#i already have a hard time w sleep n now just layin down hurts can i Please get some some rest . plea se

[ajdrawshq]

gonna be real here folks i think smth might really be up with me. in the physical sense this time . ouchie

[howrry]

when you need me pt.2

a/n: its 4 am, i just got back from a SUPER lit house party, i'm lowkey dying, here’s part 2 of wynm. part 1 here. don't think i can write anymore of this because it just makes me hate y/n more. also this is my 10th piece yaaay! enjoy <3

w/c: 3.4k

warnings: smuuut, mild dub con

***

Lit homework had to be one of the biggest wastes of time Harry’s ever partaken in.

He’s a psychology major, for crying out loud! Why does blocking and typecasting and the use of the Stanislavsky system matter to him? It doesn’t! But his uni required him to take the class, and if nothing else, he could appreciate it for being a GPA booster.

The only sound in his dorm was the squeaking of his mechanical pencil on the homework and his roommate Ashton’s music softly beating out of his Alexa. He was playing some soft XXXtentacion, which repulsed Harry. Just because his songs were good doesn’t mean it excused the rapper’s behavior—but he digressed.

God, Harry and Ashton were so different, it’s insane how his school’s roommate matching algorithm put them together. At this point, he wonders if he’s even enrolled in the university—he’s never seen him study or go to a class. It’s not like Harry’s a purist or anything; he loves a party and a good beer like any other college student, but Ashton was just buck wild. He even tried to hit on Gemma when she visited for a weekend, but that was shut down when H threatened to castrate him.

"I'm going out," Ashton announced on his way to the door, checking in the hall mirror to see if his hair was up to snuff and fluffing out the collar of his coat.

Shocker. This didn’t even warrant a glance up from the homework. "Where?" Harry didn't really care, but it wouldn't hurt to pretend he did.

"Y'know Meghan from Kappa?" Ashton asked, twirling his keyring around his fingers.

"Yeah?"

"I'll be at her place," he explained simply.

This got Harry’s attention. "But isn't she dating that rugby player? Matthew, or whatever?"

Ashton laughed and clicked his tongue. "So naive! Cheat or be cheated on, Styles. What's that phrase about not hating the player?" He shot finger guns at his roommate and bounced, slamming the door behind him without turning off the music.

Gross.

“Alexa, turn that shit off,” H mumbled, and the robot obeyed, not bothered by the profanity.

So that's how Harry ended up in his dorm alone for the night. Once he was finished up with his lit homework, the raw boredom really kicked in. He supposed he could go out, but he wasn't really the solo type and finding someone to go with him was more trouble than it was worth. At one point he even eyed the Tijuana cigar box Ashton kept under its bed, thinking that he could probably raid its contents for a night and Ash wouldn't notice, but the risk of an RA busting him wasn't super appealing.

He accepted defeat, and decided to simply call it an early night. He changed into flannel pants to sleep in and was brushing his teeth when his phone started buzzing. It was Y/N.

Questions started flying through his brain. Why was she calling him? And at this hour? His anxious side flared up as a million nightmare scenarios flooded his thoughts. Once he’d rinsed the toothpaste out of his mouth, Harry scrambled to swipe his finger across the screen and brought the phone to his ear.

"Y/N?" he tried to hide the urgency in his voice.

"Harry!" she blurted.

"Is everything alright?" he asked, not waiting for her to explain herself.

"Fuck, Harry I'm sorry," she started, "this is so weird to ask of you but I need your help."

A pit formed in his stomach. "What's wrong?"

"I'm in your city right now and my car broke down. Triple A is on their way and they're gonna fix it up tomorrow, but I totally don't have a place to stay. Can I crash at your place?"

Relief washed over him. Yeah, this wasn't exactly an ideal situation for her, but it was better than the kidnapping and murder scenarios he'd already painted in his head. "Of course. Y'know how to get to campus?"

"I've got a phone, don't I?"

Harry's eyebrow shot up involuntarily. Okay, bold. "Settle down, pet. I live in Taylor Hall, room 208."

"Taylor, 208," Y/N echoed. "Thank you so much, H. You're a lifesaver. I'll be there in 15 or so." She hung up without waiting for his goodbye, and Harry was left in his now-uncomfortably quiet room.

