Always A Fineline

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.”

Just your husband on his honeymoon 🫠🫠

Hard times

summary : harry messes around before a show and gets his zipper stuck on a doggy suit costume and you come to the rescue!

warnings : swearing, crying, fluff!

*currently writing a blurb so have this little thing 😝 ps not really proof read so sorry for any confusion in my outrages writing 😭*

It felt like you had been searching for years, left and right, through all the cracks for Harry at the venue.

Jeff sent you on a mission to find him after he didn’t rock up to the soundcheck right before doors opened and he was set to be on stage in about 2 hours.

You weren’t worried, well not yet you weren’t. You also don’t think they checked his dressing room since he’s like a little energetic 5 year old who’s just had 7 bowls of sugar because he can’t ever sit still.

Knowing that for a fact because he’s either running around the stage, backstage, the whole ass venue or even exploring in some small janitors closet or something. Harry was a mad man, or let’s say he was a handful.

Opening the door into his dressing room you call out his name. “H? Are you in here, you missed sound check and everyone’s wondering where you are.” Closing the door behind you, your eyes dart to the bathroom, hearing someone mumbling in there.

Padding over to the small bathroom in his dressing room you peek your head in and holy fuck.

There he stands in front of the mirror, a large dog head from a costume is sat on the counter and he’s cursing to him self as he turns to the side, trying to rip the small zip down that goes from his neck all the way down.

“Oh my god…” you cover your mouth, walking into the doorway, his head snaps to you, his frown becoming more prominent as he turns fully to you, hands dropping beside him.

“Baby, I’ve been stuck in this fuckin’ costume for 30 minutes.” He’s almost on the verge of tears because of how hard he’s been trying.

It looks like he’s just had some hardcore sex, his hairs all sweaty and there’s sweat along his hairline, cheeks red and a panicked look on his face. His face drops as you throw your head back laughing so hard you could feel your ribs hurting.

“There’s no- no way this is real. Where did you even get this costume from!” You stumble over your words, giggles coming out of your mouth as he stands there like a child who’s just been told off, you walk over to him, your hand coming out to run your fingers against the fake fur on the costume. “You’re such a dumbass. Who knew you were a furry…” you look up at him, he’s still frowning.

“I perform in 2 hours, please get me out of this.” His expression turns serious, a hard look on his face now.

“Mm, I’d rather watch you go on stage in this. This is hilarious! What a story this is gonna be.” You smile as your hand comes up to see if you can tug on the zipper more, you squint your eyes pulling hard on the zipper a few times before you can think-

“Oops.” The zipper pulls off, leaving it with just the thing that connects it, you look to your hand before slowly lifting your head up to Harry, he stands there, eyes wide as he looks down at the zipper piece in your hand. “Well… we have a problem.”

“No, Y/N, no what.” His hands come up to his face, you place the piece onto the counter, feeling guilty because you knew Harry was frustrated having tried to get out of this dog costume for a while, you don’t realise he’s actually started crying.

He leans back against the counter, hands still on his face as he drops his head to his chest, you see his breathing is staggered, breathing unevenly with every breath he takes, you know every sign of him like the back of your hand so your heart does chip a little also knowing that if you were stuck in a dog costume you’d breakdown too.

“Oh baby, don’t cry please. Look at me, H.” You move in front of him, hands coming up to his wrists, tugging on them slightly but he keeps them pressed against his eyes.

“No. I’m crying- why am I crying, I’m so stupid.” He shakes his head. “I’m never gonna get out of this costume, I’ll be stuck in it till I’m in my grave.” He mumbles against his hands, you did want to laugh at how he was over reacting, but that wasn’t right for the situation right now.

“No you’re not, I can work something out. Baby, please look at me, it’s making me sad now. I don’t think someone wants to see me and you crying over a bloody doggy suit.” You chuckle, hands tugging on his wrists once again and he finally moves his hands, intertwining yours with his he looks down at you, eyes red and a small pout on his lips.

You then bring one of your hands up, brushing his eyelashes, wet with tears before wiping a tear that fell onto his nose, leaning up to peck his lips softly.

“Breathe, yeah? I always work things out, y’know that. You’ve been with me long enough to figure that out.” You smile at him and he smiles at you, a dimple finally poking out.

You then focus your attention on the zipper bit where the zipper teeth are together, you move your hands to the gap where the zip was and you pull and to your surprise they pull away from each other easily and you cheer, smiling widely.

