Sacramento (11/10) - Only Angel

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!

i keep coming back to this pls someone take this away from me😭😭

shy

being mr. azoff's assistant was y/n's dream job, it was just a bummer that his most beloved client seemed to hate her.

wordcount: 13.5k+

—————

"Did you want anything, Harry? (Y/N)'s about to make a coffee run." 

Although she'd never admit it, (Y/N) held her breath as she fiddled her fingers behind her back, awaiting any response. She already had a good idea of what he would say when he bothered to give an answer, but she still had a tiny hope he'd prove her wrong. 

"No, 'm alright." 

He didn't even raise his head from where it was buried in his phone. Mr. Azoff gave (Y/N) that same polite smile he always did whenever Mr. Styles rejected her services, like he wasn't sure why Mr. Styles wasn't more accepting but it wasn't his place to ask or change the habit. Mr. Azoff treated her right and that was what she tried to focus on, not that the fact his best friend and someone she could consider to be a creative idol, couldn't seem to even give her a moment of his time. 

"Okay, I'll be back in a minute, Mr. Azoff," (Y/N) chirped pleasantly, well versed in how to brush off being brushed off. 

(Y/N) was grateful for the fact her boss's preferred shop was only a few blocks away from his office, giving her the chance to clear her head with fresh (or as fresh as it could be here in L.A.) air instead of stuffing herself into her car. 

Mr. Styles was always like this. Why it still bothered her when he brushed her off or ignored any of her offers of help, she wasn't sure, but it did. That world famous kindness that circulated within the industry as well as what was flung around Twitter had been what she was expecting when she finally made it through the vetting process to be hired as Jeff Azoff's assistant, knowing full well who one of his biggest clients was. She had been realistic, knowing that Harry Styles wasn't going to be her best friend, fawning over her at all times, or suddenly fall in love—this wasn't like those stories she remembers reading when she was young—but she had figured he would give her more than a passing glance the first time she met him. 

Since that first day where he offered a single sentence introduction, she'd been waiting in vain for anything more to happen. More often than not, his conversation would stop when she entered the room or go quiet enough to let her know she wasn't to be included. He gave her plain smiles, not even the hint of a dimple, when he bothered to acknowledge her presence, usually when he would skirt around her to leave the room she'd just entered. She never got a chance to experience firsthand the humor everyone praised, the kindness he all but trademarked as a middle name, or the gentle vulnerability he gave to those who needed it. He could barely even meet her eyes, his gaze moving to his phone or where he plucked at his sleeves or painted nails. 

To be fair, she was still fairly new at the job, only about six months in to her position, so there was a good chance he still needed some warming up after being so used to Mr. Azoff's last assistant that had been employed for years before relocating and leaving the position. Mr. Styles was also known to be shy, something a few others had disclosed to her when they noticed she didn't have much to add whenever he was brought up. Maybe he needed a little more time, and that was something she was more than willing to give, along with the space it seemed he needed.

At least until his European tour started. Then, he would have to at least get used to her presence, seeing as they were to be sanctioned to matching flights, hotels, and backstage areas for the better part of the next three months. She wouldn't be able to give him much space then. Hopefully he wouldn't hate her more after those ninety days together. 

As much as the walk to the cafe and the extra Matcha latte she treated herself with, cleared her head and had her back on her feet after being blown back by the nonchalance paid to her entire existence by someone she felt singled out by, the effect could only last for so long when she entered the office. 

Before pushing the door open, she could hear the voices inside happily chattering away. Mr. Styles' cackling laugh that she was sure had his eyes creasing closed with his head thrown back was the most prevalent noise, something she usually only caught the tail end. As she expected, the second she gave a gentle rapping of her knuckles against the door just before pushing it open, all sound stopped, even Mr. Azoff's chattering trailing off once he realized Mr. Styles was done interacting for the moment. 

"Here you go," she chirped, passing along the coffee to her boss with an unbothered smile that was much stronger than she felt, "Is there anything else I can do for you?" 

"No, no," he shook his head, "Not until this afternoon. Go and enjoy your lunch, (Y/N)." 

She gave a quiet nod of her head, chancing a single look in Mr. Styles' direction. He had his gaze fixed on his hands. A flush clung to his skin, surely a lingering effect of the laughter she had interrupted. 

"Okay, let me know if that changes," she offered with a short smile before turning on her heel.

Just as she left the room, closing the door behind her, she heard Mr. Azoff heave a muffled sigh on the other side. 

"Harry..." 

"Jeff, please. She jus'—" 

(Y/N) left before she could hear much more. She didn't need to know what Mr. Styles thought about her. 

—————

Despite the buzz filling the terminal, (Y/N) almost couldn't believe the way not a single person had noted Mr. Styles' presence. Not even a single muttering or whisper of his name could be heard in the busy place. 

He sat in peace, a grey hoodie with the strings tied covered his torso, hood up over a pink beanie that concealed his curls. He sat with his legs spread wide, taking up space with his black sweats folded over his legs. Scrolling through his phone, he was in his own world with his chin propped up in his hand, cheek smushed against his ring-bare fingers. He only looked up when boarding was called. 

(Y/N) followed quietly behind the trio of Mr. Styles, her boss, and Mr. Lambert, the tour's stylist. She could hear the tittering and quiet conversation in front of her while other members of production and the team trailed behind her. Without Mr. Azoff's wife joining them just yet for this tour, she didn't have many close friends within this group for the time being. 

It was all a blur, finding her seat on the plane and placing her carryon above. She was the first in her row, huddling close to the window seat. She knew Mr. Azoff was going to join her as soon as he finished doing whatever it was he and the Harry's were doing, so at least she wasn't going to be completely alone. 

Biding her time until take off while the rest of the plane filled up, (Y/N) distracted herself with answering emails on Mr. Azoff's behalf. She verified hotel arrangements, replied to all the correspondence that went along with Mrs. Azoff joining them later in the week, and anything else that needed her attention before takeoff. 

Huddled into her corner of the row, the early call time for the flight began to catch up with her. The emails in front of her couldn't hold her attention against the tiny pillow she had managed to sneak into the backpack she shoved under her seat, the plush sandwiched between her cheek and the sidewall of the plane. The sound of shuffling feet as the rest of the flight filled up was like white noise to her cloud-puffed brain. 

(Y/N) couldn't help herself before she was fluttering her eyes closed. Surely, Mr. Azoff would wake her before takeoff if she really passed out. 

She wasn't sure how long she sat, resting her eyes with her limbs floating in the in-between realm before much of the shuffling ceased and the heft of someone settling in beside her sounded in the empty space. She didn't bother blinking her eyes open, even when she heard chattering beside her. Mr. Azoff was one of the voices, followed by someone who sounded a little too close to her for his comfort. 

"Jeffery..." Mr. Styles sighed. 

"Stop acting like a child, H," her boss scolded, voice stern though he was quiet, "She's asleep, I'm not going to make you talk to her." 

(Y/N) was grateful for the way she had her cheeks mushed between her shoulder and her fluffed pillow. Maybe if she covered them, her seat mates wouldn't be able to feel the embarrassed heat gathering under her skin. 

Mr. Styles was sitting right next to her, she realized when she heard the heavy intake of a breath leave his lungs. She wasn't sure how she'd do it, but it looked like she was going to have to pretend to be asleep all the way to the hotel. Maybe, she could convince everyone she was a very well-organized and direction-following sleepwalker if she was careful. 

That thought didn't last long, (Y/N) having to break her facade at the sound of Mr. Azoff's voice calling to her.

"(Y/N)," he started, speaking around Mr. Styles. He repeated her name a couple of more times, prompting her to mime opening her eyes as if she'd been dead asleep only moments prior before he continued, "We're about to take off." 

"Oh," she smiled, the curve tight, "Thank you." 

If not for the fact she was sure she would die if they knew she had overheard the way Mr. Styles couldn't stand to even sit next to her, she would have hesitated more before she crossed her gaze to the man beside her. His eyes were already on her when she looked at him, expression tight as he seemingly forced a smile in her direction. His back was stiff against the seat, hands twisted in his lap with flaking nail polish. His gaze didn't linger on her for very long before he looked away, just in time for the safety spiel from the steward team.  

Following suit, she followed through the motions of checking her seatbelt, absently locating the exits, and curling into her seat by the time they were cleared for takeoff. She didn't like this part, but it was enough to huddle herself against the back of her seat and brace herself with her hands clenched into the armrest to her right side. 

She sat with her eyes closed, nails digging into the leather of the armrest as she felt the motion beneath her feet, the runway disappearing underneath them until the turbulence of takeoff shook the body of the plane. (Y/N) breathed her way through it, hunkering down into the slouchy fit of her hoodie. 

It wasn't until the turbulence evened out, steady windfall starting in the dark of the early morning, that she felt eyes on her. Without really thinking, she blinked her eyes open only to find Mr. Styles looking to her with something softer painted over his features. 

He didn't immediately flit away when her eyes met his, allowing himself to touch over her features with the warmth of his gaze. His tanned skin still held a buttery warmth even under the draining overhead lights of the cabin, stubble covering the bottom half of his face she'd never seen him grow out until recently. His eye contact was famous around the world, unrelenting though welcoming as it gave her a chance to see the flecks and streaks through the moss of his irises. (Y/N) floundered under his attention, unsure of what to do with something she doesn't think she's ever had before. 

"Um—Did—Or, do you want m-my pillow?" she asked, blindly reaching for the little plush fit between her body and the sidewall. 

At the sound of her voice, Mr. Styles seemed to realize what exactly he was doing and who he was glazing over with his eyes. He shook his head then, curls peeking out from underneath his beanie. 

"No, thank you," he mumbled, reaching into his hoodie pocket to pull out a pair of headphones. 

That was all his attention that she was granted until his headphones were plugged into his ears and she was alone again in her row. 

—————

"And finally, on drums, Sarah Jones!" 

(Y/N) was blown away as the area erupted into cheers she was sure could rival the screams that sounded when Mr. Styles first appeared on stage. She watched on from the mouth of the backstage area, her boss at her side with a drink in hand, as Mr. Styles reveled in the screaming and yelling, a bright dimpled smile on his face. If not for the fact she was technically there in a professional sense and this was only the second show she'd had the privilege of watching, she would have joined in and screamed and cheered for the band that was being introduced. (After getting a chance to meet every moving part of his touring band as well as watching them perform, she very much so understood the enthusiasm offered to these characters).

It was when Mr. Styles joined in on the fanfare, pumping his fist and making a noise that sounded like he was barking along with the crowd that she couldn't hold back her laughter. The layered fringe hanging from his jacket glittered in the light, matching the sheen of sweat that covered his shirtless body. He threw his head back with a bright laugh she almost wished he had the microphone held to his mouth for, just so she could hear what his joy sounded like. 

Even just this moment alone was something she was sure she was always going to remember, no matter how many times she was going to witness this over and over. Never had she been to a concert that held the same energy as these arenas—and eventually stadiums—she'd visited. She couldn't blame a single person in this room for everything they did to get to this place, every moment of planning, saving, celebrating, and crying. She understood. 

Mr. Styles was meant to perform. Even with his brief breaks he spent on movie sets, it was clear why he came back to this space with these people that followed him like honeybees and gave so much love and kindness to him. 

She watched as he finished his introductions of the band, launching into another song that had the whole arena moving and dancing. Even without the help of the spotlight and the cameras following his every move, she was sure she wouldn't be able to keep her eyes from him; he commanded the space, with every intention of taking that attention and thriving under it. 

Despite the relationship—or lack there of—off stage, (Y/N) couldn't wait to see this almost every night for however many months she had the privilege of standing stage side.

—————

"Call me if you need anything!" 

Mr. Azoff shook off (Y/N)'s offer as she started off in the direction of the green room being used as the catering space for the day. A busy morning had ensued, leaving (Y/N) running around trying to find any trace of an adequate wifi connection in the middle of the venue just so she could answer emails and show up to video meetings she was attending on Mr. Azoff's behalf. It wouldn't have been so bad if not for the time differences given the fact she was on a completely different continent than any business she was working with. The stress of it all had her beat before the morning had even touched into the double digits for the day, still with another handful of hours worth of work to get through. 

Finally—finally—she had typed away at every email, fielded every phone call, and spaced out the following day's agenda given the lack of a performance crowding Mr. Azoff's schedule. Now, she could sit down and eat before shuttling back to the hotel for a nap—as long as she wasn't needed for anything else, of course.

The catering space wasn't as busy as she sure it had been an hour prior, only a few others lingering about. One of the few happened to be Mr. Styles. 

