summary: you’re incredibly drunk, and when you are it comes with you having an obscene lack of a filter. harry being the sweetheart he is, is trying to get you back into your hotel room in one piece. he was not ready for you to be so touchy.
warnings: alcohol consumption, drunk people (including close family members), fluff, sexual tension, brothers best friend, drunk crying lol
a/n: sorry I haven’t posted properly in a while! here’s a shorter piece while I work on some more stuff <3 plenty to come x
Saying you were a bit drunk was a drastic understatement.
You were stumbling all over the place, heels becoming impractical now you were so intoxicated.
Harry, who knew you were going out with some of your family and friends tonight at the bar, had no idea what he was coming back to.
You don’t remember actually intending to get this drunk, but your Aunty had been egging the group on to do some shots, and before you know it you’re well past tipsy. Even your mum was getting drunker than you’d seen in years.
So all the other boys who’d gone out— including Harry— walk into the hotel bar. It was as chic as the lobby, just adorning some more neon signs and rustic bar stools.
Harry had gone out with them to look at a heap of shit that you and your female family members had little interest in. They’d insisted you all stay and just have a couple cocktails, since it was a holiday after all.
It was to their surprise when your same eager aunt bounded up to them when they popped through the door to the bar. They had expected tipsy, but not hammered.
“Oh my god!! You guys will not believe how good the cocktails are here!” She swooned, and they all glanced at each other with an amused chuckle.
“I think I just might believe it.” One of the boys piped up.
Most of them dispersed to find their significant others, family or friends amidst the bar, and see how much chaos was being caused.
But you’d b-lined straight for Harry, regardless of whether he was seeking you out.
His brows shot up when you collided with his side, “Harry!”
Your arms wrap around his middle and you end up latching onto him, practically using him to keep yourself upright.
“Oh!” He speaks in surprise, hands jumping up to brace around your lower back.
“Are you absolutely hammered too, love?” He chuckles and you bury your face into his chest.
“Yeaaaaa…” you drawl, a smile spreading onto your face.
“Everyone else is rounding up their partners. Suppose I’m in charge of you, yea?” He suggests, rubbing your back.
“Wanna—“ you hiccup, “have a drink with me?”
He shakes his head with amusement, “I think you’ve had plenty, sweetheart. We should get you back to your room.”
Most of your drunk family were getting escorted out by their respective people, being taken up to their hotel room before they can drink themselves any sillier.
This included your brother, Leon, who had his longtime girlfriend pulled into his side, holding her half up and laughing a little at her drunken slur.
He came to a stop when he seen both of you, eyes flitting between your two figures. A small twitch of his brows suggested he wasn’t sure of how he felt about the sight.
“You got her?” He asks, a protective edge to his voice. One that drunken you missed easily as you stayed plastered against him— which is something sober you would not do in general, let alone in front of your brother.
Harry nodded straight away, understanding his defensiveness over you since he feels the same about Gemma. He said softly, “Of course, I’ve got her mate. I’ll take her up to her room.”
Leon glanced at you again. Harry and him met when they were 9, and they’ve been best friends since then. He trusts Harry with his own life, and knows he’d never ever do anything that would hurt you, but his protective side is still flaring up.
Only when his girlfriend, Brie, complains of feeling nauseous he curtly nods, and continues heading for the door.
You are again, oblivious to all this, running your fingers along the tattoos exposed on his forearm— his sleeves rolled up to his elbows— putting his gorgeous skin out on display for you.
“I loveee your arms.” You slur, and his eyes shoot from the door back down to you.
He rarely sees you this drunk, and you’re suddenly very close— making comments that for many reasons are bringing a flush to his face.
“Y/N, Jesus you’re hammered.” He shakes his head, still smiling.
He slowly starts walking, “Cmon, let’s go. Y’brother is expecting me to get you back to your room in one piece.”
“You definitely won’t have a drink with me?” You whine, taking a few steps backwards trying to tug him in the direction of the bar instead of the door.
“Nope. Maybe tomorrow if you can even stomach alcohol.” He pushes the doors from the dimly lit bar open, and leads you into the back of the lobby that it’s connected to.
You squint at the dramatic change in lighting, which is hardly helping your sense of perception, or lack thereof, from the alcohol.
Harry’s hand has taken yours though, leading you to an elevator.
You noticed how warm it was, smooth against yours, aside from the rougher pads of his fingers from the years of playing guitar.
Being so off it, you could not keep that thought to yourself.
“Your hands are so soft, H. Like silk.” You say as you walk into the first elevator to open, squeezing his hand.
“First time anyone’s ever told me they feel like silk. I’m flattered.” He smiles, squeezing back.
“what floor are y’on, by the way? D’ya even remember— or are we a bit too wasted for numbers?” A teasing lilt is in his voice.
You half-laugh half-hiccup, “it’s… 7…?”
“You hardly sound certain about that.” He nudges you with a laugh, “It’s 12, we’re on the same one, remember.”
You laugh much harder than any sober person would, which makes it funnier to him. Since it was a mediocre joke at best.
You’re still laughing as you touch his chest with your palm, “you’re not funny.”
His gaze travels down to it, and he’s shocked at how touchy you are. You never do shit like this when you’re sober. His own amusement quickly takes the back seat, even though you’re still giggling.
However your face falls shortly after, laced with a curious gaze as you slide the neck of his long sleeve to the side, in search for the swallows inked onto his collar bones.
He watches as your eyes wander the small expanse of skin there, and how your fingers brush the tattoos.
“Having fun?” He asks, trying to joke again, but really he’s undeniably a little worked up.
“Yah, heaps.” You snap your gaze back up to him as you enthusiastically nod.
He hates the fact he’s blushing so hard right now over this, since you’re drunk and not completely in control, but he at the end of the day is a man with a very pretty girl— which happened to be you— pulling at his top like she wants it off him.
You hum to yourself, “Have such a pretty neck.” And you trail your hand up it, running a finger over his adams apple.
The elevator door opens like a blessing, and he quickly moves to make distance between the two of you.
“Can you remember your room number, darling? That’s one thing I actually don’t know.” He looks to you as you follow him out with clumsy moments.
“Uh… I dunno— wait I think the keycard is in my purse.”
He laughs at this— wondering if it will come to you in time once you sober up.
“Fuckkk.” You groan. “My purse is in Molly’s big handbag.”
The groan soon turns into a whine, because drunk and being slightly inconvenienced is not a good pair.
“It’s ok!” He amends quickly, trying to keep from having a drunken meltdown on his hands, “We’ll just got back to mine, only if you’re comfortable?”
He quickly prepares for you to not want that, “otherwise— I’ll call her, she didn’t seem too wasted, I’m sure she can—“
He’s interrupted by you, “I don’t mind going back with you.”
You say it with a confused look on you face, a tiny pout on your lips.
“Why would I be uncomfortable going with you?”
“Because… well— I’m not sure. I just wanted to leave you with other options.”
It’s not like you haven’t spent time alone together before— you’ve actually spent plenty, but just never with you drunk.
And so touchy.
“No. It’s ok. I love being with you!” You chuckle.
He leads you down the hall, pulling the keycard from his back pocket once he reaches his room, 3313.
The door clicks open, and he holds it open for you, following you in shortly after.
You’re still unstable on your feet, and one look at those heels, he’s surprised you haven’t ended up on the floor in the last ten minutes
They’re practically a health and safety issue. He can not imagine you getting them off right now— which is exactly what you’re about to bend over and attempt.
Before you can throw off your centre of gravity, he quickly says, “Go sit on the bed.”
You glance back over your shoulder, face only lit by the light from the lamp in the corner of the room.
“That’s a little forward, don’t you think, Harry?”
He toes off his own shoes, shaking his head immediately at your drunken misconception of what he asked.
“So I can take your shoes off.”
You make the few steps left to the bed safely, and you sit at the edge of it, still giggling as you say, “just my shoes, huh?”
“Yes.” He walks over, kneeling down on one knee, pulling your heeled foot up onto the strength of his thigh.
He fiddles momentarily with the laced up string, warm hands splayed on your calf, and choosing to ignore the way your dress is riding up your thighs.
Christ. This is harder than he thought.
“I forget how hot you are sometimes.” You deadpan, and his jaw goes a little lax.
You’re usually playful, yes, but never do you breach into territory like this.
It was only others, like those at a family gathering, or your close friends, that would push to get stuff like that out of you like they were matchmakers.
There were many times that barbecues or some kind of event held at yours, Leon would invite Harry over. And if the two of you even interacted for just a second, someone in your family circle would tease you. Especially your own damn brother— it was a constant streamline of snarky comments from him.
“You are so drunk.” He mumble while pulling up your other foot.
You ignore his statement, thinking back to when he was a boy to now. He was cute— always was— but the way he looks now is just unmatchable.
“Have you always looked so… like… this?”
He chuckles, almost nervous, “what does question that even mean?”
“So pretty.” You clarify after a moment of trying to find the word.
“Ah, you’re only saying that because you’re plastered up the walls.” He laughs, and a dimple popped on his cheek, and your hand jumped into action before you could even think about it.
“Noooo, sober me thinks that too. She thinks you’re more than pretty.” You say, cupping his jaw, gently tracing the dimple that popped up.
He doesn’t know how to interpret any of this. His heart is jumping in his chest, and he’s trying to reason its genuinely just the alcohol in your system.
He holds eye contact as he slips off your other shoe, placing in neatly next to the other.
He stays there for a moment, unprepared for your next question.
“Can I kiss you?”
She’s drunk, she’s drunk, she’s drunk…
“You’re drunk, sweetheart.” He says, and it’s painful— because he wants to, so fucking bad, but you’re not in a state to consent to literally anything at the moment.
And especially not in the mind frame to be making decisions like this.
You lean forward anyway, before he has a chance to avoid it, managing to meet his lips on your own terms.
He caved for a brief flash of time, and allows a second for himself to feel it, no longer than that though. Just a mere moment to take in the warm, soft feeling of your lips on his. It takes so much strength for him to not kiss you back, he has to focus on the task at hand— sobering you up and getting you safely asleep.
He pulls back after that single moment, leaving his forehead against yours, “baby, I know, I really…” he cuts himself off.
A deep inhale and he stands up, “Not tonight. Cmon, let’s get you out of your dress. You can wear something of mine.”
He walks over to his suitcase, anything to remove you from his sight for a moment, to reset his thought process. He pulls out a tshirt and pair of gym shorts, hoping they won’t be too big on you.
Turning back around, he convinces himself he’s fine. Placing the clothes from his bag on the bed beside you, his hands come under your arms, helping you stand up on flat feet for the first time in hours.
You lean into the touch, turning around so he can undo the back of your dress.
The feeling of his fingers brushing your back have you going wild, and the way they gently slide the zipper of your dress down.
His eyes lock with the back of your lacy bralette and he chooses not to follow your skin any further down.
You use your hands to slip the straps off your shoulders— and very quickly the dress is pooling at your feet.
A shaky inhale passes through his nose as now you stand in just your underwear and a seemingly very pretty bralette.
He reaches and picks up his shirt from the foot of the bed.
“Do you want to… take this off before…?” He gestures to your bralette when he catches your eyes.
You nod, reaching behind you to undo the clasp and allowing it to slip from your shoulders to the floor.
Harry puts all his focus on getting the tshirt over your head to cover you up.
Once it’s over your whole frame, you can’t help but smile.
He’s so nervy and cute around you.
“Thanks, Harry.” You smile, suddenly feeling an overwhelming amount of adoration for him hit you.
It inflated up in your chest, and bubbled deep into the pit of your stomach.
It killed Harry to watch it happen, and although he had no idea what kind of thoughts were going on in your head, just seeing you light up like that…
You wrapped your arms around his middle again, just like you did when you ran up to him in the bar.
He placed his hands in your hair this time, taking in your scent— which was mixing with his own now that your were in his shirt.
“Love, if you were sober right now. God.” He confesses.
“Im sober enough.” You beg, even though it’s such a lie.
He still shakes his head against you, “‘M not gonna be that guy, Y/N. I have waited years just to have you. I can wait another night. Or week. Or a whole ‘nother year if that’s what it takes.”
This hits you hard.
And it felt like your 15 year old self could hear it up in the confines of your head it rung through you that loudly.
She loved him then, more than she’d ever admit. And sure, you’ve grown up from 15, but yet never once did you grow out of him.
As noted early, being drunk and inconvenienced is not a good pair. But being drunk and having someone say or do something sentimental like that is another level.
Tears immediately start to fall from your eyes, and he feels your chest shake at the sudden outburst of emotion.
He pulls back, thinking he’s done something wrong, or said the wrong thing, and an apology was immediately on the tip of his tongue.
But relief thrums through him as you tug him right back into the hug, “that’s— that’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”
“The nicest thing a boys ever told me.”
“Sweetheart.” He coos as you cry, his own voice wobbly with emotion.
He feels like he’s on a roller coaster. 5 minutes ago it seemed all he could think about was the unspeakable things wanted to do to you, and now he just wants to lay you down and hold you until you fall asleep.
He forgets the shorts on the foot of the bed, shuffling the two of you up to where the head of it is— which was still unmade from last night when he’d slept in it.
He tugs you into it, pulling you tightly too his chest as your heads hit the pillows.
And he just hugs you.
Eventually, your crying subsides off, and you enter an indescribably calm state.
“I love you. I don’t even know if you’re going to remember this in the morning.” He sighs, “but fuck, I love you.”
“I love you too, Harry.” You whisper, before your eyes begin to fall heavy, and those words were the last to leave your lips before you fell asleep.
back again guys, hello!
this is like an extended a/n, but I have a lil update. I saw harry for the very first time live 3 weeks ago. it was so so incredible, and the experience was by far the best time of my life. I miss harry so much i just feel sick ugh. he is perfect. auslot was amazing, he absolutely gave us his all.
that’s why I’ve been so absent on here, literally coping with my pcd a day at a time. I’ve written heaps but nothing I’m 100% happy with haha.
but anyways I just thought I’d share, thank you so much for your continued support and know there is plenty in the works x
Summary: For Harry, nothing makes up for a bad day better than rough sex. Luckily, he has his friend Y/N to help out with that.
Word count: 2.1k
Warnings: smut (friends with benefits, mean dom!harry, degradation, bondage, spanking w hands and belt, choking, oral, anal, use of ball gag and butt plug)
Harry slams the door behind him as he enters Y/N’s apartment. He texted her earlier to ask if he could come over. His message alluded to the possibility of rough play, which Y/N could hardly ever refuse. As soon as he arrives, she can sense the irritability radiating off of him. It shouldn’t excite her this much—her friend being in a crappy mood—but it does.
“Hey,” she greets him, sitting up on the couch where she’s been indulging in some online shopping for the past hour.
He just hums in response and drops his duffle bag on the floor before removing his shoes, coat, and gloves.
“Rough day?” she asks, studying him.
“You have no idea,” he mutters.
“Wanna talk about it?”
Of course he doesn’t. Harry doesn’t like to talk at the end of a bad day. He likes to fuck. Without holding back.
Glancing at her, he says, “Wait there.” Then he picks up his bag and heads into her bedroom. A minute later, he emerges from the room without the bag and strides over to her.
“Up,” he says, as if he were instructing a dog.
“Okay.” She sighs and takes her time getting off the couch to avoid seeming too eager, even though on the inside, she’s ready to do just about anything he tells her.
Once she’s on her feet, he simply says, “Clothes off.”
Again, she dawdles while pulling her sweatshirt off and fumbles with the waistband of her shorts, lazily inching them down her legs. Harry releases an impatient sigh.
“Okay, okay!” She quickly removes the rest of her clothes.
The path his eyes take as they trail down her bare body sends the blood rushing between her legs. He steps closer and places his mouth over hers. His hands rest on her hips for a mere second before sliding to her backside. He squeezes it firmly, his fingers digging into the flesh of her round cheeks and pulling her body upward. She rises up on her toes and clutches his shoulders for balance. His teeth bite into her bottom lip. He tugs her even closer until her naked body is flush against his clothed one.
The kiss ends abruptly, leaving her wanting more. All of a sudden, he lifts her off the ground and slings her over his shoulder like she weighs nothing at all. Her upper body hangs behind him, her ass in the air.
“What are you—?” she starts, but he lands a swift smack to her rear, ordering her to be quiet.
He carries her to the bedroom and tosses her on the bed, not bothering with gentleness, then flips her onto her stomach. While she finds her bearings, he bends down to grab something from his bag, which is sitting on the floor next to the bed.
A moment later, her wrists are pulled behind her back and cuffed together. His hands wrap around her ankles and yank her towards him until she’s bent over the edge of the bed with her feet on the floor. She hears the clink of his belt buckle behind her.
It all happens so fast. One moment, he’s rubbing the tip of his cock over her entrance, and the next, his entire length is inside her. No warning. No preamble. A strangled moan escapes her mouth.
“So fucking wet,” he growls, grabbing on to her hips. “You like being manhandled and tossed around like a ragdoll?”
He doesn’t wait for her to answer before ramming his cock into her again. Usually, he’ll start slow and build up to a hard and fast pace, but today, he seems overcome by a primal desperation—one that has probably been festering inside him all day. She can barely keep up, but that makes it all the more exhilarating.
One hand pins her bound wrists to her lower back, keeping her in place, while the other grips her hair and yanks her head backwards, forcing her to arch her back. He finishes fast, emptying deep inside of her cunt, grunting and moaning with relief. She looks over her shoulder at him.
“That’s it? I didn’t even come,” she says just to egg him on.
He grabs a fistful of her hair again and speaks lowly into her ear, “What makes you think I give a fuck about your pleasure, hm? Sluts like you don’t deserve to come.”
He releases her hair and pulls out. Some of his come leaks down her inner thigh. Through the corner of her eye, she sees him reach down towards his bag. And then something cool and hard pokes between her legs. He presses the object into her slit, twisting it around, dousing it in her arousal and his come. It’s a plug, she realizes. A rather large one.
Once it’s covered in a mix of their fluids, he uses his free hand to spread apart her cheeks and starts inserting the plug into her tightest hole. He doesn’t really take his time. The rounded tip goes in, then the rest of it is hastily crammed into her. They’ve been doing this long enough that it slides in easily, but she still squirms and whines at the discomfort.
“Oh, stop whining,” he snaps. “It’s not even that big. You’ve had bigger things in your ass before.”
She scowls at him over her shoulder. “Well, if you think it’s so easy, why don’t you try shoving one up your own ass?”
He retaliates with a harsh spank.
“Bold of you to talk back to me from the extremely vulnerable position you’re in right now,” he threatens, and the effects of his words are felt right between her legs.
He grabs something else from his bag, then tells her to open her mouth before shoving a ball gag in there. He secures the leather strap behind her head.
“That’s better,” he says. “Should’ve done that ten minutes ago. Only thing your mouth is good for is sucking me off anyway. Isn’t that right?”
All she can do is glare at him with the gag in her mouth.
“Glad you agree, love,” he says with a cocky smirk.
A soft, plushy object is placed in her hand—the squeaky toy they use in place of the safeword when she’s bound and gagged. Then he folds his belt in half and gently glides the cool leather over her bum. As soon as he raises the belt, she tenses and screws her eyes shut, bracing herself for the first strike. When it doesn’t come, she relaxes a bit and opens one eye, falling for the same trick he’s used on her countless times.
