartment is oddly nothing like y/n expected. 
From his rugged exterior, you’d think his home would be dark and grungy, like himself. But he lives in a cute apartment, quaint and cozy. The building is in a nice area, with an apparently new lock and intercom system that y/n envies (getting into her building is a hassle – her key always gets stuck and she’s always getting calls from people who want the person in room 316. She lives in 318!). He keys them in with a small fob attached to a key chain, and she follows him through the lobby, up the elevator, down the hallway, and into his apartment.
A sweet little white cat with pretty blue eyes sits in front of the door as they walk in. She meows up at Harry, and tangles herself between his legs, her fluffy tail twirling behind her softly. “You don’t mind cats or anything, do you?” Harry asks.
“No, not at all!”
“This is Dandie,” he murmurs. Harry picks the cat up into his arms, his tattooed arms striking against her delicate white fur. “It’s short for dandelion.” 
“How sweet,” y/n coos, stepping forward. She tries to give Dandie a scratch on the head, but the cat flinches her head away, meowing grumpily. Y/n pouts. 
“Takes a while for her to warm up to people,” Harry explains. “Don’t take it personally.” 
He sets Dandie down, letting her prance away as she pleases while he leads y/n further into his apartment. It’s homey and comfortable, clearly lived in. Harry has dark, espresso colored shelves lined with books and little trinkets, souvenirs and little decorations that you’d find in antique shops. A sage green couch with a chunky knit white blanket draped on top sits in the center of his living room, matching the fluffy white rug that lays under his coffee table. A half full mug of tea sits on a coaster on top of the glass table. It faces the wall with a large television attached to it. 
Underneath the television is a short stand that has a record player sitting on top of it– a fancy one, she might add – with built-in shelves that store all of his records. She wanders towards them, straying away from Harry, who’s gone to the kitchen to set out some food for Dandie. There must be a hundred of them, she thinks to herself, most of them old artists that she’s never heard of. 
He startles her when he walks back into the room, snapping her out of her curious exploration of his home. “Put some food out so Dandie won’t bother us,” he says. Y/n nods, looking at Harry shyly. She’s not very well-versed in this whole… one night stand stuff, and doesn’t really know what to do, so she stands there nervously as he comes closer. She knows that the whole reason she’s here is to hook up with Harry, but she has no idea how to initiate it. She’s not some sexy vixen who knows how to seduce a man – she’s a nervous and clumsy girl who doesn’t know where to put her hands when she kisses someone!
It’s a miracle that she’s managed to somehow capture Harry’s attention, despite the fact that she constantly stumbles over her words and barely knows how to act around him. He’s just like… scarily intimidating! 
Lucky for her, he takes the lead and initiates the contact so that y/n can stop wracking her head over how to relieve the tension between them. He stands in front of her and cups a hand under her jaw, his fingers sliding into her hair.  Although his brows are still furrowed, his eyes are somewhat softer as he looks down at her, flickering between her eyes, then down to her lips. 
Did you want to put a record on?” He asks, eyes still fixated on her lips. 
Her breath hitches in her throat, and her tongue darts out to lick her dry lips. “Can I?” she responds gently. 
He gives an affirming hum, his dark eyes darting back up to hers, searching them intently. His pupils have dilated, his bright green irises now a deeper, forest green. “Anything in particular you wanna listen to?”  
“Um…” she pulls away from and bends down to the height of the shelf to look at his selection. She sees Billy Joel, The White Stripes, The Cranberries… all music that she never really listens to. Oldies aren’t necessarily her taste, she’s more of a Taylor Swift gal. The only artist she recognizes is Fleetwood Mac, which he has a whole selection of. She plays it safe and goes with a vinyl of their “Top Hits,” delicately removing the record from the shelf and standing up with it. 
She’s nervous about setting the record up (it seems like Harry’s a big record guy and she doesn’t want to scratch the vinyl or break the spinner or anything like that), so she gives the record to Harry, who stands closely behind her. With his chest pressed to her back, he wraps his arms around her and takes the vinyl out of her hands, easily taking it out of its case and placing it on the spinner. His soft, warm breaths tickle the back of her neck, and she wonders if she imagined the feeling of his lips skimming her shoulder. 
