Favourite Trope 🤗🤗 Made By Fav Writer 🤗

Technical difficulties - Y/N suggests rough angry sex to let out Harry’s frustration after a show

Inspired by the gif attached ;)

WARNING = SMUT, ANAL female receiving

Word count = 2,617

Masterlist

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"Baby you did fine, told you were amazing"

"jus' so annoying this keeps on happening. It's all fuckin' fine during sound check then they're messin' around when it's bloody show time s' not fair for the fans. I asked them to turn it up how many fuckin' times"

"no one would have noticed, it didn't affect the performance Haz you know I'm always honest with you"

"they would have been watchin' me and clocked me getting pissed"

"I know it's annoying but you can't change what happened, it was a slip-up sure, and you did make a face which wasn't ideal. But everyone had so much fun and if you enjoy it they would have enjoyed it. H they want to support you and have a good time not criticise you." He grunted moving closer and nustled his face into your neck

further, "you're always bloody right you know that don't you"

not wanting to wind him up you bent down to give his forehead a gentle kiss continuing to run your hands through his damp hair causing an innocent moan to slip out of his mouth.

You clocked he was in a little bit of a mood after the show had finished, he was quiet. Harry was far from quiet as a person.

So when he was practically silent in the car ride back to the hotel, with just his hand routinely placed on your knee but sat looking out the window you knew something was wrong.

He undressed and went straight into the shower. You carried on respecting that he needed space to breathe, so when he then exited the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist and a toothbrush hanging out the side of his mouth leaning against the door frame you took this time to speak up.

"You alright H, seem quiet"

"mmh...just a bit pissed...did I- you know did I do okay tonight?" He spoke with wide puppy eyes seeking comfort and praise.

"Course you did amazingly, told you that when you walked off the stage. How comes you're pissed what's up?"

"Just the technical difficulty's fucked me off"

"Right finish brushing your teeth and come for a cuddle and we can talk about it okay, don't beat yourself up. Continuing to brush his teeth, Harry nodded.

-

He'd you thought he would have calmed down after he'd vented to you. But he still remained leaning on your chest, not being able to see his face and thinking he was oblivious to your actions as he was venting, you stopped moving your hand through his hair which caused Harry to let out a "why'd you stop"

"thought it wasn't helping with your aggravation" frowning his eyebrows Harry responded. "Feels good... fuckin' unlike-" "fuck me"

Harry pulled away from you to look at you in the face confused by your interruption

"huh"

" H, you're pissed off and talking about it hasn't helped so just fuck me...c'mon you can be rough, like really rough with me. Just get it out of your system"

He took a few seconds to scan over your face to confirm you were one hundred percent on with the idea. Seeing your face blank and being completely serious.

That was all the encouragement he needed as his pupils darkened looking at you. You were the first to undress with Harry still hungrily looking at you having not of moved or undressed himself yet.

"C'mon Harry, are you going to fuck me or what?-"

Not allowing you to finish your sentence Harry wrapped his hand around your throat a little tighter than usual.

"This is how it's going to go okay, m' gonna fuck you senseless, you're going to be a good fuckin' girl and take it alright... If m' too much safeword okay?"

You nodded against the restriction of his hand, gulping for air causing Harry to let go of his grip.

Scattering his clothes on the floor next to yours he gripped your jaw pulling you into a kiss underneath him. Catching you off guard he slipped two curled fingers inside of your pussy.

"Fuckin' wet already aren't you? Find it hot that I was pissed off huh?"

He withdrew his fingers completely before leaning down to spit on you and then cupping his hand and slapping your pussy causing a pathetic moan to slip out of your mouth.

Siliva glistened on his lip as he spoke, "You didn't answer Y/N"

"mmh, you looked so hot H 'm sorry "

"Good girl" He voiced before grabbing your hips and turning you onto your knees tummy against the bed.

You weren't strangers to quickies or rough sex. But Harry would always thoroughly 'prep' you. He was no stranger to spending hours between your legs until they were shaking and then fuck you. He'd tease you in as many ways as he could. But this was fast, hot and heavy.

As you wiggled your ass into the air in an attempt to tease Harry he brought his hand down striking your ass cheek, causing a red outline of his hand to be left in its place.

"So fuckin' desperate for me aren't you bloody always want me' cock"

"Haz" you turned your head slightly looking towards him behind you towering over you, with gritted teeth breathing deeply.

"Quit the whining alrigh' Y/N " Harry ran his fingers through the back of your hair before roughly pushing your head down into the mattress.

Harry leant down, kissing your lower back trailing his tongue against the skin pulling at it slightly. Before you heard him make a sound which was followed by the feeling of spit running down the middle of your arse. Harry took either one of his hands and pulled either side revealing the mess he began to make letting out a grunt of satisfaction.

"look at you hmm, gonna let me fuck you hard hmm let out all my anger, m' not going to be kind to you poppet"

"I don't want you to be"

He spat on his thumb admiring the way how the liquid ran down it before using his right hand and spreading your ass cheek open once more again, placing his thumb at your entrance.

He then began applying pressure to your rim causing you to let out a noise sounding like it was a mix of a whimper and a inhale of breath.

Harry pushed harder which caused you to open up allowing his thumb to slip inside.

Knowing the feeling himself Harry was often extra gentle with anal he'd normally run his tongue against you a few times before slipping in or at least grabbing a generous bottle of lube to help ease in, but obviously not today.

As he circled his thumb around inside of you. You took this time and pushed back against him slightly wanting additional movement and pressure muttering a "please Harry want more"

"fuckin' said I'll give you more, bloody wait" your pussy throbbed at his words. He was normally so encouraging telling you how pretty your hole looked stretching out for him and telling you how well you were taking his fingers, practically so tight it felt suffocating. But if it wasn't with words it would be with kisses, having neither the lack of praise was causing you to want to please Harry more so you knew you were doing a good job.

"If you don't behave m' gonna leave you with a toy shoved up inside of you for bloody hours maybe all night, and m' gonna sit there and make you watch me cum over and over again."

Your eyes shut at his words picturing Harry's tummy and thighs covered in such sight. He'd done it a few times as a punishment and it was torture.

Harry had stopped the movements of this thumb but left it so it still remained inside of you causing an uncomfortable deep breath to escape your mouth. He picked up his heavy-feeling cock and began to pump his angry tip, noticing how his vein which ran along the side was pulsing ready to be touched. Not being able to see his movements you assumed he was wanting for you to do something, so arched your back more and brought both of your hands to either side of your bum spreading them apart for him to see, wanting to put on a little bit of a show for Harry.

"Fuckin' hell Y/N stay like that" he moaned causing you to smirk, there it was that's what you wanted, just a small amount of praise would do for now. His balls felt painfully full and heavy as he was still pumping himself, he shuffled on the bed closer to you, allowing you to feel the hair on his legs and skin brush against you.

You knew your hips were going to be bruised in the best way possible by tomorrow, growing slightly stiff from being in the position for a while you rolled your back and neck to try and help with the aching and welcome some blood flow to help with numbness. This caused Harry to bring his hands down harder than before to your behind with the sound of him hitting it now echoing around the room slightly.

Pulling his thumb out of you, Harry leant down slowly pressing his body against yours, moving your hair to one side and brushing his lips against your ear. You could have sworn you could hear your own heart beating from anticipation and tension for Harry's next movements. His prick was hot and slightly sticky from precum against your back and his cool cross necklace ran against your skin causing your body to shiver.

His stubble brushed against your jaw as he moved closer to your ear, his breath fanning your neck. "Missing my thumb in your ass already? Don't worry m' gonna fill it. Gonna fuck your holes, and you're gonna fuckin' take it. Now stay bloody still don't want to tell you again Y/N”

You gulped at his words as Harry moved away, he'd barely touched you yet your mouth felt dry, but your pussy felt far from it. Your wetness felt slick and uncomfortable warm as it began to spread against the inside of your thighs.

You wanted to press your legs together so badly, and most definitely reach a hand down to your puffy neglected clit. Not wanting to disobey Harry you decided against his.

He slapped his still-angry head against you a few times before moving his thumb back inside of you whilst at the same time finally slipping his cock into your pussy causing your head to roll from the feeling of being full at both ends.

You were a wet mess.

Harry wasn't particularly an angry person at all, and you wouldn't wish for him to be fucked off but god did he look hot when he was. "s' this what you wanted Y/N"

You lifted yourself up on your elbows wanting to change positions to answer Harry but he just pushed his hand against your back pushing you back down and causing a huff to leave your lips and for your tits to brush against the bedding, as he carried on angrily thrusting into you letting out an animalistic grunt. He knew if you weren't comfortable at any point you'd say the word he'd stop, but as of right now, he was going to take you exactly how he wanted it.

Without warning, he removed both his thumb and cock from you making you let out a dissatisfied gasp, Harry shuffled closer and replaced it with the head of his cock now against your asshole which drove you to bite your lip anticipating pain.

"God can't fuckin' listen to me can you, obviously bloody no one can follow any instructions I give around here fuck-"

His thrusts were deep and aggressive which matched the grunts that left his mouth. Your hands gripped the sheets in front of you and your eyes watered slightly at the feeling happening so quickly, it was a good pain, but it was still a pain. Plus Harry was far from small so normally when he was taking you from behind he wouldn't push all the way in, maybe just a quarter.

His grip on either side of your hips ensured you stayed still as he fucked your arse. His hips slammed against you causing the sounds of bodies slapping against each other to fill the room. You knew you were going to feel so sore in the morning and you definitely wouldn't be able to sit down but as of right now it just felt heavenly.

“So full H fuck so so full”

Harry picked up his pace moving one hand to the back of your head and pushing you further down into the duvet, moving one hand under your tummy to pull you further back against him to meet his thrusts.

His hand sluggishly dropped as he was fucking you as he ran two of his fingers against your slit before landing his way on your clit. Your knees began to shake as you could feel them wanting to buckle from feeling overstimulation from feeling so full. Your jaw began to ache from the constant moans escaping.

"so tight 'round me" Harry's movements began to grow sloppy, you both knew neither of you were going to last long. Harry moved his hands so they both grabbed either side of your hips once more, lifting you up off your tummy and now being sat bent down on your knees so you were practically sat on his dick with Harry sat on his calve's pushing himself in and out of your rim behind you.