A clip was holding his curls back, a plain t-shirt with a pair of basketball shorts covering his legs revealed he had just finished with a workout before he would shower off and get to his soundcheck. He had his phone in hand as he forked food into his mouth, that intense look on his face that she always seemed to catch on him. His brows were knitted heavily in the middle, shrouding the bright green of his eyes in the shadow of his brow with his jaw tight as he chewed down whatever he had picked over from the table. 

(Y/N) flitted her eyes to the rest of the crew littering the space before she was caught by Mr. Styles who seemed to always somehow know when someone had spotted him, even with nothing more than a phone camera. The little whiteboard catering hung above the food table was filled out with the day's menu. The prettily curved words brought a bright smile to (Y/N)'s face when she spotted the forth item down the list. 

The catering team's arancini was easily one of (Y/N)'s favorite things she's ever eaten, on this tour or otherwise. She didn't care that it wasn't more than some risotto rice left over from the night before's dinner, repurposed as to minimize waste and turned into a crunchy, cheesy ball with the perfect acidic marinara served alongside it. If she could, she would live off those little pieces by themselves. Hopefully, there were at least a few left for her to devour, even if they were a little cold at this point. 

Readying her plate with a small serving of Caesar salad and the lemon baked salmon (Mr. Styles' favorite and top request from what she'd heard), (Y/N) worked down the line until she reached the covered basin that held the arancini she easily dreamt of at least five times since the first bite. Lifting the lid, the fresh scent of bright tomatoes and fragrant oregano filled her senses, the bite of the smell hitting her harder with her empty stomach. 

Nothing hit quite as hard on her expectant tummy than the fact she realized only a second too late that there wasn't a single rice ball left in the warmer. A thin layer of remaining sauce was laid along the bottom, but nothing was dropped beside the mushed tomatoes. 

Maybe she was being a little dramatic, but (Y/N) felt her shoulders drop at the sight of the empty container. To be fair, she was almost two hours late to serving time, so she couldn't be that surprised that there wasn't any left to spare. Surely, she wasn't the only one obsessed with the parmesan coating on the outside of the sticky rice. She couldn't blame anyone for jumping on the opportunity to take as many as they could while they were there. 

(Y/N) replaced the lid, taking her half filled plate to one of the small tables set up in the room. The day began to catch up with her as she sat down. Her morning had been hectic enough to suck the energy out of her bones, now combined with the disappointment of how high she put herself at the mention of her favorite food before finding it all gone. She slumped into her chair, taking out her phone and finally looking at something that wasn't work-related for the first time that day. 

Every bite she scooped into her mouth was monotonous as she slipped a pair of earbuds in before screening the missed messages she'd had to ignore for the morning. Music was filtering through her headphones, the perfect distraction to her brain that felt entirely too empty now that she wasn't running at top speed like she had been the second she'd woke up. If not for the texture of each bite she took, she wouldn't know exactly what she was eating with the way she couldn't use even muster the minuscule amount of energy it would take to glance at her fork.  

With her eyes glued to her phone as a video now played out on screen, (Y/N) didn't have enough room in her head to keep track of the rest of the room. As much as she prides herself on being a good assistant, especially being so new to this position, she doesn't think she would notice if Mr. Azoff walked in and screamed out her name while banging pots and pans. 

That was exactly the reason she didn't notice Mr. Styles approaching her table either. 

It wasn't until she noticed a plate being slid onto the table beside her, a hand complete with a tattooed cross and green glittery nails keeping a hold of the lip until she managed to pull an earbud out. Looking up, Mr. Styles still had that tight look on his face, his free hand fidgeting at his side like he was itching to get out of there. 

"Yes?" she chirped, assuming he was finally taking her up on her offers to help him as well when she assisted Mr. Azoff. 

Watching as Mr. Styles dropped his gaze from hers, (Y/N) had to keep from tipping her head at him. That wasn't like him at all, unable to keep eye contact. From what she knew, that was something he insisted on. She hoped he was okay. 

"Um—'M full, but I thought I'd ask if y'wanted any before I threw these away," he said, his voice floating under his breath. 

It was then that (Y/N) finally noted what was on his plate, finding a duo of the arancini balls she had been mourning only moments earlier. The same fragrant, acidic sauce laid underneath it along with shreds of parmesan cheese sprinkled atop, the same way she would have plated it. She had to keep herself from drooling at the sight. 

"A-Are you sure?" 

A beat passed, the green of Mr. Styles' gaze finally meeting hers again. "I thought these were your favorite." 

(Y/N) had to stop herself from letting a pinch touch at her brows. "I mean, yeah, they are, b—" 

"Then, 'm sure." 

The deep vibrato of his voice was more soothing than any note of music she played could ever hope to be, the same voice she'd had the privilege of listening to every night while on the road on the loudspeakers. Despite the giving nature of his tone, underlying softness floating alongside, she knew there wasn't much room to argue. Besides, (Y/N) didn't think she had the strength to say no to his offer with that plate in front of her. 

"Thank you, Mr. Styles," she smiled, reaching for the plate as he retracted his grip. 

A chaste smile curved his lips, the tip of his nose seemingly blushing red before he gave her a quiet nod of his head. He didn't say anything else before he walked away, leaving her to constitute her two plates of food into one with that warmth in her stomach that could have energized her enough to work another hectic morning. Her only complaint was that she wished he would have sat down with her. She'd even give up his offer of the arancini if that meant he'd sit down beside her and finish his meal. 

She didn't see him again until he was leaving the greenroom with a granola bar in hand, one bite already taken out. She had thought he said he was full. 

It was with that thought that, shortly after, (Y/N) realized she had never told Mr. Styles what her favorite food was. 

—————

"Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday, dear (Y/N), happy birthday to you!" 

(Y/N)'s skin felt warm with all eyes on her, a sheet cake in front of her with frosting flowers and twinkling candles stuck through. She didn't know what to do with everyone's eyes on her, twisting in her spot with a shy smile on her lips as the song came to a close. Fluttering her eyes to a close, she blew out the candles while everyone cheered. A wish absently flittered through her head, hoping for happiness to come to everyone in this room with her as they deserved so much after surprising her with a birthday celebration in the middle of an international tour. 

"Thank you all, so much," (Y/N) muttered once the room grew quiet, her fingers knotted into a sheepish pile as she swept her gaze across the gathered crowd, "I didn't even realize anyone knew it was my birthday, this really means a lot. Thank you." 

All of her new friends, crew and production members for the tour that she had grown close with over the last few weeks, all gave her mixed mutterings of more birthday wishes, that of course they remembered, and they were all more than happy to be a part of this with her. After the show tonight, they all promised to take her out to one of the clubs in town to help her celebrate before they would be off for the next city the following day. Cutting the cake came next, the grouping of crew began to break off as conversations rose in volume in the green room, leaving (Y/N) to soak in the atmosphere as the creamy icing spread over her tongue at first bite. 

She truthfully had no idea anyone had been aware of her birthday, let alone have the time to put something like this together. Sure, it wasn't a huge celebration, but the fact a cake had been secured, complete with personalized frosting spelling out her name while on the road, was enough to have her heart hurting from how full it was. Even Mr. Styles had made it, huddling himself in one of the small corners with his arms folded across his chest as he sang along to the birthday song. She was pretty sure he had even been a few minutes late to a fitting for the next slew of tour outfits just so he could be apart of something like this for her. 

"Happy birthday, (Y/N)," Mr. Azoff said, coming up behind her with his wife only a few paces behind, both with a plate of cake in hands. 

(Y/N)'s features softened immediately as she took him in. "Thank you so much, Mr. Azoff," she started, still disregarding every invitation for her to call him by his first name, "You didn't need to put anything like this together at all. Really, thank you so much." 

He would be the only one that might recall her birthday, she figured, coming from her hire paperwork. Besides, they spent enough time together she may have accidentally let it slip out while talking. Mr. Azoff would definitely be the kind of boss that would do something like this for her. 

Instead of the humble way he swept away her gratitude she had been expecting, her boss let out a bubbling peal of laughter. Mrs. Azoff matched (Y/N)'s confused expression, knitted brows and all as they looked at him. 

"I didn't put this together," he clarified, shaking his head before spearing another bite of cake, "I've been so busy I can't even remember what year it is, let alone the day." 

"Oh," (Y/N) sounded, face dropping. "Do you know who it was then? I just want to thank them properly." 

A shared look happened between the Azoffs, the missus' blonde brows raising in her husband's direction as if she was wondering the same thing. Mr. Azoff gave her a pointed look, flicking his gaze to (Y/N) for only a moment before he raised a brow. Realization seemed to spring across Mrs. Azoff's face, the kind (Y/N) was hoping she could share in. 

"Tell her," Mrs. Azoff mumbled, quiet enough (Y/N) knew she wasn't necessarily meant to hear the command. She watched as Mr. Azoff floundered, his lips pressing into a thin line with wide eyes as if he were pleading with her without words. "Jeffery, I think it would be nice for her to know. He's not going to mind." 

Her reasoning seemed to loosen him up some, only enough to have his gaze returning to (Y/N)'s with a small pivot. "Sorry," he told her, excusing the last few moments with a chaste smile on his lips, "Um—It was Harry. He was the one who remembered and put this all together." 

(Y/N) had to keep her jaw from dropping at the new information. Her fork was limp in her hand. "Really?" 

"Mhm," Mrs. Azoff chirped, "He was the one who came to us, telling us he had everything all planned out, we just needed to be here to surprise you. He did a good job, didn't he?" 

The picture of Mr. Styles standing so nonchalant in the corner of the room, singing quietly to the birthday song while she stood in front of the warm glow of the sparkling candles took on a new tint. This had been all of his idea, even the light pink and warm green frosting spelling out her name with petite flowers on the sheet cake had been his idea. The cake itself was even her favorite flavor, something she was doubting was a coincidence. 

"Really?" she asked, the question feeling dumb on her tongue but she couldn't help but ask. 

"It's all he's been talking about his last couple of days off. He wanted to make sure everyone knew and would be able to come celebrate with you." 

Mrs. Azoff's warm smile along with her boss's quiet curl to his lips was all the confirmation (Y/N) needed to know they were being completely serious. They were acting as if they were sharing a secret with her despite the room full of people that were in on it before she was. 

"Th-That's really nice of him," she settled on, unsure if there were any real words that could convey just how much the idea of Mr. Styles planning this little surprise made her heart ache. "I'm going to have to tell him thank you when he has a minute." 

"I think he'd really like that," Mr. Azoff told her, voice quiet as if he were sharing a tiny secret. 

With the way Mrs. Azoff looked at hm after he spoke, (Y/N) wondered if there really was another secret she wasn't privy to.

—————

Screaming cheers filled the SUV the second the door flung open, Mr. Styles piling inside with a towel hung over his shoulder and a bright smile gracing his features. His energy was vibrating off of him in waves, intoxicating the small space of the car as they pulled out of the venue as the curtains closed behind them. (Y/N) never really got to see him this closely after a show, tonight being an occasion that Mr. Azoff and she were to head back to the hotel with him right away in prep for the late night meetings needed before any of them were to be dismissed to bed (Mr. Styles' next album was coming up closer and closer, and labels needed answers if he wanted the vinyl pressings to be done in time). 

Tonight, (Y/N) was packed into the backseat of the SUV with Mr. Styles, feeling that bright energy he harnessed on stage settling in like another person sitting between them. He used the towel offered to him by security to wipe off his glistening face, sweat soaking the fabric though he didn't stop smiling. 

"Jeff, Jeff," Mr. Styles started, pulling on the neckline of his blueberry embellished top, drawing the fabric away from his skin, "Did you see that back there?" 

She watched as her boss let out a small laugh, turning around where he sat in the front passenger seat to face his client. "See what, H?" 

The smile that broke out on Mr. Styles' face somehow grew bigger. His breathing was still coming in pants, something (Y/N) wasn't sure was coming from his excitement or the lingering exertion from his stage time. "That girl, she was dressed like a clam and her head was the pearl! I think she had a sign too, but I couldn't see it because every time I looked, she was dancing and I couldn't stop laughing." 

"Oh, that's why you could barely finish singing Sushi?" Mr. Azoff pressed, matching Mr. Styles excitement with his own bubbling smile. A small glance was flicked in (Y/N)'s direction, as if she were telling her to get a load of this guy. 