He scrambled around the dorm trying to hide any evidence that two boys lived there. Ashton was a bit of a disaster, but fortunately had an aversion to mold and other gross things so it was more about tidyingthe room than it was cleaning. Harry shoved dirty laundry into Ashton's closet and struggled to close the door on it before making both of their beds. He figured he could muss up the sheets after she left in the morning to avoid any taunting from his roommate. He practically broke a sweat struggling to make the room presentable, and managed to finish just in time before two solid knocks landed on his door.

"Harry! Long time no see!" She wasted no time stepping up and throwing her arms around his neck. He was taken aback by her affection, and paused for a minute before snaking his hands around her waist. "You sure look a lot better than the last time I saw you," she cheekily noted once she pulled back.

"Probably because m’not runnin’ around getting my arse kicked anymore," he bantered nervously. She looked great as well. Her face was a bit pink from the weather, and she seemed so much older despite it only being a year since he'd last seen her. Her black trench coat cinched gracefully at her waist and her jeans were tucked into also-black heeled boots. In all the years he'd known her, he couldn't think of one time she wore heels before now. What's changed?

Fortunately, she laughed at his awkwardness. (Since when did he feel so apprehensive around her?) "That's probably it." Y/N shrugged off her coat and hung it on one of the hooks by the door, leaving her in a plain red t-shirt. She fluffed her hair out and turned to him. "I thought ahead and grabbed some pajama shorts out of my car before the insurance people took it to the mechanic. Now I don't have to sleep in jeans." Sure enough, she pulled thin pair of shorts out of one of the coat pockets.

"Yeh just keep pajama shorts in your car?" he asked dubiously, sitting on his desk chair and rubbing his cold hands on his thighs.

"Yes! I keep plenty of spare clothes in my car for a situation just like this one!" she defended. "I'm gonna change real quick." She dipped into the bathroom and emerged shortly after wearing the shorts. Judging by the ball of clothing she haphazardly tossed in the corner, she'd taken off her bra, too.

Harry eyed her from his spot at the desk as she comfortably moved around the room, like she’d been there a hundred times. "Why are you here?" he asked suddenly, making her jump a little.

Her arms lifted to tie her hair up. "Have you already forgotten? You're a real nut, H. Car troubles? Ringing any bells?"

"No, no," he rubbed a hand down his face. "Why are yeh not at your own uni? Why are yeh in my city?"

"Oh." She hesitated before answering, climbing into his bed. "I'll be honest, it was a booty call. I called the other guy first when my car started acting up, but another girl answered. Figured he must have accidentally overbooked his evening and I remembered you go here, so here I am." Y/N sat cross legged and rested her chin in her palm, dazedly staring at Harry.

"Oh, wow. Sorry to hear that," he awkwardly mumbled.

She snorted. "I'll be okay. S'not like I had feelings for him."

This made something twist in Harry's stomach for some reason. Quiet, sweet Y/N that he'd known for years was just looking to get fucked and didn't care about feelings. This was a totally different person from the girl he grew up next door to. Who was she?!

"Either way, I really owe you one. I'll buy you a meal in the morning, but for right now, I'm exhausted." Y/N stood up and stretched an arm over her head. "Do you want me to take that bed?" She pointed towards Ashton's only recently made bed.

"No!" Harry barked suddenly and her eyes widened. "God only knows what's livin' in those sheets. I worry about what m’roommate does there when I'm not layin' in the same room next t'him."

"Gross," she responded around a laugh.

"My thoughts exactly. You can have my bed, and I'll just sleep on the floor," he decided, going to look for another blanket to lay on the ground.

Y/N scoffed. "You'd rather sleep on the ground than get in your roommate's bed?" Harry simply raised an eyebrow at her as an answer. "Again, gross. I wouldn't feel right kicking you to the floor. Are you trying to avoid sleeping with me?"

The wording threw Harry off, and he unfortunately stammered over his response. “I—no! I just—”

“Then we can share a bed.” She was matter-of-fact and didn't seem like she'd take no for an answer. It's not like he would've declined anyways, but she didn't even give him a chance before making herself right at home in his bed and patting the space next to her for him to join. He chortled and shut off the lamp, making his way in between his sheets by the light of the moon.

"Oh, and I'm a bit of a cuddler. Warning you now," she whispered with a wink before nuzzling into the pillow and falling fast asleep.