Your toes were curling from the new position and you couldn't help but reach your hand behind Harry's head which had fallen into your neck to grab onto his once freshly showered now sweaty hair which began to curl together.

Your legs continued to shake and your moans grew an octave higher. Recognising these sounds Harry circularly rubbed your clit which you grabbed onto his wrist as your body grew warm and your stomach tightened dropping your shoulders from the feeling.

Harry wasn't far behind you he slowed down his pace audibly letting out possibly the filthiest nose you'd ever heard as he cummed into your ass.

Reluctantly he waited a few seconds before pulling out now being aware of how rough he really was being with you and such a delicate area.

You'd tiredly flopped onto your front in an attempt to catch your breath and begin to recover. Still in a clouding haze from cumming Harry couldn't stop himself from pulling your cheeks apart for the final time that night watching the white creamy liquid leak out from your hole causing Harry to let out a satisfied hum with a smirk on his face.

"H...please s' sore n' sensitive"

Harry retreated his hands softly pressing a kiss to one of the red outlines of where his hand had hit moments ago.

"Did so good f' me Y/N, fuckin' hell needed that" He began to need your calves innocently to receive some possible built up tension.

"Well, I would like to think you're no longer in a mood?"

"Might have to be pissed off more often if I get to fuck you like that"

"Harry I don't actually think I'm going to be able to sit down or walk tomorrow"

You were right. The whole next day you spent dressed in comfy clothes simply saying to people you'd worked too hard on leg day the day before. Although Harrys constant smirk told people otherwise.

Narcissistic Behaviour

Summary: Harry loves to talk about himself, but it’s suppose to be Y/N’s special day. (wc: 2627)

a/n: I guess it’s angst and fluff but what do I know? The answer to that is absolutely nothing lol. Enjoy!

It was moments like this that made you feel like you were dating a narcissist. When it’s just the two of you, Harry let’s you do all the sharing. He encourages you, actually, to talk more about yourself and he would listen.

But when there was more people around, Harry liked to be the best host he can be, showing off his major success and sharing his own stories. There’s nothing wrong with that, but you wish during times like these he would share the attention.

Especially since it was your birthday. The one day of the year that you felt it was okay to be a little selfish, calling it national Y/N day. It was the only day of the year that you weren’t trying to get out of the spotlight, being so used to be invisible and never attention seeking.

And because you are okay with the attention for one day, Harry threw you a surprise party. Something that inevitably makes you center of attention, or so you thought.

Harry’s place was dark as you entered but it only lasted a minute as a giant group of people jumped up as the light flickered on and they all cheered, “HAPPY BIRTHDAY!”

You started laughing as you calmed down from your mini heart attack and others chuckled at your jump from the scare. You scanned the room and saw that the majority of people were friends, only some were unfamiliar but most likely Harry’s friends.

Harry appeared from the group to give you a big hug, lifting you off the floor and doing a quick spin. “Happy birthday, princess,” he spoke as he kissed your cheek.

“Thank you, H,” you smiled widely. You adored this man.

When he was finally put you down from your special birthday hug, you started to make your rounds of greeting the guests and chatting with some acquaintances.

–

You now stood with a group of your closest friends.

“This party is great, Y/N,” your friend comments. You were in the middle of thanking her when Harry snuck up behind you, wrapping his arms around you from behind you.

“Yeah, I know, I did it myself,” Harry said. Your friends laughed at his usual conceitedness.

“And you did a great job, Har,” you said, turning to give him a quick kiss on the cheek.

“What have you been up to, Y/N?” your friend, Nora, asks. “I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever.”

“I know right! I’ve been so busy with work lately. I haven’t had time for anything else lately.”

“Poor thing,” a friend commented.

“I’ve been telling her she needs to go on a vacation,” Harry chipped in. “But she won’t take the time off.”

“Y/N!” Nora scowled, “You need to live a little. When’s the last time you took time off?”

You shrug, unsure of the answer. The only time you can recall was over a year ago with Harry to Jamaica.

“It was forever ago,” Harry spoke up for you. “Like what, a year ago?” He looks at you for reassurations and you nod. “She wouldn’t even go with me to Cabo last week.”

“What?!” Your friends stood there shock. Not only did you give up a vacation, but you gave it up for work when you could have hit the beach with THE Harry Styles. “Well how was Cabo?” another friend asks, everyone looks over to Harry.

“It was good… actually, it was great. It’s beautiful over there, especially during this time of year.”

“And the beach?”

“The sand is so soft and the water is so clear n’ warm. It was a fun experience.” Harry was exaggerating a bit. Yes, the beach was beautiful, but he didn’t stay long enough to relax and enjoy the waves because of the paps that started to crowd the area. But no one needed to know that boring piece of information.

The questioning continued for the popstar, your friends interested in knowing why he went there in the first place and all the top notch celebrities that he spent time with. It started to feel as if this was no longer your birthday party but Vogue’s 73 question interview with Harry Styles.

You became bored, irritated, and ignored so you excused yourself, not that anyone noticed, to another part of the house. You moved to the kitchen and started to refill your wine glass.

“Hey there, birthday girl!” You turn to see a very old friend of yours, Bradley.

“Wow, if it isn’t the Bradley James. How have you been?” You ask as you both reach out for a hug.

“I’ve been good, how about you?”

“A lot better since our college days.” He chuckles a little, thinking about how troublesome the years you shared in college were.

“Oh yes, our infamous college days of sleep deprivation and starvation. Luckily, I’m not too busy that I get enough sleep now.”

“Oh lucky!” You whine. “I’m still tired from not enough sleep back then.” As you and Bradley continued your discussion, Harry had entered the kitchen, getting away from the interview he created.

He swiftly appeared by your side and added himself into the conversation effortlessly, asking, “Whatcha guys talkin’ about?”

“Our sleep schedules or lack thereof,” Bradley answered.

“Oh, really?” Harry was slightly confused on how such a subject was interesting.

“Yeah, you wouldn’t understand, it’s an old thing for us,” you responded bluntly. You assumed that Harry would either continue to listen to you guys or excuse himself, because how could he possible make an inside joke that doesn’t understand about him?

Well count on Harry to find a way. As you told Bradley how sometimes you couldn’t get enough sleep because of your job, Harry jumped in.

“Yeah, she doesn’t even get to sleep sometimes,” Harry started. Finally, you thought, something about me out of his mouth. But as he continued, your thought was proven wrong, “and I feel bad because I know how that feels. I basically have no sleep schedule on tour because I never get to sleep.”

“Oh man, that’s sounds challenging,” Bradley spoke. Suddenly, you wanted to catching up with Bradley another time, a time when someone else wasn’t eager to put himself in everything.

“Trust me, it is.”

And that’s when you see the perfect plan for your escape. Your absolute best friend, and also Harry’s sister, Gemma arriving late like usual, is now finally entering. She spots you looking at her and waves. “Oh, Gemma just got here. I’m going to go talk to her, but Bradley we need to catch up more.”

“Definitely, let me know when.” You nod and give him a quick departure hug. You’re glad when you see Harry doesn’t follow you to his sister.

“Happy birthday, girl!!” She exclaims while waving a present in front of you.

“Thank you, now come get drunk with me.” You grab her by the wrist and drag her to the home bar. You take out two shot glasses and start filling them with tequila. This is what you need to relieve the frustration you are feeling. You quickly down your shot before she can even pick hers up. You down another one in no time.

“Woah, Y/N, you’re either having the best birthday ever, or the worst,” She snickers, “Which one is it?”

“I mean, it’s not the worst, but that brother of yours…” You don’t care to finish the sentence because she knows by your tone that he is irritating you.

“What’s he doing now?” Gemma ask. You wait to take two more shots before explaining everything.

“He’s such an…ughhh” you groan out in frustration. “He won’t shut up about himself. It’s my birthday and he won’t shut up about himself!”

“I told you he was a narcissist,” Gemma jokes, trying to lighten your anger. It takes a few minutes before your anger is fully gone, thanks to Gemma and the tequila. You’re not drunk, just a little tipsy at this point.

Gemma drags you back to the party and back to socializing. Harry hasn’t been anywhere to be seen recently but that’s not your main priority right now.

It wasn’t until half an hour later when he came back out of nowhere. But now he was carrying a large cake with the help of Bradley. Everyone crowded the living room as they all sang “Happy Birthday.” The large cake was placed in front of you and you admired the big sparkly candles. When the song was done, it took two big huffs to blow them out.

The cake was sliced and pieces were distributed. Your favorite part of the party was now. As people took seats and enjoyed their cakes, your closest friends got up to say a few words about you. Nora’s was short and simple, Gemma’s was funny and full of inside jokes. Harry was last to go.

“Alright, hello everyone,” Harry was never a big fan for speeches, especially about people that meant so much to him, “so I want to say a few things about my wonderful girlfriend.” That title always made you smile. You positioned himself so that he was looking directly at you. “The past couple of years I’ve spent with you, I’ve come to learn that you are the most hardworking and understanding person I know.” You did always enjoy a good compliment, but what started off good took a turn for the worse. “Even when I’m gone traveling and performing around the world and furthering my career, you understand and support me no matter what…” You drowned out whatever he said next as the anger inside came back.

You stood up abruptly and spoke out, “Wow, you’re unbelievable, Styles. Can’t stop talking about yourself for one second, can you?” It was obviously a rhetorical question, but even if it wasn’t, you stormed out before he could even answer. The confusion on his face matched everyone else’s. It was silent for a moment as people tried to understand what had happened.

Finally, Harry spoke up, “I-I’m going to go check on her.”

He found you in his en suite bathroom. You stood with our arms out leaning on the counter, and looking at yourself in the mirror. The door was open but he still knocked as a precaution.

“Y/N? What was that about?”

She huffed out a large amount of air before answering, “It was about you being so damn self-centered.”

“W-what? Self-centered? You think I was being self-centered?” He never thought he had acted self-centered this evening and was quite embarrassed with her outburst.

“No, Harry, I don’t think you were being self-centered, I know you were being self-centered. Everything you said was about you or was leading up to be about you.”

“Woah, that’s not true. It was your friends that wanted to talk about me and asked me questions, I didn’t ask for that.”