“All my magic.. would you look at that, you’re free!” You giggle, pulling it all the way till he can pull the suit off as it drops to his feet, now he’s just standing there, in his boxers. “You’re a mad man, Styles. Still wondering why I didn’t get a warning contract before I started dating you…”

“Heeeeyyy, you love me.” He gives you a open mouthed grin, arms coming out to pull you into a tight hug. “Thank you for saving me, angel girl.”

“I swear if I find you in this situation again, you’re on your own.” You laugh against his chest, hands coming to wrap around his waist.

The situation was resolved and now it was a one of a kind story to tell, if helping him get out of a $30 doggy suit didn’t prove your loyalty to him you don’t know what else would. You loved this crazy man and wouldn’t of changed that moment for the world.

this just popped into my mind how silly

Dividers!! @firefly-graphics 🤍

who in the fucking fuck made this show your face right fucking now OR ELSE🤺🤺🤺

Hard times

summary : harry messes around before a show and gets his zipper stuck on a doggy suit costume and you come to the rescue!

warnings : swearing, crying, fluff!

*currently writing a blurb so have this little thing 😝 ps not really proof read so sorry for any confusion in my outrages writing 😭*

It felt like you had been searching for years, left and right, through all the cracks for Harry at the venue.

Jeff sent you on a mission to find him after he didn’t rock up to the soundcheck right before doors opened and he was set to be on stage in about 2 hours.

You weren’t worried, well not yet you weren’t. You also don’t think they checked his dressing room since he’s like a little energetic 5 year old who’s just had 7 bowls of sugar because he can’t ever sit still.

Knowing that for a fact because he’s either running around the stage, backstage, the whole ass venue or even exploring in some small janitors closet or something. Harry was a mad man, or let’s say he was a handful.

Opening the door into his dressing room you call out his name. “H? Are you in here, you missed sound check and everyone’s wondering where you are.” Closing the door behind you, your eyes dart to the bathroom, hearing someone mumbling in there.

Padding over to the small bathroom in his dressing room you peek your head in and holy fuck.

There he stands in front of the mirror, a large dog head from a costume is sat on the counter and he’s cursing to him self as he turns to the side, trying to rip the small zip down that goes from his neck all the way down.

“Oh my god…” you cover your mouth, walking into the doorway, his head snaps to you, his frown becoming more prominent as he turns fully to you, hands dropping beside him.

“Baby, I’ve been stuck in this fuckin’ costume for 30 minutes.” He’s almost on the verge of tears because of how hard he’s been trying.

It looks like he’s just had some hardcore sex, his hairs all sweaty and there’s sweat along his hairline, cheeks red and a panicked look on his face. His face drops as you throw your head back laughing so hard you could feel your ribs hurting.

“There’s no- no way this is real. Where did you even get this costume from!” You stumble over your words, giggles coming out of your mouth as he stands there like a child who’s just been told off, you walk over to him, your hand coming out to run your fingers against the fake fur on the costume. “You’re such a dumbass. Who knew you were a furry…” you look up at him, he’s still frowning.

“I perform in 2 hours, please get me out of this.” His expression turns serious, a hard look on his face now.

“Mm, I’d rather watch you go on stage in this. This is hilarious! What a story this is gonna be.” You smile as your hand comes up to see if you can tug on the zipper more, you squint your eyes pulling hard on the zipper a few times before you can think-

“Oops.” The zipper pulls off, leaving it with just the thing that connects it, you look to your hand before slowly lifting your head up to Harry, he stands there, eyes wide as he looks down at the zipper piece in your hand. “Well… we have a problem.”

“No, Y/N, no what.” His hands come up to his face, you place the piece onto the counter, feeling guilty because you knew Harry was frustrated having tried to get out of this dog costume for a while, you don’t realise he’s actually started crying.

He leans back against the counter, hands still on his face as he drops his head to his chest, you see his breathing is staggered, breathing unevenly with every breath he takes, you know every sign of him like the back of your hand so your heart does chip a little also knowing that if you were stuck in a dog costume you’d breakdown too.

“Oh baby, don’t cry please. Look at me, H.” You move in front of him, hands coming up to his wrists, tugging on them slightly but he keeps them pressed against his eyes.

“No. I’m crying- why am I crying, I’m so stupid.” He shakes his head. “I’m never gonna get out of this costume, I’ll be stuck in it till I’m in my grave.” He mumbles against his hands, you did want to laugh at how he was over reacting, but that wasn’t right for the situation right now.