He couldn't complain.

***

Harry woke up in the middle of the night from the discomfort of not being alone.

It wasn't that Y/N was a bad person to sleep with, of course. He just was used to having the whole bed to himself and having a second human in his space made it hard to totally expand and take over the whole surface. Once he remembered specifically whowas with him, though, he didn't feel as bothered about not being asleep.

Y/N was tucked up closely to him, clearly having no problem making herself comfortable. He laid on his back, and she was on her stomach halfway on top of him. Her cheek was comfortably nestled on his chest, and her hand softly rested a few inches from her face. One of her legs was thrown over his own, and her mouth was popped open just a bit, breath fanning across his body. The two were laid up like they’d done it a million times. He smiled a little at how cute she was when she was sleeping; he couldn't help but gently rub a hand up and down her back. He was so cozy, he probably could've slipped right back into his doze if it weren't for her starting to talk.

Yes. Sleep talk.

"Harry," she drawled, almost whispering the name.

In his sleepy state it took a few seconds to make the connection that she was actuallydreamingabout Harry. In her defense, she was in his bed and called him for help after a mildly stressful situation, so it wasn’t totally weird that he’d be paying her a visit in her REM cycle. Regardless, a strange feeling swirled in his stomach at the mere thought of what was happening.

His ears were pricked up on full alert and his eyes snapped open to stare at the ceiling fan. He was too afraid to reply, and thus waited for her to say something else before he even dared breathing. "Let's... go," she finally finished.

He chuckled, chest rising a bit but not letting his gaze move from the fan. "Go where?" he whispered, humoring her sleep talk.

"I... I don't know. Wanna..." followed by a deep exhale.

Harry found this quite endearing. He allowed her to continue softly babbling little snippets of sentences, trying and failing to piece them together into coherent thoughts. Again, he almost let himself drift off again until one of her words had much more conviction than before.

"Please."

He could feel her lips ghosting across his body where her head lay. This felt different than her previous mumbling-- she knew what she was trying to say in her dream.

"Yes, Y/N?" Harry got out softly, eyes fixed steadily on the ceiling.

"I need--" She's still not super great at finishing her sentences while sleeping, apparently. "Harry, please."

Then talking just wasn't enough for her- she started to move. First her fingers dug into his chest a bit, nails intending to grip him but not quite enough to be felt through the cotton of his shirt. Then her lower body shifted where the apex of her legs was pressed against his hip, moving up and down ever so slightly without ever losing contact. Her breathing became heavier until it turned into an unabashed, shameless moan. A moan!

That's when it clicked. She was grinding on him, and the spot where the two of them were connected sent sparks through his entire body. "I-- Y/N, are you having a dirty dream about me?" he asked dumbfounded, even though he already knew the answer.

She let out a whine at the sound of his voice. "I need you," she said, dragging her nails down into his skin even harder than before. Her pathetic hip movements sped up as well. "Please touch me."

What the fuck? Is… Does… Would this even be ethical? She’s asleep! Can she even give consent? Does it matter if she’d already started grinding on him? Was this something she really wanted or was it just a snippet of her dream making its way into reality?

"I-I can't," he confessed. What the hell was he supposed to do? Not only did their relationship go too far back for this to not be weird, but his mum once told him something about not waking someone while they sleep walk or talk or it might give them sleep paralysis. He chose to stay stone fucking still, simply lying there and watching one of his childhood friends using his hip to make herself cum.

It was sloppy and desperate, her hips rocking against him. She stopped scratching to brush her hands against the swell of his chest muscles, separated only by the thin t-shirt. "P-pull my hair," she begged.

And he was fucking torn. Of coursehe wanted to give into her request, but what if he woke her up? How could he explain what he was doing, or the hard-on he was sporting? His lip was trapped between his teeth, gnawing away as he thought it over.

Screw it-- he could pretend to be asleep if she stirred. Harry creeped his hand up and threaded his hand into her hair, tugging at the roots and almost lifting her head. "Like that, baby?" he cooed. A porn star moan slipped from her lips and her movements faltered for a second. He feared he'd pulled too hard and stayed completely still, leaving his fingers bunched up until she slowly got back into the swing of her pitiful thrusts.

"Fuck… me harder," she whimpered, and Harry thought he was going to fucking die.