Delicately, he places the needle on the record and it starts spinning, a warm static noise playing before it fades into the strong piano of the first song. His hands now rest on her hips, large and warm and gentle, and this time she knows that she’s not imagining him pressing kisses along her shoulder, and up to her neck. Goosebumps trail down her spine, and she closes her eyes, subtly tilting her head to the side to give him more access. When his kisses reach the base of her neck, he sucks lightly – not enough to leave a permanent mark, but just enough to make her core pulse and the skin there throb.
His hands trail up her sides, twisting her around slowly so that she’s facing him again. She follows him easily, moony eyes staring up at him in anticipation of his next move. 
He finally leans in for a kiss. Y/n reciprocates eagerly, leaning up to kiss him back. Her eyes shut delicately, ready to fully relax into the kiss –  but he pulls away before she has the chance to fully appreciate the way his lips feel against her. 
Her eyes open and she looks up at him with a pout, concerned and a bit scared about why he might’ve pulled away so soon. He grabs her hands, which had been awkwardly hanging by her sides, and wraps them around his shoulders. 
She feels much more comfortable this way, relieved that Harry has taken the burden of figuring out what to do with her hands away from her. Then he leans down to kiss her again, and she lets him take control.
His blunt, black painted fingernails scratch softly against her scalp as his fingers curl in her hair, holding her steady so that he can kiss her as he pleases. His other hand holds onto her waist, palm resting over her clothes while his thumb sneaks under her shirt to tenderly tease her warm skin. Her stomach jolts at his light touch. Their lips fold over each other perfectly, linking and unlinking in a slow, sultry, continuous kiss. She doesn’t realize that she’s craning her neck upwards trying to get closer and closer to him as they kiss, or that her fingers are unconsciously gripping onto the back of his shirt.
Harry takes a step forward, never breaking their kiss, inching y/n backwards until she’s pressed against the wall. The hand that had been cradling her jaw slides down her neck, then over her shoulder, then presses against the wall to support his weight as he leans over her. His neck bends downwards to reach y/n’s lips so that she doesn’t have to keep getting up on her tippy toes. With a hand on her lower back, he presses her against him, her back arching so that her stomach is pressed against his firm abdomen. 
Although the sexual tension between Harry and y/n had been there since the moment they kissed in the bar, it had been a bit muted. Her anxiety over not embarrassing herself and figuring out how to initiate anything with him had muffled any of her desires, and distracted her from noticing the way Harry was eyeing her hungrily. Now that they’re kissing though, with their bodies pressed together and their hands roaming over each other, the tension is bursting. Y/n feels the heat in her core spreading all over her body, a desperate whimper growing in her chest and spilling out into Harry’s mouth. 
Here she was, kissing the hot tattoo artist that she’d been dreaming about all week, with his firm chest pressed against hers, his thick fingers tangled in her hair, and his pretty pink lips on her mouth. It made her head spin with excitement. She’s no longer embarrassed in communicating her eagerness, whimpering and pressing herself into him even more. 
Harry untangles his lips from hers and buries his face into her neck, kissing her there. She arches her head backwards, letting it knock against the wall to bare the skin of her throat to him. Her fingers untangle from the back of his shirt, only to tangle into his hair, long curly tendrils that she softly grasps as he kisses and sucks at the thin skin of her throat. Harry’s lips are soft and skilled, suckling gently at her most tender spots and breathing warm air over them to make her shiver. She moans softly, and not so subtly presses her hips into his center.
His hands roam her body, going from holding onto her hips, to grazing her ribs, then back down to skim over her ass. His palms feel warm, burning her skin through her clothes as he grips her thighs and lifts her into the air. With his hand under her thighs, her legs wrapped around his waist, and his hips pressing her into the wall, he somehow effortlessly picked her up.