The belt smacks against her ass. She cries out. A second smack makes her knees buckle, dragging her down a bit.
“Stay still,” he orders.
It’s a good thing she’s gagged because she definitely would’ve answered back with a snarky comment and made things worse for herself.
He whips her with the belt several times in a row. Her ass clenches around the plug each time. He pauses only briefly to run his hands over the bright red marks now decorating her backside, like an artist proudly inspecting his work. And then he’s back to belting her, occasionally aiming for the backs of her thighs. There’s no doubt that sitting will be a challenge tomorrow.
Tears stain the sheets beneath her while her cunt drips with arousal, the pain cathartic and excruciating at the same time. She comes somewhere between the punishing blows, too lost in the pleasure to keep count.
He eventually stops and tosses the belt aside, telling her to get up on the bed. It’s a little awkward with her hands cuffed behind her, but she manages anyway. Once again, he yanks her around like a doll until he has her in his desired position: lying on her back with her head hanging off the edge of the bed. Her hands are trapped under her but still free enough to squeak the toy if needed. He removes the gag from her mouth and instantly replaces it with his hard cock.
“Let’s put that whore mouth to good use,” he says as he begins fucking her mouth the same way he fucked her pussy earlier.
His tip connects with the back of her throat over and over, his large hands clawing at her breasts. He pinches and tugs at her nipples hard enough to make her body arch off the bed. Then he brings a hand to the front of her neck, squeezing it while his hips continue thrusting into her mouth. She presses her thighs together tightly.
Just when she thinks he’s going to come down her throat, he pulls out. She gasps for air. Finally, he takes off his own clothes and joins her on the bed, flipping her over onto her stomach. He uncuffs her wrists and cuffs them above her head instead, then lifts her up onto her knees and forearms.
She feels him tug on the base of the butt plug, fucking her with it a little before taking it out. He squirts a generous amount of lube between her cheeks and begins driving his cock into her ass but doesn’t get further than a couple inches. She’s too tense. It always seems to happen despite how many times they’ve done this.
“Gonna have to relax for me, love,” he says in the softest tone she’s heard him use all night. His hand caresses her lower back. He can be a dick sometimes, but he’s shockingly aware of when she needs a gentle touch.
“Give me a minute,” she says, steadying her breathing before telling him to continue.
He pushes in a bit more, then draws back and pushes in again, going a little deeper every time. Once the tightness in her muscles eases, he slides all the way in and holds himself there.
“Fuck,” she groans. “Fuck me.”
Her mind is so muddled by the intense sensation of her hole stretching around his cock that she almost doesn’t hear the word.
“Beg me to fuck your ass,” he demands.
“Fuck you,” she replies, though it comes out as more of a whine than an insult.
“I’m not moving an inch until you beg.” He grips her hips tightly to ensure that she can’t move either.
She doesn’t want to give in so quickly, doesn’t want to give him the satisfaction. But as much as she hates to admit it, Harry’s dick makes her weak. And the worst part is he knows it too.
“Please, H, please fuck me. Your cock feels so good in my ass. I need you to fuck me hard and not hold back. Just— Fuck! Just use me for your pleasure. Please.”
Finally, Harry’s hips start moving. He retracts them, then thrusts forward sharply. She cries out in surprise and relief. He starts pounding into her. Quick, sharp thrusts. One after another. With little pause in between. She would reach down and rub her clit if her wrists weren’t bound together. Fortunately, Harry has the same thought. His hand finds her clit, rubbing it in fast circles to speed up her orgasm.
She feels it crash over her moments later, igniting in her core and spreading outward to her limbs. Harry continues fucking her through it, not slowing down for a second. He tells her he’s going to come in her ass, calling her his good little cumslut and his perfect little fucktoy and every filthy word in the book, becoming more and more incoherent until he finally lets go with a deep groan.
Rolling over onto the bed, he frees her wrists and tosses the cuffs to the side, not caring where they land. Y/N lets her knees give out under her and falls onto her stomach with a soft thud. She closes her eyes. A while later, his fingertips graze the back of her shoulder.
“Hey,” he says softly, “you good?”
She opens her eyes and grins. “Yup.”
“Wasn’t too rough, was I?”
“You know that’s how I like it.”
A pleased sigh leaves his lips. He runs a hand through his hair, pushing the stray curls off his damp forehead.
“Thanks for letting me come over,” he says. “I really needed that.”
“Aww, you needed me?” she teases, knowing how much he despises the idea of “needing” anyone.
He scoffs and looks away, but not before Y/N can notice the blush creeping into his cheeks.
You’re not typically an early bird, staying up late usually results in snoozed alarms and sleepy snuggles until you really have to leave the comfort of your bed. Today however, you’re up early and it’s probably because Harry is finally home and you feel like you shouldn’t miss any moment you get to spend with him before he needs to get back on the road.
Your boyfriend is sprawled out on his back, one arm above his head, the other one tucked under the pillow your head is resting on. The sheets has ridden down his torso, revealing the deliciousness of his naked chest that’s rising and falling in a slow, peaceful rhythm as you watch him while lying on your side, taking in his beauty.
During the time you spend apart from him you always try your best not to dwell on how much you miss him, but whenever he is back home you realize just how badly you ache for his closeness when he’s away and how you never want him to leave again.
For a while you just look at him, admiring his side profile, his many tattoos, the gentle stubble on his face and the cheeky chest hair you’ve grown to love so much. But soon enough just watching is not enough, you can’t help but move closer, his butterfly tattoo pulling you closer like a magnet until your lips meet with it, peppering it with gentle, tiny kisses. Your hand wander up and down his side, then over his chest and to the base of his neck, fingers dancing along then chain of his necklace playfully.
You notice the moment he wakes up, you feel the change in him and you smile to yourself when he takes a deep breath and then you just keep kissing all over the butterfly. His left hand comes up to the back of your head, tangling through your hair.
“Good morning, Handsome,” you murmur against his soft skin, brushing your nose against his sternum.
“Mm, good morning,” he smiles, his eyes still closed as you push yourself up and your lips finally meet his in a sloppy, lazy morning kiss. “You’re up oddly early.”
He is usually the one to wake up first, sometimes he even goes for a quick run before you even pop an eye open. He doesn’t mind starting his day before yours, he often makes breakfast for the two of you and then maybe have a shower together. Mornings like that are your favorite.
“I know. Guess I was missing you in my sleep,” you hum, smiling against his lips before you lay your head on his chest and he wraps his arms around you.
“Is that so? Does it happen often?” he asks as he plays with a strand of your hair.
“All the time.”
“And what do you do then?”
You smile cheekily and rest your chin on his chest so you can look up at him.
“Do you want me to tell you or… show you?”
He looks down at you with hooded eyes as a smirk stretches across his face, his hand sneaking underneath your top, coming in contact with your naked skin.
“The latter. Definitely the latter.”
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pairing: college student!grumpy!harry x college student!sunshine!fem reader
tropes: (kinda) enemies to lovers
series cw: angst, smut (minors dni!) fluff, sexual tension, drama, character development, drug use, alcohol consumption, foul language
wc: 2.1k words
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Y/N’s always loved mornings, she loves being able to wake and watch the sun rise. She loves being able to listen to nature’s song, the birds chirping, the different buzzing and humming of the insects and the various sounds of all the animals that stay around her house. She always wakes with a bright smile on her face and enthusiasm to start her day, she’ll turn on her favorite playlist and sing along as she begins to start her day.
Today was different though, she had stayed up much later than normal which caused her to wake with a slight frown and she huffs as she shuts off the blaring beep coming from her alarm clock.
“I get it, I’m up. Now shut up.” She mumbles as she tiredly rubs her eyes and stands up. She grabs the various sheets of paper strewn across the bottom half of her bed and stacks them neatly on the wooden nightstand next to her bed. She sighs as she stretches her arms over her head and leans back some, feeling slightly better as she feels her body loosening up.
She makes her bed, tucking the thick blanket underneath her pillow and making sure there’s no wrinkles anywhere before grabbing her phone and clicking on the ‘Music’ app and clicking her morning playlist. She smiles as ‘Evermore’ by Taylor swift begins to play as she walks over to her closet to pick out her outfit for the day. After several minutes of aimlessly searching through her clothes she settles on a white Ralph Lauren knitted sweater, a brown tartan skirt, some white open toe sandals and a small white mini purse.
She heads into her en suite bathroom and sets her outfit on the gray granite countertops before turning on the faucet and letting the water warm up. She hums along to the current song playing as she splashes the warm water on her face and dries her face slightly. She grabs her face wash and begins to do her daily morning routine, the small feeling of normalcy making her feel better already.
Once she’s dressed, done her makeup and in a somewhat better mood, she heads into the kitchen while singing along to ‘She Looks So Perfect’ and begins to grab a banana and some leftover oatmeal from the fridge. Making her way to the small dining room table, she sighs happily and sets the oatmeal down and begins to peel the banana and break it into small uneven pieces to eat in her oatmeal.
After eating everything, she washes the bowl and sets in the dish rack placed next to the sink and grabs her purse and her phone, putting all her essentials in the small bag and walking to the front door. Smiling as she shuts off the living room light and closes the door behind her, she begins to make her way to the front of her apartments complex and towards the small bike rack, filled with various bikes of all sizes and colors.
It takes her roughly less than twenty minutes when she reaches Tampa Bay University and sighs as she hops off her bike and ties it to the bike rack in front of her school. As she makes her way into the school, she stops as she notices a few new flowers on the side of the steps. As she makes her way over, she can feel her smile growing, the flowers are absolutely beautiful. They’re a beautiful shade of pink carnations, the bright color popping against the stark bricks of the stairs and she quickly takes her phone as she snaps a picture of them.
“The flowers’ not going anywhere. No need for the photography.” She hears a voice yelling from somewhere behind her.
She turns around and a frown appears on her face when she realizes who the voice belongs to. His long brown hair pulled back in a man bun, a cotton white t-shirt paired with a pair of light wash denim jeans and a black leather jacket. His signature smirk is plastered on his face as a couple of his friends laugh and pat him on the back. For as long as she can remember her and Harry have been at each others throats or more like he’s been dead set on giving her absolute hell since the start of their college years while she ignores him.
“M’serious, nothing special about those flowers. Shouldn’t you be getting to class anyways, miss goody two shoes?” He asks and snickers, her frown deepens as she messes with her purse and makes her way to the entrance door. Just before she opens the door, she turns around and stares him down, a small smile taking over the frown.
“I suggest you do the same playboy, last I heard failing English class isn’t gonna get you to graduate.” She yells back before quickly walking in the door and heading to her first class of the day.
While she loves her classes, loves interacting with the teacher and adding her input in on group discussions, the lack of her normal amount of sleep making her brain unfocused and easily distracted. Her eyes flit across the room with every sound that occurs, she can’t seem to sit still. She’s fidgety, her hands play with the pen in her hands as if she’s not supposed to be taking notes right now, she can’t stay focused on anything before her attentions being grabbed by something new.
Time seems to fly as she looks down at her bare page in the notebook; nothing written on it beside the title of her notes and she sighs. Quietly she leans over and asks the girl behind her if she can take a picture of her notes after class, she thanks her when the girl nods before going back to writing
A knock on the door grabs her attention and she watches the teacher make her way to the door. The clicking of her heels echo in the small classroom and finally her hand reaches for the door knob, she begins to twist it and pull the door open. She can hear him before she sees him, his voice carrying through as he speaks.
“Mornin’ Liz. How’s my favorite girl?” She watches as the teacher frowns and swats his arm as he goes to give her a hug.
“You’re late Mr. Styles. Have a seat.” She says as she makes her way back to her desk and Harry chuckles as he opens the door fully, his emerald eyes scanning the room.
The only available seat is next to Y/N and he scowls. Briskly walking over to someone at the table furthest from her and asking to switch seats quietly, they shake their head and he sighs. He walks over to another table and asks to switch and in response he gets another no. Frowning, he walks over to Y/N’s table and grabs the chair and moves it as far away as he can, mumbling a few words under his breath as he sits down.
Not bothering to pay attention, he lays his head down on the desk and closes his eyes. Allowing the outside noise to become faint murmurs, he bounces his leg quickly as he begins to drift to sleep.
“Can you stop please? You’re the shaking the table?” He huffs and rolls his eyes as he lifts his head.
“S’not bothering you.” He says and she shakes her head gently.
“I’m trying to take notes.” He scoffs as she points to her notebook.
“Of course you are. Gotta make sure you pass the exams, right? M’surprised you don’t have it all memorized.” He says and lays his head back down. He can hear her sigh and the crinkling of the paper as she moves over some towards the opposite end of the table. He snickers softly to himself before closing his eyes once more.
He wakes up to the feeling of someone’s hand on his shoulder, it’s soft and small and gentle as it shakes him. He groans as he sits up and stretches his arms over his head. When he turns he sees her standing next to him, her side of the desk cleaned up and the rooms silent.
“Whaddya want?” He mumbles and frowns, he’s never been on to be happy whenever he wakes up.
“Class is over, just figured you’d want to head wherever you need to go.” She says, her voice soft and sweet and he frowns once more.
“Uh huh.” He stands up and moves the chair back to its original position. He barely catches the sight of a small frown etched on her face before he’s heading out the door and onto his next class. He doesn’t care that she’s upset, she lives in her own world and doesn’t seem to grasp the fact that not everyone’s as nice as she is or was raised with such manners, it’s not his problem.
On the way to his next class, he hears his name being yelled from behind him. He turns around and sees the principal yelling and jogging his way.
“Harry! A moment please?!” He yells and Harry frowns. He knows what he wants to talk about, it can only mean one of two things, it’s either his failed midterm or be found out that it’s him graffitiing the various parts of the school walls and parking lots.
He shakes his head as he begins to walk opposite of the voice calling his name. He’s never been one to care about time and his grades so he waits until the last minute and does just enough work for him to be at a D level.
“Harry Styles!” The voice booms and he huffs before turning around and grumpily begins the short trek to the principal.
“Yea?” He says and crosses his arms, the principal nods shortly before asking Harry to follow him.
As Harry follows the older man into his office, he grumbles the whole time about how unfair and stupid all of this is. Passing by all the lockers and the small gaggle of students littering the halls as he walks, head held high and confidence is his walk because he can’t be seen being embarrassed. It’d be the end of the world if that were to happen.
When the principal opens the tall wooden door leading to his office, he steps aside to let Harry in and smiles as Harry mumbles a rough thank you in response. Sitting behind his dark oak desk and opening up his laptop, the sound of clicking filling the room as he types.
“So, Harry, you know why I brought you here?” The older man asks and Harry nods.
“Think so, s’about the midterm right? And if so I have some words. Knapick’s crazy if she thinks that test was anywhere near suitable to give to us. I suggest you look into that.” Harry says and the principal shakes his head.
He leans back and adjusts his glasses as he stares at Harry.
“No, Harry. It’s just you I believe. Almost everyone else passed the exam with at least a C average.” Harry frowns at that and shakes his head.
“No way, the test is rigged I tell you. I knew Knapick never liked me. She’s trying to fail me Oscar.”
“No, you barely did effort. And if you wanna be able to graduate on time, I suggest you get a tutor.” The principal says and Harry’s frown deepens.
“Yes, Harry. I’m serious. I’m trying to help, I can give you a list of our best tutors in the school.”
Harry shakes his head furiously, his bun slowly beginning to slip from the elastic’s hold.
“It’s either you get the help you need or you’re gonna be repeating, and you know you don’t have the best reputation with the staff.” Harry huffs and rolls his eyes once more.
“Fine, who’s on the list.” The principal sighs as he begins to list off the students name.
“I’d suggest Mrs. Y/N, she’s real patient and won’t fall for your game styles.”
“No game. I just have the charm the ladies want Oscar.” Harry says and smirks.
“But I don’t want Y/N, give me someone else.”
“I’ll see what I can do but I think she would be best. You’ll get the quickest response and I’m sure she works fast.”
Harry huffs obnoxiously loud as as uncrosses his arms.
“She makes me want to tug my hair out.”
“I’ll let her know. Have a good day Harry.” Harry grumpily walks out of the office and heads to the main door. His thoughts become a chanting of how much Y/N annoys him and why she has to be so smart and how life’s not fair.
If he had to be paired with her, he’d make it the worst tutor session ever. He’s really gonna make her life hell.
And with that, he gets in his car and starts driving to his house to begin his plan scheming.
tag list: @ch3rry-styles @lomlhstyles @lovrave @gotthecinema
summary: in which Harry and y/n are forced to work together on a project despite their mutual hatred for one another | 4.7k words
a/n: make sure to read the part 1 first!! u guys are crazy, already over 300 notes on the first part??? i love y’all omg! anyways share your thoughts on this mini series so far, i'd love to hear it.
warning: enemies to lovers, slow burnish, mentions of ex, uni!harry, angst, harrys still a jerk, emotional abuse (lmk if i missed anything !!!)
Masterlist | Part 1 | Part 3 (lmk if you guys want another part)
By some force of the universe, me and Harry were able to come up with an agreeable plan on where and when to meet. It was the second class when I saw Harry for the first time that week since Melissa and Niall's post-class drink at the bar. "Okay, so when do you want to work on the project?" I asked Harry, hoping to finally get this over with.
"I don't know, when are you free?" Harry responded with a hint of annoyance in his voice.
"I have class in the mornings and work in the afternoons, so I'm pretty much free in the evenings," I reply, trying to keep my tone polite.
"Well, I have football (soccer) practice in the evenings, so that won't work," Harry says, sounding frustrated.
"Okay, how about this weekend?" I suggest.
"I have a game on Saturday, and I'm going out with friends on Sunday," Harry responds.
"Okay, what about Monday?" I ask, trying not to get too irked.
"I have a lab report due on Monday, so I'll be working on that all day," Harry says, sounding exasperated.
I can feel my patience running thin. "Harry, we need to work on this project. Can't you make time for it?" I say, trying to keep my voice steady.
"I am making time for it, I'm just busy," Harry retorts defensively.
I take a deep breath and try to stay calm. "Okay, what about Wednesday evenings? Can we meet at the library?"
Harry seems to consider this for a moment. "Yeah, I can do Wednesdays. What time?"
"Let's say seven pm at the library. Does that work for you?" I ask, feeling a glimmer of hope.
"Yeah, that works," Harry says, sounding more agreeable.
"Great, I'll see you there," I say, relieved that we've finally made a plan. We parted ways, feeling relief of not being in his presence anymore, but a looming swirl in my stomach for Wednesdays at seven pm.
As I walk into the library, I see Harry already sitting at a table with his laptop open and papers strewn across the table. I take a deep breath and walk over to him. "Hey," I say, trying to sound casual.
Harry looks up and gives me a nod. "Hey."
I pull out my laptop and start organizing my notes, I sense him watching me, his eyes like lasers that never stray. I try to ignore it and focus on my work, but it's hard not to feel self-conscious.
I steal a glance at him and see that he's furrowing his brows, staring intently at his laptop screen. I can't help but wonder what he's working on.