"It was so funny, Jeffery," Mr. Styles insisted, the purple leather of his pants squeaking against the seats with the way he couldn't manage to sit still, "It was like there was a bobblehead out there, but with these little legs." Just when Mr. Azoff went to answer, Mr. Styles completely changed with his jaw dropping before he turned to (Y/N) with another layer of excitement brewing in the car. "Wait, (Y/N)! Did you see that girl dressed like a fairy? She was standing with the angel and the sushi roll!" 

(Y/N) tried to school her features, keep the surprise off her face at the fact Mr. Styles was acknowledging her—and with a smile too! Attempting to focus on the question at hand, she racked her brain for whoever it was that he was referencing. "Maybe. Were they standing in pit?" she asked, settling into the leather of her seat with Mr. Azoff watching on with a less than neutral expression giving away his own shock. 

"Yes, yes," Mr. Styles chattered off, "Towards the exit catwalk! She had on big sparkly wings, and everything!" 

"Oh, yeah," (Y/N) perked up, giving him a matching grin, "That was the same costume—" 

"—you wore for Halloween!" Mr. Styles cut her off to finish her own sentence, bouncing in his seat in time with the rhythm of the pavement underneath the wheels of the car. "That's why I noticed her! Y'had the same wings, and the dress, and everything, right?" 

This time (Y/N) wasn't as smooth to recover at his words. She had been the only one to dress as such for the holiday, and she hadn't thought Mr. Styles had seen her at all in his own rush to be dressed in his own costume and prepping the extra song he was to cover for the occasion. It could have only been twice where she thought he might have seen her, especially as more than a blur that had to run past while doing whatever errands Mr. Azoff needed. 

"Y-Yeah," she bubbled off, pretending she didn't stutter in hopes that no one else would notice, "that was my Halloween costume. I didn't realize you noticed." 

The curls that flopped over Mr. Styles' forehead added to the boyish sparkle in his eyes as he looked at her, dimples denting his cheeks. "Your's was m'favorite costume." 

It was only a second later that Mr. Styles was distracted once more in his adrenaline-fueled post-concert excitement, drawing Mr. Azoff into another bubbling conversation about a moment that happened on stage. (Y/N) was left to settle into her spot, seatbelt tight around her chest as her heart struggled to beat out of its cage. 

If he wasn't careful, (Y/N) was going to start thinking he didn't hate her. 

—————

(Y/N) sidestepped out of the doorway, allowing Mr. Styles to brush past her in his rush to exit the room she'd just entered. He didn't bother to even make eye contact with her or shoot her an awkward smile she'd become accustomed to. All she caught of him was his strained expression as she bounced into the room, feeling much more awake this morning after the bubbling excitement she felt while riding back to the hotel with Mr. Styles being so happy to talk with her. 

That excitement drained as soon as she saw the way he all but flinched at her presence now that the after show adrenaline had worn off. Mr. Azoff seemed just as surprised at the blatant switch as he watched Mr. Styles run off. 

"Uh—Good morning, Mr. Azoff," (Y/N) attempted to chirp out.

She could see the way he floundered for words, his eyes flicking between her and Mr. Styles' retreating figure she was forcing herself to keep from glancing at. "(Y/N), I—" 

"It's okay, it's okay," she waved him off, doing her best to convince herself with her own excuse, "He's probably still tired from last night, it's okay." 

The look on Mr. Azoff's face told her he knew something she didn't. (Y/N) figured it was a secret she didn't want to know. 

—————

This had to be the first time (Y/N) had ever seen Mr. Azoff so stressed, especially after setting out on this tour with his favorite client. His hair was a mess with the usual day's worth of stubble on his face now growing into almost a full beard with the way the last few days have come stumbling around him. Near constantly did he have a phone pressed to his ear, preferring to take all of these phone calls as opposed to allowing (Y/N) to take care of them like he had so far in this route. 

"We don't know if he's going to be able to make it on this Friday," she heard Mr. Azoff sigh into the receiver, dragging a heavy hand through his hair. Mrs. Azoff looked just as glum as she listened into the conversation from the small couch that was set up in the living space of their hotel room. "I know—we're trying. He's barely been able to get out of bed since he got off stage last night, we haven't started on the road at all." 

(Y/N) felt concern spike in her chest at the mention of Mr. Styles' state. She knew he wasn't doing so well after last night, especially with how hard he had to start straining himself towards the end of the show just to hit notes she knew would otherwise be easy for him. What she hadn't known was the fact he didn't have the strength to even get out of bed. She'd hate for him to have caught the same flu that one of the crew members had suffered through just a couple of weeks earlier. 

"We don't want to cancel or reschedule anything, yet, no," Mr. Azoff rushed out, sinking into the couch cushion beside his equally as exhausted wife, "We have a few days still, so we'll see if he feels any better by Thursday. If not, I'll call you with options." 

It was only moments later that Mr. Azoff hung up the call, looking just as exhausted as he started the call. Seeing as how it was Tuesday, and Mr. Styles had only a few days left to be feeling better in time to even travel for his next show, she could understand his stress. 

Before (Y/N) could even offer her services, Mr. Azoff said her name with a lingering exhaustion. "Could you call one of those liquid IV offices, please? And get his doctor on a call; if he needs antibiotics, I want them picked up by the end of the day." 

Very few times did Mr. Azoff feel like a boss, always talking to her in gentler tones with requests rather than demands. Not that he was flexing any superiority and unforgiving directions even now, but she knew this was something he needed done thirty minutes ago, but was still willing to accept it being done now. 

That was all she needed to hear before she had her phone pressed to her ear. Even if Mr. Styles didn't care for her as much as she may have thought a week ago, she wanted him better just as much as Mr. Azoff did, and not just because of the touring schedule. 

—————

How (Y/N) happened to be the only one within the central crew to have been vaccinated for the flu this season, she didn't know, but she didn't mind the added responsibility tied with the booster. Armed with a takeaway container of hot soup, a liter bottle of water, and another round of medication for Mr. Styles, Mr. Azoff sent her off to his hotel room. 

Mr. Styles had all but been quarantined since he started exhibiting those early flu symptoms, a medical team having been the ones tending to him the previous couple of days as he apparently worsened into running a fever and getting sick to his stomach. It was into the late hours of the evening that Mr. Azoff finally shooed them off (at his client's request, supposedly. Mr. Styles felt bad to have so many people fussing over him, he had said), and thanked them for everything they did for his client. They were left with the tools and a regiment on the best and fastest way to get Mr. Styles healthy again. She remembered watching Mr. Azoff read over the extensive list left in his care, a humorless laugh leaving his lips and he muttered something about the miracle of this week being one of the longer breaks he had scheduled between shows. 

As the crew couldn't afford anyone else getting as sick as Mr. Styles was, (Y/N) was chosen to be the first one to tend to him given the fact she would be the least likely to catch whatever virus he had—and even if she did, they could afford to have her on bed rest for a few days. Mr. Azoff had passed along the printed schedule of his medication times and what foods and fluids would be best to get his system back on track in the remaining forty-eight hours left until a decision would have to be made on whether or not the next show was in jeopardy, and she was on her way. 

An apology was ready on her tongue for the second she breached the sanctuary of his hotel room, knowing that she was most likely one of the last people he wanted to see at a time like this. That was the hardest part, she figured. She wasn't afraid of falling ill or seeing him sick, it was knowing just how unwelcome she was going to be in his space, especially since he wouldn't be able to flitter away from her like she knew he was used to. But, that fear was going to have to be shoved into a box in the back of her mind. Mr. Styles wasn't feeling well and needed someone to help him, and that was what she was going to focus on. 

After a quiet rap of her knuckles against his hotel room door went expectedly unanswered, (Y/N) pulled for the keycard Mr. Azoff had slipped into the bag of essentials he'd passed off to her. As soon as the handle clicked with a green light blinking, she twisted the knob carefully. A quiet creak whined from the hinges as she entered the dark room. 

Mr. Styles' messy bed was empty, the only light coming from the dimly set bedside lamp revealing the creases and folds in the bedding she was sure housekeeping hadn't had a chance to come by and change since he'd been holed up in the space. His luggage was left neatly beside the closet, only a pair of brightly colored socks laid atop the case letting her know it had been touched in the last few days. If not for the fact she knew there was no where else for him to have gone without someone on his team being notified, (Y/N) would have assumed his hotel room to be deserted by the way the air felt stale as she stepped in. 

"Mr. Styles? It's (Y/N). I know you probably don't wan—" 

Before she could finish her apology for stepping into his space, a gagging noise from the bathroom gave away his position. That was when she noticed the sliver of light leaking from underneath the closed door. 

Rolling her lips between her teeth with concern knitting her brows together, (Y/N) abandoned her doctor assembled and boss ordered care package on the bedside table. It was with shaking hands that she gently knocked on the bathroom door. 

A groan answered a beat later. "Jeff, I promise 'm going to be alright in a couple of days," Mr. Styles grumbled out, voice deep and sour, "Don't cancel anything, please." 

Releasing the hold her teeth had on her bottom lip, (Y/N) sucked in a deep breath. "Actually, it's (Y/N)." 

"W-What are y'doing here?" was his stuttered response, raw voice leveling out in volume. 

Not quite as biting as she may have expected in a moment like this, but (Y/N) had figured he would ask something of this type. "I'm the only one that's had my flu shot, so Mr. Azoff wanted me to come check on you. Is it alright if I come in?" 

"Please, don't." That was the clipped response she had been anticipating, but (Y/N) thought his tone dipped into something more embarrassed than angry. 

"Mr. Styles, I have water and food, and the medication you'r—" 

Before she could get much further with her explanation, she was cut off by the sound of a guttural noise on the other side of the door. Mr. Styles gagged alone in the bathroom, his panting breaths being cut off only to be replaced with the sound of him getting sick. 

As much as (Y/N) wanted to respect his privacy and foster a kinder relationship between the pair of them, there was no way she was going to be able to sit idly by knowing that she could help him when he so clearly needed some support. That was all it took for her to barge into the bathroom, rushing over the tiles to where Mr. Styles was hunched over the toilet. 

Focusing herself on him and not what was currently leaving his system, (Y/N) stroked her hand down his back while the other worked on drawing his hair out of his face. A stray clip was fit against the top of his head, a sloppy attempt she was sure he had executed with shaking hands. 

"(Y/N), no," he stuttered over her name until she felt a shudder rack his spine, his head being sent back to the toilet bowl as another round of sickness left his body. 

She didn't say anything back, knowing not only would it fall on deaf ears, but this wasn't the time to start pleading with him to let her stay. That wasn't up for debate as far as she was concerned; whether he liked it or not, she wasn't going to leave him to be sick all by himself in a hotel room in a country he didn't call home. Nothing sounded more dreadful than that. 

Instead, she only shushed him and lead a soothing hand down his spine with her other hand fixing his hair from his face. The strands had lost their curl after a few days without wash, matching the stale texture of his clothes that she was sure he hadn't changed out of in just as long. Having heard about how heavily he prioritized his self-care, especially when touring, she knew he really must feel terrible if he couldn't bring himself to do any of those basic things. 

Nonetheless, she stayed a constant, steady presence beside him on the bathroom floor. She tucked baby curls behind his ears, the strands too short to reach clip on the top of his head, and she shushed him with a gentle hand on his back as he emptied his system before being reduced down to dry heaves and gags resulting in nothing more than stolen breath and teary eyes. 

"It's okay, Mr. Styles, just breathe," she reminded him as he reached to flush the toilet, his breathing coming in rapid pants through his raw throat. 

"Don't call me that," he panted, sitting back on his heels though he still didn't care to turn to face her, "I don't like it when y'call me that." 

"Okay, okay," she soothed, the same word having fallen from her lips at least a hundred times at this point, "What do you want me to call you? What do you like better?"

"Jus' H, please. Want y'to talk to me like y'know me." 

Her heart just about broke at how pathetic he sounded in that moment, his request just short of a whine given his burned throat. "Okay, I can do that," she agreed with a gentle pat to his back. "I'm going to be right back, alright? I brought you some water for you to sip on." 

Before (Y/N) could even get to her feet, Mr. S—Harry—H twisted in his spot and raced to wrap his fingers around her wrists. He kept her from going any further with his manacle-like grip, bloodshot eyes glossy in the low light of the bathroom. "Wait, please. I-I don't want to be alone if I get sick again." 

As much as she knew it was against her better judgment to leave the liter of water out in the bedroom, there was no way she could argue against him when he looked at her like that. And, for the first time ever, he was pleading with her to stay with him, not fighting for a way out of her presence. How could she say no to that?

"Okay, I'll stay a few minutes longer, but I need to have you drinking something soon," she reasoned, settling back down onto the tile floor. She crossed her legs underneath her, opting for something more comfortable than the cuffs of her knees digging into the hard floor as she was prepared to sit there for as long as Harry needed her (or until she could convince him of the importance of water right now). 