“No you’re not, I can work something out. Baby, please look at me, it’s making me sad now. I don’t think someone wants to see me and you crying over a bloody doggy suit.” You chuckle, hands tugging on his wrists once again and he finally moves his hands, intertwining yours with his he looks down at you, eyes red and a small pout on his lips.

You then bring one of your hands up, brushing his eyelashes, wet with tears before wiping a tear that fell onto his nose, leaning up to peck his lips softly.

“Breathe, yeah? I always work things out, y’know that. You’ve been with me long enough to figure that out.” You smile at him and he smiles at you, a dimple finally poking out.

You then focus your attention on the zipper bit where the zipper teeth are together, you move your hands to the gap where the zip was and you pull and to your surprise they pull away from each other easily and you cheer, smiling widely.

“All my magic.. would you look at that, you’re free!” You giggle, pulling it all the way till he can pull the suit off as it drops to his feet, now he’s just standing there, in his boxers. “You’re a mad man, Styles. Still wondering why I didn’t get a warning contract before I started dating you…”

“Heeeeyyy, you love me.” He gives you a open mouthed grin, arms coming out to pull you into a tight hug. “Thank you for saving me, angel girl.”

“I swear if I find you in this situation again, you’re on your own.” You laugh against his chest, hands coming to wrap around his waist.

The situation was resolved and now it was a one of a kind story to tell, if helping him get out of a $30 doggy suit didn’t prove your loyalty to him you don’t know what else would. You loved this crazy man and wouldn’t of changed that moment for the world.

this just popped into my mind how silly

Dividers!! @firefly-graphics 🤍

The 14 Little Things Harry Does During Sex ~Short Scenarios~ (SMUT)

Before reading this, please read through >>> 14 Little Things Harry Does During Sex (SMUT) first so this makes more since.

AN: this idea came to me mostly from this anon. i know your request wasn't exactly like this but i decided to just do all 14 of the things harry does during sex in little scenarios because why not. and i'm not doing it where harry points out y/n's little things in this because i'd like to make a list for her as well first to explain what her little things even are. feedback is always appreciated. thanks for this idea that i kinda stuck with.

This contains: lots of sex, lots of fluff

{ any!hary (boyfriend, husband, or dad) - soft!harry - 2018 Harry era }

word count: 2296

14 short scenarios of Harry doing the little things he does during sex with you.

1. Your legs are tangled together under the sheets as you have sex in the spooning position and you can feel Harry's bare toes begin to curl. That lets you know he's about to come. "Can feel your toes curling, baby."

"Yeah, can't help it. You make me feel too good." Harry responds though panted breaths and a sweaty face.

You reach around to place your hand on the back of his thigh to try and force him closer to you if that's even possible and mutter, "Didn't say you could help it. It was just an observation. I think it's really cute that your toes curl when you're abo...."

And you're cut off by you letting out a strangled moan because Harry has brought his fingers to around your front and is vigorously rubbing your clit.

2. The pace of his hips start to pick up out of no where from Harry getting carried away due to the tremendous amounts of pleasure he's receiving. The faster and harder thrusts have you gasping for air.

It felt good but it just wasn't the type of sex you were wanting in this moment. Harry quickly realizes what he's done and imidiantly starts slowing his hips back down. "Sorry 'bout that. Got carried away for a second there." he apologizes and bends down to place a pecked kiss on your sweaty forehead.

You look up and reply sweetly, "Its fine, babe. Just want to take it slow right now, okay? You can pound me when its not eight in the morning and I'm more awake."

Harry giggles and lays down on top of your body, continuing the slow, sleepy sex the way you intended to have it.

3. It's late at night and you're riding Harry's cock with your body fully laid on top of his. Harry has his arms wrapped around your back to hold you tightly and his hands start gliding over your back. His fingers gently trace up and down your spine, sending a shiver to run through your body.

Harry laughs a bit and asks, "Was that a shiver, love. You cold?"

You lift your head out from where it was in his sweaty neck and respond, "No, not cold. Your fingers dancing on my back made a shiver run through my body. Feels nice though. You can keep doing it if you'd like to."

Harry raises his head off his pillow a bit and with puckering lips places a quick kiss to your mouth. "Gotcha, my love. I'll keep tracing your spine if you want." And when you fall back down onto his chest while grinding on his dick back and forth, you feel Harry do just that.

4. As you're riding Harry on the couch in your living room, you notice his strained face. The one he makes when he's trying not to blow his load in you. So you decide to call him out on it.

With your hands pressed into his chest and your hips rocking back and forth, you question, "Babe, why the red face? Something wrong?" The tone in your voice is playful and he knows you're asking to be a little shit.