I try to break the silence. "So, what do you think we should focus on first?"
He looks up at me, his expression still serious. "I was thinking we could start with the literature review."
I nod and we both turn back to our laptops, starting to work on our individual tasks. I bathe in the awkward atmosphere between us, but I don't know how to break it. “Does he want us to-”
Before I could even finish my sentence, I was interrupted, “Listen, if you're going to show up late, at least have the decency to be prepared and know what to do,” He emptily stares.
Astonished, I checked the time on my phone. I haven't even been here for a full five minutes and he's already made a cynical remark, “It's literally 6:58, we agreed to meet at seven. I am not even late, frankly we’re both here early.” I am genuinely at a loss of words, it wasn't like I was going out of my way to make small talk with him, just trying to make sure I was doing the right section before putting my time and focus on it. Ok fine let's not talk. Rubbing away the headache that's beginning to form, and shift my body to not being directly in view of Harry to ease my own tensions. Someone shoot me now.
Though the rest of the time surprisingly goes by smoothly, aka we did not bicker with each other because well we did not talk at all. It was to the point where I just highlighted and commented on the document instead of voicing my opinions, too defeated to even attempt starting up a conversation.
I would steal glances at Harry and catch him staring at me. His eyes quickly dart away as he clears his throat, pretending to be engrossed in the book in front of him. I try to shake off the impression that he's judging me, but I can't help feeling self-conscious.
I can tell that Harry is an intelligent and dedicated student, and I don't want to disappoint him with my lack of knowledge on the subject. My writing portion was filled with highlighted one word comments from Harry letting me know to fix minor spelling errors or content information. I begin to doubt myself, wondering if I'm even capable of completing this project.
As the minutes tick by, we both continue to work in silence. I try to focus on the task at hand, but my mind keeps wandering to Harry. I wonder what he's thinking, what he's feeling, and why he seems so distant. Sue me for trying to understand why as such a people pleaser, this man was quite the opposite of pleased with me. And yes I know you can't please everyone, but at least I can make them not hate me.
Harry seems content with the silence, no efforts of wanting to break through the wall that's separating us.
An hour rolled by, and we both began to pack up our things and prepare to leave the library. Sure I was disappointed in still being in square zero with Harry, but we both managed to be in the same small shared space without actively ripping at eachothers throats, so there's a win.
As it comes to no surprise Melissa and Niall officially started dating. Granted they have been basically dating this whole time but did not want to label it so quick after meeting. Melissa and I were having a girls night at our place when she “broke” the news. It was a much needed girls night, being able to spend some quality time after beginning the semester that has already managed to exhaust us with the amount of studying and assignments we have to do.
We had the wine flowing and our favorite rom-coms queued up, ready to go. Pizza has been ordered and a striking idea was composed to create a fort in the living room to lay in to watch the movies. I blame the wine for the way we’re acting as little school girls, struggling to push the couch to make room, gathering all the cushions and blankets we could find. Melissa skips back in the room with fairy lights that she is determined to hang on top of the many blankets we used to construct the roof of the fort. Once successful, we both stand back to admire our very warm, cozy, and somehow still standing fort, feeling very carefree and happy.
"Do you remember when we tried to make that homemade pizza and it turned out terrible?" Melissa randomly strikes up.
"Oh my gosh, how could I forget? We almost burned the whole complex down," I chuckle wide-eyed at the memory. We both dissolve into laughter. “Which is why we’re ordering pizza this time” I add with a stern pointed look.
Pizza soon arrived after, we nestled inside the fort, cuddling as we watched the movies, We laughed and cried along with the characters on the screen. It's moments like these that make me grateful for Melissa's friendship. She always knows how to make me feel better and lift my spirits. Before long the movie became background noise as we chatted away. Lying on the floor with our feet sticking out, we talk about everything and nothing.
"So, I have some news," she says with a beaming smile . "Niall and I are officially dating!"
“What? No way!” I faked a shock expression, my hands cupping my face to add dramatic effect. Melissa shoves me slightly, crimson coating her face. “But really, that's amazing!" I exclaim. "I'm so happy for you two!" I feel a warmth in my chest, knowing that one of my closest friends has found someone who makes her happy.
Melissa's face lights up even more at my response. "Thanks, Y/N! I'm so excited about it. He's really amazing, you know?" I can't help but feel a sense of pride for Melissa. She deserves to be with someone who treats her well, someone who respects and supports her in all that she does. And from what she's told me and what I’ve seen about Niall, he seems like an incredible guy. Melissa goes on to tell me all about how they became official, the sweet things he's done for her, and how happy she feels when she's with him. I listen intently, feeling genuinely interested in her story and eager to hear more.
As the night went on, we finished the bottle of wine and the conversation shifted to me when Melissa brought up the topic of my ex-boyfriend and how he had treated me. I confided in her about the emotional abuse I had suffered during our relationship and how I was struggling to move on from it.
I remember the first time Riley said something hurtful to me. At first, he was charming and funny, but then he became unrecognizable. The person I loved slowly turned into someone who would always cut me down with his words. It started with small jabs, but it quickly escalated to full-blown emotional abuse. He would constantly criticize me, belittle me, and make me feel like I was nothing without him. Every time I tried to stand up for myself, he would twist my words and make me feel like I was the crazy one. The worst part was that he knew exactly what to say to tear me down and make me doubt myself. I lost all my confidence, and it took me a long time to realize that his words had an impact on me.
Melissa listened to me and offered me her support, telling me how proud she was of me for standing up for myself and getting out of the relationship. I'm genuinely happy for her and Niall, but a small part of me can't help but feel a little envious. I want what she has, someone who loves and cares for me just as much as Niall does for her.
Melissa notices my change in demeanor and quickly reassures me. "Don't worry, Y/N. You'll find someone amazing, just like I did with Niall. You deserve nothing but the best." Her words make me feel better, and I smile gratefully at her, I couldn't imagine going through something like that without her. I feel appreciative for this moment, this time spent with my friend, just talking and enjoying each other's company.
Eventually, we started to get tired, and we decided to sleep in our little makeshift fort for the night. As we lay there feeling safe and warm, I couldn't help but think about how lucky I was to have Melissa in my life, someone who was always there for me and made me feel loved and supported. She was my rock, my confidant, and my best friend. And even though life can be challenging and uncertain, I know that as long as we have each other, we'll be okay. The night had been just what I needed to unwind and feel a little more like myself again.
And with a blink of an eye, Wednesday evening has rolled around. I poked my head out slightly before I stepped out of my apartment, scanning the hallway for any sign of Harry. With my luck that the universe seems to give me and enjoy, I would run into him more than needed. I mean it is already bad enough that we live in the same off-campus building, but better yet his apartment is two doors down from mine. Although I find it pretty funny not that I am the one constantly on guard when it comes to him, even his name alone brings an unwanted anxiety in my stomach, and no not the butterflies type, more like flies.
Despite our horrible first couple interactions, I would still attempt to engage him in conversation to just be civilized, yet again like all the other times he would shut me down with a sharp one-word comment. It was frustrating and hurtful especially as we were doing this for our best friends, I would not fathom what I even did to him to get him to not like me. Eventually though, I stopped trying, there was no reason for me to go out of my way to make it bearable to be in his presence, and just gave him the same energy back. I would dismiss him if he ever, which he didn’t really, talk to me, and when we would converse it was jabs being thrown at one another much to Melissas and Nialls disappointment.
As I make my way down the hallway, I see Harry step out of his apartment wearing his usual scowl and fitted clothes that look so good on him, his curls framing his face. I can't deny that he's attractive, but I can't stand his personality. I groan internally as he notices me and starts walking towards me with a sly grin accompanying him. Talk about luck, oh the universe just loves to laugh and cause unnecessary problems for me.
This has happened a handful of times since I learned that Harry is quite literally living in such close quarters to me. Leaving to attend class, I would see him also exiting his apartment, then would have to retreat back inside to give me a couple minutes until I know he's far enough I won't run into him going to campus. Or when I sprinted to catch the elevator before it shut, just to find out Harry is inside and the one who held his hand out to halt the doors from closing on me. Yet once he realized it was me who aided in not missing the elevator he would groan and retreat his hand back so quickly that it gave me whiplash.
"Evening, Muffin," he says, his voice dripping with sarcasm once he reaches me. My jaw clenches as I bite my lip from making a comment and giving him the satisfaction of knowing it still bothers me. That stupid name. The nickname was born when I sent a muffin flying across the lecture classroom. I was walking into the lecture hall with a muffin in one hand and my notes in the other. But, as soon as I took a step, I tripped on my own foot and sent the muffin flying out of my hand. It went rolling down the aisle and ended up right at Harry's feet.
He picked up the muffin, examining it for a moment before turning to me with a smirk. "Well, well, well, look who we have here. Muffin."
I groaned in embarrassment and tried to play it cool. "Ha ha, very funny, Harry," I said, rolling my eyes.
But he continued to tease me throughout the lecture, calling me Muffin every chance he got. I could feel my cheeks burning with embarrassment, and I could tell that everyone around us was starting to notice. After class, I confronted Harry about his constant teasing. "Why do you have to be so annoying all the time, Harry?" I asked, frustrated.
He just laughed. "Come on, Muffin, don't be mad. It's just a nickname. Besides, you have to admit, it's kind of fitting after what happened earlier."
I scowled at him, but secretly, I couldn't help but find his teasing a little bit endearing. It was the only time Harry had happened to be smiling and laughing in front of me, though it still came at my own expense. "Fine, but only if you promise to stop calling me that in public," I said, crossing my arms, throwing my head back to display my annoyance.
Harry grinned. "Deal. But in private, you're still Muffin to me." He winked. And with that, he walked away, leaving me blushing and shaking my head. What the hell was that?
We continue down the apartment hallway in silence, heading to the library to work on our assignment. The destination not far enough for me to make the effort to dig through my backpack for my headphones to tune out the slightly uncomfortable silence that looms over us. Harry constantly bumps into me as we walk down the path. From knowing Harry for the amount of time I have, I learned this man cannot walk properly and always ends up diagonally regardless of the path being a straight shot. “Quit it” I exclaim, stopping in the middle of the sidewalk to let him go ahead.
When we get there, we both make a beeline to the table in the back corner, far away from any distractions, the only thing we managed to silently agree on when we first began working together. I pull out my laptop and start typing away, trying my best to ignore Harry's presence. But of course it's not long before we start bickering. Harry keeps interrupting me, criticizing my ideas and telling me what to do.
"I don't understand why you can't just listen to my ideas for once," I speak calmly and steadily, masking the exasperation I feel.
"Because your ideas are terrible," Harry retorts, his tone laced with mockery. "Honestly, do you even know what you're talking about?"
I gritted my teeth, my annoyance with him growing by the second. "Of course I know what I'm talking about, Harry. I've done my research, and I think my ideas are just as valid as yours."
He lets out a loud scoff, his eyes narrowing. "Please, Y/N. Your ideas are about as useful as a chocolate teapot." It's quite clear that we don't see eye-to-eye on anything.
Fists clenching as the feeling of anger boils inside of me. "You know what, Harry? Maybe if you weren't so closed-minded and actually listened to me, we could make some real progress on this project."
He leans back in his chair, a smug expression on his face. "I think I'll stick to my own ideas, thanks. At least they won't lead us down the path of failure." The more he speaks I feel my muscles tightening, god can he just shut up.
“Well if you stopped interrupting me then maybe this could be over and done with, then we won't have to see each other.”
"What's your problem?" he snaps.
"You're my problem," I fire back. "You can't just come in here and take over. We're supposed to be working together."
“Well if you could stop being incompetent, then I wouldn't have to consistently fix everything you do wrong.” I bristle at his words, feeling a familiar sense of inadequacy creeping up on me. I let out a frustrated sigh, knowing that this argument isn't going anywhere. Working with Harry was definitely a real challenge, but only a couple more weeks left so I let out a breath trying to calm myself.
Harry's words send a wave of emotions through me, hitting me where they hurt. My confidence has been struggling ever since my ex-boyfriend, Riley. He was always quick to belittle me, making me feel stupid and useless. I remember countless nights spent in tears, trying to make sense of his hurtful words. His snide comments about my appearance, intelligence, and even my hobbies always cut deep. It's like he took pleasure in seeing me suffer. He made me doubt myself at every turn, and it's taken me so long to regain the self-confidence he stole from me. He was always putting me down and telling me I wasn't good enough. And now, Harry's words are triggering those same feelings.
“Fuck you.” Reaching for my papers, books, and laptop, I began packing it all up wanting to get the hell out of there as possible. My face flushed with anger but also my head swarming with not only Harry's comment but also Rileys words he would throw at my face. My throat felt like it was closing up on me as I swing my bag over onto my shoulders. I rush out of the library leaving no room for Harry to spew out another jab.
The sound of jingling keys unlocking my apartment was the only thing I could focus on, trying to avoid the tears threatening to spill down my cheeks from exposing me to my entire floor. With a pounding heart and blood rushing not helping my case, I finally got the door unlocked and shoved inside. Why did Harry have to be so rude and condescending all the time? I hated him, I really did. And yet, here I was, stuck working with him on this project.
Sitting in the living room, gaping at me stunned was both Melissa and Niall, immediately noticing my red, puffy eyes. Melissa sprang from her cozy spot next to Niall on the couch, sensing my distress as soon as I walked in the door, and rushed towards me, enveloping me in a much needed hug with a comforting hand on my back. “What's wrong?” Niall questioned, I looked up from Melissa's tight embrace and noticed Niall removing my backpack, then leading all of us back to the couch.
I open my mouth to speak, but the words just won't come out. My heart is racing, and I feel like I'm going to be sick. I take another deep breath and try again. I couldn't bring myself to tell them what had happened with Harry, so I just muttered something about feeling overwhelmed and stressed out, my voice barely above a whisper.
"Is it because of Harry?" Melissa probed gently, knowing me too well.
I scoffed. "Of course it's because of Harry. He's impossible to work with, always criticizing everything I do."
Niall spoke up, "I know he can be a bit grumpy, but he's really not a bad guy once you get to know him. Maybe you guys just need to put your differences aside and work together for the sake of the project."
“Differences!?” I exclaimed, throwing my hands in the air, “I wish it was about differences, he's always attacking me. Half the time, no wait, every time, I did nothing wrong.” My voice begins to shake as I look at Melissa silently communicating with her, knowing she understood.
“Is this about Riley?” She questioned but ultimately knew the answer. I gave a weak nod, Niall giving a tight lip reaction. He knew what happened between Riley and I, drunk me one night decided he should know, and now he does. Niall was someone you can get close with quickly, one of the easiest people to talk to and always made me laugh. He always had a listening ear and gave the best advice. Our friendship bloomed, and I found myself comfortable with him knowing about Riley when confiding in with Melissa. There was just something about Niall and Melissa that made me feel comfortable and safe.
“I don't know, Harry's words tend to trigger and start to sound like stuff Riley would say to me too.” I lean my head on Melissa, “It's just that I finally found myself after Riley tore me down and now it feels like I am back again where I started, except with Harry.”
“I'll talk to him,” Niall declares, eyes bright.
“NO! Don't say anything I rather he does not have another thing to spin around back at me,” I huff. Appreciating Niall's attempt to help but knowing that conclusively would be worse in the end. “Guess I'll just stick through this stupid assignment and then really just never speak to him again - no offense Niall.”
“Yeah, I dont get why he's such a dick to you,” Niall agrees, though I notice a flash of realization in Niall's eyes but it went as quickly as it came. Truth was, I didn't have much of a choice. I needed to pass this class, and Harry was my assigned partner. So, with a heavy sigh, I agreed to give it another try.
Over the next few days, with Melissa and Niall's encouragement, Harry and I went back to our usual dynamic. Harry didn’t necessarily apologize for his words, but his rude and unnecessary comments did subdued, which meant mine did too. Look, mine were just self defensive against his attacks, uh usually. It's almost like he realizes how much he's hurt me with his words, and he tries to keep them in check. It's a small effort, but I appreciate it nonetheless. Granted we were still sarcastic and snarky with each other. We continue to work on our project together, but don't get me wrong, there's still an underlying tension between us.
Lying in bed, I scroll through my phone, procrastinating the work I should be doing, when a notification pops up from a groupchat with Melissa, Niall, and an unknown number. I furrow my eyebrows, wondering what this might be about, I click on the chat and read the message.
Melissa: Hey guys!
How about bowling tomorrow?
Niall: It’s been a while since we've all hung out
It’ll be so much fun
Unknown: Can’t sorry I got stuff
Niall: Shut up Harry no you don’t
I literally know your whole schedule
My heart drops as I realize what's happening. The unknown number clearly Harry could only mean one thing, Melissa and Niall are trying to get Harry and me to hang out more outside of class. My mind starts racing with thoughts. This is not a good idea, what the hell are they thinking?
I shot out of bed and pace around my room. I began typing, searching for a believable excuse to get out of this.
Me: Sounds fun, but I’ll have to check my schedule
I scour my mind for something that Melissa wont call my bluff on, but before I could, she already sixth-sensed it.
Melissa: Y/N don't worry I already checked for you :)
Niall: Wow perfect, who knew we were all free
It’s a plan
Me: You both are insufferable together
Harry: I can hardly contain my excitement (this is sarcasm fyi)
A notification buzzes letting the group know that Harry had reacted to my message with the two exclamation points bubble effect. I laughed over the fact Harry felt the need to explain his sarcasm over text.
Melissa: We love you guys too <3
Both me and Harry disliked Melissa’s message.
I flop back onto my bed and groan, staring up at the ceiling. I know Melissa and Niall well, but the thought of being in a noisy, crowded bowling alley with Harry, pretending like my existence doesn't bother him, for reasons still unknown, makes me feel sick.
Uneasy thoughts race through my mind: What if I do something stupid and embarrass myself in front of him, again? I would rather not have another nickname arise. What if this makes things worse? What if I just don't show up? Well now that could work, wait no except Melissa will probably track me down and drag me there herself.
With a sigh, I toss my phone aside, trying to rid the thoughts of tomorrow to save the last piece of peace I have left.
a/n: whew so harry is still a jerk. please let me know how you feel about this story so far, I'd love to hear your thoughts! feedback, likes, replies, repost are ALWAYS appreciated :)
also another side note part 3 will take a bit longer to post since (1) i haven’t started writing it yet (2) i have a HUGE exam this Wednesday which i have been procrastinating to study for but i really don’t know anything so that will be where my focus lies for the next days
if u read this far then ur a real one haha sorry for my blabbering, love you all, my little muffins lol
Y/N L/N (34) is going to be a mother again!. It appears the actress is expecting a child with fiance Harry Styles (29). "We’re already so in love with him and he’s not even here yet" she captioned the post on Instagram.
The Oscar winning actress revealed this Friday she was pregnant again by posting a picture on instagram. In the picture, Y/N is standing on a green meadow. Lifting up the white shirt, a growing belly peeks out. According to People, it was Harry who took the picture of his fiancé.
Among those congratulating in the comments section are some of Harry’s and Y/N’s peers. And it appears the couple aren’t revealing exactly when their baby is due or how far along Y/N is.