The firm bulge confined in his black jeans presses deliciously against her soft heat, and she rolls her hips forward. With her fingers tangled in his roots, she guides his face back to hers so that she can start kissing him once more, feel his soft lips slick against hers and his warm breath against her face. 
In a spur of the moment decision, Harry tightens his grip on her thighs and pulls her off the wall, carrying her over to the green couch in the center of the room. Laying her down gently, he  breaks their kiss to kneel down on the floor next to her. She props herself up on her elbows and stares down at him with lust-blown eyes and swollen lips, breathing heavily as he teases the button of her denim jeans. 
“Off?” he asks, and she nods eagerly, letting him unbutton, unzip, and undress her without hesitation. She’s left in her plain underwear, which he also peels off, leaving him face to face with her soft folds. His hands find her knees, and she watches him spread her legs open, her pretty pussy blooming like a spring flower.
Harry bites his lip, eyes unblinking and fixated on her center as he inches closer and closer. When she feels his warm breath against her center, she shudders, a warm rush spreading from her core, all the way up her spine. Her breathing visibility quickens, chest rising and falling noticeably enough for Harry to finally look away from her pussy and flicker his eyes up to her. 
“Alright?” he murmurs, warm hands resting soothingly on her thighs. He’s a man of few words, yet he still manages to check in with her.
“Yeah,” she breathes shakily. 
Without saying anything else, he leans in and licks a bold stripe up her center. His tongue dips between her folds, spit mixing with the slick that had gathered there since he first kissed her at the bar. She whines and bucks her hips upwards as soon as he makes contact with her, shutting her eyes when he starts to swirl his tongue round her clit. He makes no noise, face stoic save for the furrow in his brow showing his sheer concentration. 
Pink lips wrap around her clit, sucking lightly and sending a shock throughout her entire body. When she wriggles around, he holds her hips still, his thick fingers pressing firmly into her plushy skin. Her hand shoots down to grip at the edge of his couch, holding herself steady as quiet whimpers escape her throat. She doesn’t want to embarrass herself by moaning obnoxiously, biting her lips to keep her noises in, but Harry’s making it really hard for her with the way he’s sucking her clit. 
When he slides a finger into her pussy, any shame or embarrassment flies out the window. A loud cry escapes her, and she feels herself practically sucking his finger in, eager to finally have something penetrating her. Harry pulls off her clit with a pop and watches his finger disappear into her heat, biting his lip at how warm and tight she feels. He nearly groans out imagining how amazing she’d feel wrapped around his cock. 
Slipping another finger in next to the first, he curls his fingers up and searches for that plushy spot on her front wall. Honestly, just having his fingers inside of her is enough to have her squirming, but when he finds her special spot, she feels her fingers go numb and her lip nearly bursts from how hard she bites down on it. 
He smiles to himself when she clenches around his fingers, a subtle confirmation that he’d indeed found her g-spot and was rubbing his fingers against it in the right way. And if she’s being honest… that smile alone could’ve made her cum. A self assured, cocky smirk, with a dimple piercing his cheek and a smug glimmer in his eye. It makes her head spin, having someone so attractive sitting between her thighs. 
When he leans back down to suck her clit, combined with the feeling of his fingers curling into that plushy spot, a familiar ringing starts in her ears. Before she knows it, she’s cumming around Harry’s fingers, clenching and whining and throwing her head back as pleasure overtakes her body.
It’d been so long since she’d come at the hands of someone other than herself, nevertheless someone as good as Harry. She’d given up on hookup culture and one night stands long ago, opting for her trusty Urban Outfitters vibrator over fake orgasms, and had nearly forgotten how good it felt letting someone else do all the work. How nice it felt to have broad hands skimming over your legs as you cum, or having someone’s lips teasing your skin as you come down from your high. 
Her heart beats sporadically as she calms down, regaining her vision and blinking open her eyes to see Harry kissing her inner thighs. His fingers slip out of her pussy gently, slicked in a glossy layer of her cum, which he licks off casually. Y/n nearly cums again just from seeing that. 