Looking up while still having that strained look on his face, Harry responds through shallow breaths, "You know damn well why I have this face. You keep clenching around m'dick and I'm trying not to bust a nut in yah just yet."

You laugh and fall forward, placing a kiss to the side of Harry's face and mutter, "I know. Just messing with you. Love you."

Attempting to relax his face, Harry coos back, "And I love you too."

5. Harry has his arms on both sides of your head, hands pressed into the mattress, as he holds his body weight up over you while fucking into you. But then he gets this idea. Harry carefully removes one hand from its place beside your head and brings it down to your stomach.

He lays it flat on the lower part of your heaving tummy and Harry can feel himself inside you, creating a cocky smile to be plastered on his face. "Can feel m'self inside you, love. Going so deep in your tummy. Can you feel me in your belly, baby?"

You nod your head, unable to speak clearly with how well he's fucking into you. Then suddenly Harry pressed down a bit on your lower stomach and it creates the pressure in your belly to be even greater then before. "Shit." you cry out.

Harry lifts up and sits on his calves, continuing to thrust into your wet pussy but makes sure to keep that one hand pressing into your stomach. Not too hard to where it would give you a tummy ache but enough to enhance your orgasm pleasure.

6. Harry is fully on top of your body, encasing you in his arms as he sluggishly rocks his hips in and out of yours. The room is dark due to the time of night it is and the covers are over your bodies. Then you feel it. Feel the three little taps to your collar bone.

Every time you have sex in the dark, Harry will tap somewhere on your body three times and you've yet to know what or why he does so. You decide to just ask. "Babe, um, can I ask why you tap your fingers on my skin when we have sex together in the dark?"

Harry stops his slow thrusts all together and sighs from embarrassment. He keeps his head laid on your shoulder so you can't see his face, though you wouldn't be able to anyways from this dark room, and answers shyly, "Don't know. Um, I guess I do it as a way to let you know you're safe and I'm right here. Sayin' it out loud just makes me sound stupid. Sorry if its weird."

You let a grin appear on your face and while running your fingers through his messy, curly locks, reply, "Babyyy, I think that's a very thoughtful idea and I love it. Don't mind at all and its not stupid. I'd very much like if you did it from now on and now I'll know why you do it and appreciate it more."

7. As Harry is hovering over your body, snapping his hips forward to meet yours, you lift one hand up and conjoin two fingers together. Harry knows exactly what you're trying to do and opens his mouth to take your fingers inside.

While his arms support his weight above you, Harry bends his arms at his elbows slightly to lean down and bob his head onto your fingers, as if it was a tiny dick. "Fuck, that's hot." you moan out as you watch him suck your fingers.

Harry lifts off them with a pop and says with glossy, wet lips, "Love sucking your fingers. Such a turn on f'me." Then you take your wet fingers and bring them down to rub your clit, making your eyes roll back from the clit stimulation mixed with Harry's cock fucking you.

8. With Harry thrusting his large cock inside of your pussy at just the right speed for you both, you begin to hear his little pleasure sounds as he pants them in your ear. The sounds that escape his mouth are a mix between a whine and a moan. "Yeah baby, keep making those pretty sounds for me. You sound so hot with your little moans." you tell.

"Mhm, love. God, couldn't stop em' if I tried. You feel so fuckin' good 'round me." Harry heaves out and then goes right back to making those little moans and cries of pleasure.

9. Harry is hovering above you with his hands grabbing at the headboard to give him better strength as he fucks into your pussy. You're in the midst of an orgasm but something gives you the strength to look up and when you do, you see the greatest sight known to man.

Harry has his eyes squeezed shut with his mouth wide open, forming an 'O' as his orgasm takes over his own body. His head is tilted back a bit and his arms shake as they stay straight forward, clutching the bars of the headboard. Knees pressed into the mattress beside your hips.

Seconds later when both your orgasms leave, Harry lets go of the headboard and carefully falls on top of your sweaty body, still out of breath. "Love your 'O face, Harry." you coo.

Inhaling a deep breath into his lungs, Harry questions "What'd yah mean my 'O face?"

"You know, how when you're coming you'll close your eyes and your mouth falls open wide. It's hot." you explain.

Harry sits up, straddling your lap, and replies, "Didn't realize I even do those things. I guess it just happens in the heat of the moment."

10. At first Harry was on top, thrusting into your pussy at just the right angle. It gave you a clear view of his chest and tummy. You noticed his stomach muscles fluttering as he tried to contain himself in order to not come prematurely.