It’s unclear when and how the couple met, the bottom line is that Harry and Y/N have known each other through mutual friends since 2018 but got together sometime in January of 2021.
The pair made their first red carpet debut together on September 2022 at the 79th Venice international film festival And they looked, to say the least, in love
This is Harry’s first child together with the actress, who he proposed to secretly last November, after dating for nearly two years.
This isn’t Y/N’s first child however, as she already has two sons, D’Angelo (10) and Xavier (7) from a previous relationship with a non-famous man.
The couple have kept any plans for the wedding date a secret but according to some of our sources they will tie the knot sometime in late 2023.
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.
"Alright big guy," Niall wheezed as an unstable Harry began drooping from his drunken grip, "lean on me, that's it, buddy."
They were both drunk; Harry more on the plastered side. Tonight was Niall’s birthday celebration and he'd been drinking like it was his 21st birthday party and not Niall's. The said birthday boy was holding up Harry's entire body weight on his right side as they stumbled down his friend's lamppost-lighten street.
"Here we are, H." The blonde pushed Harry into his front garden when they arrived at his and Lucille's house and had him lean against the frame of the front door. Before knocking, Niall fished his phone out from his pocket; it was about to hit two A.M on the dot and he winced. The likelihood of Lucille being awake at this hour was far from high.
Despite his doubt, Niall rapped two of his knuckles on the oak and stepped back while pursing his lips. He scanned the house for any lights or sign of life inside and breathed a sigh of relief when the hallway light beamed through the glass on the front door. Rustling of keys was heard on the other side.
Niall's drunk eyes wandered over to Harry who's body was slumped and looked like it was about to kneel over. His chest hitched with a drunk hiccup.
"Mate, brush your teeth when you get in; for Lucille's sake if not yours." Niall grimaced at the putrid stench of booze practically radiating off his friend.
"Shu'thefuckup. ." Was what Harry slurred back and swallowed warily afterwards with a hand placed on his chest.
Lucille eventually opened the door, revealing herself wrapped up in her short, silk dressing gown. Her hair was falling out of its plait and she was squinting with tiredness and confusion under the warm hallway light.
"Hey, Luce." Niall started. He eyed Harry's fiancé carefully as he helped Harry stand straighter. "Sorry for waking you; he's absolutely hammered."
"I can. .see that. . ." She stepped back and allowed Niall to nudge Harry inside. "Did he forget it was your birthday party and not his?"
"Ello, m'lovie." Harry slurred. Lucille could only attempt a smile but it turned into more of a grimace as she stared down her fiancé; he was shirtless, sweaty and his jeans were low and showing his boxers.
"Niall, where's his shirt?" She was passed Harry's t-shirt which was clearly congealed with a portion of last night's dinner and drinks down its front. She sighed and draped it over the stair banister. "Well, thanks for bringing him back. Guess I'm on babysitting duty for tonight." Lucille folded her arms.
"Well he's your fiancé!" Niall sarcastically saluted as he backed out of the house. Lucille shoved his chest and pushed her front door shut, leaving her and Harry alone.
Now that Niall had left, she unwrapped her dressing gown and draped it across the banister on top of Harry's soiled shirt. She was left in a see-through white tank top that was bunched up around her waist from sleep and a pair of plain black panties. She was braless which meant her nipples were poking at the thin material.
Harry cheekily cupped one of her boobs and smirked.
"Y'look so pretty, Baby. . ." Harry pulled her into his chest and kissed her hair. He'd always been a real cuddly person when he'd get drunk.
Lucille rubbed his bare back with a dry laugh but quickly froze and grimaced when he suppressed a burp into her hair. Her eyes widened and she pulled back, staring up at Harry, who only looked back at her innocently.
"Gross, H!" She chuckled and pulled away, "it's bed time for you.
"M'not tired, Luce!" He whined, "jus' wanna kiss you all over, Baby. . . my pretty girl."
Lucille gently took his hands from her chest, "No chance, Mister. Sleep. Now."
Harry eventually trudged up the wooden hill and stripped his jeans off and climbed into bed. He'd actually fallen twice while trying to actually clamber onto the mattress but finally got settled with Lucille's help. She too climbed in and tried tucking him under the duvet,
"No, 's too hot." He pouted and rolled over onto his side, his back facing Lucille.
"Too hot for cuddles?"
Harry's ears seemed to perk up and he rolled back over and spooned his fiancé. She giggled softly and stroked his cheek.
"Did y'have fun tonight?" Lucille whispered softly, breathing in his cologne and alcohol-mixed scent. The answer she received was a soft snore. Her face was gobsmacked and she rolled over with a joking scoff, squirming into Harry's big spoon and drifted off to sleep.
When Harry woke up later on the same morning, he was met with a face full of sunshine coming through the window. He groaned and squinted while shakily covering his eyes with his hands.
Lucille was already awake and sat up against the headboard on her laptop when her hungover fiancé aroused from his post-drunk slumber. She set the computer aside and stroked Harry's hair back.
"Hey. . . how're you feeling?" Her voice cooed quietly. The reply she got was another grumble and her fingers pinched her reading glasses to rest them on the top of her bed head.
"The sun? Wha'the fuck?"
"Sorry, I opened the curtains; thought it would be good for you to have some vitamin-D." She shrugged slightly, "I can close them if you like?"
"Yes, please." Harry mumbled. Lucille padded over to the window and drew the curtains shut before climbing back into bed. "Sleep well? It's nearly one in the afternoon!"
Harry slouched himself against the headboard and rubbed the sleep from his eye as he recollected his thoughts. "Not bad; threw-up at some point though.."
Lucille frowned and worry crossed her features. She shifted slightly so that she could fully face Harry; she couldn't help the flow of concerned questions that rambled out her mouth.
"You did? Where? Are you still feeling sick?"
"In the bucket." Harry simply replied with a yawn tailing. Lucille's frown only deepened; what bucket?
"What bucket, Harry?" She began subtly glancing around their bedroom for a puddle of stomach contents soaked into their carpet.
"The bucket you left out for me, Lucille." Harry shortly snapped, his hand flopping to from his face to his side in frustration. He looked up at his fiancé and was slightly frightened at the complete confusion written on her face. "Lucille. The bucket at the end of the bed!"
"Babe, I didn't—" Lucille paused and crawled a little to peer over the edge of the bed.
She had been correct; Lucille hadn't left a bucket out for Harry that night which meant that the said 'bucket' was actually their round laundry basket with a pile of freshly-folded and clean clothes inside. "Fuck, Harry!"
Lucille rounded the bed and picked up her basket as Harry swung his legs of the edge of the bed and sat up. She had a look of disgust and horror on her face as she shoved her clean clothes under Harry's chin. His eyes widened.
"Shi-i-i-it. . ." He drew out and scratched his forehead shamefully, "God, I'm so sorry." Crusty, half-dried vomit soaked into the t-shirt on top of the folded pile and Harry had to swallow a gag from erupting while he stared at his mess.
"Luce, I'm really sorry but can you please—" He swallowed cautiously and pushed the plastic washing basket away, "—get it away; it's making me feel weird."
Lucille sighed and dropped the basket to the floor and sat on the edge of the bed next time him, running her hand through his hair. He leaned into her touch and shut his eyes momentarily. "Fancy some breakfast then?” She offered softly but she knew the answer she was going to get.
"I was thinking pancakes? . ."
"No—seriously I'm good."
"With thick maple syrup drizzled on top. ." Harry gagged (ever so slightly) at the description of Lucille's ideal breakfast, earning a laugh from her.
"Alright, alright; I'll stop." She glanced at Harry's features. His face was an uncomfortable grey colour and his hair was suddenly plastered with sweat to his forehead, making it look like he had some kind of bowl haircut. "Hey. . .You 'kay?"
Her hand slowly began rubbing up and down his bare back while Harry slowly swallowed with a weary shake of his head.
He felt her lean across him and opened his eyes, only to be greeted by a glass of foggy water. She told him to take a sip. Before he could decline, Harry realised how dry and stale his mouth and throat felt and took the glass in both hands.
The water slid down his throat; it felt good and refreshing so he took another two sips before placing the glass back down on his bedside table.
"Ergh—god. . ." Harry grimaced, his green eyes blinked slowly as he stared at a spot of the carpet intensely. The water wasn't feeling good in his stomach as it did going down his throat.
"What's wrong?" Lucille questioned, tickling the back of his neck softly.
"The water. ." His throat bobbed and Lucille watched the grey fade into green in his complexion. "it's hit my stomach like a rock."
Lucille hesitated before opening her mouth to suggest laying back down. That was then Harry quickly stood up and slowed his walking pace when he began heading for the bedroom door.
"Where're you going?!"
An incoherent reply drew quiet when Harry walked down the landing and swiftly shut the bathroom close behind him. Lucille stayed seated, twiddling her engagement ring while listening for Harry to come back from the bathroom.
The agonising retch from down the hall had her standing up and bounding into the bathroom. Harry was knelt in front of the toilet with his head hanging just above the bowl; his mouth was hanging open and his shoulders rolled back as he heaved up his second bout.
Lucille swore under her breath and bent down to smooth back Harry's sweat-soaked hair from his face. With her own hair in her eyes, she scanned the bathroom counter for Harry's mini claw clip and briskly pinned back his fringe. She knelt down behind him and rubbed the nape of his neck while Harry panted over the toilet. He moaned and shifted closer to his safe-haven, holding his head in one of his propped-up arms on the toilet seat.
"Shhh, you're okay. ." Lucille cooed to her fiancé. Harry barely felt her kiss and rest her forehead on his bare, sweaty back before he rocked forward with another dire retch.
"Lucille." Harry called for her between bouts of projectile vomiting and her heart broke; she'd never heard Harry sound so vulnerable before. She watched in pity as he reached down and began rubbing his bare stomach while profusely spitting into his mess in the water.
"I know, Baby; just get it all up and you'll feel so much better. . ."
"'S all jus' alcohol—no food." Harry breathily burped at the swirling sight of his sick in the toilet. Lucille reached up and flushed away last night's mistakes before pulling Harry into her lap and tucking his head into her chest.
"Do you feel any better?" She whispered, stroking his hairline. He gulped and nodded, his warm breath fanning her collarbone. Lucille smiled to herself and rubbed slow, firm circles alone his back.
The two sat for a few minutes in comfortable silence, Lucille rocking them both side to side ever so slightly.
Harry pulled away from her touch and sat up after a while and Lucille was on high alert, thinking he was going to be sick again. Her panic settled when he cracked his cheeky smile and tucked her hair behind her ear,
"Lucille, I think I'm ready to stomach those pancakes of yours."
Summary: Harry is a moon lover and y/n is a star girl. Their dates end at a blanket staring at the heavens, falling in love with each other more everyday.
Pairing: boyfriend!harry x reader
Trigger warnings: none
It was a warm summer night with a cold gentle breeze. Her dress was blowing in the wind, so was his hair getting messy. They both love warm summer nights and hang out a lot. Harry gave her his warm sweater, he saw how y/n was freezing. His voice is always so soft when he talks to her and so it is today, “I knew you’ll forget yours.” He mumbled softly in the shell of her ear.
They have a soft spot for how the stars are visible on a cloudless night. The stars are glowing is her favourite thing and Harry adores the moon. The dark sky, the bugs are almost the only thing you can hear at night. The streets are almost empty. You hear one, two cars drive around the small city. The quiet music is coming from Harry’s phone. It was one of y/n all time favourite songs. He always plays them for her. It’s calm and gentle.
Harry knows y/n for a long time they were best friends, still are. Y/n and Harry have known each other their whole life. Her lover was always the quiet boy next door who never talks to anyone at all and she was the hopeless romantic with the Roses garden.
First they were childhood best friends, then they stopped talking. Somehow they started talking again and now they are finally more than that. It took them so long to talk to each other, all over again.
Harry laid his hand on hers, still watching the magical summer of the heavens, “are you okay? Do you want to go home? It's getting really cold.” He saw how her expression changed to a sad look. She doesn’t want the dead of night to end yet.
Her soft pink lips part, “it’s okay,” she said softly on the warm night. Her hair was all messy and due to the wind every time she wanted to fix it the breeze blew around their heads.
She had those lips, he wanted to kiss so bad, all summer.
She’s talking to him. Her voice tastes like warm and sweet honey. Her eyes sparkle like cold moonstones. Her lips seem so gentle like a flower in the summer breeze. Everytime Harry has the opportunity to take a seat next to her he smells a garden full of flowers. In his nose flew the smell of sweet strawberries.
“What is your favorite memory of us?” She asked him, and snuggled her shivering body closer to him.
He opens his mouth, through his mind goes every possible thing he could say, but he always lands on this memory. It didn't matter what beautiful memories he had. All are perfect in some way.
She laid her head on his warm shoulder, his head resting on top of hers. She always liked him, she liked how quiet he was around other people, only she knows he never shuts up.
“It would be wrong, if I have to choose only one, everything is so special when you’re around, bug.” Harry asked his girl a view times, if she’s ready to leave, but she wasn’t ready to go home and end their magical night.
Y/n legs are almost numb from the cold air. He had packed one of his fluffy blankets, y/n has always been honest with him. All the time.
She supported her head on his chest and the blanket sprawled over their body’s. “I found the fox,” he pointed at the dark, almost black sky. His star girl lifted her gaze back up to the delightful night sky to see it herself.
“It’s so hard to find,” a yawn came over her soft lips.
Time was forgotten, eyes became heavier and harder to keep open. The wind became colder, her head resting comfortably on his hard chest.
Before she disappeared in her dream world, he lifted her head barely and kissed her. Tasting her soft lips. It is so different, he always imagined how it would feel, but it’s better than that. The hint of strawberry on her lips and his rough fingertips against her cheek makes her smile. It was kind of messy considering neither the star girl or the moon lover kissed anyone before.
PREVIEW: Hits Different (from the Flatmate series)
...in which Harry goes to the club while his flatmate goes on a blind date.
Here's the preview to a flatmate blurb inspired by Taylor Swift's unreleased song "Hits Different" :)
I washed my hands of us at the club
You made a mess of me
I pictured you with other girls in love
Then threw up on the street
Like waiting for a bus that never shows
You just start walkin' on
They say that if it's right, you know
Each bar plays our song
Nothing has ever felt so wrong
Unfortunately, Harry hated that song. It was the one Y/N had sent him earlier this week on Whatsapp, and he only listened to it because she loved it. Now they were playing it in this bar and it made him chug down more pints than he could count, and by the time he’d made it out of the club, his knees were wobbly and his head spinning.
Layla threw her big coat on, and Niall shivered in his trench coat, but Harry, with only his jumper on, couldn’t feel the October chill after having had so much to drink.
I wonder what Y/N is doing right now.
“Bet she’s having a better night than us,” Layla muttered, and Harry realised he’d said that aloud.
“Layla, don’t say that,” Niall said as he put an arm around Harry to help him stand. “Let’s get you home, Harry.”
“Can we pick up Y/N?”
“We don’t know where she is.”
“I’ll text her.”
“Don’t you dare.” Layla snatched his phone out of his hand before he could even unlock it. “The only night that Y/N gets to not be boring and you’re plotting to ruin it for her. Also, you’re being very selfish right now, mentioning her when you’re with us.”
Harry felt his stomach churn. “Do you think she’s having fun?”
“Well, obviously. She would have texted you if she wanted to leave the date. She might meet someone who’s perfect for her and fall in love and live happily ever after with him–”
Before Layla could finish painting that picture, Harry braced his hand on the wall beside him. He heard Layla scream as vomit pooled beneath him, staining his shoes, his stomach clenching in pain. Niall’s voice was muffled, though Harry could feel Niall’s hand rubbing his back.
While the taste of vomit passed down his tongue and filled him with shame and regret, the memory of this morning when Y/N was getting ready for her blind date stormed back into his head, and when he thought about another man touching her, the second torrent of sludge exited his mouth.
summary: some of harry’s fan base can be horrible with their words and malicious attacks, but Harry’s right there to lift you up and fill your heart with love
warnings: slight angst, mentions of insecurity, toxic fans, harry being the sweetest sweetheart ever
a/n: just a lil angsty but cute fic i wanted to do, I feel like this may be bad because I've put a pause on writing but I hope you enjoy and as always, thanks for the support and all the love 🏻
word count: 860
If you were being honest with yourself, on top of the number of changes with your pregnancy mixed in with the strange amount of hate you’d been receiving, your patience and mental health were wearing quite thin. You don’t know exactly what started it, but within the last few shows of tour, you had to watch from backstage in worry of verbal abuse or things being thrown your direction, which Harry was not impressed with at all. You knew dating him and marrying him would come with its ups and downs, but the amount of chaos being sent your direction, unprovoked and unannounced was just completely unacceptable. Harry had seen you become more reserved, turning in on yourself, opting to stay at the hotel, look at the new cities through the hotel windows, you weren’t yourself and it pained him every day to watch you go through that.
It was raining in Seoul, South Korea where Harry’s next show was taking place. You were in bed, the soft comforter pulled up over you, lounging in some shorts and one of Harry’s sweaters, thankfully your bump was still small enough to be hidden with oversized shirts and sweaters. That was a new concern for not only you but Harry, the safety of your unborn baby as well as yours was a major top priority. Watching the rain hit the floor to ceiling windows you were unaware of Harry’s presence now in the room, having come back from the gym, two smoothies in his hand, knowing they were one of your cravings now. It wasn’t until he knelt down in front of you that you seemed to notice you were there
“Hey baby, how you feeling?”
You shrugged, not being able to find the right words
“Okay I guess”
Your voice was soft, meek, and almost afraid, Harry hated that you’d dimmed your light around him, he knew he needed to help in any way you would let him
“I brought you a smoothie, figured we could just stay here today, have a cuddle, watch some movies...?”
“Sounds perfect H”
He smiled leaning forward to press a kiss to your forehead before placing a hand under the blankets and onto your stomach, leaning down to say good morning to baby styles
“Morning baby, it’s your daddy, hope you’re being kind to mummy this morning, I love you”
Watching Harry interact with your future child was enough to open the floodgates, tears gently falling down your cheeks, your sniffling catching his attention
“Aw m’angel, it’s okay, c’mere”
He made quick about changing into some comfier clothes before taking his spot beside you in bed, instantly taking you into his arms, your head resting on his chest, a hand rubbing circles on your back
“Hey now, you’ve got nothing to apologize about y/n, it’s been a rough couple weeks, lean on me, let me help”
Shaking your head in defiance he took your chin between his fingers, locking your eyes on his
“I know it’s hard to let me in sometimes, and I know you’ve been hesitant to let me in, but m’not going anywhere, I’m handling the situation with the hate you’re receiving, and making sure we get on top of that, because no one gets to treat you like that”
Pausing he let out a soft sigh before letting go of your face so you could lay on his shoulder, your breathing starting to slow down
“I love you so much, you’re m’whole world, you and baby styles, you are the sunniest and brightest light to be around, you make my days better, hell even my entire team’s day better. I don’t want you to focus on anything else other than how much I love you, and how much those around you love you y/n. I know it’s been eating you alive, but I promise you m’not going to let anything happen to me.”
He stopped once more
“You are enough for me, you matter, you are important, and you are so fucking loved angel, you hear me? I’d go to the ends of the earth for you if you asked, we’re gonna get through this together, no matter what.”