He pushes himself up from the ground to stand. “Up for more?” he asks, pressing down on the bulge in his jeans. Nodding, she sits up on the couch so that she’s face to face with his cock, and undoes the button of his tight, black jeans. She yanks them down to his knees, revealing a pair of black Calvin Kleins, and a large tiger tattoo on his thigh. Momentarily, she gets distracted, tracing the sharp inked teeth of the tiger, feeling the firm muscle of his thigh. But then he palms himself through his briefs, and she remembers the mission she’s on. 
Pulling those down as well, his cock bobs up in front of her face, pink and ruddy tip hypnotizing her as it sways up and down, finally free of its confines. She’s ready to return the favor, licking her lips and eager to get her lips around his cock – not only because she feels obligated to suck him off since he ate her out, but also because his cock is pretty. It’s thick and hard, with veins running up the sides, and he looks clean and well groomed. Her mouth waters, and she wants him in her mouth. But, before she can even lick the tip, he wraps his own fist around it, tilting it away from her mouth. 
Her eyes flicker up from his cock to his face, an upset furrow in her brow, but Harry disregards it. “How do you want it?” he asks instead, too impatient to get sucked off. He’s been dreaming of her warm cunt ever since she came around his fingers.
She says nothing, instead grabbing his hips and pulling him down to sit next to her on the couch. His cock bobs heavily between the two of them as she straddles him, her knees encasing his thick, muscled thighs. “Um… do you– condom?” she asks breathlessly. He wriggles a hand into the back pocket of his pants, which hang around his knees carelessly, and pops a trojan out. 
Ripping the foil with his teeth, he sheaths it onto his cock in less than a minute. Y/n lifts herself up on her knees, lines him up with her pussy, and sinks down gently. With her on top, she sets a slow, easy pace for herself, taking her time as she presses down. He fills her up, inch by inch, stretching her to the brim, and she loves it.
Harry spreads his arms on the back of the couch, casually watching as she lowers himself on his cock. She’s warm and wet and so fucking tight… he throws his head back in ecstacy, relieved to finally have his cock snugly inside of her. Her hands reach backwards to hold onto his knees, lifting herself up and down, angling in a way so that his cockhead rubs against her g-spot everytime she grinds down. 
With his lip between his teeth, his bright green eyes stare as she starts bouncing faster. He reaches a hand out to hold onto her hip, his palm smoothing over her soft skin and guiding her as she lifts herself on his cock. He makes no noises, but he breathes deeply through his nose and watches her with lust-blown pupils, eyelids heavy as if he were drunk. 
Y/n on the other hand, whimpers with every swivel of her hips, cheeks flushed and chest bursting. She’s doing her damn best but being on top is hard! The burning in her thighs is lowkey making her regret climbing onto his lap instead of letting him have his way with her, but just as she’s about to start cramping up, Harry’s other hand leaves the couch to grip her hip. With both hands burning on her hipbones, he helps her bounce up and down on his cock.
She relaxes now, his strong hands helping her immensely and letting her start focusing on the burning orgasm bubbling in the pit of her stomach. She falls forward, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and pressing her chest against his, whining into his ear when his cockhead kisses her g-spot each time he pulls her down. He grunts quietly when her fingernails dig into the muscles of his shoulders, and whispers a quiet praise in her ear. 
“Yeah, that’s good,” he murmurs with a low voice – that sends her over the edge. She clenches around his thick length, squeezing her thighs tightly around his hips as she lets out a choked moan, a quiet ohmygod escaping her through her orgasm.
She flutters around his cock the same way she’d done around his fingers and his vision goes white, throwing his head back on the couch and letting his eyes blink shut in bliss. A lazy smile overtakes his face as her pussy milks his cock, and he releases in long warm spurts into the condom. 
She breathes heavily in his lap, arms wrapped around his neck and holding on for dear life, while Harry sits there casually, blissed out and fully content. His hands rub over the skin of her bare thighs gently, thumbs tracing soft circles as her shaky breaths start to even out. She pulls her face out of his neck, and looks down at him with blown out eyes and hot cheeks.