But then when his arms feel like they are giving out, he has to gently fall forward and lay on top of your body, still thrusting into you. Then you feel Harry's stomach spasming against yours. "Your tummy feels weird against mine." you say, breaking the rooms silence besides the sounds of sex.

Staying in his position, Harry asks, "What? My stomach contractions you mean?"

"Yeah, and here, lets flip over. Want to ride you." Harry gets off top of you and rotates until he's laying on his back. You situate yourself on his dick again and look down, placing your hands on his flat tummy. "See," you speak and Harry cranes his neck down to look at his stomach, "it flutters nicely. Bet you'd eventually get abs if you did that long enough."

"Hey," Harry growls playfully, "I already have abs and you know it."

You laugh and reply with, "You're right." Then you fall forward and crash your lips to his, feeling his stomach against yours again as the sex continues.

11. Your legs are wrapped around his waist and Harry's on top of your body with his face pressed to the side of your sweaty face. Then you begin to hear Harry let out a string of different curse words into your ear. "Mother fuckin' shit. Jesus christ, babe. Mhm, damn it feels so good."

Knowing fully well what he's referring to, you ask anyways, "What feels good, babe?" as your nails dig into the skin of his back.

"Shit, shit, shit, that. That right there. You clenching 'round m'cock." Harry explains as you purposefully start clenching around his dick to get a reaction from him.

You only giggle but that doesn't last long because a loud moan escapes your mouth when he changes the angle of his hips slightly and hits your g-spot head on.

12. The sex you're having now was planned. Planned to the extent you knew days before it was happening and have candles lit around the bedroom with a towel under your bodies so your fluids don't dirty the bedding. Everything is slow and thought out. You did several minutes of foreplay before the sex even begun.

Now Harry has his hands on your shoulders as his knees are pressed into the bed beside your rib cage, thrusting meticulously into your tight cunt. But suddenly one of his hands abandons your shoulder and he places his sweaty palm above your right breast, directly where your heart lies.

You look up with love in your eyes and ask, "What's that for?"

Harry switches his vision from his hand on your heart to your eyes directly and responds, "Like feeling your heart beat. It's comforting to me in a way. Sorry if its weird."

"Babyyy," you speak softly, "come here." Harry removes his other hand from your shoulder and falls down onto your chest. He presses the side of his face right where he had his hand over your heart beat, now feeling your beating heart on the side of his face. "It's not weird, Harry. It's super heartwarming. Shows me how much you love me, yeah."

13. As you're bouncing on Harry's cock, you feel one of his hands leave your hip and when you open your eyes, you see him give himself a little scratch to his upper chest. A smile grows on your face and Harry notices. "What?" he questions.

You laugh and answer, "Just think its cute how you scratched your itch in the middle of sex."

This has Harry breaking into a laugh as well and he mutters, "Well yeah, had an itch and I wasn't going to ignore it the entire time."

14. You're having sex on the couch. Harry's above you and you're laying on your back, into the soft but firm cushions. But suddenly he stops moving his hips and you let out a whine to show your disapproval.

When you open your once closed eyes, you see Harry gathering his damp fringe that's fallen into his face with his hands and uses the hair elastic from his wrist to tie it into a bun so it's out of his face. "I know, I know. M'hurrying m'love. Just getting my hair out of my face because it kept tickling my nose."

Before you know it, he has the top of his hair into a little messy bun and his hips pick back up thrusting into your pussy. He looks very cute above you now with his little top knot but also equally just as sexy with his glistening chest on display.

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My Masterlist Masterpost

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.

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.

hi! let me know if you liked this!!! this is my ko-fi if you'd like to support me and my writing, even a small donation is appreciated <3 love you all!

a lot can happen in 13 years 🥹💘

behind the doors

pairing: tanktoprry x yn

summary: we all know harry has been closed off for sometime, but what happens one night when his performance falls flat and the doors open to something new?

a/n: i wrote this months ago and haven’t read it since. i forgot what’s in here. have fun reading it xoxo missed you guys.

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She couldn't tell if Harry was going through a heated-sex crazed phase, or if his other side pieces had dropped him. For the last week and half, she would wake up to the beckon of Harry inviting her to his home. Though she didn't ask questions and still went; her body was falling tired from all the passionate sex they'd been having.

The sex was rough, at first, but that was normal. It was always rough, raw, dirty sex. But as the days went, the sex got softer and softer until Harry was found torso to torso with her, arms wrapped around her neck to bring her impossibly closer with his lips that couldn't seem to tear away from hers.