Harry all but deflated with relief at her words, slumping into her arms in a way that had (Y/N) doubting he knew he was doing. Another sign of just how bad he was feeling then—he'd never seek comfort in her like this otherwise. Nonetheless, (Y/N) wrapped her arms around him without question, cushioning her back against the wall of the bathroom behind her while Harry's clumsy limbs found purchase around her. He shuffled up beside her with legs folded underneath him, his bottom on his heels. He was close enough to the toilet incase of an emergency, but his knees still knocked into hers with his arms around her waist, face tucking into the curve of her throat. 

"Thank you," he murmured into her neck once he burrowed himself against her skin, his forehead clammy. 

"Of course," she told him, her arms around his middle with her palms spanning the planes of his back. "Has it been like this all day?" 

"Mhm," he practically whined, his nose scrunching against her skin, "I hate it. I hate being sick. I jus' want to be better already." 

(Y/N) held him tighter the second she felt wetness slide over her skin, moreso than the sheen of sweat that covered his forehead. He was crying. That gloss that had lacquered his gaze had overflown, now leaking over her skin and pooling in the line of her collarbones. "I know, H, I know," she crooned to him, forcing herself to stay composed despite how much her heart ached for him then, "I brought stuff for you that's supposed to help you feel better. Do you want to try taking some medicine or drinking some water?" 

"I don't think I can keep it down," he told her, voice watery as he spoke, "'M sorry." 

"No, don't be sorry, okay?" she gently scolded him, shaking her head as she brought her hand up to card through the length of the curls on the back of his head. 

"I jus' want to be better, (Y/N)," he repeated earnestly, a sniffle following right after to match the wiggle of his nose she felt against her skin. She wanted to be endeared at the small touch but that was quickly outweighed by the concern she felt the second another wave of tears washed over her skin, Harry's breathing shifting until she feared he would start sobbing. 

"And you will be," she promised, hugging him tighter with her fingers lacing through his hair, "You need to give yourself a little more time, okay? Sleep a little more, and once you're up to it, we'll have you eating and drinking again and you'll be feeling so much better. I promise." 

"But—"

Harry tensed in her arms before could finish his thought. A scramble of limbs ensued then, leaving (Y/N) feeling the absence of his warmth while he hunched over the toilet and threw up the nonexistent contents of his stomach. (Y/N) was behind him in a rush, rubbing his back and cooing to him as he began to dry heave, only bile leaving his system now. 

It was (Y/N) this time that flushed the toilet down for him after a few minutes of nothing else triggering his gag reflex, proceeding to gather him back into her arms once he was settled enough to unlock his joints and allow his muscles to go malleable again. 

"It's alright, H—" 

"See?" he cut her off, voice particularly raw after his latest showing, "'M not getting better, (Y/N). I jus' want to be better and-and play a show and I do-don't want to let anyone down." 

"You're not letting anyone down," she cemented, relaxing into the stiff sidewall of the tub as he tucked himself into her warmth one more time with his face in her neck.

"I've heard Jeff talking about cancelling or rescheduling shows," he mumbled, a sniffle following after, "I don't want to do that. S-So many people travel jus' to see me, and 's be-been so long an—" 

Harry was cut off by his own crying, the stress of the situation along with the just how awful he felt in that moment catching up to him now that someone was there to listen. His grip on her tightened with his arms around her waist and his face buried in her neck, his chest stuttering with his uneven breaths and squeezes of his sobbing lungs. 

All she could do then was hold him against her, as if her hug could keep him from shaking so hard with his heady breaths. Her neck was slick with his tears, the tip of his nose wiggling with every sniffle he sucked in in hopes of regulating his breathing.

"Its okay, H, really," she cooed to him, drawing one of her hands up to the back of his head with her fingertips twirling through the curls, "You need to stop crying, okay? You're only making yourself more sick by crying, you know. Just breathe, alright? It's going to be okay, I promise." 

Though it took him a moment, she could feel the way he tried to heed her advice. He fought off the stutter of his sobs, his breathing coming out in shaky pulls with the exhales being long and drawn out over her skin. Her palms soothed down his spine, the length of her nails dragging over his shirt in what she hoped was calming runs. 

"Feel a little better now?" she asked once he curated a rhythm of deep breaths and sinking exhales. Though she could feel just the smallest remnants of his tears having seeped against her neck, she didn't feel that dampness growing as opposed to the way it was only a few moments earlier. 

"Y-yeah," he mumbled, nodding his head against her neck, "Sorry."

"Don't be sorry, okay?" she told him, parroting her earlier words, "There's nothing to be sorry for. No one likes being sick, and I know you're under a lot of pressure since we're also on the road. It's okay." 

A nasally little thank you sounded against her neck along with the brush of his lips being felt against her throat. A small smile touched at the corners of her lips as she felt him relax into her, exhaustion weighing him down now that he wasn't clinging to the edge of the toilet. (Y/N) tentatively laid her cheek on the top of his head, lending him more of her warmth in hopes of holding off another wave of his fever. 

Just when she figured he'd fallen asleep, his breathing even with puffs of air fanning over her skin, he pulled his face from her neck. Harry's cheeks were flushed as he looked to her, ruddy and glistening with a sheen of sweat. His eyes were puffy and red, the scleras bloodshot from his crying session. Even his lips were swollen, the same hue as his red-tipped nose. 

"Can I have some water?" he asked her pathetically, voice nasally given his clogged sinuses, "And a blanket. 'M really cold." 

(Y/N) nodded her head right away, feeling her eyes rounding out as she took him in with pity in her gaze. "I'll be right back, okay?" she told him, brushing stray curls behind his ears. 

Harry gave her another sad look, mimicking the nod of her head. "Thank you," he told her before tucking his swollen bottom lip between his teeth. 

She made quick work of collecting the liter of water she'd put off to the side along with the knitted blanket that was bundled over the hotel bed. She knew that was something he'd brought from home, an item she'd seem him cart around to every venue and every hotel room to help him feel more at home despite the miles between. Hopefully it would be just what he needed in that moment. 

Stepping into the bathroom, Harry was just where she had left him. He was bundled beside the bathtub, his legs now bent in front of him to make himself into a small ball with his arms around his shins. His glossy eyes seemed to widen at the sight of his blanket, completely glancing over the water in her opposing hand in favor of reaching for his token from home. 

"Thank you so much," he repeated, grabby hands taking the knitted blanket as soon as she offered it to him.

Despite his aching limbs, the blanket was wrapped around Harry's shoulders in quick succession, the fabric being pulled up to his face with a finger wrapped in the material from underneath absently rubbing against his cheek. He soothed himself enough to have his eyes flutter to a close as (Y/N) settled in beside him, taking her spot against the bathtub wall with her legs criss-crossed underneath her bottom. 

"Still want some water?" she asked in a crooned tone, hoping to keep from disturbing him too much from the sweetened state he was falling into.

"Yes, please," he murmured, eyes still closed. 

Twisting off the cap of his water, (Y/N) offered it to him with a nudge against his shoulder. Harry begrudgingly untangled his hand from the knit of his blanket, taking the bottle with his eyes opened to only a slit. 

"Only take sips, H," she told him as he raised the bottle to his lips, "Any more and it might make you sick again." 

"But 'm so thirsty," he whined, brows pinching together in the middle. 

"I know, but if you drink too fast it'll make you sick again," she reasoned with him, scooting in closer to him with her arm pressing against his own, "Just sip it for now and if you can keep it all down tonight, you can drink all the water you want." 

Heaving a sigh, he gave a nod of his head as he heeded her advice and took small sips from his bottle. (Y/N) kept an eye on him as he drank, watching for any turn of the tide that would garner her helping him back to the toilet bowl. By the time he finally seemed satiated, handing her the bottle in search of the cap to be fixed back on top, he sunk down and lent his cheek against her shoulder. His eyes were shuttered closed once more, his hand working its way back under the knit of his blanket to press the material against his cheek again. 

"Tired?" (Y/N) murmured, maneuvering to wrap her arm around his shoulders and cuddle him close. 

"Yeah," he said, voice cracking some under the pressure of his raw throat. 

"Here," she said, shuffling in her spot to move just far enough away from him to get a whine filtering through his throat. Uncrossing her legs, she unfurled them in front of her with her ankles folding over one another, "Lay down, H, its okay. You can put your head in my lap." 

He seemed calmed at the prospect of her only moving so he could more comfortably. With his legs curled against his tummy into a ball, Harry laid his head in her lap, her plush thighs acting as his pillow. "Thank you," he sighed, nasally voice quietly bouncing off the tiles. 

"When you wake up we'll take some medicine, okay?" she told him, placing her hands in his hair as she unclipped the sprout she'd made with the strands to card through his curls. 

All she earned in response was a quiet okay, leaving him to fall asleep only moments later. 

Sinking against the sidewall of the bathtub, (Y/N) let her own eyes close. Cuddling with Mr. Styles was definitely not how she saw this morning going. She was going to have to text Mr. Azoff to let him know not to expect her for the rest of the day. 

—————

"(Y/N)?" 

Humming to acknowledge the call of her name, (Y/N) continued to clean up the little medication station she made up on his bedside table now that each of the pills were in his system. She was going to have to call up for another large water bottle for him now that there was less than a fourth of the liter left. And, probably another serving of hot soup since that had been forgotten hours earlier, going cold. 

"'M sorry," Harry said behind her, the warmth of his glossy gaze being pinned on her back. 

"You don't need to be sorry, remember?" she said to him, constituting all of his orange and white bottles back into the small pack the medical team had prepared as she gave him a small glance over her shoulder. "No one is upset with you; it's not your fault you're sick, we all know that." 

"No," he croaked, shaking his head against the fluffed pillow, "That's not what 'm talking about." 

"Oh?" she asked, settling into the nest of bedding she'd made her own since they carted him back to bed after his nap. He hadn't been sick for hours at this point, the main concern shifting to fend off the fever that was sapping his energy and drawing a fog over his brain. 

As soon as he saw her close once more, Harry made a move to lay his head in her lap again. It was instinctive at this point to have her hands carding through his hair, pulling the strands from his flushed skin. This time though, Harry looked up at her with his slightly hooded gaze, a touch unfocused despite the fact he'd been awake for the better part of the last hour. 

"'M sorry 'm so mean to you," he breathed, a sheen collecting over his eyes as he took her in, "You're taking care of me, and I don't deserve it." 

(Y/N) felt like a deer in headlights with his tired gaze on her. This was definitely not how she ever saw this conversation going—if this conversation ever happened, anyway. She floundered for words as she shook her head, distracting him with a particularly drawn out run of her fingers through his curls. 

"Don't say that, okay? What you don't deserve, is staying alone in a hotel room while you're sick," she murmured, "But, you don't need to worry about that right now, okay? You don't need to apologize for anything." 

To be fair, she never really considered his behavior mean. He avoided her, sure, but he was never blatantly rude to her. 

"No, no," he shook his head in her lap, "'M so mean to you 's not fair. I-I barely even talk to you, and you're still taking care of me. 'M sorry, (Y/N)." 

"Harry, really, I don't think you're mean, ok—" 

"I jus' don't know how to talk to you, (Y/N)," he continued as if he hadn't heard a single word she said, "'S so hard to talk to you, and-and m'brain hurts when I try to think about it." 

Canting her head as she gazed down at him, she dropped one of her hands from his hair only to skate over the planes of his face. She traced over the height of his cheekbone, and brushed the length of his lashes before she grazed the bridge of his nose. "It's okay, Harry," she soothed him, watching as his eyes fell closed, "It's okay to be shy. I know Mr. Azoff's last assistant was really close to you, it's fine if we're not there yet. We'll get there someday, right?"

"No," he whined, drawing out the syllable as he peeked his eyes open, "'S not like that—not like with Mallory, (Y/N). I like y'so much that m'brain doesn't work around you. It wasn't like that at all with Mallory—I didn't have a crush on her." 

(Y/N) was thankful for the cover of his illness to keep him from fully noticing her reaction to his confession. While it was sweet the way he described his feelings—a crush, he'd said—that had to have been at the very bottom of the list of reasons she would have thought up as to why he behaved the way he did around her. What was she supposed to say to something like that? How was she supposed to take it given the fact that this could be nothing more than one of his delirious ramblings given the state of his fever? 

"I can't believe 'm telling you like this," he muttered, eyes fluttered closed in a tight pinch as he turned in her lap. He faced the soft of her tummy, his arms wrapping around her middle as he nosed at the fabric of her top. "I smell like vomit and I haven't washed m'hair for four days, 'm sorry." 