“Good?” he asks with a cocky smirk, the cutest dimple in his cheek.
She nods breathlessly, fluttering her eyes unbelievingly. “Wow,” is all she can say. Harry chuckles cutely.
He’s still fitted snugly inside of her, so she lifts herself off his cock, hissing at the feeling of being empty after he filled her up so well. Harry takes the sloppy condom off of his prick and ties it off, standing up when y/n shuffles off of his lap to throw it out in the kitchen.
When he walks back in, cock bare and swinging about, y/n is getting herself dressed and ready to go. If there’s anything she hates more than the awkwardness that comes before hooking up with someone for the first time, it’s the awkwardness that comes after you actually have sex. She always felt insecure, extra vulnerable, and a little bit nervous… and she never knew what to do with herself. So even though she could really go for a cuddle or something right now, she gets herself dressed and ready to head home. That’s what you do after a one night stand, right? 
Harry seems a lot more… relaxed than she’d expected, though. She was worried he’d be rushing her out of his house, ordering her a taxi and getting dressed as soon as they were done. But no, he casually slides his black Calvin Kleins up his legs, kicking his black jeans onto the floor with no second thought. He sits himself on the couch, and opens up a water bottle. 
“Brought you some water,” he says casually, nodding towards the bottle he’d brought from the kitchen after he’d thrown the condom out. 
“...thanks,” she says, picking up the water and cautiously sitting back down next to him. She cracks the seal open and takes a small sip. Harry chugs half the bottle down, then throws it onto the coffee table. 
“Whereabouts do you live?” he then asks, throwing an arm on the back of the couch.
“Um… about 10 minutes from the tattoo shop. East side of town, in the apartment complex near the port.”
“Oh so you’re not too far,” he murmurs thoughtfully, and she shakes her head in confirmation. “That’s perfect.” He searches around himself for a minute before he finds his phone, face down on the side table, and passes it to y/n. “Why don’t you put your number in then, and we can do this again?” 
She grabs his phone a bit dazed, “you wanna hook up again?”
“Err, yeah?” he says dumbly. “Only if you want to, though.”
Her heart flutters giddily – so this wasn’t goodbye! She’s really winning the jackpot, and she wonders what she’s done to get this much good karma. First she got to hook up with the hot tattoo artist, and now he wants to turn it into a fling? “Yeah… yeah sounds good.” 
2K notes · View notes
harrysfluff · 3 months
Are you sure?
Tumblr media
A/n: Whoa another one?! Crazy! But for real, now that I’m on break I’m just clearing my drafts from the year
Summary: Lost luggage = baby 
TW: sex
“I can’t believe it. Ugh it’s just so annoying, you know?” You pause for a moment. “You know what I can’t do anything about it, it’s fine.” Another pause. “Actually no it’s really frustrating,” you continued to vent. Your hands buckling your seatbelt, as you settled yourself in the car. The dense Italian heat felt heavy against your skin as you fiddled with your hair in an attempt to keep it from sticking to your neck. You crossed your arms, chewing the inside of your cheek. “And you know they’re not gonna call. It’s probably gone forever!” You imagine.
Harry slid in after you pulling you close to his side. “Baby, it’s going to be okay. I know this stuff is irritating but it’s not the end of the world,” Harry soothed, tucking your hair behind your ear. “Lots of people have their bags lost by airlines all the time.”
“I know but it had my clothes in it. Like what am I gonna wear?” You complained. Although his touch was usually comforting, it felt like heavy stones adding more weight on your skin. “I just wanted us to have a nice vacation! Ugh I’m sorry, I’m probably ruining this. I’m sorry, i just... am frustrated,” you said, trying to calm down. You began to rub your face in hard movement an attempt to destress.
“Hey, don’t worry about it. Things like this can be frustrating but it’s gonna be alright. We can get you new clothes,” Harry reassured. 
“What about all my makeup?” You whined jutting out your bottom lip slightly.
“I like you better without it.”
“We can get that here too,” Harry laughed. “Babe, everything and anything you could possibly need or want we can get. You don’t have to stress.”