You held your pinky up, a small smile finally showing on your face which made Harry’s heart soar
“Cross m’heart, I promise”
“I love you H”
Leaning up to press a gentle kiss to his lips, he smiled when you pulled away
“I love you more angel, always and forever”
He watched you intently as you settled back down, getting comfortable before falling asleep a few moments later, there was no one else in the world made for him, you were his whole life. When you were hurting so was, he, and he hated every second of your pain, wanting and needing to do anything he could to make it go away. Harry knew he couldn’t control every aspect of what people said on the internet, but he did know one thing, and that was that he would always protect his family. He’d continue to keep you and your little one safe and comfortable no matter what it took.
summary: you and harry go watch a movie in theaters and rumors start going around in your college.
warnings: smut, 18+, slight sexual assault, public(ish) sex
--please be nice, I don't know how I feel about this bc I don't like writing smut!
Harry was a stereotypical frat boy. He practically fucked the whole school. You still thought he was cute. You had to pretend you hated him though.
After you told your friends you thought he was cute they all said the same things, “He just wants to fuck,” or “He has 300 different STDS,” He was super cute and your friends couldn't deny that. He wasn't even cute, he was drop-dead gorgeous.
If he hadn't fucked almost the entire population of the school, you would fuck him.
You were in class and of course, you got teamed up with him for a project.
“Y/n and Harry,” your professor announces.
“Who's that?” He questions.
Your teacher points to you and you put your head down.
He taps his friend's arm with the back of his hand and smirks.
“Dudeeeee,” you whispered with your head still down.
After class, Harry came up to you.
“So, can we go to y’dorm?” he looked at you with lustful eyes.
“Oh absolutely, wouldn't want to sit on your cum stained, STD infested bed.”
“Y’wish your cum was stained on m’bed,” he sneered. “but just so y’know, I don't have STDS. I got tested last weekend.” He mocked.
“Mhm. And what does that say about you that you had to get tested?” You joked.
He rolled his eyes playfully, “Can I get y’number though? Y’know so we can talk about the project.” He grinned.
“Yeah.” you gave him your phone.
Harry: hey ;)
Y/n: don't do that
Harry: sooo can I cum over 2nite ;)
Y/n: ummmmmm if my roomies ok w it!
Harry: u shuld make sure she's not there 2nite
“Ally!” You called your friend you were blessed to have her as your roommate too.
“Guess who’s number i got?” You bit your lip.
“Justin Timberlakes?” She joked
“Ooh shocker.. You know he just wants to get in your pants?”
“No its for a project.” You corrected her.
“He still wants to get in your pants,” She giggled. “He tried to get in mine,” she said softly.
“Okay, but he's so hot.” You smiled.
“You do you hon.”
“Well, could you make sure you’re not here from, tonight to tomorrow?” She fake smiled.
“Actually yes I could, but make sure his dick doesn’t get anywhere near my bed.”
There was a knock at your door. You got up from your bed and closed your laptop.
You opened the door to see Harry.
“Hi.” he says.
“Hi.” you move out of the way for him to walk in. “So my roommate says not to get your dick on her bed,” you shake your head. “But I told her nothing was going to happen.” things got awkward, fast.
“I mean...” he grinned.
You hit his chest. “Harry.”
“I'm jus’ saying! Y’are very beautiful... And a little birdie told me that y’thought I was cute...” his finger grazed over your lip. You were so close to giving in.
“N-no. H, no.”
“H?” he repeats. “I like that.” he bit his lip.
“Harry no stop.” you removed his hand from your face.
“I'm not gonna be one of these girls you fuck and forget about. We're here to do a project and that's it.” you walk and sit on your bed.
“Y’not one of those girls though.” he followed her to her bed and sat beside her.
“Then prove it. You didn't even know who I was.”
“Fine. Go on a date with me.” he sounded so serious but you knew he wasn't.
It took you a while to process that. “What?”
“Please. I know you like me ‘nd... I wanna take y’on a date.”
“You don't even know me though,” you said softly
“Then let m’get to.” you nodded.
“Tomorrow at 8.”
￼”The Titanic’ is in theatres again... Wanna watch that?” he was serious.
“Sure..” you sounded unsure with your answer but you didn't believe him.
“Then it's a date.” you nodded. You smiled slightly. You just couldn't believe it.
The day went by very fast, and before you knew it, it was time for your date.
Harry came and picked you up from your dorm. You and he were dressed casually.
I'd been like 20 minutes into the movie.
His hand went on your thigh slowly and you wanted to tell him to stop, but you didn't. He started to go up more and more until he was slightly touching your clothed core.
“Harry stop,” you speak softly. You weren't sure if you actually wanted him to stop.
He starts to rub you slightly.
“H.” you whisper. He still doesn't stop.
You slap his hand and stand up.
“Y/n, come on. Sit down.” he whispered.
You rolled your eyes and walked out.
You waited in the lobby for someone to answer your call.
Harry came out of the theatre and came up to you.
“Y/n I'm sorry.” he apologized
“Please y/n. Let me take y’to your dorm.”
“That's the least you could do.”
You got into his car and he drove you back to the dorms.
Before you opened the door to get out he stops you.
“I'm sorry y/n. I like y’and I was just scared. I haven’t been in a real relationship since like middle school.” he really did sound sincere but you didn't believe him
“Whatever.” you leave the car and slam the door shut.
The next day everyone was looking at you weirdly. You instantly thought of Harry and he probably said something about you.
And you weren't completely wrong.
“Is it true?” some girl came up to you.
“Is what true?”
“You sucked off Harry at the cinema?”
“What?” you felt betrayed. “Who's saying that? Because its a not true.”
“Harrys telling everyone.”
A random frat came up to you and said “Me next?” he made the hand gesture of sucking.
You rolled your eyes and went to finish your day.
After the day you went to go look for harry.
You found him in an empty classroom almost looking like he was waiting for you.
“What the fuck are you doing telling people I sucked your filthy cock?”
He smirked at your dirty mouth.
“Don't know what y’talking about.” he lied.
“No, what is wrong with you?! Just because I wouldn't let you touch me in a public movie theatre gives you no right to make up rumors about me. Now I have multiple people coming up to me, giving me dirty looks, just because you think if stoop down that low to have your std-infested cock in my mouth.” you finished. Harry hasn't fucked anyone in weeks since he met you. He liked you a lot and he was just scared he wasn't lying but he didn't have to do it like that.
“If y’weren't such a goddamn bitch all the time I wouldn't have to.”
“You didn't have to in the first place!” you scoffed and rolled your eyes. “I fucking hate you.”
“Y’hate me?” he got closer to you. “Y’hate me?” he let out more sternly.
“Yes,” you said certainly.
“Fine, hate me all y’want. But I want you t’remember this the next time y’decide you hate me.” he kissed you deeply. You actually really enjoyed it. Maybe it was all this pent-up sexual frustration you had in you, or maybe it was just the fact you still liked Harry, but you didn't want him to stop.
You kissed him back and he removed your jeans and then your panties.
“I could feel y’getting so wet for m’at the movies, poor baby was just humiliated... Weren't you?” you nodded.
“I haven't fucked anyone since we started this project weeks ago. Y’know that right?” you shook your head. He removed his skinny jeans and boxers.
He put two fingers in you as you moaned. He put you on a table and fingered you more.
“Y’still hate me, baby?”
“So fucking much.” you moaned. “Fuck I'm gonna cum... H please more.”
“Y’want more fingers or m’cock?” he teased
“Y-your...” you moaned as you were about to cum. He could feel you clinching around his fingers and pulled out.
“Your cock... Please,” she says shyly.
“Hmm...” he thought.
“Please, Harry. I want your cock so bad.” she whimpered.
“What a good girl y’are. Begging for m’cock?” he shook his head.￼
He slowly entered his cock into you. He moaned as he did it faster.
“Oh God.” you were moaning because it felt so good, but hearing Harry moan made something inside you go crazy. You loved men who were loud in bed (even if we were in a classroom and not a bed)
“Y’cunt is so pretty.” he moans again “Prettiest pussy v’ever fucked.” you grunted madly.
“Because all you do is fuck sluts.” you said annoyed as he pounded into you harder.
“Should I have been fucking y’this whole time instead?” he bit his lip.
“Yes. It's so good.” you moaned.
“Yeah? Who's making y’feel this good hmm?” he teased.
“You.” you squeal.
“And who am I?” he licks his lips
“Harry.” she tries
“Try again.” he snickered
“That's fucking right. Still hate me?” he asks while she whimpers and moans under him.
“This is my fuckin pussy. Understand? No one else can fuck it but me.” she moaned louder.
“O-only if th-thats my cock.” she squeals. “Fuck I'm gonna come daddy.”
“Me too. Cum on m’cock baby.” she moans louder.
She cums on him and he pulls out and cums on your stomach.
You sat up “Th-thank you, H.”
“Anytime, just uh-- give me a call. And I meant what I said by the way. I really do like you, m’just not used to relationships.” he said putting his pants back on, and so did you.
“Is anyone in here?” a janitor said. The door was locked so she couldn't come in.
A/N: This is one last idea (for now) that I had for the anxious!reader universe. Lots of smut, but it’s very soft and sweet and full of love :)
His hands. Y/N can’t stop staring at his hands.
There are a lot of things she finds attractive about Harry. Too many. It’s actually maddening how one person can have so many attractive qualities. Lately, her brain has decided to fixate on his hands. They’re pretty and elegant, strong and masculine.
His long fingers are often decorated with an ornate collection of rings. Sometimes his nails are painted with vibrant colours; other times, they’re unpainted but still clean and neatly trimmed. She can often see the veins that travel up the backs of his hands into his toned arms. He moisturizes them well too, so they rarely look dry.
Y/N would be lying if she said her obsession with Harry’s hands is completely innocent and merely about aesthetics, that she hasn’t imagined how those fingers would feel in her mouth or between her legs and orgasmed to the thought of that while lying alone in bed at night.
It doesn’t help that he’s a highly affectionate person, finding any excuse to place his hands on her whenever she’s within reach. Even now, as they lounge on his couch, he pulls her legs into his lap and begins massaging them. She’s wearing a knee-length dress today, leaving her lower legs exposed. His hands don’t move up past her knees, but that doesn’t stop her imagination from running wild anyway.
“Y/N?” His smooth, commanding voice—another annoyingly attractive feature of his—pulls her from her thoughts.
“Hmm?” Her eyes flick up to his emerald ones staring back at her. She realizes with embarrassment that she hasn’t listened to a thing he’s said in the past minute or so.
“What were you staring at?” He glances down in his lap, where her gaze was just a few seconds ago.
“Oh, just your hands.”
His brows furrow slightly as he starts inspecting his hands, turning his palms up, then down. “Why? Something wrong with them?”
“No! No, they’re just… nice. Nice hands. That’s all. Sorry, what, um, what were you saying?”
A teasing smirk forms on his lips. “Nice hands, huh? Never heard that one before.”
She rolls her eyes, trying to ignore the heat rising to her cheeks. “Please. I’m sure you’ve heard that a million times.”
“Mmm, not really.”
She narrows her eyes at him, not believing him for a second. His smirk broadens.
“Anyway,” he says, resting his hands back on her legs, “I was just saying that I really missed you last week.”
Now she feels even worse about zoning out on him. He’s been out of town this past week for work. They reunited just this morning after his flight landed back in LA.
“I missed you too, H.”
“This week made me realize something.”
Her heart skips a beat. “What?”
“Made me realize how much I hate being away from you. I know our friendship started over Zoom meetings and phone calls and whatnot since I was on tour, but…” He shrugs. “After spending time with you in person these past couple months, I can’t imagine being away from you for weeks or months at a time. I think I’d go mad.”
His confession feels like being swaddled in a warm blanket. While he was away, Y/N couldn’t stop thinking about him. His fluffy hair and dimpled smile, his kind eyes and boyish laugh, even his cute nose consumed her thoughts from the moment she woke up in the morning to the moment she fell asleep at night. She found herself cursing the slow passage of time frequently throughout the week. To hear that her feelings were reciprocated makes her giddy inside.
When she takes a while to respond, he says, “I hope that wasn’t too intense. It’s just been on my mind lately and I had to say it.”
“No, I feel the same way.” I think I’m in love with you, she says in her head but struggles to speak aloud. She has never been the first to say those words in a relationship.
He smiles, relieved. “Okay, good.” He holds her gaze for a few seconds, then shifts closer, her legs still strewn across his lap. His hand comes up to cradle her jaw as he leans in for a kiss, sucking her top lip into his mouth.
She scoots even closer, practically sitting in his lap now. The movement causes her dress to ride up. Harry rests his other hand on her bare thigh, squeezing it lightly. Her heart quickens. His hand inches along her inner thigh, hiking her dress up even further. Suddenly, her whole body tenses up and she shrinks away from his touch.
“Sorry, I—I can’t,” she stammers, quickly removing her legs from his lap and tugging her dress back down.
She sneaks a glance at his face and detects some hurt there. It lasts for a split second, but her brain registers it anyway. She feels awful. This is the second time he has tried to get intimate with her beyond just kissing. The first was the night before he was supposed to fly out of the city. They were cuddling in his bed. She was giving him all the signs that she wanted to take things further—letting her hands roam all over his body, grinding her hips against him—but as soon as he started returning her touches, she pulled away.
It’s frustrating because she fantasizes about it all the time, yet when it finally starts to happen, she freezes up. It’s like her mind and body are on completely different pages.
“I’m sorry, H,” she repeats.
“It’s all right.” He gives her a reassuring smile. “You’re not ready for that. I understand.”
“But I am ready. I just…” She looks up at the ceiling as if the answers to her puzzling emotions will be there. “Ugh! I don’t know.”
A long silence stretches between them, though it probably feels longer in her head than it is in reality.
“I should go,” she finally says, rising to her feet, but he grabs her hand before she can go anywhere.
“Already? We haven’t even had dinner yet.”
“But I made things awkward!”
“No, you didn’t. Stop that.”
She was trying to avoid his gaze, but he tugs on her hand to make her look at him.
“We’ve been apart for a whole week. You think I’m letting you run off that easily?” He frowns a bit. “Wait, that sounded creepier than I’d intended.”
She giggles, feeling somewhat lighter. “Okay, fine. I’ll stay.”
They order sushi for dinner and crack open a bottle of wine. The awkwardness she felt earlier fades as Harry starts telling her about a deep conversation he shared with the five-year-old girl sitting next to him on his flight. Y/N is glad she decided to stay because if she had gone home to spend the night by herself, her overthinking mind would have eaten her alive.
After dinner, they transfer back over to the couch with their wineglasses in hand. They sit cross-legged, facing each other. The wine has helped her loosen up some more, granting her the courage to explain why she’s been so reluctant to get intimate with him.
“I’m not a virgin,” she tells him. “I know it probably seems that way because of how I act every time we try to do anything sexual, but I’m not. Not that there’s anything wrong with being one, obviously. I just thought you should know.”
He nods. “Okay.”
Although he doesn’t press any further, his eyes are curious and attentive in a way that makes her want to spill everything, just lay out all her secrets and fears and insecurities in a big, messy pile in front of him.
“I’m not a virgin, but I haven’t had sex in years,” she explains. “And I’ve always had to have a few drinks before doing it. I tried doing it sober once, and it was a total disaster. I was on the verge of a panic attack the whole time, and the guy didn’t know what to do. I just told him to keep going, so he did until he finished and—”
“Lovie, that’s not okay,” he interjects, brows pinching together in concern. “He should’ve stopped when he realized you were having a panic attack.”
“Well, to be fair, I told him to keep going. It was totally consensual.”
“Still. He should’ve at least stopped to make sure you were all right. Seems like basic human decency to me.”
“I guess....” She shrugs, knowing that he’s right but not wanting to think about it much longer. “Anyway, after he finished, he told me that having sex with me was like fucking a scared baby deer.” She forces a laugh, though the memory still makes her cringe inside. “Needless to say, I was mortified and never saw him again. And that’s the only time I’ve had sex while sober.”
“And all the times you weren’t sober, did you at least enjoy it?”
She hesitates. “Um, define enjoy.”
He appears even more concerned now. “If you’re having to ask that question, I’m afraid the answer is no. If you enjoyed it, you would know.”
“Well, I just asked because if by ‘enjoy,’ you mean ‘did I orgasm during it,’ then it’s a no. But my anxiety was a lot more under control, so I guess that could be considered a form of enjoyment… Right?”
Rather than answering her question, he asks, “You’ve never orgasmed during sex?”
She shakes her head. It’s nothing to be embarrassed about, but her cheeks still feel like they’re on fire.
“Have you ever had an orgasm?”
“Oh, plenty. When I’m alone, that is.”
“I see.” He rubs his jaw and looks away, sinking deep into thought. She can’t read the expression on his face.
“So, now you know how bad I am at sex,” she jokes to fill the silence.
He looks at her with a raised brow. “I don’t know about that. If anything, it’s the guys you’ve been with who were bad at sex if they couldn’t even make you come once.”
“Oh no, they were all very experienced.” Y/N doesn’t know why she’s defending these men, as if they would do the same for her. Perhaps it’s because she’s spent her whole life thinking she was the problem and this is the first time someone has suggested a different perspective to the one she’s become so accustomed to.
“Experience doesn’t always equate to being good at something.”
“I guess not.” She bites her lip and tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. “I do want to try again… with you. I just don’t know how to stay calm without having a few drinks in my system.”
“Yeah, we’ll have to work on that.”
His use of the word “we” doesn’t go unnoticed by her. We, as in this is our problem, not just yours. We, as in we’ll figure this out together, you don’t have to do it alone. She feels a surge of something in her chest, and the only term she can think of to describe it is love.
“I’m calm right now,” she says with sudden realization, placing her wineglass on the table so quickly that it almost topples over. “So, technically, we could try again—”
“No.” He shakes his head. “We’re not having sex for the first time while you’re drunk.”
“I’m not drunk drunk though. Just a bit tipsy. I think we could still—”
“Y/N, it’s not happening,” he states firmly. “Other guys might have been okay with that sort of thing, but I’m not, okay?”
Her shoulders slump. She looks down in her lap. “Okay. Sorry. I didn’t mean to pressure you. I just want you to know that I want it as much as you do.”
“I know. Hey”—he tilts up her chin—“we’ll get there. There’s no rush. I’m not going anywhere.”
He has no idea how much of a relief it is to hear those words. Her biggest fear this whole time has been him losing interest in her because she can’t seem to get over her anxiety around sex. It’s happened before. Guys often expect her anxiety to disappear after the first time. When it doesn’t, they take it as a blow to their ego and react by making her feel like a freak for being anxious at all. The humiliation leads to even worse anxiety the next time she gets intimate with someone. It’s a vicious cycle.
She doesn’t want to get her hopes up or anything, but maybe that cycle finally ends with Harry.
When it comes to Y/N, Harry just doesn’t know how to keep his hands to himself. Even before they met in person, he would dream of the day he could finally have her in his arms, how perfectly their bodies would mold together, how electrifying that first contact would be. For months, he’s been dying to touch and feel and kiss every inch of her, but after hearing about her sexual history, it’s no surprise why she’s so hesitant to take that step with him.