“Then if you had such a problem with talking about yourself, you should have excused yourself. And what about Bradley? He never asked for you to complain about the sleep you don’t get. And that speech, that stupid speech!”

“You didn’t even let me finish that ‘stupid’ speech before you embarrassed me in front of every-”

“There you go again! You’re worried about being embarrassed right now instead of my own feelings. You know what,” you release a heavy sigh, “just go back to your party. I don’t want to deal with you right now.”

Harry didn’t argue back, he took you in for a few more seconds before giving a slight nod and going back downstairs. He felt like a child that was just scolded.

–

They party ended way earlier than expected. It was a bit awkward that they celebrating a girl who wasn’t even there. As everyone else had left, Gemma stayed for a tad bit longer to talk to Harry about what had happened.

“I don’t understand where all that came from. I was just trying to throw her a nice birthday party n’ she seemed to enjoy it,” Harry ranted.

“Harry, it’s not that she didn’t like the party.”

“Then what is it? How is me throwing her a party self-centered?” And so Gemma explained, in a much calmer way than you tried earlier. She explained how you felt about the way he acts at public events. For the most part, you never cared when Harry talked about himself at other social events because the events were usually for him. And there would be other celebrities to brag about their luxury lives so it only seemed natural.

But these were your friends who didn’t to go on vacations whenever they wanted or buy a fancy car just to drive around a foreign city. Then again, that’s why Harry liked to share cool things about his life to your friends. He knows how much your friends mean to you and only wants to impress them, convince them that he is good enough for you.

Not everyone was a big fan of you dating a world popstar at the beginning of the relationship, but years have passed and now they support you. But sometimes Harry feels the need to continue to get their approval.

You didn’t know he felt that way and you didn’t know that’s why he acted in such a way. But how could you know this if he never spoke to you about it? Talking to you was what Gemma suggested after she spoke on your part and he confessed his slight insecurity.

With a goodbye hug, Gemma had left and Harry started ascending the stairs. He noticed how you were all ready for bed, in your pajamas and deep under the covers. You have your earbuds in to drown out the sound of what was once happening downstairs and to try to relax. You didn’t see him enter because you were facing away from the door. But you felt the bed dip as he scooted in, still fully closed.

“Y/n…” he spoke quietly. There was no reply. He softly rested his hand on her shoulder. You were slightly startled by the contact, but then slowly turned over to face him. Your simple compliance caused a small smile to grow on his face. He took out your earbuds out and you let him. You didn’t say anything, but instead waited for him to start talking.

“M’sorry,” he spoke. “Gemma told me what I was doin’ and I promise it wasn’t intentional. I just want your friends to like me,” he talked shyly as if he was embarrassed by his request of approval.

“H, my friends already like you, and bragging about stuff won’t make them like you any more.” You were quiet, no longer angry.

“I know that now, and I’m sorry for not realising that sooner.” You sat up more and cuddled into him, resting your hand on his chest and relaxing your head into the crook of his neck. You were ready for this stupid argument to be over.

“I’m sorry, too. I shouldn’t have freaked out on you, especially in front everyone.” He mumbled something of reassurance that it’s okay. “It was a really nice party though. Thank you.” You looked up to him

“Of course. Happy birthday, love.” He closed the distance between the two of you with a sweet kiss.

“Is there any cake left?” You asked right after his lips departed yours. He chuckled at your love of cake.

“Yeah, I saved you some of my cake. And we can eat it with my fancy forks that I got in Italy,” Harry joked.

“You better shut it, Styles. It’s still my birthday.” Year after year, Harry was always the best gift you could ask for.

love love love

You Can Start a Family (Extra: Sickfic Part 2)

Summary: Y/N's condition is worse than they'd feared, leading to a hospital stay.

Previous Chapters:

Main Story: One ; Two ; Three ; Four ; Five ; Six ; Seven ; Eight ; Nine ; Ten

Sickfic Part 1

Word Count: 3.7K

Warnings: Medical condition, hospital, mentions of death

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You’re unconscious for three minutes. Three long minutes, during which Sarah, Mitch, and Harry all panic about what to do.

“Do we call an ambulance?” Harry asks while lifting you up and laying you on the couch.

“I don’t know!” Sarah replies, her voice wavering with nerves.

“I’ll look up her symptoms,” Mitch adds. “Maybe something online will tell us what to do.”

“Right, because the internet is so reliable,” Harry retorts.

“He’s just trying to get us some information,” Sarah says.

It’s quiet for a moment before Harry replies, “I’m sorry, I’m just kind of freaking out here.”

“I know, I am too,” Mitch says.

Their voices start to break through to you, but they sound far away. You try to reach for them, call out to them, but you’re too weak. You barely manage to twitch your arms and make a quiet noise, which luckily catches their attention.

Sarah kneels next to the couch by your head. She gently moves the hair out of your eyes and starts to stroke your face. “Love, can you hear us?”

You make a small noise which they take as a good sign.

“Great, that’s great,” she says through a relived breath.

A moment later you find your voice and say, “Mom?”

“No love, it’s Sarah,” she replies, instantly worried again.

“I want my mom,” you say. You’re sick, and scared, and confused, and in that moment you desire the comfort your mother can provide.

“I know baby.”

You turn to look at Sarah and ask, “Can you call her? Get her here?”

Everyone in the room immediately stills. Their panic goes up another notch at your question. They know your story. They know that your parents passed away years ago. The fact that you’re asking for her now indicates that you’re extremely confused, which is not a good sign when paired with all of your other symptoms.

“Can you please call her?” you ask again when no one answers you. “Or my dad? He’s normally better at answering the phone.”

“I’m calling an ambulance,” Mitch says to Harry and Sarah.

“What do you think is wrong?” Harry asks.

“Maybe a septic infection, my mom’s doctors gave us the warning signs after her surgery. High fever, dizziness, confusion, basically everything she’s got right now.”

“Is it dangerous?”

“It’s… yea. It’s not good. If that’s what it is then she needs the hospital right now.” Mitch steps away as his call to 9-1-1 is connected and he starts giving the necessary information.

You turn back to Sarah, not following any of the conversations happening around you.

“I don’t understand what’s happening,” you say through tears.

“I know, love. It’s going to be okay. We’re going to take care of you.” Sarah wipes away the tears on your cheeks and you listen as she continues to say soothing words.

Minutes pass with Sarah and Harry by your side, keeping you calm with words and gentle touches.

Mitch walks back in, but he’s not alone. With him are two paramedics. Harry and Sarah move to make room for them which causes you to begin crying again. In your confused state you don’t understand why they’re leaving you, why they would abandon you.

Harry quickly moves to stand over the back of the couch so he can hold your hand while remaining out of the way. Your eyes meet his and you calm down slightly.

The paramedics ask a series of questions which the others answer for you. They take your temperature and check your blood pressure, noting that both are worryingly high. After all of this Harry moves back to crouch in front of you and says, “Hi lovey. We’re gonna take you to see a doctor, alright? I’m just gonna move you onto the stretcher so we can go, okay?”

You barely understand what he’s saying, but as you trust him implicitly, you agree. He lifts you again and lays you on the stretcher. His hand never leaves yours as you’re wheeled out to the ambulance. You look around and Harry says, “Mitch and Sarah will meet us there. They’re gonna grab some stuff we might need later, and then they’ll drive over. You’ll see them soon, I promise.”

His words are perfect and prove just how well he knows you. He understands that being separated from your loved ones when you’re feeling like this will cause you stress, and he reassures you that the separation is temporary.

It ends up being hours before Mitch and Sarah are allowed to see you. The second you enter the Emergency Department you’re surrounded by a team of doctors and nurses. Harry is forced to step away so they can work. You cooperate to the best of your ability and after some of the scariest hours of your life you’re finally in a patient room with the three people you love most at your side.

You’ve been officially diagnosed with sepsis and started on IV antibiotics. While it’s too early to know your prognosis, the doctors commend Mitch on getting you to the hospital so quickly, as time is important when treating this.

Your brain is still incredibly foggy, and it takes all of your remaining energy to concentrate enough to know who is in the room with you. Finally, you piece together that Sarah is lying in the bed with you, Harry is sitting in a chair on your other side, and Mitch is standing at the foot of the bed. You feel safe knowing that they are there and allow your eyes to slide closed as you succumb to the exhaustion you’ve been fighting.

Sarah looks up at her husband and sees his intense gaze. He’s staring at you, barely blinking, tears pooling in his eyes. She knows him well enough to see his inner turmoil. He may not be talkative, or even very expressive, but Sarah can tell he’s terrified.

“Mitch, honey, come here please,” she says quietly. He doesn’t move, doesn’t respond in any way except to slowly shake his head no. His eyes never leave you; it’s as though you would disappear if he so much as blinked.

Harry sees Sarah’s worried expression, and since she can’t move at the moment, he takes action. He first lifts your hand up, pressing a kiss to it before gently placing it on the bed. Harry then stands up and carefully walks over to Mitch. He places a hand on Mitch’s shoulder, but it’s quickly shaken off.

“Mitch-” Harry starts but gets cut off.

“I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not,” Harry replies. “None of us are fine.”

“I can’t lose her.”

“We won’t.”

“You don’t know that! This is serious. Sepsis is deadly. This could kill her!”

“Mitch, come here,” Sarah says again, voice firmer this time.

“No.”

“Switch with me. You need to hold her.”

Mitch doesn’t move until Harry quietly says, “Go hold our girl.”

He finally moves, uncrossing his arms and walking to the side of the bed. Harry goes back to the opposite side so he can hold you up while Sarah slides out and Mitch situates himself.

Once he’s lying on the bed, which is in an upright position, Harry guides you so that you’re leaning against Mitch. Your back is resting on his chest, and he wraps his arms firmly around your waist. He feels the steady rise and fall of each breath you take, and for the first time in hours allows himself to relax and feel relief.

Harry sits in the chair by your bed and again holds your hand. Sarah stands on the opposite side, one hand on Mitch’s shoulder, the other occasionally moving to gently wipe away the tears that silently roll down his cheeks. Only after she’s sure everyone is sleeping as peacefully as possible does she finally sit on the couch in the room and rest.