You could feel the weight coming off your body. “Thank you,” you say coming closer into his body. “I’m starting to feel a lot better. I think I’m just tired and feel gross from the flight.” You lean your head on his shoulder. “I just need sleep.”
“Don’t worry we’ll be at the hotel soon,” Harry pressed a kiss to your forehead. “Maybe you can sleep now.” He moved your head, his arm reaching over you pulling you into his side.
“Yeah,” you spoke softly. Your eyes gently closing as the car drove away from the airport.
“You spent so much on me. I feel bad,” you uttered, while climbing into bed. You grabbed the hand lotion from your night stand, rubbing the jasmine cream into your hands. Harry laid next to you, his fingers tapping away at emails. You had noticed Harry was more stressed lately yet he never gave a clear reason as to why when you asked him. Hence you thought that an Italian vacation would be relax him but he still seemed tense. It must haven been bigger than an album or a movie deal. “I would have paid, but someone already had gotten it before I did,” you sneered. You turned on your side, watching him type away on his laptop.
Harry had his lips twisted to the side as his fingers would type something then quickly press the delete button then type again. “Sorry what? Oh yeah.” Harry pushed the laptop off his lap turning his body to slightly face you. Inhaling sharp, Harry sat up against the headboard. “I mean I just wanted to take care of it. I knew how stressed you were with it.”
“I know but still I don’t want this to be one sided,” you confessed.
“Hey, it was my treat. Don’t worry about it,” Harry assured shaking his head.
You bit the inside of your cheek, as you processed the thought yet it was quickly disbanded by the a new thought. “Hey, actually I need to tell you something. So apparently, my luggage had my birth control in it. So that’s a bit of a bummer,” you explained. “I mean we could grab some condoms or something, but we need to get them soon. But I worry we can’t read Italian very well and what if we buy the wrong size? Oh god that will be awkward.” 
“Y/n, you know-”
“I mean what is ‘super massive’ in Italian,” you teased, laughing to yourself. 
“Very funny, but no. You know, I’ve been thinking,” Harry readjusted himself. Sliding his body down to your level, his arm coming underneath his head while his other hand came up to lightly traced the skin on your arm. “What if we didn’t use anything.” 
You sat up on your elbows, alerted by his comment. “Wait, what do you mean?” 
“I mean, like what if we didn’t use anything. Like anything at all. No more pills or condoms... just us,” he answered. His eyes stayed staring at his fingers tracing circles. 
“But then we’ll have a baby. Wait are you telling me you want a baby?” You asked knitting your brow.
“I think so, yeah.” Harry took a deep breath, “Yeah I want to have a baby with you,” he admitted. “You know I’ve been thinking for a while that maybe it’s time. I don’t know. I just feel like I’ve been growing my career a lot and I’m happy with it but now it’s time to grow something else. I guess literally,” he chuckled. Harry’s hand left your skin and flew to his eyes rubbing them. “I just want a baby and I want it with you. I’m ready to take a break from everything and really be present with here with you. I think lately I’ve also realized that I’ve maybe stalled us and the family we want to build, so I want to prioritize that now. I’ve already talked to Jeff about slowing things down for a while and I know this seems spontaneous or irresponsible but we’ve been together for 6 years. I’m ready to start something bigger and even more I want to do it with you.”
“Well you know, I want children and I do want a child with you and it makes me feel better that you’re taking a break but Harry we aren’t married,” you argue.  “I know we don’t have to be married to raise a child or anything but still I don’t want to screw something up. Sometimes I feel like we lack that security and it scares me.”
“Yeah I get that. Y/n I would marry you right now if that’s what you wanted, I would do anything for you. I just feel this is what I want right now. This is how I want to start our family.” Harry’s eyes finally met yours. It was evident he was nervous, his eyes darting back and forth, analyzing your face. 
You drew a sharp breath inward. Your heart began to race as scenarios ran through your head each while displaying a lifetime flew by in seconds. “I want this too and if you’re slowing down then maybe I wouldn’t have to give up my work. You could stay with the baby. We would almost be a normal family.” You grinned, your teeth drawing you lip into them. 