Taking things slow is not a problem for Harry. If anything, he feels lucky to be the one who gets to show her how fun and exciting and stress-relieving sex can be when the people involved actually care about each other’s pleasure.
It’s been a few days since that initial conversation. They’ve had several more discussions about it since then, and he thinks they’re ready to try something now.
He stares at Y/N lying on his bed, looking cute and cozy in his forest green Pleasing crewneck. Her lips are swollen from all their making out, her neck and collarbone littered with red spots where he licked and sucked on her skin like an ice cream cone.
“Question for you,” he says, leaning his head on his palm. “When’s the last time you touched yourself?”
“Hmm… A couple days ago?”
“Would you feel comfortable doing that in front of me?”
Her eyes widen. “Y—you want to watch me touch myself?”
“Only if you’re okay with it.” Her reaction already indicates that she’s not.
“Oh, I… I don’t think I am,” she admits, confirming his thoughts. “I mean, I don’t even like being watched while I cross the street. It’s like I forget how to walk.”
“Okay, different question. How would you feel about getting in a bath with me?”
She thinks about it. “I’d be okay with that.”
He runs them a bath lightly scented with a lavender oil he bought recently, while Y/N leans against the doorway and watches. Once he begins to undress, she follows suit. Starting with his crewneck, she removes her clothes at an extremely slow pace, as if she’s on the verge of changing her mind at any moment. He finishes undressing before she does and pretends not to notice her eyes bulging at the sight of his dick. Instead, he leans over to the tub to test the temperature of the water.
“I’ll get in first,” he says. “Then you can sit between my legs. Sound good?”
She swallows. “Yup.”
He steps into the tub and submerges everything but his head and upper chest into the water. His back rests against one side, his long legs outstretched in front of him.
In the meantime, Y/N finishes undressing. He forces himself not to stare, knowing that it’ll only make her more nervous. She moves quickly now, striding over to the tub and climbing in on wobbly legs. He holds out his hand for support.
“Careful,” he says.
She sits down between his legs with her back facing him. There’s still a lot of space between them.
“Just lean back against me,” he tells her.
She hesitates for a moment, then leans back until she’s flush against his torso.
He smiles. “There you go.”
“Okay, what now?”
“Nothing. Let’s just sit for a minute.”
They enjoy the next few minutes in companionable silence. The warm water seems to dissolve all the tension in her body, which is exactly why he suggested this idea in the first place. Her shoulders relax. She sinks deeper into him.
After a while, he says, “I’m going to try something. If you don’t like what I’m doing or you want me to stop, I need you to tell me. Don’t worry about hurting my feelings. My ego can handle it. Okay?”
She responds with a tiny nod.
“I need you to answer me verbally, lovie,” he says softly in her ear. “Just so I can be sure we’re on the same page.”
“Yes. Got it. Sorry.”
“That’s okay. Don’t have to apologize.”
“Sorry,” she says again, automatically. “Fuck! Sorr— Shit! Why do I keep—” She starts to sit up, but he places a hand in the middle of her chest, gently pulling her back against him. He can feel her heart galloping like a racehorse.
“Y/N, relax. You’re okay. You’re doing great. Just breathe.”
She inhales a deep, shaky breath, then releases it.
“That’s good. Keep doing that.”
Her heartrate gradually decreases with each breath she takes. Once she appears to have calmed down, he moves his hand from the centre of her chest to one of her breasts, cupping it tenderly in his palm. His other hand comes to rest on her belly before making its descent between her legs. She squirms a little once the pads of his fingers make contact with her clit.
“Are we okay?” he asks.
“Y—yeah.” She takes another deliberate breath.
He rubs her clit in small, tight circles and kneads her breast at the same time. Her hands rest at her sides on top of his thighs. As he pinches her nipple, twisting and pulling it lightly, her fingers dig into his thighs and his cock twitches between their bodies. He wonders if she felt it. His middle finger prods around her slit now and slips inside without resistance. He pumps it in and out a few times before adding a second one, using his thumb to rub her clit.
Y/N is completely silent, but the slick substance coating her pussy and the subtle rocking of her hips is confirmation enough that she’s enjoying this. He peeks at her face to find her eyes closed and her bottom lip pulled between her teeth like she’s afraid of accidentally making a sound.
That is another thing they’ll need to work on. Harry likes being vocal during sex and equally enjoys when his lovers are vocal too. He doesn’t want Y/N to hold anything back around him. But they can work on that another day.
“Does this feel good?” he asks.
She nods, then remembers what he said earlier and answers out loud, “Feels good, yes. Really good.”
Satisfied by her response, he presses a third finger inside and pushes all three of them deep into her with every thrust, turning her into a squirming, quivering mess in his arms. Her back arches off his torso as she comes, the smallest whimper slipping through her self-restraint. He gradually lessens the stimulation on her clit, then removes his fingers completely. She lets her head roll back against his shoulder.
“Wow,” she sighs. “I’ve never… That’s never happened with someone before.”
“Wasn’t too bad, was it?”
“No, it was great. Um… thank you?”
He chuckles. “My pleasure.”
Suddenly, she sits up and looks over her shoulder at him. “So… your turn now?”
He waves his hand, splashing some of the water with it. “Don’t worry about that.”
She frowns. “Are you sure?”
“Yeah.” He shrugs casually, trying to act cool as if he can’t feel his dick throbbing furiously under the water right now.
He could take her up on the offer, but he wants to focus on her today. Y/N is too nice to admit it, but he has deduced from their recent conversations that her previous partners were too greedy in the bedroom, exploiting her selfless nature for their own benefit. It’s quite unfortunate. Someone like her deserves to be spoiled, not exploited. At least now that she’s with him, he can make sure she gets the treatment she deserves.
After they’ve cleaned up and stepped out of the tub, he grabs one of the towels off the counter and starts handing it to her, then stops.
“Can I dry you off?” he asks.
She seems surprised but not opposed to the idea. “Sure.”
“Okay, just one moment.” He quickly pats himself dry, then grabs the other towel and walks over to her.
Timid eyes gaze up at him. They fall shut as he raises the towel to her face and dabs away all the little water droplets. Next, he moves down to her neck, shoulders, chest, and so on… After he’s done with her upper body, he sinks down to his knees on the mat and works on her lower half, taking his sweet time and humming softly to himself. He glances up to find her smiling at him.
Once her entire body is dry, he leans forward and plants a kiss to her belly before standing up with the towel thrown over his shoulder. Y/N’s eyes follow him as if in a trance.
She just blinks at him.
“I’m in love with you.” The words rush out of her like a whoosh of air that had been trapped in a sealed container. “God, it feels weird saying it out loud. It’s been in my head for so long and I didn’t want to say it because that makes it feel more… real.”
“Why’s that a bad thing?”
She doesn’t reply.
“Because you think I don’t feel the same way?”
“Do you?” She winces slightly as if she’s bracing herself for possible rejection, as if the answer to that question could be anything but “absolutely, positively, one-hundred percent yes.”
“Of course I do, Y/N. I thought I’d made that pretty obvious.”
“You should know by now that nothing is obvious with me.”
It’s true. Even when they were just friends and Harry began dropping hints that he wanted to be more than that, they pretty much all went over her head. Y/N is a smart woman; she just happens to be totally oblivious when it comes to love and romance, which he finds deeply endearing about her.
“Well, take this as your confirmation that I am, in fact, very much in love with you,” he states, taking her face in his hands and giving her a big, sloppy smooch on the lips, which she accepts with a laugh.
Y/N rocks back and forth on Harry’s thigh, her cunt positioned directly over his tiger tattoo. His thick, firm quads provide the perfect amount of friction against her needy clit.
A week ago, the idea of riding his thigh while he watched her would have made her extremely self-conscious. But since then, they’ve spent each night exploring each other’s bodies. He has given her several more orgasms with his fingers and mouth, while she has given him some with her hand. They’ve masturbated in front of each other. One night, he gave her a full-body massage that turned her on so much that he hardly even had to touch her clit to make her come.
She doesn’t mind being watched anymore. Not by Harry, at least. His gaze is never judgemental or critical. She doesn’t need to fret over saying or doing the wrong thing and ruining the moment. This has made her fall even more head over heels for him.
“Look so pretty getting yourself off on my thigh like this,” he says, toying with her breasts.
A moan starts to leave her mouth until she pulls her bottom lip between her teeth to trap it in. Harry reaches up and drags her lip back down with his thumb.
“Let me hear you,” he says. “Wanna hear how good this makes you feel.” He grips her chin between his thumb and index finger, keeping her mouth open.
She’s close now, the heat of her orgasm building in her core. Her hips grind faster against him. He lifts up his thigh to heighten the pressure on her clit. The tight knot in her lower abdomen unravels, and she comes with a loud moan, soaking his thigh with her juices.
“You make the sweetest sounds when you come,” he says, releasing her chin.
She pecks him on the lips and, before she’s even recovered from her orgasm, gets on her knees between his legs.
He frowns. “What are you doing?”
She looks at him like it should be obvious. “Returning the favour?” As she begins to reach for his cock, he grabs her wrist.
“Nope,” he says. “You always do that.”
“Act like you have to pay me back for every orgasm. Sex doesn’t have to be so transactional, you know?” The smirk on his face conveys that he’s joking, but that doesn’t stop Y/N from having the sudden, embarrassing realization that perhaps she does treat sex like it’s transactional and just wasn’t aware of it until now.
“I—I know that,” she fibs a little. “I just want to make you feel good.” That part, at least, is not a lie.
Harry has been spoiling her heavily this past week, which has been delightful. She can tell he’s making every effort to gain her trust in the fact that he doesn’t expect anything in return for how incredible he makes her feel. But Y/N likes making him feel good too. She likes the way he hisses and shudders when she finds his most sensitive spots. She likes watching his usual composure crumble simply from her touch. She lives for it.
“Please?” she adds to her request, giving him her best doe eyes.
“Okay,” he says. “If you really want to.”
He lets go of her wrist, allowing her to reach for his stiff cock again. Nerves make her hands tremble, as she remembers how long it’s been since she gave someone a blowjob. She wants it to be perfect, but realistically, she’ll probably be a bit rusty.
She strokes him in her hand and runs her tongue along the underside of his shaft until, finally, she feels ready to take him in her mouth. Her lips wrap around his tip and slowly move down his length, tongue gliding against him. She considers deep-throating, then decides against it because it’s been way too long since she’s done it and she needs time to work up to it again. Any insecurity she felt about that disappears the moment she glances up at Harry. His eyes are closed and jaw clenched, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows hard.
Emboldened by the look of absolute ecstasy on his face, she bobs her head up and down his shaft and massages his balls with her hand. She moans around him, and he releases a low groan at the sensation it produces. Then she lets his entire length slip from her mouth, teasing him by flicking her tongue over his tip and leaving little kisses along his shaft until his fingers are weaving through her hair in desperation.
“Didn’t know you could be such a tease,” he says with a breathy laugh.
She grins innocently, then takes him into her mouth again, determined to suck him to completion this time. His hand feels good in her hair. She imagines him holding her head in place while he fucks her mouth. She never thought she would be into that sort of thing until now.
“I’m gonna come soon, Y/N,” he warns her as he gets close.
She doesn’t pull away. He thinks she didn’t hear him, so he repeats himself. She makes eye contact to convey that she heard him, that she wants him to come in her mouth, which he does moments later. She relishes the taste of it, swallowing every last drop. As she draws back and wipes her mouth clean, he stares at her in amazement.
“You’re really fucking good at that,” he tells her.
“Thanks! I had this boyfriend in college who only wanted blowjobs all the time since that didn’t involve having to make me come, which was basically impossible for him. He was kind of demanding, but he taught me how to give a damn good blowjob.”
Harry grimaces. “You know, the more I learn about your previous partners, the more I want to hit them over the head with something.”
She laughs. “I think I make them seem meaner than they were.”
“No, I think you make them seem nicer than they were.” He pats his thigh. “Get up here.”
She stands up and sits on his thigh with her legs dangling between his this time. His arm wraps around her back.
Locking his eyes on hers, he says, “You are worth so much more than being some guy’s blowjob dispenser, all right?”
“I know, I know,” she says. “I was just young and naive back then, but I know better now.”
“Good. Don’t ever let any man or woman treat you that way. Okay?”
His eyes are so full of care and concern for her that she thinks she might just cry.
“Okay,” she replies.
Harry loves writing about the initial euphoria that comes with falling in love. It’s intoxicating and exhilarating and all-consuming. Many of his most successful songs were inspired by this peculiar feeling. It’s no wonder that he keeps heading into the studio lately to harness all this creative energy and inject it into his music.
Today, Tom, Tyler, and Mitch are all in the studio with him. Mitch is riffing on his guitar while Harry adlibs over it when Jeff pokes his head into the room.
“H, Y/N’s here to see you,” he says.
Harry raises his brows. “She is?” She didn’t tell him that she’d be visiting the studio today.
“Yeah, she’s waiting out front.”
“Is she all right? Did she say why she’s here?”
Jeff shrugs. “No clue. She seemed fine.”
Y/N always seems “fine.” She’s quite skilled at pretending everything is okay when it’s not, which can be rather concerning. Harry tells the guys he’ll be back, then heads to the front of the studio where he finds his girlfriend staring at a wall decorated from top to bottom with framed album covers of legendary musicians.
“Hi, darling,” he says as he approaches.
She turns to him, eyes illuminating as soon as they meet his. “Hi! Sorry, I told Jeff not to go get you, but he did anyway.” She gives him an apologetic smile. “I hope you weren’t in the middle of something. I swear if you were writing your next Grammy-winning single and I just ruined your flow, I’ll be so mad at myself.”
“Stop it. You haven’t ruined anything.” He steps closer, taking her hands. “Now tell me what brought you here. Are you okay?”
He studies her as she replies, “Yes, I’m fine. I’m not here for any particular reason. I just…” She hesitates. “I needed to see you.” As soon as she says it, her eyes squeeze shut. “Fuck, that sounds so needy.”
“That’s okay. We all get needy sometimes. Do you want to sit in the studio with me?”
She bites her lip, giving it some thought before shaking her head.
“Okay.” He brings her hands between their bodies, swinging them apart and together again. “Then tell me what you need.”
“I—I need…” She glances down in the general direction of his crotch.
A smirk tugs at the corners of his lips. “You need…?”
She rolls her eyes. “Don’t make me say it.”
He tilts his head to side, feigning innocence. “Say what?”
He wanted to make her say it, but the pleading look in her eyes makes him cave. “You need my cock, is that it?”
“Shhh! Not so loud!” Her head spins around to make sure no one heard them.
He laughs. “There’s no one around, lovie.”
“Still!” She sighs and presses her hands against her flaming cheeks. “It’s not fair. You’ve been teasing me with it this whole week, and it’s all I can think about. Couldn’t even focus on my art today because I kept thinking about how…”—she drops her voice to a barely audible whisper—“how you would feel inside me.”
It’s been exactly a week since Y/N first hinted that she’s ready to go all the way with him. Harry was the one who wanted to put it off a little longer. He predicted that if he made her wait long enough, her hunger for it would overpower any anxiety that might crop up during the act.
Smiling, he brings his hand up to her cheek, her skin hot against his cool palm. “Aw, I know, sweetheart. You know the only reason I’ve been teasing is to make sure you’re ready for it.”
“I know. And I’m ready now. I really am.”
“Okay, but we can’t exactly do it here, you know that?”
“Why not? Isn’t there a bathroom in here somewhere?” She pushes up on her toes to look over his shoulder down the hallway where he came from.
“We’re not fucking in the studio bathroom, Y/N.”
She groans and lifts her hands up to his chest, scrunching his shirt between her fingers. “But I can’t wait any longer!”
“Yes, you can.” He wraps his hands around her wrists. “You’re going to be a good girl for me and wait until I pick you up from your flat tonight.”
She pouts and concedes, “Fine.”
He kisses her pout and gives her a hug that lasts for several minutes because she doesn’t want to let go and he never lets go until she does, so they’re in a standoff for who’s going to let go first until finally, Y/N releases him.
After that, the rest of the day moves at a snail-like pace. Harry can hardly focus; he’s too distracted by the thought of what’s to come tonight. Every lyric he comes up with sounds too raunchy to put in an actual song. Even his friends jokingly speculate about why he’s acting so strange—especially Tom, who just loves to make him squirm.
That evening, he has to make a conscious effort not to speed all the way to Y/N’s flat. The plan was to pick her up, take her back to his place, and maybe eat dinner before having their fun, but he thinks he’ll have to skip most of those steps.
Y/N buzzes him into her building. She’s on the second floor, so he doesn’t even bother with the elevator and takes the stairs two at a time. As soon as she lets him in, his mouth is on hers. She kisses him right back, throwing her arms around his neck and pressing up against him. They make their way to her bedroom and remove all their clothes, ending up on the bed with him on top of her.
“Naughty girl,” he says between kisses to her neck. “Came all the way to the studio because you were needy for my cock, hm?”
She covers her face with her hands. “H, don’t tease! I’m embarrassed enough as it is.”
He gently pulls her hands away from her face. “Don’t be embarrassed. Do you have any idea how sexy it is that you want me that badly? Got me all hot and bothered at the studio. Could barely keep myself together for the rest of the day.”
A mischievous little grin makes its way onto her face. “Really?”
“Yes, really. That’s the effect you have on me.” His hand drifts down between her legs to find that she’s already drenched, so he grabs his cock and runs the tip up and down her slit. When he looks back up at her face, there’s a hint of apprehension that wasn’t there before. “You okay?”
“Yeah. Just remembered that I haven’t had something so, uh”—she swallows, glancing down at his cock—“big inside me in a while.”
“Do you want to be on top? That way, you can go at your own pace.”
“What if my pace is too slow and you can’t come?”
“What if I come two seconds after I’m inside you? Would you still love me?”
“There’s your answer then.”
She squints at him, her lips curving up. “Well played.”
They switch positions so that she’s on top of him, straddling his hips while he leans back against the headboard. She carefully guides his cock up to her entrance, inserting the tip before lowering herself onto him. Her tight walls stretch and expand to accommodate him. She winces from the discomfort. He massages her hips, reminding her to take her time.
It takes her several attempts to get him all the way in, but once he’s there, the feeling is indescribable. He curses under his breath, closing his eyes briefly.
“Is that okay?” she asks.
“Perfect,” he responds in a strained voice. “It’s perfect.”
She seems reassured by his response and starts moving her hips in slow circles, getting used to having him inside her. Then she lifts up and sinks all the way down again. Soon enough, she’s riding him at a steady pace, her hands on his shoulders, her breasts swaying gorgeously in his face, beckoning him to place his hands over them. He has pictured this moment so many times, he can’t believe that it’s finally happening.
He starts thrusting up into her, meeting her halfway. As his thrusts become sharper, her jaw drops open.
The sound of his name slipping out of her mouth like that, all salacious and full of yearning, is a drug he can see himself getting addicted to.
“Please,” she whines.
He slows down, worried that he might have been too rough. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. Just— Please don’t stop. It feels so good.”
“Feels good, huh? Someone finally fucking you like you deserve?”