It was a phase, she thought.

Harry had been getting awfully clingy, like after sex he would actually ask her to stay in bed and cuddle, but the way he would ask would be grim and gruff. He had a reputation of being cold, that he never changed, even after the softer sex they had been having.

"I'm heading out," She would tell him, to which his body would stiffen and his hand would place firmly onto her thigh to stop her from leaving the bed, "What?"

"Well, just--" Harry mumbled huskily, not making eye contact with her as his body sank into the bed, training his sight on the wall ahead, "You can stay, or whatever. I don't mind it, you're like--a spoiled brat, so..."

His argument was always that she spoiled and he knew that she wanted cuddles afterwards, but she hadn't asked him for that since they first started seeing each other. She knew not to ask because he always got so cold about it. So instead, she always just left after they were finished having sex.

That's how it's always been.

But recently, not so much. There had been some days that she would be out with her friends and Harry would call her to come over and spend time with him, or just have sex in general. Whenever she would decline because she was busy, Harry was quick to persuade her in ways that he knew what would get her over there.

It worked every time.

But this time, it was different.

There they laid in bed with one another, tangled up, breaths hot against one another as he snapped his hips to further his aching cock inside of her. Harry felt like his body was on fire, her mouth was spewing moans against the shell of his ear, her fingers dragging red marks down his back from how good he made her feel.

Typically Harry only lasted ten to fifteen minutes in bed, that was average for anyone, but today? He was lasting a lot longer than usual. It took him sometime for his dick to work and that was embarrassing enough. She had never seen him like that before. She questioned if he had some type of ED, but then again, Harry was a closed off person and didn't want to pry.

"Fuck, you feel so good," She broke the silence, pardon; the awkward silence between the both of them. Harry always commented on her, whether it be the way her pussy feels or the way she begs for him in bed, but he was so silent this time, "You like my pussy? Like how it feels?"

She felt his body tense up, a low growl rutting through his throat as he let out a sigh, with a slight nod, "Yeah, feels really good." He was short with her, causing red alarms to sound in her head as she watched him work himself inside of her.

Maybe it was because of all the sex he had been having lately that he wasn't able to perform the way he wanted, or maybe there was something on his mind. Either way, she was confused and ultimately it pulled her out of her mood.

His chestnut curls fell onto the sweaty skin of his forehead, as he continued to thrust inside of her, and he felt himself on the edge, but it wasn't the edge that he was wanting. He was annoyed with himself, but refused to show it, so instead he grabbed her face and slammed their lips together to make out feverishly in hopes that it kept him afloat.

Even with her dripping pussy, the way it made him feel, the way it gripped onto his cock; he lost it. He was sent over the edge, and she felt it from the inside, and suddenly the both of them got quiet, the only sounds in the room was the both of them panting out and catching their breaths.

Honestly, this was the first time this had ever happened to her, and to be frank, was not a good thing for her ego. She tried not to let it hurt her feelings, but the way Harry looked so frustrated was confirmation that it was him; not her.

"It happens all the time," She said quietly as he slid out of her, not saying a word as he fell back onto the bed beside her, "Seriously, with age and all--"

"Can you just not comment on it?" Harry snapped softly as he annoyingly grabbed his clothes from the side floor and sat himself up to get dressed. She blinked.

"Maybe I can go down on you, help you get off. I don't mind if I don't this one time," She didn't want to poke at him, but this was embarrassing enough and she didn't want him to feel bad about it, "I can use my tongue, do that thing you really like--"

"Can you just stop?" Harry was turned to the wall, pulling his sweats on as he barely glanced back at her, "Why don't you just get dressed and leave, alright? I gotta be up early in the morning for work."

She glanced at the clock, it was only eight and Harry never went to bed till eleven. It was the last straw, she couldn't take it. She had been sleeping with Harry for almost a year now and even though they weren't together, she still cared about him. It was only natural, and it was obvious that something was very much wrong with him.

"What is your problem lately?" She finally snapped, grabbing her shirt as she tossed it on carelessly and stood to her feet to dress her bottom half, a rough sigh leaving her. "You have been acting really weird lately, I haven't asked questions, but I think I deserve to know why you have been acting this way?"

"I haven't been acting weird, you're acting weird," His brow perked, a hint of annoyance behind his eyes as he stood close to the wall, arms crossed over his chest.