It’s a long night, the first of many in your hospital stay. You’re barely conscious for most of it; even when you’re awake you can’t fight off the brain fog to understand what’s happening. All you know is that there’s always someone by your side, holding your hand, reassuring you that you’ll be okay. You believe these people, even if you can’t always identify them you know that you love and trust them.

However, for Harry, Sarah, and Mitch, every detail of this experience is deeply engrained in their memories. For Harry, the worst moment is watching your body seize after your temperature spiked. It’s the third day, and Mitch and Sarah are home grabbing some more clothes for everyone. The moment your body starts to jerk Harry is briskly led out of the way by hospital staff so they could tend to you. When you stop seizing they move you out of the room so they could run more tests, leaving Harry standing there alone.

He doesn’t know how long he stands there for, unmoving, unthinking, just in shock. Finally, the ringing of the phone in his pocket breaks through to him. He answers and at the sound of his mother’s voice on the line he finally breaks down.

Sarah and Mitch walk in to see Harry sobbing and you missing. They immediately panic and think the worst. Luckily, their presence comforts Harry enough that he’s able to calm down to explain what happened to them, as well as to his mom who is still on the phone.

To no one’s surprise Anne and Gemma arrive the next day to support all of you. Anne pulls her son in for a tight hug while Gemma sits with you. They switch after a little while, Gemma on the couch with Harry and Anne by your side. You’re dazed still, but awake, and you lean into her touch. She holds you like you’re one of her own.

For Mitch, the worst moment is a couple days later. It’s the middle of the night, everyone else home since hospital policy only allows one person with you at night. The nurse checks you and Mitch notices the worried look on his face. A minute later the nurse returns, this time with a doctor.

After the doctor finishes her exam she turns to Mitch to explain what’s happening.

He’s tired, and scared, and needs to clarify what he’s being told and says, “So her kidneys are shutting down? Her organs aren’t working right? Isn’t that like, the start of the end?”

“They’re not shutting down. However, they’re not working to their normal standard, but there are things we can do to reverse that. We caught it quick, and we’ve started the treatment. I know it’s scary, but please don’t worry yet.”

“You’ll tell us when to worry, right?” In that moment Mitch doesn’t care that he sounds like a little kid scared of monsters under the bed. He needs the reassurance from the professional.

“If it comes to that, I promise to be honest. But let’s hope it won’t okay?”

Mitch nods and the doctor checks you one last time before leaving the room. You’re awake, but groggy, so Mitch sits on the bed with you and sings quietly until you fall back asleep.

For Sarah, the worst moment is actually one evening where you’re awake, alert, and aware of what’s going on. At this point the doctors are allowing themselves to be more hopeful about your prognosis. Your kidneys are working properly again, your heart rate and temperature are staying at acceptable levels, and your labs are showing that the antibiotics are working against the infection.

Despite all of this good news, you know that your body has been through a lot, even if you hadn’t been aware of it at the time. You ask Sarah to be completely honest and tell you everything that you don’t remember. Reluctantly, she fills you in on the details.

You sit with the information for a moment until Sarah hears you whisper, “I’m going to die.”

“No, honey, no, you’re getting better. Why do you think you’re going to die?”

“My family. We- we don’t survive. We thought my dad was getting better and he took a turn and was gone so fast. We die. Maybe I’m supposed to die too. And then we’ll all be in heaven together.”

Sarah holds you close and says, “I know you miss them. And I know that you’re scared. But you have the best medical care, and you’re truly getting better. Just hold on a little longer.”

“What if I don’t want to anymore?”

It’s eerily silent in the room, save for the beeping of machines, until Sarah quietly says, “Please, love, please keep fighting. You have been through so much, but you’re still here. Maybe it’s selfish, but we need you here. Me, and Mitch, and Harry, we can’t do life without you. There’s so much more we want to do together, so please keep fighting. I promise we’ll make life wonderful. You just need to be here to see it.”

You notice the impact your words had on her, and realize you didn’t even mean it, not really. You don’t want to die. But you’re scared to let yourself think that way. You’re scared to be hopeful and positive because that’s when things go so horribly wrong.

You don’t know how to explain all of that, so you settle for promising her that you’ll fight to stay alive. She’s relived by your words, but still worried and holds on to you tight.

Sarah glances at the clock and knows that Harry will be back soon to take over the night shift. She just needs to keep her emotions in check until she gets home.

Once back at the apartment, she rushes into Mitch’s arms. She reassures him that nothing’s wrong with you and you’re still on the mend. She tells him it’s the buildup of emotions that has her this upset. He spends the night holding her as sobs wrack her boy, whispering to her that everything will be okay, placing comforting kisses to her head.

Just like he had done with you a few nights prior, he sings until Sarah falls asleep, then continues to cradle her in his arms.

More than two weeks after being admitted, you’re officially on the mend and infection free. Unfortunately, you’re still very weak and you need to spend a few days there undergoing psychical therapy to rebuild some strength. For you this is the worst part. You’re technically healthy, you’ve been living in a hospital forever, you miss your cats, and you just want to be home.

Everyone tries cheering you up and encouraging you in different ways, which all seem to work. You can tell they’ve been through a lot over the past few weeks so you do everything you can to get home to them.

You work especially hard one day after Sarah quietly and cheekily says, “We want to be able to celebrate your good health after you’re home. You’ll need stamina for that.” You blush at her words and the wink she gives you.

Finally, you’re officially discharged. You thank all of your doctors and nurses before Sarah wheels you out. Harry carries your bags and you all head to where Mitch is waiting with the car.

You enter your apartment to a welcome home banner, Mitch’s parents, Anne, and Gemma. Before you can greet any of them your cats both run over. You sit on the floor, and they fight for your attention, meowing, purring, rubbing their faces against yours.

Eventually they’re satisfied that it’s really you and they move off of your lap. Harry helps you stand back up and spends the rest of the afternoon hovering by your side.

Anne and Gemma make dinner, and though your appetite isn’t back to normal, you enjoy every bite of the homecooked meal. As everyone is eating the dessert Mitch’s parents brought, you start to lose energy. Harry is still next to you, and you lean into him more and more, needing his support.

“Time for bed, love?” he asks quietly. You sleepily nod yes in reply.

You wave good night to everyone, and Harry helps you get ready for bed. He lays down with you, and you can hear voices coming from the dining room.

“Do you want me to ask them to leave? Or talk quieter?” he asks you.

“No,” you reply. “I like hearing them.”

Within minutes you’re asleep, sprawled on top of Harry whose arms are holding you tight to him. You wake up briefly in the middle of the night and see that Sarah and Mitch are on either side of you and Harry. For the first time in a month, you feel content.

Unfortunately, you’re still feeling the effects of your illness weeks later. You’re facing more fatigue than usual. Since the infection had started in your lungs, they experienced some damage and still give you trouble. You try to be a good patient for the others, taking any medicine and treatments the doctors still have you on, but sometimes it gets frustrating the way they baby you.

It comes to a head one day in mid-December while you’re all decorating the apartment for Christmas.

First is Harry telling you to put on another coat while you’re putting lights on your deck outside. You explain the multiple layers you’re already wearing, but he insists that you need the coat, so you give in. You’re sweating by the time you’re done.

Next is Mitch taking over when you’re assembling your artificial tree. Sure, it was bulky and heavy, and the needles always gave you at least a few small scratches, but it had been your grandparents. You’d assembled it for them every year since you were big enough, and completing that task always signifies the start of Christmas to you. But again, you step back and let him take over, knowing that he means well and just wants to help.

The real tipping point is when you get on a ladder to put the star on top of the tree. All three of them offer to do it instead, and then hover around you the whole time you’re up there.

“You’re all being dramatic,” you say as you reach just a little farther to get the topper perfectly situated. You see Harry’s hand dart out towards you, and you roll your eyes.

“We just want you to be safe,” Sarah says as you walk down the ladder.

“I am. I am perfectly safe. Nothing I’m doing is dangerous. I have no desire to do anything that will risk my life. I kind of want to keep living, you know.”

“That’s not what you said before,” Sarah states so quietly, like she didn’t mean to let that thought out.

The room goes silent, Mitch and Harry both looking between the two of you.

“What?” you ask. “What are you talking about?”

“Nothing. Sorry, it’s nothing. I didn’t mean-”

“No, you absolutely did mean to say it. When did I say I didn’t want to live?”

You see the tears fill her eyes and want to go over to comfort her, but you’re frozen. Because suddenly you remember the conversation. And you feel awful. You hate yourself for having said that to her, especially seeing that she’s still affected by those words that weren’t even true.

“One night at the hospital. When you made me tell you everything that had happened to you. And then I had to beg you to fight and hold on for us! You wanted to leave us!”

“Is that true, Y/N? You wanted to die?” Harry asks. Mitch is frozen next to him, staring at the floor like he doesn’t want to hear any of this.

“No!” you say. “I promise, it’s not true.” Finally, you’re the first to move, and you walk to Sarah, gently cupping her cheek, forcing her eyes to meet yours.

“I do not want to die. I didn’t want to die then, I swear. But, at that point, I thought I was going to anyway. I’m so used to everything going wrong that I didn’t want to allow myself to hope. Please believe me, I do not want to leave you.”

She’s silent for a moment and you wipe away the tears that roll down her cheeks.

“I believe you,” she whispers. You share a small smile and press your lips to hers is a chaste kiss.

When you look up you see that Mitch and Harry still haven’t moved.

You pull away from Sarah and say, “Come here.”

The boys listen and you point to the couch, telling all three of them to sit. You choose to sit on the coffee table across from them so that they can all see you.

“I know that you guys have been through a lot,” you start. “And I know it’s because of me. I’ve been on the other side, watching the people I love in the hospital, so I understand what you’re going through. You thought you were going to lose me, and you can’t shake that feeling. I get that you’re scared. But I’m not going anywhere. I mean, I beat a septic infection. I’m more badass than I thought.” This finally shook off everyone’s looks of doom as they smiled at the thought of you being a survivor.

Mitch, who’s sitting in the middle, reaches out to you. He pulls you so that you’re straddling his lap. Harry and Sarah both turn to put a hand on your back, on the same exact spot which causes you all to laugh when they playfully swat the others hand away to claim the spot. Sarah wins and Harry instead places his hand on your head. He turns you to face him and it almost hurts to look at his sad puppy eyes.