Harry smiled back at the agreement. “So you will have a baby with me?” 
“Yeah, I would love to.”
This has to be the most awkward sex you had ever had with Harry. There was no denying the sexual chemistry between the two of you and yet all of that seemed to disappear in this moment. Harry laid on top of you, his forearms coming down on each side of your head. His hips moving in slow awkward bursts. “Is that alright?” He kept asking which was always met with an ‘yeah’ from you. 
“I just don’t want to hurt you or anything,” he assured, with a pause in his movements. You were honestly a bit disappointed. This was the man who would tie you up, spank your ass till it was red with his handprint, and even poured wax on you to see you writhe under the heat. Therefore, you frankly had no idea who was on top of you. 
“H, can we stop for a moment?” You say, pushing him gently off of you. 
“Oh shit sorry, am I hurting you? I’m so sorry,” he apologized, pulling himself out of you. 
“No no, it’s not that. I just... I’m not glass, you know like you can be more rough with me. Like you usually are,” you hinted hoping he would act normal. Your hand gently pushed the hair out from his forehead, “I like when you’re like that,” you shyly admitted. 
“Oh shit sorry, yeah erm let me try that,” he said clearing his throat. Harry realigned himself with your entrance, pushing his way inside. You let out a moan at the feeling of his fullness.  He brashly moved his hips forward which you grimaced at the feeling. He then tried moving them faster assuming that might be better and yet was again very wrong. It was as though he had forgotten how to have sex entirely.
“Okay, that’s it,” you declare pushing him completely of you. Harry pulled himself away from, curling his legs behind himself. “Honey what is going on? You’re fucking me like you’re like you have never heard what sex is so what’s going on,” you confront.  
“I don’t know. I guess I’m just in my head a lot, like suddenly I have no idea what I’m doing.”
“Is it because of the whole trying thing?”
“Yeah, I really don’t know why I’m so freaked, we’ve done this plenty of times and I know I want this so I’m not sure what is going on. Ugh I’m really sorry.” He said collapsing on the white sheets. “I want this to be good.”
“Hey,” you comfort, crawling towards him. “Don’t worry about all that stuff. It’s just me, and here let me help.” You coax, grabbing his arms so he would sit up with with. You positioned him on his knees behind you wrapping one of his arms around your chest and leading his other hand to your core. Grabbing his cock you realigned yourself again with your back firmly pressed against his bare chest. Sliding down on him, you both begin to move in sync with each other’s bodies. “Here just keep moving with me,” you continue to speak softly allowing Harry to adjust. You then move Harry’s hand in slow circles on your clit, letting the feeling wash over you. 
Harry felt his skin melting into yours, the way he could feel himself completely letting go. His lips sucked gently on the neck of your skin as his hand placed more pressure on your clit. “Oh fuck that feels so good,” you cry out. Your eyes close throwing your head back onto his shoulder giving him more access to your neck. Harry slid the tip of his tongue down the curve of your neck sending shivers down your spine. Between the tongue, clit work, and the deep thrusting of his cock, you were being completely unraveled under his touch. “H that’s perfect.”
“Yeah, I might want to switch it up a bit,” he whispers in your ear. His lips pressing a kiss to your ear. 
“Okay how do you want me.”
Harry pushed you off of him, laying you down gently on your back. He came down on top of you, hiking up your legs to allow more movement. “I want you just like this. I want to see cum just like this.” He pushed himself again into you. His hips rolled into you. Your arms wrapped themselves against his neck, pulling him into your chest. His hot skin on yours created a warm comfort over your body. “Just like this,” he whispered again. Your hand slid down your body to your clit, rubbing it in tight circles. The feeling of your hand made Harry jerk his hips back, allowing more access for you. 
“Oh Harry, I’m gonna cum, yeah right there.” Harry’s hips began to move faster, harder as his face began to scrunch up. “Fuck me Harry!” You screamed as you could feel your pussy expand as you reached your climax.