A quiet sigh left her lips as she carded her fingers through his hair, the unwashed curls slipping between her fingers. "It's okay, Harry. Don't worry about any of that right now, okay? We can talk about that later, but you need to focus on getting better right?" 

"Right," he peeped, voice slowing and dredging deeper into sleep, "And you'll stay with me?"

Her answer was automatic, "Of course. I'll be here to take care of you, I promise." 

It was only moments later he was asleep again, face tucked against her tummy while (Y/N) was wide awake. 

—————

(YN) woke with a stiff neck to the sound of the shower running, still wrapped up in Harry's bedding though now she had his knitted blanket draped over her form. The side of the bed she had slipped him into once she was too tired to stay awake was now cold, only the impression of his body on the sheets giving away his presence. 

Blinking her dry eyes, she tried to get her bearings after the long night she'd had tending to her boss's favorite client, along with every rambling confession he woke up in the middle of the night to share. 

He apparently thought her hair was very pretty, wanted to share clothes with her, and thought she had a cute laugh. Though, those were only the confessions she could decipher in his sleepy, nasally voice. 

She was still clothed in the outfit she'd donned the morning before, her phone waiting with a handful of texts from Mr. Azoff asking about Mr. Styles' state and if there was anything the pair of them needed now that (Y/N) had taken on the role of nursing him back to health for the time being. She pushed those messages off to the side at the moment, instead trying to untwirl her brain now that she had a moment alone without Mr. Styles' health at the front of her mind. 

He liked her, he'd said—he had a crush on her even. That was why he didn't have it in himself to hold a conversation with her, too shy to speak to her without making an ass of himself. The thought made her heart flutter, a fact she couldn't deny especially after she realized the smile on her face when she recalled his exact words. 

Despite the fact his kindness didn't always extend to her in the obvious ways, thinking back, she realized the signs were there. He remembered her birthday and put together an impromptu party that he couldn't even properly attend. He remembered her Halloween costume even though he was running around all day, preparing for one of the biggest shows of the year. He paid attention to her; he listened for her favorite foods, favorite colors, favorite books. While he was too shy to talk to her about those things directly, he still went out of his way to find them out and keep them to himself. 

It was easier for her since she knew she got this job to send her own feelings packing, out of her head and her heart before she could find herself in trouble with an infatuation with her boss's favorite client and best friend. That fact grew even more important as soon as Harry started behaving the way he did around her, but now that she had that glimmering confession, the tender explanation, it was hard to keep those feelings from marching right back in. All those months that she had to school herself into knocking away the melancholy at the fact that one of her inspirations didn't seem to like her now were turned in a new light, trying to see those same moments from Harry's point of view. 

How many times had she thought she felt his eyes on her, only to turn and find him looking the other direction? Had she really been only a second too late to catch his gaze? Every time she had chattered away with a member of the crew or Mr. Azoff himself, with Harry scrolling through his phone distractedly had he really been listening in and collecting information he was too scared to ask for? Or even the times he had dropped his gaze when she met his, the blushing hue to his skin now could be out of sheepish affection and not the need to get away from her as soon as possible. 

She hadn't been invisible to him, or even a negative presence in his day-to-day, she was piecing together. He thought of her the same way she thought of him. What a heart-stopping thought. 

"Morning." 

(Y/N) jumped in her spot, the bedsheets rustling around her denim-clad legs at the sound of Harry's rumbling voice. Dropping back into the moment, she saw him standing just outside the bathroom door, luggage at his feet as he packed away the clothing he would need sent off to be washed before they were on their way to the next destination. A quiet smile was on his lips, a shy shifting to his gaze that kept him from meeting hers. His socked feet dug into the plush carpet on the floor, legs folded over in a pair of heavy black sweats along with a crewneck from his brand that hadn't been released to the public just yet. His hair was damp and dark, finally washed after the few days she was sure it had been bothering him.

"Morning," she chirped back, finding her voice, "How are you feeling?"

"Better," he mused, running a hand through his damp hair, "Finally getting to actually sleep last night helped a lot, I think. I took the medicine y'left on the table, and took a shower and I'm really feeling a lot better."

"Good, that makes me happy. Now, you can sleep all day and actually eat something instead of laying on the bathroom floor." (Y/N) felt proud of herself when she caught sight of the dimples denting his cheeks as he huffed out a quiet laugh.

A beat of silence passed between them as Harry finally dropped the guise of rifling through his bag to face her. Stuffing his hands into the pockets of his sweats, he toed at the ground as he looked at her through the fan of his lashes. 

"Um, thanks for taking care of me and everything yesterday, (Y/N)," he drawled, a pinch touching between his brows, "I really, really appreciate it. 'M sure it wasn't easy. My mum says I always get whiny when 'm sick, so..." 

"You weren't that bad," she told him with a gentle smile, crossing her legs underneath herself from where she sat on the bed, "I used to babysit when I was in college, and you are definitely not as bad as some of the kids I used to help."

"Great," he laughed with a playful roll of his eyes, "'m not as bad as a child. I'll have to tell my mum, that'll show her." 

After the short peals of laughter died down, silence filled in for their voices. Was she supposed to say something? Did he want her to say something? Or was what was said last night meant to stay right there—in the evening hours, in the brain fog that came along with his fever?

"Listen," he said, swallowing hard as he finally met her gaze head on, "'M really sorry about yesterday. I know I said a lot of things, and 'm really sorry if I made y'uncomfortable or anything. I-I don't know why I said any of that, honestly." 

Fighting the urge to drop her own gaze as she'd seen him do so many times before, (Y/N) kept herself focused on him, following the small droplets of water that clung to his forehead from his damp curls. "You didn't make me uncomfortable," she said, "But—um—di-did you mean it? What you said? About being shy and everything because of... me?"

Another harsh swallow had his throat bobbing, the green of his eyes disappearing for just a moment as he blinked towards the ceiling before returning. "I mean, yeah. I did mean it. I never wanted to tell y'like that, though, that's for sure. I know y'were being nice, but I definitely did smell like vomit and you're a saint for sitting there and letting me talk like a crazy person all night. I don't even know how you found time to sleep with me constantly bothering you."

"You weren't bothering me," she said, a smile cracking her features now that she realized there was no catch to his confession. There was no reason to quash the happiness filling her chest. "I thought it was really sweet what you were saying to me. It was nice to hear all of that stuff, especially since I was pretty sure you didn't like me just two days ago."

He clenched his eyes shut at her finishing words. "I really am sorry about that, I hope you know," he said with a heady sigh, "I wish I had a better explanation, but really, you jus' make me nervous." 

"It's okay," she waved off, shuffling towards the edge of the bed closest to him without much thought, "You make me nervous, too—I get it." 

"I do?" he asked, a boyish smile touching at his features while his eyes seemingly sparkled in the low light. 

"I mean, yeah," she revealed, a duh tone to her words, "Why do you think it's always so hard for me to talk to you?" 

Harry took slow steps towards the edge of the bed, his socked feet dragging through the plush carpet. "But you're always so—," he trailed off, flicking his hands out in front of him with a flourish, "Everywhere, I guess. Talking to everyone and laughing. I don't think I've ever seen y'nervous." 

"Well, I don't like everyone else the way I like you, so I don't get nervous like that. It's harder to talk to you when all I want is to say the right thing." 

Before she even realized it, Harry was stood right in front of where she was sat on the edge of the bed. He towered over her with warmth radiating from his chest, the heat much more pleasant than the fever he was running the night before, especially when he looked at her so sweetly with his big eyes. It was in slow movements that he brought his hands out and settled them on her wrists, only to trail down to lace his fingers between hers. When she didn't pull away or make any sound of protest, she felt him squeeze her hands. 

"I like hearing y'talk. Y'have a pretty voice," he murmured, his voice just a touch deeper than normal given the last week of his life. 

"I like your voice too," she beamed up at him, "Why do you think I'm always out there during the shows?" 

"Because, Jeff makes you?" he teased, shyly dropping her gaze to where their hands were bundled between them. 

(Y/N) shook her head, adjusting her position on the bed to sit with her bottom on her heels and her legs folded underneath her. "I like listening to you sing and talk to everyone. You're amazing on stage. It's my favorite part of being on the road with everyone—getting to see you every night like that." 

He keened under her praise, canting his head as he squeezed her hands. Dimples dented his cheeks as he looked to her. "Thank you," he murmured, the blunt ends of his front teeth sinking into his bottom lip once he got his gratitude out. 

Looking at him like this, feeling the strength of his hands and the heat of his skin all the while he looked at her so tenderly had (Y/N)'s heart racing. How was this real?" 

"Harry?" 

"Hm?" 

Dropping her eyes to his lips, the raspberry color just a bit drained from his illness though he wasn't any less appealing. She spoke without thought as her stayed stuck on his mouth, "Can I kiss you?" 

She watched as a smile grew on his lips at her words. "I—uh—'M sick, remember?" he protested less than half-heartedly. 

"I got my flu shot, remember?" 

That was all the convincing it took to have Harry dropping her hands from his, only to then cradle the soft of her cheeks in his hands. His lips slotted against hers in a tender press, allowing her to taste the clean mint of his toothpaste and whatever scented chapstick he'd swiped over his pout. She didn't even have time to think about the fact she was still wearing her clothes from the day before with unbrushed hair and unwashed skin, not with the way he was holding her and pressing into her mouth for more. It was as unhurried of a kiss as it was wanting, making up for the lost time that had been wasted over the past few months. 

The contact remained innocent, only sweet presses of their lips growing more and more delicate until Harry pulled away just to press a smattering of kisses against her pout. His actions drew a laugh from her chest, her hands reaching for his shirt as he kissed her smiling mouth. 

"We don't have to leave for the venue until tonight, right?" he asked, slightly breathless though he matched her smile tenfold. (Y/N) nodded her head still in his delicate grip, the pad of his thumb sweeping under her eye. "We should probably leave for a little and let housekeeping clean up a little, but 'm still really tired," his gaze flickered over hers, his smile growing that much more at whatever he found in there, "Could we go back to your room? We don't have to do anything"—that had his cheeks blushing—", but I don't want to sleep alone again after this."

That was all (Y/N) needed before she was dragging him down the hall to her hotel room, following right after him into her unused, plush bed. It was instinct at this point the way he cuddled up to her, face in her neck with his nose pressed to her pulse. All she felt was a press of his lips to the curve of her throat before he was asleep again, leaving (Y/N) the time to send Mr. Azoff a message. 

Harry was fine, she told him, but he'd probably need another day of rest and looking after. A job she was more than willing to continue to take on. She'd tell him the full story later, she decided, especially after he saw the room service charges for double meals to her room.

—————

I got a request for something like this a super long time ago so thank you to whoever requested for being so patient! thank you so much for reading and sorry for any mistakes! if anyone has any ideas or requests of your own pls pls send them in !

Chapter Seven

pairing: college student!grumpy!harry × college student!sunshine!fem reader

trope: (kinda) enemies to lovers

chapter warnings: Harry’s a jerk, dramatic arguing in the rain, some tears are shed and the truth comes out.

series cw: angst, smut (minors dni!) fluff, sexual tension, drama, character development, drug use, alcohol consumption, foul language

word count: 3.3k

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chapter one | chapter two | chapter three | chapter four | chapter five | chapter six | chapter seven

divider by: @firefly-graphics

It’s been a week since the ‘accident’ as Y//N calls it, a temporary lapse in judgment on her part but it’s all in the past. She considers herself moved on from everything, managed to tell her best friend everything that happened. The conversation consists of exited squeals when she mentions them sleeping together and how nice he started being beforehand, and angry comments and threats when she mentions how he left after she fell asleep and how he seemed to resort back to his old tendencies of having her existence bother him.

Her best friend will always take her side no matter what, and she’s fuming with anger at Harry’s behavior. You could probably see steam flow from her ears if you managed to get close enough, her hands were shaking as she cussed the boy that was no where to be found.

“I can’t believe him, that fucking asshole. He better hope I don’t see him anytime soon! I’ll fucking strangle him and beat him to a pulp.” Y/N watches from her bed, anxiously playing with her fingers as she listens to her best friend’s rant. She knew telling her would lead to this, but she didn’t wanna keep it to herself as she knew it would do her no good.

She’s had her share of emotions, she’s cried, screamed and been mad at him so she feels okay, she’s finally made peace with it. It’s refreshing to have someone share the same emotions as her, to witness someone go through the same rollercoaster. She watches as her best friend paces back and forth in her room as she continues cursing the name that is Harry Styles. She listens quietly, her face blank of emotions, all numbed out from the week she’s had.