You lean over and place a kiss on his lips, before doing the same to Mitch and then Sarah. There’s a moment where no one speaks, and you all just hold onto each other as a reminder that everyone is safe.

After a few minutes you conversationally say, “So, who gets to pick the first Christmas movie?” The remaining tension finally breaks, and you all enjoy the rest of the day together.

It’s not the last moment of fear for everyone. You’ll occasionally notice them being more overprotective, or needing reassurance that you’re safe, but you understand them and make sure to patiently put them at ease every time. It’s been a rough few months, but you feel it’s strengthened the bonds you all have even more.

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@akkatz @pandeebearstyles @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @theekyliepage @numafarawayglxy @booberry019-blog @hillzrry @ssareidbby @gem1712 @acesofspadess @houseofdilfs @shaquille-0atmeal-1 @kissitnhekitchen @amateurduck @poguestyleskye @n0vaj3an @snwells @drunk-teens-doing-drugs

AN: Thank you again for reading this story! This is the end of the sickfic. I think the next extra I post is going to be a spicy one!

what it is: YN is Harry’s personal assistant and she gets sick, but he’s playing Wembley

word count: 4k

The air is crisp and clean as YN steps out of her hotel into the streets of London, hurrying down the sidewalk as she scurries to the first pharmacy she can find. 

It’s 7.54 in the morning and she’s been awake for almost twenty-four hours. Not on purpose, obviously. And not on her boss’s orders either, despite having there been nights the team deemed important and she was required to pull an all nighter, but those were usually times of celebrations, either spent at an afterparty or waiting until midnight for Spotify to release the album everyone had been working hard on.

The air hurts her lungs as she stops to catch her breathing, the pounding behind her temples not dimming the slightest as she trespasses the sliding doors of the pharmacy, only intensifying with the bright artificial lights shining down on her from the ceiling.

She pulls her sunglasses out of the pocket of her sweatshirt and slides them over her eyes, relishing in the temporary relief washing over her sensitive eyes.

Her phone vibrates in her pocket and she pulls it out, grimacing at the name on the screen; it’s her boss, Harry, asking her what time she’s ready to leave for the venue. 

Once her turn comes, she quickly explains her symptoms to the pharmacist and just as quickly she pays for the medicine the pharmacist has taken out for her.

She walks out of the pharmacy and types back a short response to Harry, telling him she’s on her way to his room.

She hopes the medicine she has stuffed in her pocket will make her feel better, and she thinks as she’s making her way back to the hotel that she’ll ask Harry to stop along the way to grab a coffee, hoping it will soothe the tension behind her temples. There’s no way she can be sick when her boss is playing at Wembley for the first time.

…

Harry isn’t one to comment on other people’s appearances, his mum taught him that and it has stuck with him since he was a little kid, a sort of an unspoken rule out of kindness, and therefore he’s never asked if someone was sick because they weren’t wearing makeup or if someone had eaten a little more over the holidays.  He never considered other people’s looks something that concerned his range of business, but once he sees YN, he can’t help but wonder if she’s okay.

Her hair is tied in a messy braid, and there’s some strands falling out of it and in front of her eyes. She’s wearing a big love on tour sweatshirt and a pair of yoga pants, but that isn’t particularly concerning, because he’s used to her comfy articles of clothing. 

What’s concerning is her face… and Harry already feels bad for thinking that, but she doesn’t look like herself. And Harry would know. Of course he would know, because he spends a lot of time looking at her face, especially when she’s not looking, most of the times when she’s reading a book next to him in a moment of rest or when she’s answering emails on Monday mornings. So… he knows her. He knows her skin looks paler than normal, and the circles under her eyes aren’t the same as that one time they partied all night after Harry won album of the year at the Grammys.

He wants to ask if she’s okay, because after a year of working together they have that kind of confidence, but he doesn’t want that to be the first thing he says to her, so he just smiles at her and welcomes her with a side hug and a good morning.

“Hi” she’s quick to greet back, and Harry notices even her voice sounds scruffier than usual.

“Are you ready to go?” She asks a second later.

“Yeah, yeah, the car’s down already?” He asks surprised. Sometimes it takes a while before the drivers find the hotel, and YN and Harry spend that time watching videos on youtube or talking about the day’s schedule.

YN shrugs but doesn’t say anything in response, which is weird to Harry because she’s usually really bright and energetic in the morning, and she’s really meticulous on top of everything: she never lets him wait without finding something to pass the time first.

“Let’s just stay until we don’t know for certain” he suggests.

She agrees with a nod of her head and she heads to his bed, sitting down on the end of it. It’s not uncommon for her, because she’s always in his space, and there have been times where they were forced to basically sleep in the same bed (one time YN fell asleep on his bed, and Harry was so in his song-writing-bubble he didn’t even realize until he was so tired he couldn’t keep his eyes open, so he slipped in next to her and literally passed out).

He still needs to tie his shoes, so he sits next to her and ties the laces of his ratted vans.

“How’d yeh sleep, pet?” He asks, because she’s freakishly quiet and it’s making him anxious. She’s never quiet, and with this being a stressful day already for Harry, every little thing that’s different from normal alerts him.

“Fine” she whispers, knuckling at her eyes, his question bringing back the awful memory of the night she spent tossing and turning in the scratchy hotel sheets, praying for a moment of solace every time she tried to breathe through her nose and failing.

“Me too…” he nods.

YN feels bad because she should be more engaging, but she really doesn’t have it in her to make small talk. 

Some time passes before the driver calls YN’s phone to tell her the van is here, shaking her awake. She remembers closing her eyes to rest them, and next thing she knows she’s sound asleep on her boss’s bed. She’d be a bit embarrassed if it wasn’t for how awful she feels already. 

“Crap! I fell asleep!” She exclaims once she hangs up the call. 

“Yeah” Harry says from next to her, still laying on his bed, “just fo’ like… fifteen minutes though” He’s playing on his phone, and YN pushes at his bicep, “we need to go, driver’s here”

She gets up from the bed and slips on her shoes, grabbing her work bag (it’s really a tote bag but she finds calling it work bag makes her waaaay more professional) from the floor next to the door.

“YN” she hears Harry clear his voice, and she turns around to look at him.

He’s still sitting on the bed, and he passes a hand through his hair before saying, “are yeh all right?” 

She closes her eyes in a furrow and tries not to wince when a sharp pain shoots behind her eyes with the movement, “yes, yes” she stresses, although not convinced.

“Are you sure? C’mon yeh can tell me!” 

“I’m fine, Harry” and despite her words, she sniffles, “maybe I have a cold or something…”

“You can take the day off if you need to, yeh know that” 

“No, there’s no way” she shakes her head swiftly, “no”. 

“YN…” he trails off.

“Harry, I told you I’m fine. I can work! Let’s just go, okay?” 

He sighs but does as she says, following her out of his room.

Harry isn’t a worrier. If someone from his team, or band whatsoever, says they can work, he at least presumes they’re mature enough to know the expanse of their limits. 

With YN, it’s different. He worries.

Not because he considers her immature, but she’s just… different. Ever since she started working for him as his assistant, he’s always looked out for her, despite being the one that didn’t want to hire her in the first place.

She’s young, she works a lot to prove herself to him, despite him telling her lots of times she doesn’t need to prove anything and she’s doing a great job as she is. 

She does unthinkable working hours, sometimes pulling all nighters, other times hurrying to his house in the middle of the night because he’s a little bit of a hypochondriac and she needs to check immediately what’s that new mole he has on his back (turns out it was a speck of dark chocolate that stuck onto his skin).

She’s soft and she always puts her job (him, actually) first, so he doesn’t really trust her to know her limits. If she’s sick she should rest. She should lay in bed and maybe eat a little soup and watch comfort movies tucked under the sheets, but he knows she won’t. And he knows he’s the reason behind that, because he’s playing at Wembley tonight, and she doesn’t want to cause trouble. Harry thinks she in no way could ever be described as trouble. 

And maybe, and he feels a little bit scared to admit this, he could postpone the show just by a couple hours, at least until he knows she’s resting at the hotel. but, she hurries into the van and pretends like she’s just got “a cold or something”, so Harry doesn’t question her further. 

He could just order her to take the day off, but he knows that would hurt her feelings, and he can imagine the look on her face, like a puppy being scolded, so he bites his tongue: there’s no way he could ever hurt her feelings.

…

YN has to stop a couple of times when she starts feeling dizzy on her feet. She shouldn’t run this much when she’s probably feverish, but there’s so much to do! She doesn’t trust to delegate, and not because she’s pretentious, but because she’s a control freak that needs to know how things are being handled, so she would only get much more frustrated and it would eventually just end up in her doing all the work anyway, increasing her fever undoubtedly. 

So, she chugs downs a lot of water and a lot of ibuprofen, taking deep breaths every time she starts feeling nauseous. She should probably inform Harry at least that she doesn’t feel good, so if anything were to happen he wouldn’t be too surprised, but she knows how he is; he would demand she stop immediately and go back to the hotel to rest, and she can’t allow that to happen. 

Wembley is the dream of a lifetime, and Harry sound checks every song two times before passing on to the next one. YN sits quietly in one of the seats, preparing Harry’s next instagram post on her phone. She handles all of his socials, because that’s what she was originally hired for. “A young set of eyes”, Jeff had defined her, and from then, her life had changed completely. 

Of course, she wasn’t aware she’d develop a crush on her boss at the time she was hired. She figured she’d be immune to his charm; she’s younger than him, much less experienced (in every aspect of her life), and hasn’t really seen anything yet, so she thought they’d just be too different to get along. Spending each second of the day together didn’t help, though, because it was then she got to know Harry for who he truly was, and with that, came the awareness of how many things he’d lived through and how many things he could teach her. How soft he was with her, how he would always drape a blanket over her when she accidentally fell asleep on his bed, and how he would tell her she looked pretty even after pulling an all nighter and probably looking like a raccoon. That’s just how he was.

And that’s why she values his dreams more than her health. She would never do anything that could harm him, so she shrugs off the dreadful feeling off her back and keeps working. 

…

“Hey” Harry plops down on the couch next to her, draping his arm on the backrest of the couch. If he’d stretched his fingers he could touch her shoulder, but he doesn’t just yet. He knows she still doesn’t feel good, he can see it in the way she’s hugging herself in the Love on tour hoodie she has on (probably one of his because their laundry always gets mixed up).