She nods, her eyes rolling back as he resumes the movement of his hips.
“This is what it’s supposed to feel like,” he tells her. “Remember this.”
“Oh, I will.” She barely finishes her sentence before he pounds into her again.
He feels himself about to crest and reaches down to rub her clit. A final medley of moans and grunts leave their mouths as they come. Her pussy spasms around his pulsing length. As the waves of pleasure subside, her body goes completely slack in his arms, worn out from the intensity of the experience they just shared. She rests her head against his shoulder, basking in the afterglow while he brushes his fingers through her hair.
Her soft voice breaks through the silence. “I didn’t know it could feel this good. I’ve been missing out.”
“We’ve got plenty of time to catch you up. Don’t you worry.” He kisses the side of her head, earning a contented sigh from her.
Thank you for reading! For more anxious!reader and other fics, check out my MASTERLIST
in which y/n smokes weed (sometimes) and she thinks her dealer is super cute, and harry always gives her a little extra because she’s sweet
word count: 8.2k
pairing: plug!h and y/n
warning: if you are uncomfortable with the use of drugs, please do not continue reading!! i DO NOT want to see any messages in my inbox that talk of ‘glamourizing’ this drug. if you don’t like it-> don’t read it. mentions of bullying, peer pressure,
author’s notes: the second and final part to this fic will be posted next week, feb. 02 at 8am pst.
* * * * * * *
Harry hated parties.
Admittedly, they were a third of his source of income, but unless it wasn’t a gathering exclusively composed of his close circle, he didn’t want anything to do with it. They were too loud and sticky, messy and smelly. Red solo-cups littered at every available corner, half filled with Coca-cola, vodka, and the occasional sad, cigarette butt. Scantily clad girls and ‘discreet’ boys that didn’t know how to read body language that clearly screamed ‘I’M NOT INTERESTED!’. It just all got his nerves because half the time he knew they were only using him to get reduced prices on the marijuana he spent ample time on growing.
He tried, as a general rule, to limit his reluctant, brooding attendance to parties he knew would only consist of Mitch, Sarah, Adam, and the handful of other friends that just wanted to have a good time and a nice snuggle on a cramped couch that rumbled with intoxicated laughter. He liked being in a crowd he knew, it was much more intimate, less pressure-filled. He didn’t have to maintain that ‘polite’ air that was socially required in an atmosphere of people he didn’t know. No niceties or complimentary. When it was just him and his friends, all of that ‘quiet’ and ‘please, thank you’ shit wasn’t necessary. He could jump straight to his affectionate, giggly, sprawling-all-over-everyone’s-lap self, and no one would question it because they know it’s what he preferred.
But, at a big house party like the one where he was at, where everyone knew him as The One Guy Who Sells The Good Shit, Harry had to pretend to be polite and quiet and small, and adopt an overall stiff persona that made him prickly and cold. This wasn’t him. He didn’t like this, and wouldn’t even be here if it weren’t for his very convincing friend Mitch, who noticed that business was slow and assured him that he was bound to 1) ‘sell a shit-ton’ and 2) gather a handful of new clients once they realized that what he had to dispense was pretty good quality for a subjectively cheap price.
Mitch had been right, of course.
The small black backpack of goodies that Harry had brought to this inconspicuous function had been empty in less than two hours, and he’d repeated his number enough times that it started to feel forgein on his tongue. Once or twice, a few girls had flashed him what could be called ‘bedroom eyes’, but he wasn’t in the mood to get his rocks off. When he came with a purpose to sell, any need, want, or hope for sex flew out of the window because then he ran the risk of girls thinking their ‘connection’ entitled them to some sort of discount on weed, and he didn’t particularly fancy ruining his post-coitous bliss with the awkward exchange of rejection that followed their questions.
Plus, it made him feel used.
A good three hours have passed, and he’s about to tell Mitch he’s ready to leave when his line of sight is snagged on the diamond image- no, a beautifully deceiving mirage, because there’s no way this girl is real. Not when she looks like a ditzy sprite, a walking mermaid, a glimmering fairy, a heart-wrenching siren, and any other bewitching, ethereal creatures that stole men’s souls upon the first breath they took in their presence. She looked like one of his psychedelic hallucinations that whispered sweet things to him and played with the ends of his hair when he’s in the lull of shrooms, brought to life. Grounded, real, and three-dimensional, not just in the airy, green-leafed recesses of his muddled mind.
This pretty little enchantment that caught his eye had floated into the room on two clumsy, shoddy-sneaker covered feet that extended from bambi-like legs with knees that were almost comically knocking against one another. She walked slanted, her shoulder pressed against her friend’s, whom Harry might have been able to recognize as Sarah if he spared his gaze, but that was impossible. So, he thought to himself, this is how magnets work? Even if he wanted to, he knew he wouldn’t be able to dislocate his line of sight from the socket it had carved itself into. Her cheeks, rounded with laughter and smiles, were dusted with the telling, glimmering sheen created by alcohol, and her eyes were bright, shiny, and starry from the handful of lamps that lit the living room. The slope of her waist, semi-shrouded deliciously from the billowy fabric of her powder blue summer dress (he couldn’t fucking believe she was wearing a dress when it was windy outside. Did she not care for her health?) and it made him think of the marvelous illusions created from marble. He was fond of going to museums and staring- for hours, at times- at statues of women draped in silk that were replicated with such precision, it was almost as if the wind was right there, rippling against the tantalizing figure of the unidentified female, so much so that an man was inspired to share his tortured vision. In solid form, nonetheless.
It made him wonder what the artist could see in real life. What they envisioned the model to be like underneath the heavenly fibers that twisted and turned restlessly with running air, preventing a clear grasp on the body underneath. Spurred to the point of such desolation, left with a hunger to resurrect what their mind’s eye consumed in physical format to live on forever and torment anyone else who looked.
He understood then. Understood that hunger and want for more.
She spun prettily like one of those ceramic ballerinas in a golden music box owned by children of important people, and that damn dress was both too loose and too free, moving around her with a protective fluidity from hungry, lovelorn wolves like him. He can’t hear her clearly because he’s too far away, but the snippets of her laugh that his ears manage to funnel down to his eardrums sound like a fairy’s tinkle.
She is a dream. Head thrown back before she replies with such enthusiasm and a strange half-lucidity that it has him leaning in to try and hear the drunken words that escape her soundless lips. He’s stuck in a moment of frozen time with her and only her. There’s a pinch behind his sternum when her head moves in his direction, and a strong titanic-worthy sink when she stops before even reaching his gaze. The words of some pop song from the early 2000’s skim cheesily through the background of his brain like a lonesome draft. Where have you been all my life?
Tunnel vision, he believes it might be called.
Next to him, Mitch bumps his shoulder, shattering his dangerously sharp focus with mumbled words that Harry doesn’t quite register with complete comprehension because they sound warped, as if they were spoken through a thick layer of glass or from underwater.
“What?” He blinks, his eyes stuck on her but his head rotated enough to the side that his friend knows he’s listening. He’s afraid that if he stops looking, or even blinks, she'll evaporate into thin air and he’ll spend the rest of his life wondering if she really was a mythical being conjured from his second-hand high.
Mitch clears his throat and hides a knowing twitch of his mouth beneath the rim of his drink, “I said her name is y/n.”
Harry, distracted and oblivious, is unaware that Mitch caught on to the focus of his attention, asks, “Who?”
This time, he can’t help but huff a chuckle, “This girl, H. Her name is y/n. She just started working with Sarah. Sarah says she keeps to herself, but there’s been a bit of… bullying, so she invited her out for a good time.”
“Bullying?” A faucet of anger opens in his major arteries and replaces his blood with a river of internalized rage. Bullying? Bullying her? His head whips around with enough speed to crack the vertebrae in his neck, and his thick brows furrowed with a fierce expression that would scare anyone that looked at him then (Mitch being exempt because he knew there would be no harm coming from that look). “What do y’mean bullying?” He spits the word out like it tastes foul.
Mitch takes another sip from the red solo cup, taking time to compose his face before continuing casually, “yeah. Y/n’s new, sweet, and quiet. Sarah says the others at work think that she’s their personal coffee runner or something. She tries to help her when she can, but she's not always around ‘cause of meetings or whatever.”
Harry sucks on his teeth and shakes his head, twisting again to observe y/n with mooney eyes, bitterness still simmering within him at the treatment she receives at her workplace. Especially when the smile he was so fortunate to witness made him taste caramel and honey and peach nectar and all of the sweet treats that traversed through his esophagus when the munchies hit. It warmed him to finally have a lovely name to attach to a lovely name.
Y/n. It settled nicely in his inner monologue, and he wanted to speak it. Test it on his tongue to see if it molded his lips as nicely as he imagined it would. It fit her, he thought. Y/n. Weirdly, Harry itched to throw it casually in a conversation with her. An exclamation. A wheezed whisper in the middle of a breathless laugh. In a greeting. In a goodbye. To grab her attention. To console. It was ridiculous! He didn’t even know her but he wanted, badly, for this party to transform into one of the more comfortable ones he had with his friends. For her to sit next to him on the couch his arm around the space behind her as she leaned into him unconsciously as the conversation continued. To grab her bicep in a nervous giggle when he stumbled after one too many. To share a bowl of chips with her (lime was his favorite, but he would eat barbecue flavored ones- his least favorite- if they were hers).
“Whose-”a burp, “motorcycle is blocking the driveway?!”
A clearly drunk male slurred from the front of the house, an arm raised as he swayed in a half-assed attempt to grab everyone’s attention, the drink in his hand sloshing onto the carpet and Harry winced, half from being startled and half from the suddenly stiffness that came with several pairs of eyes landing his way.
“Sorry, mate. That would be me.” He raised a finger in the air and bent at the waist to deposit his unfinished drink on a low black coffee table by his knees. He shrugged, rolling his lips into his mouth and turning to Mitch with his shoulders lifting with the beginnings of a hug, “‘was just gonna leave, anyway.”
“Early night, H?” Mitch mumbled, pressing a quick kiss on his cheek while embracing his friend, the ghost of a laugh lingering in his nasal passage. Harry’s cheeks turned a light pink and his nostrils flared in his attempt to hide his smile.
“Yup.” Harry returned the kiss, his nose digging onto the scruff of Mitch’s cheek, tickling him. Stepping back from their show of affection, he patted his palms against his thigh to make sure he had his phone and keys, and tugged the strap of the small backpack on his shoulder to verify it’s presence.
Mitch resumed his leaning position against the door frame, hand in his pocket, “alright. Text me when you get home.”
“‘Course.” Sparing one last glance in the charming sprite’s direction as he said his final goodbye, he was devastated to find that she had, in fact, disappeared, just as he’d feared.
He almost stayed to find her and watch over y/n like some sort of guardian angel, but he didn’t have the guts to go up to her. He hadn’t even finished one drink, so liquid courage wasn’t there to help him, not when he had to ride his motorcycle home. He almost asked Mitch to keep an eye on her for him, but it wasn’t necessary. Sarah was with her, and therefore he’s already watching her.
And from the comforting, yet teasing, twinkle in his friend’s eyes told Harry everything he needed to know. He knew that he was well on his way to cracking his head open over his heels.
Their friendship had always been one of little words.
Harry’s been delivering weed for a while now.
What started as a side hustle to obtain much needed income when times were tough developed into an interesting near full-time job with amazing results and benefits (he got to smoke weed for free now, since he grew it himself, but there was always that whole ‘don’t get high off your own supply’ rule, so he did limit himself). He had thought that he would have trouble attaining customers, but word spread like wildfire amongst his close circle of friends, which all happened to be free spirited individuals that harnessed the powers of nature, and then their friends, trusted friends, and so on and so forth.
It got to a point where he needed a separate phone for dealing alone because the ‘rush hour’ would meddle with his personal texts, leading to frequent ‘wrong person’ texts, and he traded his crappy car for a decent motorcycle so he could get to drop-off locations quicker. The added ‘badass’ effect also stroked his ego, so it was a wonderful bonus.
But the annoyance of being interrupted in the middle of something like, let’s say… an episode of Hannibal with a warm bowl of buttered popcorn in his lap always came in the same frustrating amounts.
The Netflix screen pauses on Mads Mikkelsen’s face, spouting some bullshit about a tea cup, when his phone dings with a new notification. The sound is a specifically selected ‘ding!’ that is different from his personal phone so it’s easier to differentiate the purpose of the incoming message, and a rumbling groan vibrates from the back of his throat. Throwing his head back against his beat up, brown leather couch, Harry slams his hand around him until his ringed fingers click against the sleek device, and it automatically lights up as he brings it up to his face.
Unknown Number: Hi! Mitch gave me this number and said I’d be able to buy some pre-rolls?
Fucking Mitch. He often passes the number off to his buddies at the record store he works at. The dude started typing again, and the grey bubble with three dots wiggles at the bottom corner of the new text chat. Harry waited.
Unknown Number: If it’s too late for you, I understand.
It was, in fact, too late for him. But, money was money. He technically wasn’t doing anything important, so he would go and deliver to this-
Unknown Number: My name is y/n, by the way :D
Not a dude.
Not a dude.
The popcorn went flying off his chest and spilled all over the floor as he jumped up from his seat. Fuck. Y/n? Y/n with a smiley face. The girl from the party? His heart came to a stuttering stop, screeching like tired on asphalt breaking at a high speed as he came to the realization. The girl has haunted him like a stubborn will ‘o wisp for the past week was texting him. Albeit, it is for a service, but it was still something. The marijuana aspect of his situation didn’t bother him. He sold and consumed, it would be hypocritical of him if it did. Besides, she was an adult. She could do what she liked.
His jaw is on the floor, his eyes popping out of his head and he can’t believe what’s happening to him at that moment. He’d kiss Mitch on the mouth next time he saw him. It’s not until he sees the grey bubbles appear and disappear quickly again that he remembers the normal, usual response to this kind of situation is to type back. With trembling fingers, he pressed on keys, tapped on the backspace button, and repeated those motions several times because he had no idea what he was supposed to say- no, what was right to say to her. He had a standard response when it came to people who wanted to buy from him, but sending her prewritten message in his notes app that consisted of a short, perfunctory greeting followed by a menu-structured list of what he had available that day and their prices. There was no way in hell he’d send that to her.
Harry: Hello! It’s not too late for me to deliver. What can I help you with?
Unknown Number: Mitch mentioned that you offered a 2 for $35 deal?
Unknown Number: Is that still available?
Harry did offer a two-joint for thirty five bucks deal. Pre-rolled joints in cherry rolling paper about as long as his middle finger to the halfway point of his palm, semi-thickly packed with a hybrid blend of the two Mary-Jane plants (Sativa and Indica, none of that Maui Wowie, Blue Dream, or other strains; he liked to keep it simple) he had in a specially insulated box in the garage attached to the house he rented. It was his most popular sell; decent amount, excellent high, excellent trip. But… two? Was she smoking with someone else? Or was she saving one for a later time? He didn’t think she was the type to smoke two at once, but then again he didn’t know her, so her reasons were unclear to him.
However, if he arrived at her location and she was with someone (a male, specifically) his night would be ruined, because then that would mean that any marginal chance that he had with her was out of the question. And he couldn’t ask her right away because they hadn’t even properly met yet, and that would be weird and rude. That didn’t help his overthinking tendencies, and in a matter of seconds, Harry was sitting at the edge of his couch, popcorn crunching underneath his butt as a frown settled on his handsome features. Jaw set, lips puckered in contemplation with a pinch between his drawn eyebrows that casted shadows over his emerald eyes. He looked menacing, and his smattering collection of tattoos didn’t help either.
Or his motorcycle.
Or the intimidating stigma that came with his title of ‘plug’.
Stubborn as he was, this look of ‘don’t fucking talk to me’ would stay with him for the rest of the night, all because he couldn’t restrain himself from coming to incorrect conclusions. He didn’t know if y/n had a boyfriend, if she was with a friend, or if she would even be interest in him, but the sour thoughts that she did have a boyfriend and wouldn’t be interested in a ‘lowlife’ drug dealer loomed over him like a murky, stormy, thundering clouds.
He sent his response and changed her contact name.
Harry: I do!
Harry: Did you want to see the rest of the menu or are you set?
He knew he was being short with her. His messages were missing their customary smiley faces, the extra exclamation marks, the occasional x’s and o’s. He didn’t even type with capitalized letters, but in order to refrain from diving even further into this hole of hope, he decided that the change in his style of grammar would help him become emotionally distant. He just couldn’t bring himself to add them while he was in a stubborn, self-induced slump. While he looked angry, glittery butterflies beat their cellophane wings inside his ribcage and shook magical glitter onto his intestines, making them warm and queasy.
Y/n: I think that’ll be all for tonight
The causal mention of ‘for tonight’ gives him hope. That implied there would be other nights, and even though he’s currently grumpy because relationships are fucking complicated, he wanted to see her again and again.
Harry: Send your address, please.
She sends her location.
Harry: I’ll be there in 15 minutes.
Since he’s already half dressed in black jeans and a white Fruit of the Loom t-shirt from his earlier afternoon deliveries, he only has to part the crystal bead curtain in the doorframe of his living room to grab the leather jacket hanging from a bright yellow coat rack besides his door, and the backpack that he left in a slump besides his shoes (already packed with goods). He doesn’t think twice about the popcorn that’s scattered all over his floor and couch or that the Netflix “are you still there?” screen blinks black when he picks up his keys from the hook next to his door.
The garage opened when he pressed the button inside the kitchen hall, and he stepped out through the side door leading to the space where he kept his motorcycle. The owners before him had left a shit-load of junk that had taken up most of the space, and with their permission, he sold and threw most of it away. For the most part, it was empty. A bench, some boxes, and the white-refrigerator like rectangular box underneath the worktable along with his ride were the only things in there.
Grumbling and pouting like a petulant child, Harry clipped on his black helmet, flipped the visor down with two slender fingers, and dropped the backpack into the compartment attached to the backseat. A button on his keys closed the garage door behind him as he kicked aside the stand and swerved with a screech onto the road, the night air wrapping around bare throat as he cut through at a higher velocity than was surely legal on a residential street, but he didn’t see it as a crime when the heart was involved. He could picture himself explaining to the officer that pulled hi over in a hypothetical situation, that he was on his way to deliver drugs to the prettiest girl he’s ever seen, and the officer nodding solemnly at his noble cause.
Cars honked when he cut them off abruptly, and he gathered stares from the handful of people that were still wandering along the streets, spilling out at random intervals from bars. He had to cut through bits of the city to get to where she lived, and the three red lights that stalled his perusal were lucky that they were government property or else he would have damaged them in a severe fit of impatient rage. He tapped the tips of his shit-colored vans against the road and clenched his ringed fingers around the handlebars, engine roaring with pending release. He should have grabbed leather gloves, he thinks, if not to impress her, then at least to keep his fingers warm because it was an especially chilly night.
Harry’s pulling up to a brick building in exactly fifteen minutes. There’s fire escape ladders trickling down the side, and cement stairs leading up to a brown oak door with a thin window pane slightly left ajar while a burning yellow light seeps in a long bar across the steps like a satin ribbon. Several windows are bright with light from the inside, and the spare streetlamps that cast a spotlight on the sidewalk make the street unsettling, like someone is hiding in the shadows extending from tree trunks. Harry doesn’t like it one bit, and he hopes y/n isn’t walking these streets by herself at night.