Honestly, he was a little pissed. Where the hell did she get off thinking she could kick him out of her home after kissing her, only to show up at his doorstep a year later and dry fuck his leg in her sleep? The audacity!

His thoughts were interrupted by her choking out a "g'na cum," and he pulled at her hair again. Oh right, this is where she got off.

"Yeah pet? G'na make a mess for me?" he spurred on. He knew he shouldn’t be doing this, and he’d probably feel like garbage about it in the morning, but that sounded like a problem for morning Harry. He had to see what she looked like when she finally got her release.

She lost her smooth rhythm again and was now scrambling to hit her high—all he could do was watch. When she finally did cum, it was mesmerizing. She cried out his name before cutting herself off and freezing for a moment. Once the peak hit, her legs trembled as she continued dry humping him until she'd fully ridden out everything.

It was, without a doubt, one of the hottest fucking things Harry had ever seen. Her nails dug into him once more as she let her heart rate settle down. Eventually, she sighed and nuzzled her cheek into his body.

As if all of that wasn't torturous enough, she had to top that entire performance by mumbling out a soft, "Thank you... daddy," and Harry almost let out a fucking groan. Her breathing soon evened out as she drifted back into a dreamless sleep, and he guessed there wouldn't be any more speaking for the night.

So much for falling back asleep.

***

The next morning, Harry was perfectly content with pretending that the events from previous night had never happened.

By the time he’d woken up, Y/N had retreated to her side (well, not really her side—it was a twin sized bed, so more like her “corner”) and was facing the wall. She wasn’t asleep for much longer than that, as she soon stirred and moved to climb over Harry.

When she was fully straddling him, he froze and made awkward eye contact with her. “Settle down, tiger, I’m just getting up.” He almost laughed at the irony. If only she had any idea what she put him through the night before.

Y/N changed back into her jeans in the bathroom and swished some of Ashton’s mouthwash. Harry watched her fluff her hair in the mirror with his arm tucked behind his head.

“I want pancakes, thoughts?” she suggested, coming back in the room and plopping down on his desk chair.

Oh right. She’d offered to buy him breakfast last night. Harry wasn’t sure he could be around her any longer without things become suffocatingly awkward. “Oh, yeh don’t have to do tha’ for me,” he countered, shaking his head and getting out of bed.

She watched him scramble about the room, focusing on everything except her. Her eyebrows shot up when he shamelessly dropped his flannel pants to the ground and shoved on some dark jeans from his drawers. He couldn’t care less, though; the events from the night before had erased any modesty he may have felt in her presence. “Really? You’re gonna give up free breakfast just to kick me out?”

“I’m not kicking you out!” he protested, though she had no room to talk. Their last encounter ended with her literally slamming a door in his face. Before he could even argue with her, he was interrupted by keys in the lock. Fuck.

Ashton sauntered in with the confidence of a king, hair mussed and shirt obviously on backwards. “Hello, London, how are we doing this fine mor—” he stopped his weird greeting (a la Harry’s accent) when he realized his room had more occupants than just his roommate.

Harry wanted to crawl into a hole and die. Ash’s eyes drifted from Y/N in the chair, to Harry untimely zipping up his pants, to his own made-up bed, and everything clicked in his mind. The pieces didn’t go together but they made a puzzle nonetheless. A slow smile curled up on his face as he made a beeline for her and stuck out his hand. “Well hello, I’m Ashton, Harry’s roommate.”

“Y/N, charmed,” she deadpanned, extending out her own hand and grinning at Harry when Ashton kissed it. “I’ve heard plenty about you.”

“All bad, I hope,” he returned, making Harry snort.

Y/N stood up and retrieved her coat from the hooks near the door. She shrugged it on and tossed the hair that got stuck under the collar. “I’ll catch up with you later, H. It was nice meeting you, Ash.” She politely nodded to the boys and was out before Ashton could say a “likewise”.

The second the door slammed, the onslaught started. “I didn’t think you had it in you, Styles. I was almost starting to think you were a eunuch or something, but apparently not! She’s cute too, is she blind? Or did you pay her to come here?” Ashton poked and prodded at H as he undressed and went to take a shower.

Harry’s phone buzzed, and the text he received made his roommate’s taunts sound like rushing water in his ears. It was from Y/N.

Next time, don’t pull so hard.