“Hi” she says softly, her voice much lower than it’d been the last time he saw her.

It’s closer to show time now, but he’s still not in his outfit. YN wonders if that’s the reason why he came in the dressing room in the first place.

“What are yeh doin’ hidin’ in here all alone?” 

“‘m not hiding!” She pouts, “jus’… resting” 

“Mh, yeah?” He hums, turning his head to look at her, “restin’ your ears? Are you tired of my music yet?” He jokes.

“Never!” She beams, swatting at his chest playfully.

He lets his arm fall down on her shoulder, and he tugs at her, squeezing her against his chest.

She breaths him in, and despite her stuffy nose, she can smell the faint scent of his fabric softener. Musk and lavender. It’s the same as hers.

 “I’m sorry I’ve been a bit of a pain lately…” he trails off, his mouth buried in her hair, “nothing to do with you… was jus’ nervous is all”

She squeezes his hoodie between her fingers to tug him closer, “I’m really proud of you. You’ll do great.”

“Thanks, pet” he grins, breaking away from the hug.

She sniffles and he looks between her eyes warily, “’s there anything you want to tell me before I go on stage?”

“Jus’ to kick ass” she giggles, aware that wasn’t what he was alluding at.

“Mmmh” he muses, getting up from the couch. He knew she’d be stubborn about this so he doesn’t pressure her.

“Hav’to start gettin’ ready” he clears his throat, heading towards the portable hanger YN set up in his dressing room.

He then proceeds to take off his hoodie and his tank top, leaving him shirtless before her.

She’s seen him in his underwear many times, but maybe it’s the fever, maybe it’s the crush on him that’s growing stronger everyday, but she feels her insides get warm at the sight. 

He tugs his sweats down his legs too, kicking them off his feet, and YN pretends to pick up her phone to respond to a message that definitely could have waited. 

He picks up the heart printed overalls he’d be wearing and tugs them over his legs, jumping a little in his place so they could fit over his bum.

Once he’s fully dressed, he looks over at YN and finds her looking at him already, her eyes a little droopy. He feels his heart tug in his chest at the sight. He wishes she’d let him help her. If he could he’d send her back to the hotel straight away, but he has to admit he’s selfishly relishing in the idea of having her here, looking at him perform. It makes him want to do even better than he always does. 

“All ready then” he smiles, dimples denting both his cheeks.

“Mmhh” she hums, getting up on her feet. She walks towards him and adjusts the neck of his shirt, petting it down.

“Good luck Harry” she smiles. He has to refrain himself from lowering his head down to kiss her, and he’s aware these thoughts are way too unprofessional of him, but he can’t help himself. Not when she’s looking at him like that.

“See ya after the show, pet”

…

“Harry!” Jeff pats down on his shoulders as soon as Harry runs backstage, “you just smashed it! Fuckin’ smashed it mate!”

Harry laughs with him out of politeness, but his mind is really on something else.

“Fuckin’ Wembley, Harry! Wembley’s Harry’s house!” Someone else shouts, and he thinks it’s Lloyd but he doesn’t really pay much attention to him. There’s someone missing from the crowd. YN. She’s nowhere to be found, and he’d really like to celebrate with her. She’s the one that should join in on the fun and get a little bit of praise too, because without her, harry doesn’t think he could’ve played Wembley.

Everything was going fine, and he saw her next to his mother standing in the private part of the pit, but then, when he came back after chatting with a couple of fans, she was gone. He wonders if she’s okay.

“Hey, Jeff” he clears his throat, hoping to be discreet with his tone of voice, “where’s YN?” 

“Oh…” he nods, “she wasn’t feeling proper good, so I sent her to your dressing room. I told her to get back to the hotel, but she refused to leave”

Harry nods and after a ‘thanks’ he hurries towards his dressing room, hoping to find her there.

Once he opens the door, the sight of YN sleeping on the couch crouched on herself makes his heart somersault in his chest.

“Hey, pet” he coos softly once he crouches down next to her.

He repeats the endearing greeting, and this time she stirs awake. YN brings one hand to knuckle at her eyes tiredly, and Harry frowns at the sight of her bloodshot eyes. He brings one hand to caress her cheek, but when he realizes how warm she is, he brings it up to her forehead. She’s burning hot. 

He immediately feels guilty. He should’ve sent her back to the hotel as soon as he realized she was sick, hell, he shouldn’t have let her leave his room that morning!

“Harry?” She asks timidly, her voice coming out scruffy. She gulps but flinches as the hurt in her throat doesn’t subside. 

“Yeah, ’s me” he whispers, moving the hair away from her face, “let’s go back to the hotel, okay?” 

“No Harry! The show! You can’t leave… the show! It’s wembley” she stresses, gripping his bicep tightly to refrain him from leaving her.

“Shh, shh” he shushes her, “calm down. ’s okay. The show was great. Everything was great” he coos, pressing his lips down her forehead and flinching from how hot it feels, “you did so great”.

She sniffles and: “great?” 

“Yeah” he nods, reassuring her, “let’s go now, okay?”

He helps her get up on her feet, and she stumbles a bit in her place. She grips the fabric of his overalls tightly between her fingers, and he lets her, hoping to be at least a little bit of comfort.

…

“How are you feelin’? What hurts?” He asks her once they reach his hotel room (he wanted to go back to hers, but couldn’t find her key and didn’t want to startle her too much).

“Everything” she pouts.

“I’m so sorry, darling” he sighs, ushering her inside his room.

She’s stable on her feet now, the little nap at the venue kind of helped a bit in soothing her, but still, everything hurts, and the thought of being in a hotel room and not at her own house bothers her.

She also doesn’t want Harry to look at her like this, all sweaty and red in the cheeks. She must look so embarrassing! 

“I’ll draw you a bath, how about that?” He proposes, not waiting for her response and heading directly towards the bathroom.

Now that he thinks about it, harry’s glad she’s in his room, because (being the Harry Styles) his room has a bathtub, whereas hers doesn’t. He also has lots of salt baths and bubbles to add to the water, courtesy of the hotel, and he adds everything he can to soothe her stuffed nose and make the bath as pleasing as possible.

She knocks on the door delicately, and he turns his head to look at her.

“Bath’s ready” he smiles gently, and he dips his index finger to test the temperature of the water, careful not to make it too hot to not aggravate her fever any more. 

Harry excuses himself from the bathroom, and tells her to give him a shout if she needs anything.

It’s a couple of minutes later when he hears her calling for him, her voice still lower than normal.

He knocks on the door and after he gets her consent he opens it, peeking his head inside. She’s laying in the bathtub, the water submerging her almost to her neck, and he’s aware she’s naked under, but the bubbles cover her body entirely.

“Are yeh all right?” He asks worriedly.

“Mhmh,” she hums, “jus… keep me company?” 

He’s happy she’s more responsive now, and he happily sits at her side, plopping down on the toilet seat next to the tub.

They sit in silence for a while, Harry’s aware he’s still in his fancy (and uncomfortable) show clothes, but he doesn’t care. He’s just happy to dote on her now as she’s been doing with him since she’s been hired.

“I can’t believe you played at wembley and I missed half of it” she says after a while, the water sloshing around her as she turns to look at him.

“There’s always next time” he grins at her playfully.

She throws a smile at him, “bet”.

His mouth opens in a sideway smile, his dimple indenting only one of his cheeks, and more seriously than he did before, he says “I wish you’d told me you weren’t feelin’ good”

“Didn’t want to spoil your day” she shrugs.

He wants to tell her she wouldn’t have spoiled it, that if she’d asked he would’ve postponed his show and crawled in bed with her, cuddling her until she felt better, even with the risk of getting himself sick too, he didn’t care. He would have done anything to make her feel good; but how can he tell her? How can he be honest about something like that without revealing another part of himself to her? He’s her boss. He’s older than her. And he doesn’t know if she feels the same way.

So, instead of making a complete fool out of himself, he ushers her out of the tub, passing her a towel without looking at her. He engulfs her in the bathrobe and ties it tight on her stomach, careful to have her bits covered completely by the fabric of the towel.

When he reaches his room, he takes out a t-shirt and a pair of boxers for her to sleep in, and he leave her to change in the bathroom.

While he waits for her to come out, he texts his mum if she could make that delicious soup she always prepared when he was sick, promising he wasn’t sick himself and that he’d explain in the morning. His mum answers a couple of minutes later with a thumbs up and a kissy face. 

He locks his phone and plugs it in the charger next to the bed, leaving it on the bedside table.

When YN comes out of the bathroom, she looks better already. Her cheeks aren’t as red and her eyes appear to be more rested, but, she still looks tired, and he smiles at her as he tugs the comforter down for her to slip in.

She curls up under the covers and waits for Harry to tuck her in, “comfortable?” He asks.

She nods with her cheek against the pillow, “just wish I was home” she whispers and the affirmation pains him.

“I’ve been overworking yah, haven’t I?” He sighs deeply, feeling extremely guilty. 

She’s quick to shake her head no, flinching when a sting of pain hits her temples with the movement. 

“Yes I have… you’ve been s’good” he smiles down at her.

“You’re a Wembley player now” she whispers, her eyes closing on her as she speaks, and Harry chuckles endeared at her. 

“Get some rest” he coos, but she’s already fallen in a deep sleep that will probably be tainted with a curly headed guy with green eyes and a pretty smile.

He fishes from inside her bag a tab of ibuprofen and, with a glass of water, he places them on the bedside table closer to her side, so, if she’d ever were to wake up in pain, she could take the medicine immediately. 

He takes the shortest shower he’s ever taken, quickly putting on his pajamas and brushing his teeth. Once he’s ready for bed, he slips in next to her, leaning down to press his lips on her forehead to check her temperature. She’s still warm, but the bath seemed to be of help, and probably the much needed sleep, too.

He thinks he’ll give her the rest of the month off. He owes it to her, so she can get back up on her feet and spend some time at home if she’d like. He takes a minute to wonder why hasn’t he ever given her more than a day of rest, and he doesn’t have to wonder too much, because he knows the answer already, one that is overbearing and too deep to even analyze after the day he’s had: he doesn’t want to be away from her that much time. It’s as simple as that. He’s fucked.