“He’s such an asshole honestly, you don’t deserve any of that babes. He’s such a fucking piece of shit, don’t blame yourself at all. None of this is your fault I promise.” Her voice is soft as she speaks to Y/N, eyes soft and full of care as she reassures her.

She knows it’s not her fault, she didn’t do anything out of the norm and nothing she could’ve done would change the outcome. Harry’s just a jerk who will only do something if it’ll benefit him, and this is nothing new. It was expected simply because it was all he ever does, he’ll bribe people and manipulate people so they’ll do whatever he wants and she fell under his spell. He knew what she wanted from him and used it to his advantage. The following days felt repetitive, she’d wake up and go to school only to avoid Harry and the stares that follow her down the hallway. She’d barely speak unless called upon and ignored the whispers coming from teachers lingering outside their doors.

She watches as the rain fell against her window, the hard pattering against the glass. The droplets slowly make their way down the window as she stares outside, the rather dreary weather makes her want to cuddle up inside a blanket and have a movie marathon. She doesn’t mind when it rains, she quite enjoys it actually and she’s not entirely sure why. She finds it to be soothing and ideal for the best naps and sleep, especially after a long day filled with Harry cracking jokes and making snarky remarks under his breath causing her day to be long and emotional.

It’s the perfect setting, almost like a scene from a movie with the way she stares outside sadly, her eyes filled with tears and the sound of thunder crashing in the distance. She’s always been fond of storms but a little scared of them, the lightning strikes and loud boom of the thunder ruins the peace of the storm and sets her on edge. She’s not one to be scared of many things but storms will always be one of her biggest. She watches as lighting strikes further away from her accompanied by the loud boom of thunder rolling.

She flinches slightly and stands up and closes her curtains and begins to back away. The soft pattering comes down on the glass harder as the clouds gradually turn darker. The thunder becomes louder and it seems like the lightning is getting closer, goosebumps begin to form on her forearms partially due to the cold air filtering through the air. She closes her eyes tightly and focuses on her breathing, she’s too old to scared of storms especially one that isn’t even remotely bad.

When she opens her eyes, it’s just in time for her to see a bright flash of light and a rather loud roll of thunder and she can’t help but to gasp quietly as she stumbles backwards, her hands begin to shake softly as she clumsily staggers over to her bed. As soon as her legs touched the edge of the mattress, she falls quickly onto it and hides under the covers. Her mind instantly goes back to all the times she was a little girl hiding under her bed whenever there was a bad storm rolling over her house. The darkness welcomes her as the cover drapes over her frame enveloping her in a warmth that she wishes could protect her from the dangers her mind is coming up with.

Another loud roll of thunder and crack of lightning happens and the lights flicker making the girl whimper softly as she wraps her blanket around her tighter. She needs the storm to pass quickly so she can get back to wallowing in her sorrows. The lights flicker a couple more times before they shut off completely and Y/N can’t help but to sigh sadly as she climbs from her cocoon and grabs her phone from beside her and turns on the flashlight. She flashes the light around her room as she walks, making sure she won’t trip over any objects that might be lying around as she head out the door.

She makes her way to her kitchen and begins to open the drawer that only contains her emergency essentials, batteries, flashlights and stuff of that nature. When she opens the drawer, she quickly grabs the flashlight and turns it on just for it to not turn on. She huffs as she empties it out and replaces the batteries, she tries it again and once again no luck. Tears begin to fill her eyes and she looks at her phone battery to see if she has enough, the bar only shows 25% and she wants to sob.

She hates storms and she hates the dark, and she’s all alone. Her best friend’s at work and more than likely won’t be able to just leave her job and come sit with her, she’s not close enough with any of her classmates to feel comfort by their presence. Another loud roll of thunder rumbles near her and she lets out a choked sob, her hand begin to tremble the longer she stands in the kitchen. She opens her phone and clicks on the phone icon and dials the number she needs with shaky hands. The line rings and rings and she’s sure she’s about to cry when it clicks and his voice comes through.

“Yeah?” His voice is deep and gruff, almost as if he just woke up.

She takes a deep breath and shuts her eyes before she speaks.

“Um hi Harry.” She can hear him huff and the sound of some shuffling in the background. It’s quiet for a couple minutes, almost as if he hung up so she pulls the phone away to see and it still shows they’re connected, she brings the phone back up to her ear and waits a couple more seconds.

“Harry?” She tries again and all gets in return is a grunt, one that could taken as one from pleasure and it makes her squeeze her legs together, memories of the nights before rush into her mind. She takes one more deep breath goes to speak only to be interrupted by Harry.

“Y/N, in case you haven’t noticed it’s two in the morning..” Another roll of thunder booms, closer to her house and it makes her whimper.

She can hear him grunt lowly, a sound long and drawn out - one she knows very clearly.

“Y’missed me honey? Y’missed me filling up you up? You felt so warm and tight, felt so good wrapped around me.” In any other circumstance she would be happy to continue this conversation but not right now, this is not what she called him for.

“No, um I’m sorry for waking you. It’s not that important, Leya’s at work right now and um it’s storming and my powers out.” Her voice is soft but he can make out the sound of her voice quivering as she speaks and immediately he feels like shit.

“M’sorry, but I don’t see what any of that has to do with me.” His voice is soft but still deep and it makes her heart flutter.

“Yeah sorry. My phone’s about to die and my batteries for my flashlights are all duds. I’m scared of thunderstorms and usually Leya comes over but like I said she’s at work. Didn’t know who else to call. Do you have any batteries by any chance?”

He honestly can’t remember if he has any batteries but something flutters in his stomach, a feeling he can’t ignore so as he holds the phone to his ear he begins to stand and throws on a white t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants before he’s slipping pair of sneakers and he’s heading out the door.

“I might have some batteries for you. I’m on my way. Y’want me to stay on the phone with you?” He doesn’t know what’s come over him to make him want to help the girl but he’s already in his kitchen scrambling to find batteries for her.

“If you want.” He already knew he was staying on the phone subconsciously but now he can just say it was because she said to, doesn’t want anyone to know that it was due to his own conscious. There’s no way he cares for the girl, he can’t stand her and her voice annoys him.

Once he manages to find an unopened package of batteries, he walks out of his dorm and jogs the short distance from the building to his car. He quickly starts it and begins driving, the only sound filling the car is the sound of thunder rumbling and ever so often Y/N will whimper quietly to herself.

“What’s your address again?” He asks as he pulls up to a stop sign, it’s silent for a moment before he can hear her talking. She softly tells him where she lives and he hums in agreement. When the light turns green, Harry presses on the gas pedal causing the engine to become louder and he immediately apologizes.

“M’sorry Y/N, just trying to get to you fast.” He says after hearing her choke back a sob. He’s not sure why he feels this need to take care of her right now, he would’ve said no in a heartbeat and he might have laughed at her for something so childish.

He would’ve kept this information and poked fun at her through the school year and reminding her once again why he isn’t to be trusted, but no he’s in his car driving to her house at two in the morning with a pack of batteries for her flashlight. He’s stuck in his thoughts as he drives, trying to find the reason for whatever is causing him to feel pity for the girl but he comes up empty handed. He can’t help but to huff as he turns into another street, the scenery and houses beginning to look familiar. Not that he was paying attention just in case he happened to be on her side of the neighborhood, because he wasn’t really; what good would knowing that type of information do him? He figures this is his good karma meaning whatever happens next was because he decided to be a good person for once even though his intentions might not be completely genuine there’s still an inkling that is.

When he pulls into her driveway, he quickly gets out and knocks on the door as he makes his way to the front door.

“M’here Y/N, can you open the door?” She mumbles out a pathetic excuse for a yeah before she’s whining in response to the another loud rumble of thunder accompanied by a lightning strike, and Harry can’t help the small twitch in his pants as he curses himself for allowing his mind to wander to that night at such a time like this. It takes a couple moments before the door opens just enough for her arm to shoot out and he laughs.

“I can’t come inside?” The hand curls it’s fingers until it’s just the pointer finger outstretched and she shakes it.

“Just let me have two batteries please, I’m sorry for waking you. Let’s just forget this ever happened, if I can just get some light I’ll be okay until it passes. Stop acting as if you care what happens to me anyways.” Her voice wavers with every word and the scoff gets stuck in his throat, if he wanted to make a snarky comment, he definitely won’t be able to do it now.

It’s silent minus the rain as he stares at her arm, thinking of what to say.

“M’here aren’t I?” He does his best to keep the irritation out of his voice, doesn’t want this to end in an argument.

“Yeah only cause you thought it was a booty call. Can I please just have the batteries?” Her voice is tired and he can faintly make out the sound of her sniffling.

“C’mon now, this is no time to start being stubborn. You just sounded like you didn’t wanna be alone hence why you called me and I’m not leaving you. Just let me in.” The energy shifts between them and as if they both sense it she goes to shut the door.

“Pointless to fucking argue with you this early in the morning Harry. I’m tired and want to go to sleep, have a good night.” Harry quickly grabs ahold of the side of the door before it closes and yanks it open.

The glare in her eyes is icy and mean, a look that no one would expect to come from the sunshine girl. Her eyes are puffy from crying, there’s a slight shine to her irises from the tears sitting in place as it threatens to spill out and wet her lashes even more. Her gaze is set on his face, a fire lit in her eyes at the inconvenience and the stubbornness of the boy in front of her.

“Harry, go home.” He scoffs at the girl as he holds the door open.

“This is no way to treat someone you invited to your place to help you, is it lala?” The fake kindness and concern dripping from every word he speaks.

“You’re doing this to yourself, I never once asked you to stay. I asked for batteries which you provided, you’re not needed.” She says and goes to shut the door again, only to huff at his insistence on intruding on her privacy.

“Well next time, I’ll leave you to deal with all your issues yourself!” He knows he’s getting upset and he should probably back away before things get out of hand but he’s stuck where he’s standing, almost as if her porch is made of fresh cement and he walked into it without taking note of all the signs leading up to it.

He watches as she takes a deep breath, her chest rises and falls heavily as she rolls her eyes.

“I’ve been doing that for years! Stop fucking acting like you care because we both know you don’t! You only do it for the wrong reasons!” Her voice now matches his, the beginning of a screaming match threatening to start at any given moment. He scoffs at her excuse of a response, his head tilting back in exasperation.

“You knew from the beginning.” He replies simply, the light from her porch light falling over him exposes him to the tired girl. She takes note of his sweatpants and the sight of his muscles peeking through the thin material of the t-shirt he’s wearing.

“You know what Harry. I was beginning to like you and now that it’s done for, you just had to show me why all of this was a bad idea to be begin with.” She says and she can’t help the way her body tightens at the sound of another loud rumble of thunder.

“But you’ve always like me lala. Don’t you remember how we used to hang out, the way you practically begged your mum to come see me. We were the best of friends. ” He can’t help but to smile maliciously and his eyes scan over her frame, taking in the thin jacket and pair of leggings covering her skin and protecting her from the cold wind of the storm.

Her face morphs into one that’s hard to decipher, sadness, anger and remembrance flash quickly over her face.

“That’s not what I meant asshole. Your arrogance really pisses me off. Last I recall, you changed the dynamic, you made our friendship turn into whatever the fuck this is now.” Her voice is soft but still full of venom even thought it wavers occasionally.

“You… you caught feelings?” Another loud rumble of thunder booms around them and lightning strikes quickly a ways behind Harry, the distance far enough not to instill fear into either of them but close enough to charge the energy in the air between them. He doesn’t care about anything else she was saying after that, the three words bouncing around in his head.

She liked you, she likes you, she liked you.

He stares at her with fierce intensity, anger burning deep inside of his emerald green eyes. She watches as his tongue pushes against his cheek as he runs his hands through his long brown locks.

“The rules were made to prevent this from happening Y/N. But you had to go and do the exact fucking opposite of what was agreed didn’t you? Can’t help yourself when you’re getting treated so nicely huh?” He says, venom dripping from every word.

She frowns as she looks up at him, tears welling in the corner of her eyes.

“You did this! You treated me differently, of course it was bound to happen!” She yells, her voice shaking as she shuts her eyes.

“I did no such thing, sweetheart. I gave you basic human decency. You just stayed in that pretty little head of yours and began overthinking my actions for what they’re not.” He replies as a small smirk begins to form on his lips.

She shakes her head as she wipes away the tears, she refuses to let him see her break.