"Really? At most I used to see you twice a month, maybe three times if we are feeling froggy, but you have texted me every day for the last week and a half asking me to come over. Did something happen with the, uh...other girls, or?"

A scoff came from Harry, "Since when has that ever been your business? Ever thought that you were the only one that texted back fast enough? I mean, Christ, Y/N, what's up with the probing questions?" His arms flew up in defense as he left the room, but she was quick to follow after him. She was not buying his piss ass excuse.

"I'm not trying to fight with you, I'm just worried, Harry. That's all! Am I not allowed to feel worried about you?" She said gently, but it had a sharp edge to it. Harry grimaced, body tensing as he busied himself with his phone.

"That's your fault for caring," He said, not looking up from his phone, "You knew what this was, maybe you shouldn't have let your feelings get in the way of what this is."

"You know, you can be such a fucking dick sometimes!" She snapped, her voice raising just enough to make Harry look at her, "I know what this is, but hell, Harry, it's almost been a year since we started sleeping with each other. It's normal to form some sort of attachment, or emotion to the people in your life. I do care about you, whether you like it or not; which I know you hate it, but believe it or not there are going to be people in your life that actually like you! And care about you!"

"Oh, what are you going on about, Y/N? You act like I'm some guy made outta fuckin' stone, when I'm not. I couldn't give a fuck about it, but if you're gonna get all weird and emotional on me, then I don't wanna hear about it!" Harry defended while waving his hands around, throwing his phone onto the couch then gestured towards the door, "Can you just leave already?"

"There's obviously something wrong if--!" She stopped herself, gulping harshly when she realized that she was about to point, uh, that out and Harry cut her a evil look.

"Go ahead, say it."

"No."

"If my dick isn't working, yeah?" Harry scoffed, rolling his eyes as he fixed his sweatpants that rode low on his hips, "Thanks for pointing that out by the way, thought I could've gotten away without you noticing." He was being sarcastic, and he laid it on thick.

"That's not what I meant, Harry, you know that. I only point it out because that's never happened between us..." She sighs, walking closer to him as she takes his hands and places a soft kiss to his rings, "I know you don't like talking about your feelings, but I am here if you want to talk."

His features only softened just slightly, she could feel the tension in his hands relax softly and she thought she was getting somewhere. Cracking open the eggshell after the year they had spent with one another. That was until...

"Thanks, but no thanks," His hands burned at her touch, he pulled them from her grasp as he took a step back, "Now, leave."

She stared at him in disbelief, her jaw almost dropping from how cold he was being compared to the last week of him being sweet. It was enough to make her lid blow off the top, her hands shaking from anger, but she tried to contain them with balled fists even if the shivering bottom lip was a dead giveaway from her emotions.

"You know what?" She took a gradual step back, grabbing her jacket from the couch before patting towards the door, but sparing him a knowing glare, "I'm not doing this with you. You obviously have fucking problems and I'm not a punching bag you can take them out on. Just lose my number because I'm done."

Her voice shook, and she felt a pang of pain in her chest as she spoke. Harry's eyes slightly widened, then softened as his lips parted to say something, but she swung the front door open and stomped her way out of the mess he made.

Harry just stood there, staring at the door with sweaty palms as he tried to process everything that was said. Taking his phone, he shakily opened his contacts and scrolled through the empty list. All the nicknames he had for everyone was gone, he had deleted them all. They weren't what he wanted anymore. It was weird to him, because he had never came to terms with his feelings when they suddenly popped up almost a month ago, and maybe he knew what they were; but he was ignoring them.

But there was only so much he could ignore.

He stared down at her contact, one that used to be named as The Pretty One, had been changed to her name. His fingers tightened on the phone, a harsh sigh leaving his lips as he threw the phone onto the couch and did the only thing he could think to do.

He ran after her.

She was just getting into her car, almost on the verge of tears. Not because Harry hurt her feelings, but because she did care about him. Maybe a little too much, more than she would ever admit to herself. She had been so lenient with him, let him do whatever makes him happy and she did the same.

But damned her heart if she let herself feel some sort of emotions towards him. Harry didn't deserve her, she knew that. He was cold like a winter day, like frost formed on your button nose, or the cool wind that keeps your body still and ridded with goosebumps.

She was like the summer rain, like--like a warm bon-fire on a spring night with your friends, and a long sip of the hottest cocoa. She was warm. Her heart couldn't take much more of this, despite the fun they've had, it wasn't worth it to have so much worry over a man that didn't even care about her.

Just as she started the car, Harry appeared by the window beside her, making her body jolt from fright.