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Trepidation^

Summary: (this ask) i was wondering if you could write one where harry feels a bit neglected when reader has an important meeting coming up or something, so she's missing date nights and stuff, a little angst if you please.

Word count: 2k

Pairing: boyfriend!harry x reader

Warnings: angst, fluff, swearing

masterlist | ask box

Harry sat alone in your dimly lit apartment, a heavy sadness weighing on his heart. He had been feeling neglected lately, as your demanding job had taken precedence over your relationship. It seemed as though each passing day brought more missed date nights and canceled plans, leaving him with a growing sense of loneliness and insecurity.

Tonight was supposed to be your special date night, a chance for you both to reconnect and forget about the outside world for a while. But once again, you had been called away for an important meeting, leaving Harry to face the emptiness of their once vibrant love life. Tears welled up in his eyes as he stared at the untouched dinner on the table, a painful reminder of what could have been.

Feeling a deep ache in his chest, Harry couldn't help but wonder if he was no longer enough for you. Thoughts of inadequacy and doubt filled his mind, tormenting him with the fear that he was being replaced by your demanding career. The anguished silence of the apartment only amplified his sorrow, as every passing second felt like a confirmation of his deepest fears.

His mind drifted to the countless nights you both had spent together, laughing, talking, and sharing their dreams. How you would hold your hands in his and you both would just lie in your shared bed, relishing in the comfortable silence and presence of each other. You had built a life together in the two years you had been with each other, promising to always prioritize each other's happiness. But now, it seemed as though those promises had been forgotten, lost in the chaos of your professional success.

He didn’t oppose your work, it was one of the things he respected the most about you. But, lately, it was all you cared about. You were about to get a promising position as a promotion in your job, and you were working day and night to make sure you got it. He supported you in that too. He started to stay home longer to take care of your dog, oreo. He even prepared meals for you throughout the day, making sure you got the proper nutrition for working so hard. He sent you multiple texts, checking in on you throughout the day.

But, completely prioritising your work might not have been the best idea. You had not been able to spend any time with your boyfriend, let alone sit and relax with him, in quite a while. It wasn’t your intention, but it had all gone south and you had to give all your time to your job. It was like Harry was the only one in the relationship now, and he felt like a one-sided lover.

The weight of his sadness grew unbearable, he questioned whether you still loved him or not. The ache in his heart was not just from the missed date nights, but from the sense of abandonment that had settled in your once warm and loving home, that shone with your love that lit it up.

Harry longed for the days when your presence brought him comfort and joy. He yearned for the laughter and the stolen moments of affection that had once defined their relationship. Now, all he felt was the sting of neglect and the bitter taste of unfulfilled promises.

He yearned for your presence, your touch, even a proper look at your pretty face.

As the night grew darker, Harry couldn't help but cry out silently, his tears blending with the shadows that engulfed him. He wanted nothing more than to be seen and cherished by you, to be loved by you, to feel the warmth of your love once again.

In the depths of his broken heart, Harry hoped that you would realize the pain you were causing and make a change. He yearned for the day when they could rediscover the love that had brought them together, and finally mend the broken pieces of your neglected relationship

Harry felt you slipping away, and he didn’t really know how to catch you.

With hot tears streaming down his face, he took off the jacket of the tuix he had worn for tonight. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out the tiny box that held all of his feelings for you. Opening it, he revealed the shiny diamond ring that he had bought two months ago, before your relationship fell into a messy blunder.

A tear fell into the soft foam beneath the ring and he tried to wipe it off aggressively. He wanted to keep it safe and shiny and pretty, so he could give it to you when the time was right, and ask you to marry him. Now, he wasn’t even sure if you wanted that.

If he wanted that.

. . .

You came home quite late, and it was around 2 am on the clock. With a tote bag stuffed with bottles of alcohol and a smile that wouldn’t go away.

You had gotten the promotion.

“Harry?” you called around the house, as soon as you entered.

You reached the kitchen, where you found the table arranged, with plates and wine glasses.

Fuck.

You and Harry had a date.

How could you forget? You both had been planning this for so long, finally being able to make a plan and spend the night together. He had even gone shopping over the weekend to make you your favorite pasta, even though it was his holiday after a whole week of work.

How could you forget?

You reached the table and put the alcohol aside, looking at the casserole full of food.

He hadn’t eaten.

You felt heartbroken, all the happiness and glory you were carrying for the past few hours, fading away into a dull ache in your heart. He had put so much effort into making this night special and perfect. He bought the red wine you loved, made dinner for you, set up plates and was probably waiting for you for hours.

And you couldn’t even be bothered to text him.

A tear escaped your eyes, and you started to search for Harry throughout the house.

Entering the bedroom, you saw him there, sitting at the foot of the bed. He was wearing a suit.

A damn suit.

He had put so much effort, and all you had done was get drunk over a stupid promotion. You had completely ignored him, just caring about your job and the money you were going to get. All the while he cared about your relationship.

You did not deserve him.

You walked over to him, taking a look at his face. His cheeks were tear-stained, and he looked so broken and sad. In pain. That you had caused him.

He was crying, and had probably passed out on the floor, waiting for you.

Sitting down beside him, you pulled his hand into yours. You were drunk and sad, and he was asleep. You just decided to talk to him like that, so he wouldn't have to see your awful face.

"I'm so sorry, Harry. I’m so so sorry. And not just today. Everything. For every bit of pain that I have caused you, for every tear that rolled down your cheek because of me. I ignored you. I neglected you. I ignored our beautiful relationship. I ruined it."

Proper tears were flowing down your eyes now, clouding your vision enough to not realize that he had woken up and opened his eyes.

"I had it. I had you. I had fucking everything in my hands. And I ruined it. I just-I just can't keep good things when they come to me, can i? I just always have to go ahead and fuck everything up. Throw everything out for just a bunch of money? God, how pathetic is that? And you know-I wasn’t just doing it to earn some extra money. I did it because-because my working hours would be reduced and-and I would have to work less. Less work. More you. More Harry." you giggled at your sappiness, before continuing, "And I'm sorry, Harry. So fucking much. I really am. for ruining our relationship. For making you cry. For all the perfect efforts you did for us, and I-I just let it go down the drain. I'm so so sorry."

"And you know, I understand. I understand that you are angry with me, and don't ever want to talk to me ever again. For how bad i fucked up. And I" a few fresh tears flew down as you prepared yourself to say ``I-I would I would get it if you want to break up. Even I wouldn't want to be in a relationship with me."

"Hey! How could you say that!" you flinched, his raspy voice making you shiver.

"What-I thought you-you were asleep."

"I was. And thank god I woke up, because the one time you properly talk to me, is when you are drunk and I'm passed out."

You weren't sure if it was a joke, but it made your heart break even more.

"I'm really sorry…" you started to sob, and he quickly pulled you into his arms.

"Shh. Don't apologize. You've apologized enough. I get it. I really do. When I neglected our relationship-when I was releasing my new album or going on tour, you stayed strong throughout. You never made me feel like I was ruining our relationship. you helped and supported me, when I needed it the most. I wanted to do the same too, but I just-just kinda broke down today. It just all came crashing down on me."

Your face formed a pout, and he kissed you sweetly on your lips.

"It's alright. I understand. Don't think too much about all that stuff you just said. I mean-I was a bit sad, because I thought that I wasn't your priority anymore. I thought you loved your work more than me. And I do too, you know, sometimes. And I'm sorry if I made you feel like you aren't enough."

"So you won't break up with me?" you asked, another quiet sob escaping your lips.

"No, silly. Why would I break up with you? I want to support you even more now. Throughout your work till you get the promotion, I will be by your side. I won't let you feel less again. Ever."

You sat up straighter, wanting to give him the good news.

"About that. I-I uh, I got the-the promotion."

His face softened, and he looked so fucking happy.

"WHAT!?" He exclaimed, and pulled you in for a tight hug, that knocked out the breath from your lungs.

"Yeah. I got the promotion today. My project was finally approved and my interview was last week and I cleared it."

He was smiling so big, and there were tears flowing down his cheeks.

Not sad tears, happy ones.

Because of you.

"My sweet girl. I love you so much. And I'm so so proud of you. Gonna love on you so much tonight."

You smiled at his happiness, finally feeling the ache in your chest go away, into loads of butterflies from the way he was looking at you.

He held you tightly in his arms, his chest now swollen with pride for you. How much you have achieved. How much you worked hard, all the rough times you had to go through, but it was all worth it in the end.

After a few moments of holding each other, your stomach grumbled.

"You hungry?" he asked, swiping his thumb across the apple of your cheek.

"Yeah. You made pasta?"

"Mhm, your favorite. You are gonna love it."

"I know. I always do. And I love you, Harry."

"I love you too, sweet girl. Now go and clean yourself up. I'll put the food in the microwave and heat it. Hurry, I have lots of things I want to do tonight." he said, his left hand swiping across the ring box in his pocket.

. . .

taglist:

@freedomfireflies @gurugirl @thechaoticjoy @styleslover-1994 @gem1712 @ellaorchard @bxbyysstuff @opheliaofficial07 @rafaaoli @tchlamqtsgf @the-mouse27 @indierockgirrl @vrittivsanghavi @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @drewrry @babyiamperfectforyou @avalentina

let me know if you want to be added or removed!!

running buddies

summary - you and harry go on a little run in london with each other

word count: ~-1.5k

pairing: long-term-boyfriend!harry x reader

“C’mon, y’lump. Get up.” Harry tugged the duvet off your body, whilst you groaned in annoyance. “We’re going on a run.”

That’s how your morning had started.

A rude awakening and a run.

You and Harry had hiked up a hill and then ran along the top of it. He used it as a way to expel all his anxious energy for performing at Wembley.

The headphones you were wearing were blasting out One Direction songs, since your favourite music to work out to was their music. Specifically the album Four.

The headphones you were wearing were blasting out One Direction songs, since your favourite music to work out to was their music. Specifically the album Four.

The view from the hill was gorgeous and you could see over London.

You stopped to take a moment and enjoy the view. You took out your phone and captured a photo of the view, with the beautiful scenery below.

A second later Harry came and jogged up to you, pulling out his earphones.

“You okay?” He asked.