“One question, and all I ask is that you be honest with me.” He laughs dryly at her before crossing his arms, his muscles flexing as he draws them together.

“Go ahead, I’m dying to hear this.” She takes a deep breath before opening her eyes to stare at him.

“Why do you break girls hearts?” She asks, the anger long gone, replaced with sympathy and tiredness.

“Simple, so they don’t break mine first.”

“So dare I ask, did this ever stand a chance of being more than sex?” She asks, her eyes flitting away from his intense gaze as she chews her bottom lip.

“Darling, I think we both know the answer to that. Never even crossed my mind. You were just a good fuck.” He says, his eyes closing briefly before looking back at her face as he watches a single tear slip down her left cheek. There’s only a brief moment shared between them to dwell on the secrets shared between them before the door is slammed shut, leaving him to stare blankly at the white painted frame.

If only she knew how much of a lie that was.

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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.

soul shattering

You’re The Winner

Harry Styles x fem!reader

Summery: Harry and you were once inseparable. Both reaching to achieve big dreams. You always dreamed of being a writer and director. You were no where near Harry’s fame, and he knows it. He’s not afraid to let you know it either. Based off the new Conan song, “Winner.”

I didn’t notice it at first, as it came in waves. Tiny jokes pointed at my deepest hurts. Insults baked in sugary dough to hide the sourness beneath. Small snickers traveling around the rooms we were in. Laughter growing when I turned my back.

Soon, his comments became more aimed. Less broad, more explicit. He was blunt in his insults. Snide remarks turning into insults meant only to tear me down.

It shouldn’t have hurt me this much, all these stupid comments. If it were anyone else, I would’ve brushed them off as pure jealousy. But this wasn’t anyone else. This was Harry. A man who had everything. Money, fame, friends, party invitations piling at his door. But more than that, he was my best friend. My guide through Hollywood. The kindest soul that I had ever crossed paths with one fateful night in late 2013.

Back then he was so shy, despite his huge successes. Despite all the gains he was making, all the achievements, all the accomplishments, he was just as humble and down to earth. Never once caring about anyone’s status. He couldn’t care less what projects I was pursuing. Who I was working with, how much money I was making. When I was with him, I was just me. Not some new rising director, some writer chick that was starting to make headlines. I was simply, me.

I don’t know where that Harry went, but this wasn’t him. I considered the idea that maybe a stunt double had stepped in to take the old Harry’s place. All while the old Harry was away at some lavish beach resort in some expensive town off the coast of Italy I’d never heard of. That would’ve made so much more sense, but impossible. This one had the same green eyes and devilishly charming smile. His hair was just as shiny and curly. Physically, he was the same.

To put a date to it, I could say it started around the middle of 2020. He was by himself now, no longer supported by four other counterparts. Finally the center of attention. He’d done relatively well with the release of his first project, but it was his second album that had launched him into a similar success that he had in the band. Magazines swarming him with covers to be plastered on, late night tv talk show hosts all but begging him to sit down on their overly bouncy couches to talk about his love life and music inspiration.

With this new found admiration from the public, the changes were starting to be made. He no longer reached out first, and when he did, it was forcefully. He always made sure to be the one to never text last. Feeling satisfied in leaving another on read. Old Harry could carry conversations into the next day. Texts flooded with his odd facts and silly jokes. Now it was purely business. Maybe some meet ups from time to time. But usually it was me planning to meet up with him. His simple response was a thumbs up, not really caring if I showed or not.

He grew more and more insufferable the longer his fame lasted. Making friends with the best of the best and not even giving a second look to anyone else. So quick to discard those who were once always there for him. He was superficial. Fake. I knew this, but my heart still beat for the sweet boy I met all those years ago. Cherishing the fact he still considered me his best friend, even after all this time. I shouldn’t have, but I did. I did because even with this new asshole persona, I believed that underneath it, the young boy was still there. He just needed to be revealed somehow.

Now I can see how stupid I was. As I sit here, in the darkness of his living room watching some old movie he claims is, “vintage.” Not enjoying myself as I thought I would, but shrinking into the couch cushions, eyes welling up with each new dig he was making at me and my career. Always so quick to point out the clear gaps in our success. Me, having only a few movies and awards to my name, Harry having a room dedicated solely to them. His wins for only his newest album towering over all the ones I’d won in my whole career. I wished I could’ve tuned him out. Ignored how he belittled me, treated me like gum on his shoe. I wish his words meant nothing but that. Just words. I wished and wished.

“You know, if you made movies like this, you’d probably be so much more successful.” He gently smacked the side of my arm, eyes glued to the screen. Not even looking to see my expression.

Maybe it would’ve felt better if he had. Then I would know he only did it to get a rise out of me. Now I could see he was only doing it because that’s how he was. This is who he’s become. That hit so much deeper. I couldn’t blame it on him trying to tease me, or being playful and it coming off too strong. He was just, something almost unexplainable.

“You’re an asshole, you know that?” The words were bitter as they rolled off my tongue. The couch I was once sinking into so feebly losing connection with my skin as I shot up to stand over him.

“What?” He looked confused, eyebrow cocked and a playful smirk on his face. He knew, how could he not. He saw how I cowered away, slinking into another room where the quiet was more evident that the soft chatter and quick glances in my direction. Both of pity and interest.

“Do you feel good about yourself? Bringing me down like that? Honestly, Harry tell me, I’m really interested.” His eyes seemed to dull, the movie no longer of interest to him. He stood to match my stance.

“I was just joking.” His arms raised in a fake defensive stance. Smirk still evident on his face.

“You should be proud of yourself, are you? Take a bow! Are you proud because I’m not. I’m not proud to say that there’s honestly nobody who’s ever done better at making me feel worse. So congratulations, Harry.” I clapped slowly, feeling heat rising to my cheeks, tears brimming my waterline. Harry stood there the entire time, mouth parted open and eyes searching my face desperately.

“I don’t see what I’ve done wrong? I was just giving you some tips.” He could’ve fooled me with that statement. His face contorted into one of pure regret and pain, almost like it hurt to deny what he had been doing. Like he didn’t want to be a jerk anymore. Somehow, it almost made me feel guilty.

“I don’t need your tips Harry! I don’t need anything from you. I am perfectly happy with what I’m doing, I don’t need a boat load of awards to show for that. You said it yourself, right? I’m happy doing what I’m doing, so don’t you dare insinuate that I am not successful. Don’t you dare.” My finger found the center of his chest, pushing back on his muscular frame, eyes blinking rapidly to dissolve any tears collecting, threatening to roll down my cheeks. To embarrass me.

My honesty was met with silence, his mouth closing into a firm line, eyes cold and lifeless looking into mine. He seemed totally calm, the complete opposite of my rapid breathing and heaving chest. It made me angry. How could he stand there, chest to chest with his “best friend” and not care about what he was doing to me?

“Fine, okay. Fine.” I backed away slowly, nodding in his direction. My footsteps picked up, hand searching quickly for my coat that was slung over the arm of his million dollar couch.

I never planned on leaving, but if this was what he wanted, to be a jerk and expect everyone to fall at his feet still, then I would not be part of it anymore. I would not cave to his sick and twisted mind games. I would leave, and maybe, just maybe, if he ever came to his senses. If he could ever see just how awful he was to me and could find it in his now frozen over heart to apologize, I would come back to stand beside him happily. But I would not be the woman who stood behind him, a bystander in the future movie of his life.

Slipping on my shoes and reaching for the door handle I paused. Looking around one last time, taking in Harry, who looked just as defeated as I felt, I saw it. He was crying. He was crying, actually crying. Hand gripped over his chest and clawing at where his heart reside. Body shaking silently. Praying I would come back. I sighed, opening the door.

“Harry.” It was quiet.

“Y/n/n.” It almost sounded like a beg. It felt so good to hear him call me that again, a name I hadn’t heard in years. Not since this personality shift.

“You really are the winner.” I didn’t need to further explain myself, he knew what I meant. There really was nobody else who ever had done better at making me feel worse. Nothing that ever did quite kill me more than what he had done. He really was, the winner.

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!!

that’s so sex

Nah I’m feral for this man 🫠

Chapter Five

pairing: college student!grumpy!harry × college student!sunshine!fem reader

trope: (kinda) enemies to lovers

chapter warnings: sexual tension, mentions of drinking alcohol, p in v smut, oral (f receiving) , dry humping, protected sex bc they’re smart, use of pet name: honey, receiving praise on both ends tbh

series cw: angst, smut (minors dni!) fluff, sexual tension, drama, character development, drug use, alcohol consumption, foul language

if you like this you can check out more of my work here 💌

chapter one | chapter two | chapter three | chapter four | chapter five

divider by: @firefly-graphics

Y/N woke up to a pounding in her head, the pain throbbing as she sits up in her bed. She rubs her eyes and turns her head, spotting the small bottle of pain relievers and a cup of water that sits on her bedside table. She doesn’t remember setting that out before she set out for Leya’s house, in fact she can’t even remember what all happened last night.

She knows she danced with Leya, had a couple of drinks, and she might’ve talked to Harry for a brief moment but everything else is a blur inside of her tired and hungover brain. She can’t stop the yawn that escapes through her lips, so she stretches her arms over her head and stands up. She can’t help but to frown at the feel of the cold wooden floor against her bare feet, she shuffles across the room to her dresser and quickly opens a drawer and grabs the first pair of socks that she can see.

She makes her bed, her eyes squinting against the harsh sun rays that beam through her bedroom window onto her face. After she’s through, she grabs her phone and hisses at the intensity of the brightness, so she quickly turns it down so she can check her notifications. She can see several messages and a couple missed calls from Leya, the texts express how sorry she is about leaving her and how worried she was when she couldn’t find her - it’s repetitive really, the same wording just different ways of putting them together. She can also see several other irrelevant notifications as her thumb scrolls down the list before she spots a singular message from Harry simply reminding her of their study session today.

She can’t help but to furrow her eyebrows at that, he’s never been one to care so why would it matter for her to remember their session? She simply responds with an ‘ok’ before she’s back at her dresser, quickly grabbing a pair of light washed skinny jeans and a grey sweater so she can get dressed. Quickly doing her routine and throwing back the pain pills and chasing it with the water before she’s on the way out the door.

The sun shines bright against her eyes and she frowns as she steps out of house and onto her bike. She gently removes the cord locking her bike in place and puts it in her tote bag and pushes her bike forward. She begins to pedal her way down the street, smiling politely at the passerby’s and little kids. Her head is killing her with every movement and light and she can’t help but to frown mentally before she stops at a small grocery store, parking her bike in front and not bothering to tie it down. She quickly walks inside and greets the lady standing there, flashing her as warm of a smile as she can manage and heading to the juice aisle.

She quickly grabs a small bottle of orange juice and heads to the register, smiling at the lady checking her out and hands her the money. She’s in and out of the store in less then five minutes, eager to get this day over with and to be in her bed as soon as possible. So she hops back on her bike and begins her journey to her school once more. The breeze fanning through her hair and on the few exposed parts of skin brings her a sense of peace,

She can’t help but to smile against the breeze as the trees and buildings pass her by as she pedals her way down the street. Her head doesn’t seem to hurt as bad, the throbbing has dulled and she can’t help but to smile as she remembers to thank Harry if he’s the one that took her home. She can make out the school’s silhouette beginning to form in the distance so she pedals faster.

She’s walking out of her third period class, her hand massaging her forehead softly from all the lights and loud talking that surrounded her. the chatter that fills the halls does nothing to ease her headache either, it’s not as loud but loud enough to make her groan in response as she shuts her eyes tightly.

“Hey babes, I don’t think that’ll ease the headache or make it go away.” She shakes her head and opens her eyes only to be greeted with her best friend face in front of her.

“I know it won’t Leya. I knew playing with you was a bad idea.” There’s a playful tone in her voice to show she’s not upset.

Leya shakes her head with a small smile on her lips.

“Yeah yeah, I’m sure it was so horrible. Pretty sure that’s the most fun I’ve seen you having and the most carefree ever. I don’t regret it. But I am sorry for leaving, I saw you go to the bar and I figured it’d be okay for a couple minutes. You could’ve gotten me and I would’ve take you home!” Y/N can’t help but to smile softly at her best friend before resting her hand on her shoulder.

“It’s okay, I know you didn’t mean to leave me, I’m a little upset but I’ll get over it. I got home safely and you did too, that’s all that matters.” Leya can’t help but to shake her head gently and she frowns.

Y/N knows Leya’s blaming herself for last night so she wraps her in a tight hug.