He’s simultaneously taking his helmet off and reaching for his phone in his back pocket when he hears her small peep coming from the door.
And then, she’s all he can see, hear, think. She’s just as absorbing and hypnotizing as the first time he saw her, even though she’s standing in what is clearly pajamas. A long, sage knitted sweater that ends at the tips of her fingers and just above her knees, making her look like a leafy blob. Black sweatpants that are just as loose and baggy shadow the faint silhouette of her legs. Y/n is fiddling with her fingers, picking whatever color nail polish paints her nails (Harry can’t see because he’s too far away) and it makes him want to soothe her hands with his own. She’s tugging her bottom lip between her teeth and she probably doesn’t even realize that her eyebrows are furrowed and the bunch on her brow-bone casts comic-like shadows across her pretty little face.
Stupidly, because he can’t think of anything else to say other than ‘hello’ but he thinks that’s lame, he clears his throat and says, “how’d you know I was here?”
“Your… uhm- your motorcycle,” she points with a finger to the machinery beneath his bum. He’s leaning against it, not wanting to intimidate her by crowding her space in a dark-ish place but he doesn’t realize it actually makes him look very intimidating and ‘bad-boy’ looking. Especially with the leather jacket, “was kinda loud.”
“Mmm,” he hums his acknowledgement, because at that last corner he had purposefully revved the engine more than necessary. To impress her or to sate his devilish tendencies, was unclear. The space between his collarbones feels like it’s inflating and deflating with every rapid pulse of his heartbeat, and for the first time in a while, he doesn’t know where his ‘game’ is. He feels lame, at a loss for how to act around an angel when he was nowhere near her level. Hell, did this count as corruption of her innocence? He was selling her drugs for fuck’s sake.
At this realization, a heavy, sticky, nasty weight slathers itself all over his back and it can only be described as guilt. Should he be selling her weed? Should he even be morally conscious at this point? He sells weed to teenagers when he’s sure they aren’t narcs, but this wasn’t some zit-faced twerp.
This was y/n.
A few seconds of silence pass and she’s just staring at him, her lips rolling like there are words she's holding in and Harry staring at her with a closed-off expression, thick chocolate eyebrows furrowed deep in concentration because he’s memorizing every curve of her face to look back on when she wasn’t with him anymore. It’s after her first intake of breath with her mouth open that he snaps out of it and twists hurriedly to yank out the pink baggie with shiny red cherries printed on them. His current special, though he saved the decorated packaging for his closer group of friends because he knew it made them happy and he loved seeing that smile on their faces, but he wasn’t going to tell her that (and secretly he hopes it might put a dent on his irrational guilt).
“Here are y’cherry joints,” he holds it out, pinched between two fingers and his lips are a hard line as his heart beats out of his chest because- oh, god} she’s stepping closer and she smells really good and-
“‘Kay, uhm…” She takes the bag from him and mentally, Harry curses because she chooses to cup the underside of the bag and that wipes all chances of their fingers accidentally touching. She won’t meet his eyes, she’s shifty on her feet, and he doesn’t know how to tell her not to be nervous without sounding like a creep, “I’ve n-never done this before, and Mitch didn’t say if you took cash or Venmo so I brought my phone and wallet because I wasn’t sure which one you preferred.”
His heart goes through the life cycle of a dandelion. It blooms, yellow with happiness and new life breathed into his seedling soul by the sound of her voice, and transforms into the wispy tufts that fly away, ditzy and twirling from her sweet breath. All the while she holds him in her hand, smiling.
But all of these feelings are hidden away under his mask of self-preservation, writhing and squirming like worms. He gives away nothing, his eyes looking a little dead even though the in-between space where his head meets with the nape of his neck is damp with nervous sweat and he remains stiff and lazily posed against his motorcycle because he’s sure if he didn’t have that support his knees would knock together and sound like the cue ball hitting a winning shot in an empty pool hall.
Carding his hand through his unruly curls, he realizes that he should’ve styles his hair before leaving the house or foregone the helmet entirely, not caring about dying because first official impressions should be killer, and the extra harsh cut in his British drawl when he rasps, “cash is fine,” has to do with his own annoyance.
Y/n is flustered, evidence of that clearly sprawled all over her cheeks and base of her throat which he can see even in the darkness. She lifts the front end of her sweater with a paw-hand and Harry’s insides explode. Her phone and folded dollar bills are squeezed between the band of her bottoms and bare skin of her stomach. For just a second, the beautiful second in which she plucks the money from her body, he catches sight of a white, lacy bra-band that looks glorious while backdropped by the plane of her abdomen. He discovers the meaning of life and death, and wishes for a bit of both because this is torture.
The back of his mouth is drier than the sahara desert. Two tender fingers give him Holy ten and five dollar bills, and her angelic voice sings, “thank you,” when he takes it from her like a beggar.
Harry is an asshole because he can’t even respond with words only a hum of ‘mhm’ before swinging his leg over his ride and muttering a half-hearted, choked, ‘see you’ before roaring away.
He tries to invalidate his rapidly growing crush. Truly. He wants to brush it off his shoulder like dust because it’s annoying and distracting to constantly think about her, but nothing works.
In retrospect, he was even psychologically rude about it, trying- and failing- to find negative qualities about her or flaws in her appearance, but his fawning heart wouldn’t allow such disrespect to the receiver of it’s pesky little affections. The worst he could come up with was that her eyes looked as if some snot-nosed, uncoordinated, messy little kid had shaken an entire bottle of glitter onto a piece of copy paper and called it a day. And that her voice was soothing enough to coax that same child into comfortable, cow-jumping-over-moons dreams.
He wishes he were that hypothetical child rocked to sleep by her lulling voice because by the way things were going, he’s having a pretty hard time getting a wink of sleep because every time his phone vibrates he snaps straight up like his spine is locked and obsessively searched his phone for her name. And he’s tried putting his phone on ‘Do Not Disturb’ but it only makes it worse because what if he texts her and he doesn’t see it because he’s sleeping?
All of the customers that came after her, during his period of constant surveillance over his ‘trap phone’ received the best delivery times and the snarkiest attitude he’s ever had to offer. The morning sun isn’t as bright as it used to be and the moon is dimmer than usual because nothing can compare to her. He misses her terribly and it’s stupid because he doesn’t even know her and she probably thinks he’s a jerk because he acts like such a dick.
Mitch thinks it's funny that he’s so twisted about a girl. ‘A’ girl because even though he was high when he spilled his secret to his friend, he doesn’t think he could stand a potential breach of his privacy in the case that Sarah found out.
“I haven’t heard from her in a while,” Harry said.
“Do something about it,” Mitch said.
And well, what the fuck was he supposed to do? It’s not like he can reach out to her to ask her if she wants to buy more weed. That would seem greedy and insensitive on his part; a money hungry dealer. He’s already in a limbo of moral dilemmas that shouldn’t exist in the first place and he doesn’t want to complicate it by any form of shady communication.
His dilemma, however, was solved by whatever divine being that dared to bear witness to his nonsensical pleas to the ether. It seemed as though she favored the night and dark for her ‘picking up’, because the delightful ding! came at the thirty minute mark of his tossing and turning.
With the sheets rumpled around his waist and his templed damp with faint beads of perspiration, Harry straightened in the same way he has for the past month, only the tedious exhaustion of it not being her was begging to gnaw at him. Was this what it felt like to be paranoid? Snapping alert at every single indication of a phone because you think it’s the IRS- or the girl who infects your mind, in his case- calling to demand a service?
Preparing for disappointment again, Harry picked up the phone and squinted as his pupils adjusted to the sudden change in light.
Y/n: Hello, Harry! This is y/n. You delivered to me last month? Are you available for delivery at the moment?
There is a muted thud as his phone slips out of his shocked hands and lands on the rumpled duvet. A thundering set of drums replaces his beating heart and his jaw remains slack because it has lost the ability to close. The perspiration on his hairline transfers to the cave of his hands. For weeks he’s been in a constant state of glum, waiting for her next text, and now that he has it the only thing going through his mind is oh my god, oh my god.
Still, through his haze he manages to reply with,
Harry: Yes, I remember, and yes, I’m available
What he really wanted to say, and what he should have sent was, how could anyone forget you? You haunt me day and night. But that was a little obsessive, and probably would have scared her off before they even got anywhere.
Harry: Would you like to see what I have available?
Y/n: Please :D !
The pre-written list of items he has available changed this week. He’s added some chocolate edibles, brownies, and gummy bears that he picked up for a cheaper, wholesale price at the dispensary he frequents, and it makes him wonder if she’ll dare to buy them. He had one a few days ago at Mitch’s place with Sarah and has a smashing time. He couldn’t stop petting their cat, Texas, because the feel of her brown fur between his fingers was heavenly.
Grey bubbles appear and disappear several times along with his intake of oxygen before a long text appears, listing everything she wants from his makeshift ‘menu’ and… it’s a lot. The last time he received an order like this it was for a frat party that one of Mitch’s coworker’s friend’s brother referred him to, and it took him an entire week of rolling and baking to get his inventory back up. His kitchen smelled like weed-butter for a solid month.
Harry: Give me a moment to make sure I can sell you everything. Pretty large order…
The chipped black paint on his nails became a dark blur as his fingers typed, deleted, and typed uncertain words over and over again before finally settling on a sentence that was… neutral and didn’t send the wrong meaning. Usually, with his customers he was a mixture of blunt and friendly, but y/n wasn’t just a customer, and it made everything ten times harder.
Y/n: I’ll take whatever you have, please! Take your time, I don’t mean to stress you out
If she said please one more time, Harry was sure that he would become a liquid, coagulated version of himself among the mess of his blankets.
Jerking his ankles free of the fabric snake that snared him to a useless bed, he clambered off, knuckling at his tired eyes and shivering as the cool, still air of his room wrapped itself around the warmth of his body. Reaching into his closet for the first things he finds, a dark green hoodie and grey sweatpants, Harry yawns and dramatically stretched with his arms way above his head, hoping that the movement would push out the feeling of loneliness that was beginning to take purchase between his ribs, right underneath his heart.
Another late night, another delivery. He wished there was someone in his bed to call him back. Please don’t go, they’d say, the bed is cold without you in it. A warm hand trailing like a ghost against his thigh as he walked away, and a sleepy smile or groan of displeasure as his goodbye. He might not stay in the bed, but he would be happy- no, elated, to know that he would be coming back to someone.
The grow light of his makeshift greenhouse tinted his skin purple as he rummaged through all of his pre-rolled and pre-packaged items, his phone at his side as he checked off everything she has asked for.
9 of the Cherry Deals
6 of the citrus-infused pre-rolls
And 2 8ths
In total, it came out to 28 joints.
Which is… well, a lot for just one person, or two, or three (unless you’re Snoop Dog or something). Packing everything up into four separate paper bags, and then a larger white bag so that she isn't filling with all of the smaller ones, he types out another cold text.
Harry: Okay I have everything.
Harry: Send the address, please.
She sends the address, and Harry follows the same routine as the last time, nearly eating shit as he flew out into his garage. Excitement bubbles in his guts at the same increment and volume of his motorcycle’s initial purr. Flipping open the back compartment he usually stores things in, he realizes that there is no way it’s all going to fit inside, so he turns on his heels to grab a backpack from inside and then he realizes that he’s not wearing any shoes. The smooth, grey floor is cold against the arches of his bare feet, and his brows furrow at his own insolence. Had he been so wrapped up in… everything that he didn’t put on shoes?
Rolling his eyes at his own actions- and feeling a little embarrassed that he’d let it happen- Harry returned to his home and snatched up the first pair of fashionable compatible shoes within his reach (green converse the same shade of his sweater) and the backpack to place the white bag in ( a little redundant, but he didn’t think holding it while he rode would be a good idea). Rushing back to the garage, he hoped that he wouldn’t come up empty with words like he had the time before.
The last thing he wanted to do was scare her away.
He was right about it being a party.
At least three minutes before he was flipping down his kickstand, the thundering bass of some rap song (he thinks he can hear ASAP Rocky, but he’s not too sure) shakes the streets and the trees. It’s a house party in a building that was too big to fit into the word ‘house’, but yet too small to fit in ‘mansion’. Toilet paper and trash litters the front yard while couples make out and loners smoke cigarettes, or maybe joints, out on the generous porch. Sports cars and beat up rides pack the driveway and most of the street in front of the house, so it makes it really difficult to station his motorcycle in an area where he has a clear view of who’s coming in and out of the house, and therefore, really hard to spot y/n.
That is until-
She’s sitting down on the curb with her arms around her legs and her chin on top of her legs, looking… scared. Her eyes were blown open like a newborn doe, and the sprawl of her limbs as she unravels from her sitting position to a wobbly stand mimics the shaky, knocking knees of a filly that is learning how to walk for the first time. Her voice is even headier than it was the last time he heard it, like windchimes in the spring chill.
Harry’s eyes roam over her with no attempt to conceal his blatant appreciation for the fuzzy sweater falling down to her mid-thigh. They seem to have become a pattern with her. This time, it’s a baby blue crew neck and a pair of jeans, and y/n’s has tried to tie her hair up into a bun at the back of her hair but spiky pieces stick out the back and tendrils swap her ears, making her look like a soft, smudge-y dream.
“Hello,” he says softly, not needing to clear his throat this time. He steps forward a bit, so he can hear her better (or at least that’s what he tells himself), “s’good to see you again.” Harry’s words are louder and more amicable than the last time he greeted her, and his lips part in a crooked friendly smile which she returned with the same tentativeness. There’s something off about her this time around. She’s pulling at her sleeves and shifting her feet, glancing over her shoulder as soon as she’s standing straight and her eyes won’t stand still on Harry’s figure for more than a few, burning seconds.
“It’s good to see you, too! I hope I’m not waking you up every time I text, though,” an exhaled laugh left her lips, and she dropped her gaze down to her shoes. Y/n rocked on her feet, once and then twice. “I think I’ve… I’ve made a habit of texting you late at night.”
And he blushes, “I- uhm… I was having a hard time sleeping, so you didn’t wake me. It’s fine.”
If only she knew that he was having a hard time sleeping because his subconscious was a bothered brat over not seeing her again. Pleading words of requests to ask her never to stop texting him were dancing on the tip of his tongue, banging against his barricaded lips and begging to come out. However, he didn’t think such daring words were fitting with their barely budding relationship. They were pitiful and needy, like a puppy, and frankly, Harry didn’t want to present that image.
“Oh,” she stilled her movements, checked over her shoulder again and then looked him in the eyes and said, “are you okay?”
“M’fine, yeah. Just got a lot of you on my mind at the moment,” he says. It makes y/n furrow her brows and tilt her head at him like a little cat, only then that he realize what he has said, “Things! Got a lot of things on my mind. Sorry,” he clears his throat, looks away while hanging his helmet on the handle of his ride. “Haven’t been sleepin’ much.”
“Aw, I’m sorry. That sucks,” y/n pouts. Pouts at him. And he just blinks. Doesn’t smile or laugh.
“S’alrigh’. Y’got quite a large order this time. Havin’ a party?” As soon as the words left his mouth he wanted to slap his palm against his forehead. He probably sounded stupid, given there was clearly a raging party going on in the house behind her. Of course she was having a party, what he should’ve said what ‘what are y’celebrating?’ or ‘are you here alone?’. Like the ‘do you have a date?’ kind of alone.
“You got it right? Thank you. And… something like that, I guess. I’m a bit nervous, honestly, because I’ve never…” She shrugs, looking away from him and back to the house.
“Never been to a party like this?” He’s confused. Surely he can’t mean that she’s never smoked before? Right? Because if that were the case, then what did she do with the weed he gave her last time? And what was she doing at a party were they were on this much drugs.
“No! No, no, I’ve never… smoked before.” She’s adamant in shaking her head. Her hands too, splayed wide like jazz hands.
“Y’never smoked before? What about last time?” Harry hates how it sounds as though he’s accusing her, but he can’t seem to control the way his words are coming out of his mouth, not around her, and it’s making him look like a dick. What he wants to do is smile and tease her, to find some way to ask her if she would like to share a joint with him without sounding too sleazy.
Shaking her head, “those were for my roommate and his boyfriend.”
“Oh.” Harry’s heart pitter-patters in his chest, his mouth in a straight line, and although there’s an abundance of emotions elbowing against the other in his chest, he shows none of them.
“Yeah,” awkwardly, she shifts her weight from heel to heel, arms crossed before reaching into her pocket and bringing out a folded wad of cash. “$540, right?”
“That’s right, but…” C’mon man, he scolds himself, pull it fucking together. This is a concerning situation. Surely she can’t be buying this much this time and not plan on participating. “Are you gonna be a’right?”
Worrying her lips between her teeth, she lets out a deep breath before answering. Smiling and nodding as she answers as if she wants to convince herself, “I think so. How hard can it be?”
“Pretty hard if it’s y’first time, sweetheart,” Harry forces himself to smile a little, but instead it looks as though he’s grimacing. “Will y’friends walk y’through it?”
Y/n looks back at the house again, and shuffles her feet. She’s got a sad little look in her eye, droopy and shy. Great. He was making her uncomfortable. “They’re n-not really my friends,” she says, “but I guess so.”
What? “What?” The word is sharp in his mouth. What the fuck was she doing, then? Hanging with people that she didn’t look all that enthused to be with, buying their weed, standing out here all alone?
A male comes out of the house, red solo cup in hand, and he’s not wearing a fucking shirt. He’s waving a hand in the air, trying to flag y/n down Harry assumes, and he’s offended for her. Harry’s brows furrow and his hands curl into fists behind his back. Why isn’t he wearing a shirt? What the fuck is he drinking and why is he being so disrespectful interrupting their conversation this way? All for some weed?
Now on the last step, the guy shouts, “Y/n, what’s taking so long?”
The poor girl jumps, startled, and her eyes go wide. “Sorry, I’ll be in soon!” Y/n shoves the money at him, frazzled, and takes the paper bag from his hands. “Here's $560, Harry. The rest is a tip. You can count it if you’d like!”
“It’s alright, here you-” she’s already bounding away from him, but he doesn’t want her to go, and somehow, he finds the will to call her back. He just wanted her to look at him once more, because she wasn’t even inside yet, but he missed her gaze. “Y/n!”
She stops, and he gets exactly what he wants. Her attention. “Yes?”
Harry swings a leg over his motorcycle and gets ready to leave before he does anything stupid like… like trying to hold her hand or something. Who knows, he lost his ability to act his age around her. “Have a water bottle at your side,” he’s mumbling almost, “and don’t take too much in on your first try. Exhale and don’t freak out when y’start coughing. Or embarrassed. It’ll be okay. And… and do y’best to relax.”
“Thank you, Harry.”
And y/n smiles at him.
It’s small, and it’s meek the way a feral kitten approaches a human with food. Scared, and rightfully so, because Harry wants to scoop her up and take her home.
“Of course. Have a safe night.”
She nods and walks away with another piece of his heart in her hands.