“Yeah. Just admiring the view.” You panted out, not understanding how Harry wasn’t even remotely out of breathe after your 3km run so far.

“Normally I have you for that.” Harry winked at his poor excuse for flirting.

“Fuck off.”

Harry moved next to you and you held up your phone to take a photo of the both of you and the scenery behind. Harry’s cheek was smushed against yours and you both smiled wide as you viewed each other in the camera.

Harry looked at you and you took another photo, before he kissed your cheek and you took your last photo.

“Love you.” He spoke, before kissing your cheek again.

“Mm. Love you too, H.” You smiled at him, leaning in to give him a kiss.

His stubble had not been shaved this morning, so you got slightly scratched by the dusting of hairs over his jaw and upper lip.

You hummed into the kiss as you took pleasure out of kissing him.

It made the run worth it.

“Run in front of me on the way back down?” He asked.

“Why?” You furrowed your brows.

“Well… ‘Cause.. I want to make sure you’re okay.”

“Don’t bullshit me, Harry Styles.” You cocked an eyebrow and pointed a finger onto his chest. He caught your finger and brought your hand up to his mouth so he could kiss your palm softly.

“Fine. I want to have a good view on the way back down.” He smirked. You couldn’t see his eyes behind his sunglasses, but you imagined they were slightly dilated.

“You’re so gross.” You pushed your hand onto his face and moved his head away from you jokingly.

“And yet you still want to marry me.”

“Steady on, my friend. You haven’t even asked the question yet.”

“Not when you’ve just friend zoned me.”

“H, baby. We’re so far out of the friend zone.”

“Are we now?” He teased, coming closer towards you again. You let him move close until his face is inches away from yours. His oxygen became your oxygen.

“Mhm.”

“So if I got down on one knee now…”

“Which you’re not.”

“How do you know?” Harry questioned with a giggle.

“Because you know that I’d hate this for a proposal. Instead I’d want to…”

“Be in bed after a night together and it to just be so random and so casual that it would be perfect.” Harry nodded. “Yes. I know you. I remember.”

“No friend of mine would know that.”

“Lucky me i’m not just your friend then.”

“You will be if you keep forcing me on these early morning runs though. Believe me.” You joked, turning around to walk down the path.

Before you can get far, Harry tugs on your elbow and whips you back around to face him. Your chest hit his and through your gasp, Harry captured your lips with his and roughly kissed you.

You moaned through the kiss and held onto him tight.

You moved your head to the side and kissed him from a different angle, kissing him like it’s your last time.

He pulled away and rested his forehead against yours.

“You’re never going to be just my friend, baby. Yes, you’re my best friend, but you’re also my girlfriend and soon to be fiancé. I promise you that.”

He was going to kiss you again when you saw some people walking up behind Harry.

One girl of them had a phone, which was obviously, not so subtly, recording the interaction. The other girl was walking up to Harry with a giant grin on her face.

“Excuse me? Hi. Are you Harry Styles?” The girl asked as if she didn’t already know.

“Yeah.” Harry cleared his throat, sort of standing in front of you because he hated the thought of you being filmed without consent because of him.

“I knew it! I love your music! We thought we saw you from down that hill, but were slightly unsure.”

So… they were following you.

You wouldn’t be surprised if they had been hiding and filmed you and Harry this entire day. Including the heavy making out.

Your hand slid into Harry’s to comfort him, knowing how uncomfortable he gets in these situations.

“Can we maybe get a photo?” The girl asked.

“Um. Not today sorry.” Harry replied and you squeezed his hand in assurance that he’d said the right thing.

“Oh okay.”

“Lovely to meet you though.” Not.

“Oh my God. And you too! This is crazy aha!” She walked back to her friend and they started squealing.

You tugged on Harry’s hand and motioned for him to follow you. You walked down the hill in front of him, knowing he wouldn’t allow you to walk behind him now that those girls were back there.

“Can we run again, baby? Please?” Harry asked from behind you and it was obvious he had gained some new nervous energy that he wanted to expel.

“Of course.” You smiled and began to jog again.

Harry matched your pace this time and before long you were back down at the bottom of the hill and far away from those girls.

More people might be on their way here though if they know that Harry’s been here.

Harry wasn’t going to risk it, so you walked back as quickly as you could back home.

Home came quicker than you thought, having passed the time with Harry with mindless games and random chat.

The comfort of home felt good. A similar feeling that Harry brought you.

When you were through the door, you hugged him tight with your face pressed against his chest.

“I love you.” You reminded him.

“I love you too.”

“And you don’t have to apologise for saying no to photos. Especially when those girls were following us. I don’t want your apology, okay? I just want you to be okay.”

“I’m always okay as long as I have my best friend with me.”

writing a little sequel to Out of a dream and should be out next week!! thank you for all the love my cherries!! 🤍

You will be fed tonight, my children

BABYYYYYYY🫂🫂🫂🫂🫂🫂🫂🫂

Feelings

What is it: Boyfriend Harry cries after sex

Word count: 1.1k

Warnings: smut and a whole lotta tears

Honestly this is just fluffy Harry having the feels

MASTERLIST

“Oh my god, fuck,” Harry pants, rolling off you and onto his back.

You stretch your limbs out and groan happily. It had been an intense session that climaxed with Harry pounding you into the bed and holding one of your thighs so tightly you felt it bruising. For a handful of minutes afterwards, he had kept his face tucked into your neck, turning it damp with his hot breath mixed with your own sweat.

Now he’d finally torn himself off your body. Which, while leaving you without his pleasant weight, allows you take in deeper breaths to recover.

“Jesus, Harry,” you sigh, fluttering your eyes shut. “That was good.”

He doesn’t answer, but you can hear him drawing in air next to you.

You know he’s had a busy day, going straight to band practice after work and calling at the shop before meeting you back at his, where he didn’t even eat before you fell into bed together.

“You must be tired now, hm?” He still doesn’t answer but you feel him shifting beside you so you glance over. “Oh!”

He’s sitting up and pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes, rubbing hard. His shoulders shake like he’s holding his breath. You scramble to sit up too and place a hand on one of his wrists.

“Harry, baby. What’s wrong?” You ever so gently tug his wrist. He complies, moving his hands away from his face and gulping in a shuddering breath. His eyes are red and wet. “Shit,” you whisper, panic building fast. “Shit shit. What’s happened? What did I do?”

You’re looking all over him to find the problem. Sometimes you dig your nails in too hard when it’s good, but he always says he likes the bite of pain.

To your surprise, Harry laughs and shakes his head. “Shit, YN. Nothing. You did nothing. Or fucking everything, I don’t know.” He grabs a handful of the bedsheets and covers his face again.

“I don’t understand,” you admit. “Are you having a panic attack?” He’s had them before, only twice since you’ve been dating. Usually after a gig when his adrenaline is still too high and his anxiety fights to match it. But never, ever after sex.

“I don’t think so,” he mumbles through the bedsheets. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s happening.”

You’re starting to relax a bit now. You’ve convinced yourself he’s not dying, or about to throw you out his house late at night. You rub his bare shoulder.

“Babe, can you look at me?”

He shakes his head and gasps a few times into the sheets. “No. It’s embarrassing.”

You smile at hearing what almost sounds like Harry’s normal voice. “It’s not. Did you hear some of the noises we made earlier? That’s embarrassing.”

You hear him snort and then something that sounds alarmingly like a sob. “I’m sorry,” he says. “I can’t stop it.”

“Don’t apologise, you idiot. Just let me see you, okay?”

When Harry finally emerges and faces you, his eyes well up and overflow.

“Oh, baby. Come here.” He flops into your arms and nuzzles his wet face against the top of your breast. His shoulders are broad but you’re able to hold him tightly. “Did something happen today?” You feel his head shake in a no. His body moves with his jerky inhales. “Was it the sex? Did something feel wrong?”

“No. It was amazing. I’m not sad. I just feel-“ he cuts himself off when his voice wobbles.

You stroke his hair while you hum in understanding. You think you get it. It’s never actually happened to you like this, and you’ve never experienced it in a partner, but you’ve heard about it, and it makes sense.

“I feel a lot,” he finally finishes.

“I understand.”

He pulls his head away from your chest to squint at you. You imagine you look blurry through his watery lashes. You smile at him anyway.

“I’m glad you understand because I sure don’t.” Harry hiccups on the last word and winces.

“It’s intimacy,” you say, gently pushing him to lie back against the pillows while you play with his hair. He gazes up at you and you’ve never felt more adored. “I felt really close to you tonight, too.”

“My heart is beating really fast. I’m happy you’re here.” It’s the calmest he’s sounded in the last few minutes and you take it as a good sign he’s a little less overwhelmed. You place one hand over his chest and sure enough feel the heavy thudding there.

You don’t talk for a while, just looking at each other. Until you feel Harry’s erection nudging your leg where you’ve draped it over him.

He shifts so it rubs against you and then sighs. “I’m not sure I’m up to it again, love.”

“Of course. I can do something for you though. Only if you want to.”

You find and stroke him slowly, fingers on your other hand still curled in his hair. A fresh wave of tears run down his cheeks. You gently wipe them away with your fingertips.

“I think I might cry all the way through. Is that weird?”

“Doesn’t matter.” You start kissing down his chest, the faint salty tang of sweat smearing your lips.

“What if this happens every time? And you never want to have sex with me again?”

“Harry?” You lift your head up from where you were about to take him into your mouth. He gazes down at you, eyes wide and wet. “Stop worrying and enjoy me sucking your dick, please?”

He gulps and nods. “Okay.”

He doesn’t cry the whole way through. On and off you see the streaks of newly shed tears down his face. But by the end, his back is arching and his whimpers are drenched in pleasure. His thighs are vibrating where they bracket you in, humming with the stimulation of a second orgasm.

He scoops you up and kisses you lazily, thanking you without words.

“For the record,” you mumble. “I will never stop wanting to have sex with you, as long you still want it with me.”

“Always.” He rubs your nose with his. “In case it wasn’t already excruciatingly obvious, I’m obsessed with you.”

Harry falls asleep in minutes. You should wake him and make sure he eats and drinks, but for now you leave him, knowing the exhaustion that comes with a rush of emotion like the one Harry just experienced. You snuggle into him, feeling warm inside and out.