“Oh shit Y/n. I’m gonna cum too,” he let out. His eyes shutting tight. “Oh fuck!” He moaned, his release shaking throughout his body. His hips gave a few more thrusts to ride out the full high. His hips can to a stop, his finger delicating running through the hair around your forehead. “I just want to stay like this forever. I love you y/n,” he said his eyes staring down at yours.
“I love you, too, H.”
384 notes · View notes
fetusharryluvr · 2 months
wedding planning gone wrong
Tumblr media
in which everything goes tits up, y/n is upset, and harry comforts her…
Tumblr media
4 months ago to the day, you became Harry’s fiancée. It was the best night of your life, so far. You still remember it as though it were yesterday. He whisked the both of you away to Italy for the weekend, a place you both loved with your whole hearts. Then, during a moonlit dinner in Rome, he went down in one knee, and of course you said ‘yes’ before he could even finish his sentence. It was perfect, just you, Harry, and the stars.
The two of you had been stuck in your own little husband-and-wife-to-be bubble ever since. One thing you and Harry never understood was how people could wait 2 or more years to get married. Your love for eachother was endless, you didn’t want to wait.
You began planning almost immediately. He adored seeing how happy and in your element you were. Most nights he would come home to you cozied up on the sofa with your laptop, asking him questions like “Magnolia or ivory centrepieces?”
Harry himself couldn’t tell the difference, but somehow he’d always give you the right answer.
Tonight was exactly the same. Or so Harry expected. “Hey, wifey. ‘M home.” He called out out as he locked the front door, a nickname he had given you from the moment you accepted his proposal.
He waltzed into the he living room with a wide smile on his face. It’d been a long day at the studio, and all he was looking forward to was cuddling up with you and hearing about what new ideas you had for the wedding.
Except, this time when he walked into the living room, he was greeted with the hushed sound of your crying. His face fell when he saw you curled up under a blanket with flushed cheeks, and your swollen, bloodshot eyes. “Love?” He cooed, immediately sitting down on the sofa beside you, taking your hands in his, “What’s the matter?”
“It’s all ruined, H.” You sniffled.
He didn’t understand. “What is? What’s ruined?”
You frowned. He brought his hand up to your face, ruining it along your cheek and pushing a stray hair behind your ear. “The wedding. I got a call from t’ venue this mornin’. They said there was a double booking and it turns out, the other couple have a famous photographer, so the hotel picked them over us ‘cause it’s ‘better publicity.’” Seeing how upset you were just made Harry even more sad. “An’ then I went back to the dress shop for a final fitting and when the lady was zippin’ it up, she ripped the dress. S’ now we’ve got no dress and no venue.”
Harry brought you closer to him, allowing you to sob into his chest. “Shh, it’s alright. It’s okay, we can fix this.” He hated to see you cry. He knew how much this meant to you, how excited you were. How you’d had your wedding all planned out since before you knew Harry even existed. He sighed into your hair, pulling away and holding your cheeks. “Y/N, love, look at me. I love you so fucking much. I would move heaven and earth for you, y’know that. I will try and fix this for us. And if I can’t, then I don’t care. I would marry you in our bedroom wearing your bloody pyjamas if it meant getting to spend the rest of my life with you.”
You felt yourself beginning to well up again as you stared at him, his hands warming up your cheeks, “Really?” You asked, unsure.
He looked back at you, speaking in a soft, sincere tone that told you all you needed to know. “Of course. We don’t need a big, fancy, expensive party to prove that we love eachother. I want a marriage, not a wedding. I just want you, and everything that comes with you.”
That. That was exactly why you wanted to marry Harry. He didn’t care for what other people thought, he loved you and that was all that mattered. And he was right, you didn’t need a huge, look-how-much-money-we-have wedding, all you needed was eachother.
That night, you spent it cuddled up on the couch, making love with your fiancé, watching your favourite romcoms, and googling the nearest registry offices. The planning may have gone tits up, but you and Harry were going to have the best wedding ever.
608 notes · View notes