"Fuck!" She hissed out, pinching her eyes to see who was knocking on her window.

"Y/N! Come inside, let's talk!" Harry tapped on the window repeatedly, a scared look on his face that he tried so desperately to hide, "Don't go, okay? Let's talk!"

"No, Harry!" She yelled back with a shake of her head as her foot hit the brakes and put the car into drive, "I'm leaving! Just let me go!"

As she started to, very slowly, pull off; Harry got scared. He knew that this would be the end of them both if he didn't stop her from leaving. The only logical thing to do was to, well--

He rushed to the front of her car, hands out in defensive as he backed up as the car continued to roll forward. His eyes wide, he stood his ground as he placed two firm palms onto the hood of her car.

"Harry! What the fuck, get out of my way! You're acting crazy!" She yelled out, he was only fueling the fire that was her anger.

"No, I'm not," He tried to sound calm, and as he stared at her through the bright beams of her headlights, he slowly started to climb onto the hood of her car to make sure she wasn't to leave, "Talk to me, or stay here. I'm not leaving this spot."

That was it.

She hit the steering wheel with her hand harshly, surprisingly not inflating the airbag as she did so, before putting the car in park and flinging the door open as she got out and stomped towards the front of the car.

"What the fuck is your problem!?" She yelled out, veins prodding her skin on her throat with clenched fists.

"What's your problem, Y/N?!" Harry turned towards her as she approached him, keeping his feet tucked onto the car, "You--you..."

"My problem is that you don't care, Harry! You have never in your life been shown one ounce of care and now that you have someone that actually cares, you reject it at all costs! That's my fucking problem!" She didn't care if the neighbors could hear them fighting with one another, even if it was slightly late, her feelings mattered and she was ready to spill them.

Harry stared at her with a soft glare, a knowing-you're-so-right glare. His shoulders slumped down as he tucked his knees to his chest and didn't try to argue with the fact. His chin rested onto his forearms that splayed across the tops of his knees as he avoided eye contact with her.

"Are you not going to say anyt--"

"You're right." He shrugged, nudging his nose against his skin as he tried to bury his embarrassment into the nooks and crannies of his body, "I mean, you're right. Why would I argue with that? You got me, Y/N. That's my fucking problem with you."

She was stunned, staring at him in disbelief, once more.

"My problem is that I can fuck whoever I want and they don't try to peel apart my layers, they just wanna fuck and that's it, but that was never the case with you," He spared her a glance, flinching at the look she gave him, "You poked and prodded and even if I ignored your probing questions, you still knew. You saw right through me and I hated it because I've never--"

There was a sudden lump in his throat, his eyes pinching as he swallowed it down thickly with a shake of his head. "You just get me. You're just different and I hate it, but I also don't hate it. I like it, maybe too much, and I like having you around because you're real. You're not like the others and that's what fucking kills me because I've never..."

She was now standing in front of him, taking his hands into hers as she sniffled softly, "You don't have to say it." She told him softly, knowing that talking about his problems, or his feelings, was hard for him. The fact that he chose to open up to her though, was what made her so emotional because the snow was finally melting and under all that ice was a vulnerable man.

Harry inhaled sharply, batting his lashes that filled to the brim with emotion while his legs let loose to hang down off the car. She took a small step to stand between his legs, but he pulled her close to him and wrapped his arms around her tightly.

The first time they had ever hugged.

It felt weird, but warm, and different. It was all so confusing after the year they had together, but it made so much sense and she couldn't think of any other place she wanted to be.

"I've never felt this way about anyone before," He admitted quietly to her, as if he was to say it too loud and someone might shoot him where he sat, "And I'm just now coming to terms with it."

"Are you saying you like me?" She whispered back to him, training her eyes on him softly with a smile.

"Um..." Harry retracted, shrugging one shoulder as he avoided her gaze once more, "It's just that, um, I just--"

She cut off his sentence with a soft kiss and he melted into it like butter on a pan, like sun shining on the last snow day, and everything made sense and he felt like he could stay here with her forever.

"Because," She whispered against his lips, between the both of them, "I like you too."

Harry bit back a small smile, one that was rare to ever see with him, but she saw it and she wanted to frame it and put it onto her wall. His bunny teeth were beautiful, whenever she had the pleasure to see them paired with the deep dimples on his cheeks.

"Yeah, I like you," He said back softly, brushing her hair out of her face softly, "And I want you to be mine."

She hummed softly, "Okay."

She couldn't think of anyone else she would rather be with, and at last, they could finally be together.