“Harry took me home, I’m okay. Don’t beat yourself up. I’m the one who left you, so it’s on me. We’re good, I’m mostly upset at myself honestly.” Y/N chuckles softly at her best friend’s shocked expression.

“You mean Harry that despises your existence, that Harry? He took you home?” Y/N nods her head and Leya smiles really big as she wiggles her eyebrows at the blushing girl.

“Not a big deal! I was pretty far gone, it was just human decency. Let’s get to class before you make me late.” She says and makes her way forward, attempting to change the topic or avoid the whole Harry situation in general.

The chatter of the students still lingering in the hallways fade from her focus, slowly becoming just a faint background noise to the two girls. Y/N knows that she can’t avoid this topic forever and that her friend’s bound to bring it up sooner than she’d like, but she just wants a sense of normalcy as of right now. The air inside the school is cold against the back of her neck causing goosebumps to raise in its wake, she can see the different groups mingle together in the hallways as they make the most of the time before the bell rings. The bright fluorescent lights reflect on the tiled floor as they travel down the hall, arms brushing against one another before Leya gingerly intertwines their hands together and begins to swing their conjoined hands.

As they walk hand in hand, Y/N sees no sign of Harry in the halls nor can she hear him, his distinctive loud voice isn’t booming in the halls which is concerning given the fact that he made sure to remind her of their study session, so why can’t she find a hint of him being at school? She’s not actively looking for him, there’s no reason for her to be. It’s just gotten normal for her to hear his laugh from down the hallway or to see his figure leaning against a locker as he kisses whatever girl he’s managed to catch for the day. She’s become so used to his banters and smart remarks that it’s strange to walk down the crowded halls and have him not be a part of it.

She’s so in her head about the absence from of Harry that she doesn’t realize Leya’s stopped a little ways behind her until she bumps shoulders with another student and mumbles a soft ‘excuse me’ and turns around to scold her friend for not letting her know. She’s met with an amused smile resting on her friend’s lips as she attempts to hold back her laughter. She shakes her head at herself as she makes her way back over to her friend. She keeps her head down to avoid all the stares watching her knowing she missed the door to her classroom.

“Daydreaming again?” Leya asks with amusement laced in her voice, the smile never leaving her lips while Y/N’s face begins to turn a very faint shade of red.

“Fuck off Leya. I wasn’t daydreaming, just wasn’t paying attention.” The same amusement is in her tone as well, indicating she’s not upset with the girl in front of her. They both giggle as they wrap each other in their arms, sharing a brief hug before Leya departs with a soft kiss to Y/N’s temple and waving her goodbye.

As Y/N walks into her fourth period class, she can’t stop her eyes from wandering over all of the chairs as she heads towards an empty chair near the middle of the classroom. The teacher greets Y/N with a polite smile and she waves as she reciprocates the smile.

The day passes rather quickly for Y/N as she walks out of her last class of the day, clutching her tote bag strap that rests on her shoulder and the grey fabric bumps against her hip with every step she makes as she heads down the very crowded hallway, weaving through the groups of students stopped in the hallway making idle conversation with their friends and the various teachers standing in front of their doors yelling at said students to go home. She can’t help but to feel a bubble of nervousness begin to form in the pit of her stomach and worm it’s way to her chest and the idea of her and Harry being in close proximity of each other after whatever happened between them last night, the memories of the night before are still a blur in her head.

Her legs carry her outside of the school building and to the right, passing a very small group of students huddled together talking amongst themselves with low voices, the few straggles of flowers littering the grass surrounding the school and she can’t help her eyes from wandering to them as she passes, a soft smile placed on her lips from the beauty of each individual flower. The sun shines bright in the sky, the warm rays shining through the leaves in the trees and warms her face as she passes through.

She walks up the steps and through the tall glass door, inhaling deeply and smiling as the smell of old books and is that a hint of vanilla she smells? She shrugs it off slightly before making her way to the back of the building to her designated table, away from prying ears and eyes but not hidden enough to cause suspicion from the librarian. The air inside of the building is cold thanks to the air conditioning running full blast to battle the warmer weather outside and she’s grateful for her choice of clothing for the day.

She sets her tote bag on the back of the chair and pulls her new worksheet, her books and her binder full of paper out and placed them on the table, setting them in order of what she’ll use the most. She grabs her phone and checks the time, she’s only a couple of minutes earlier than the time she arrived last time and if she knows Harry, he’s gonna be late as always so in order to pass the time she quickly gets up to walk around the library and grabs a copy of Pride and Prejudice from the shelves and makes her way back to her table. Once she’s fully settled and as comfortable as she can manage in the wooden chair, she opens the book and begins to read.

It seems no matter how many times she’s read this book, it never gets boring. She’s gotten so into the book that she’s managed to read a good chunk of the book as a couple stray tears have fallen down her cheeks, she sniffles as she wipes them with her sleeve. She figures she’s read enough so she begins to close the book and grab her phone to check the time when she hears his voice behind her.

“Sorry m’late.” She can’t help but to jump slightly with his voice so near to her ear, she can hear him chuckle slightly as she turns around to face him.

It’s as if seeing his face brings back every second of last night, flashbacks whirs through her brain at a fast pace and she can’t help the red that tints her cheeks. Images of her dancing with Leya, the drink challenge, the bartender that was clearly flirting with her, losing Leya, Harry helping her find her best friend, him taking her home after finding out Leya was hooking up with some guy, her calling Harry pretty- oh this is really fucking bad, he has all the ammunition against her now- and the accidental kiss. She quickly turns her head to face in front of her, she’s sure her face is beet red and she feels hot all of over. She’s embarrassed and she can’t believe herself. He sits down beside her and he can’t help his gaze from peeking over to her and he has to bite back a laugh.

“Everything ok? Y’look like you’ve seen a ghost Y/N.” It’s her turn to be the quiet one, she can only hum in agreement, her gaze never refusing to leave the middle of the wall. He slides a bottle of orange juice over to her, just close enough to catch her attention. He watches as she tenses up with his hand growing closer and he shakes his head.

“Figured y’might need it, it helps with hangovers - at least it did with mine.” She only nods in response and he chuckles.

It’s almost as if a switch has flipped overnight because the Harry that’s sitting next to her is not the one she’s been dealing with for years and she’s unable to figure out how to go about this, she can’t help but to bite her bottom lip nervously as she turns her gaze to the worksheets in front of her.

“Thought I was supposed to be the one that’s quiet, Y/N. Are you okay? If we need to do this another-” He’s interrupted by her turning her gaze to him and clearing her throat.

“We.. we kissed. You were.. you were nice and I’m just confused and nervous and just ugh.” He shakes his head at her and runs his head through his long brown locks.

“Yea no big deal though, you were shitfaced and didn’t need anything happening to you before my exams. You gotta make sure I pass so I can get the hell outta here.” He smiles softly before leaning over to look at the worksheets. She shakes her head and she can’t help the frown beginning to form on her lips and the furrow that appears in between her eyebrows.

She can’t stop wondering why he isn’t upset or at least worried about it, he’s always been so big on the fact that he doesn’t like her so why isn’t this a big deal to him. Why doesn’t this matter to him as much as it matters to her?

“Get out of your head. I promise it’s not gonna change anything, it’s done. It’s in the past, now aren’t these the same sheets we did last time?” Her head is swimming with all of the flashbacks and the quick whiplash from Harry’s behavioral change. She sighs and shakes her head to try to rid the thoughts in her head so she can focus.

She pushes the worksheets closer to Harry with a small smile.

“They are the same for the first half, I want to see if you actually paid attention and did some work after you left.” Harry frowns and scoffs at that before the corners of his mouth begin to tug upwards and he covers his mouth with his hands, Y/N’s eyes can’t help but to stare at the new ring on his finger. It’s nothing special and really shouldn’t matter to her but something just draws her attention, she can make out a glimpse of some small letters engraved in cursive on the silver ring. Harry catches her gaze and removes his hand and clears his throat.

“In your words exactly, the only way to pass this test is for me to actually work with you, unless you wanna do it all for me and I just study it.” His voice has taken the same playful tone from last night and she can’t help the blood that rushed to her cheeks at the seemingly painful reminder.

She tilts her head down in an attempt to shield her face from Harry’s gaze and she can hear him chuckle softly from beside her.

“You have to do the work, it won’t do you any good just to memorize anything. You’ll never actually learn anything.” She shakes her head softly, her gaze still focused on the table as she speaks. The air had changed, it’s charged with awkward tension - the electric kind that’s hard to ignore for long periods of time. The one that feels as if it’s burning her skin, the silence is deafening between them.

“Outta your head now, c’mon. Do we need to reschedule?” His voice is quiet, much softer than she’s used to and it only makes it worse, she shakes her head softly before tilting her head back up to look at him.

She can’t help but to gaze into his emerald green eyes, mapping out every detail of his face - the way his eyelash brush against his cheeks, the green irises and his soft pink lips. She clears her throat because she can’t allow herself to be thinking of him like that, at the end of the day he’s still him and she knows that he hasn’t changed at all. As much as she wishes this could be the new normal, she highly doubts he’s magically changed overnight. She turns her focus to the worksheets and opens the textbook to the correct page, the soft crinkling of the pages as she flips through them fill the space between them.

Once she’s fully settled, she turns her gaze back to Harry and smiles softly.

“Do you think you can do this worksheet for me? Just don’t wanna go over anything you already have.” Her voice is quiet, just above a whisper as she speaks as if she’s sharing a secret and he shrugs.

“Y’got a pen?” She nods before reaching one arm into her tote bag and blindly searches for a pen. It takes a couple of seconds before she finally pulls one out and hands it to him. He takes the one from her and frowns at the small shock that happens between their finger tips as they graze one another. He chooses to slide his seat just a little bit away from her - he needs space from whatever weird energy is it that’s filling the air surrounding them, before he tilts his head down and brings the pencil to the paper.

He exhales briefly before beginning to write out the answers, some coming to him quickly while others he struggles to remember what the book says. The faint sound of pencil scratching against the paper mixes in with the sound of the air conditioning blowing and the soft whispers as their peers communicate about projects and books, he can’t help but to sneak a glance over to Y/N just to find that she’s already looking at him. He averts his gaze quickly and back to the paper, a frown beginning to form on his lips in response. He doesn’t know what’s gotten into him, the urge to actually do something is stronger than him causing him to willingly do what she says.

Once he’s done, he slides the paper back to Y/N and keeps his gaze on the paper. He can barely make out the outline of her fingers pulling the sheet of paper back to her in the corner of his eye and his frown deepens. The silence has grown even louder, it’s banging against their shoulders with every passing moment. Y/N swears she can hear the sound of her own heart beating in her chest.

Harry’s not sure how he ended up here inside of Y/N’s bedroom but he silently thanks whoever made it happen. Their study sessions have become more frequent, instead of once a week they’ve grown to meeting every day. Harry’ll bring her a drink and maybe a snack if he’s feeling oh so generous, they’ll sit in the library at the same table and go over their worksheets for at least an hour minimum.

He remembers how bashful and shy she was when she voiced the suggestion that they spend their last day of sessions at her place, and how she couldn’t bring herself to meet his gaze at the playful tone in his voice as he implied that the only reason she wanted that was so she could stare at him and ogle how ‘pretty’ he was. That wasn’t true, she knew deep down it wasn’t the reason, but she also didn’t know the reason as to why she even thought about it to begin with.

He can’t help but to allow his gaze to wander over all of her belongings placed meticulously in her room. The various posters and Polaroids taped onto the wall, the sheer white curtains frame her window doing very little to shade the sun rays flowing into her room. The room hasn’t changed at all from Harry’s memory and he chuckles at the realization that she’s not one for big changes, it shocks him that she accepted his change so quickly. But he shakes his head as he heads to the bed where she’s already sitting. He sits beside her, knees barely touching as pulls her tote bag onto her lap and pulls out the stuff she needs.

Harry pulls out his phone and scrolls on it, aimlessly replying back to any missed text messages as he waits. He ends up playing music much louder than needed and he can’t help but to chuckle at the frown forming on her lips. Out of spite he manages to turn the music up even louder, causing her frown to deeper and a frown to begin creasing in between her eyebrows.

“Harry can you turn it down? I’ve got everything ready.” He laughs as he shakes his head.

“No can do lala.” A big smile sits on his face as he yells over the music, voice booming against the walls and Y/N can’t help but to cover her ears at the amount of loud noises flooding her ears. Harry chuckles at the sight of her covering her ears and lips pursed into a pout, her stance reminding him of his younger years and he laughs.

“S’not that loud! C’mon you big baby.” He says as his thumb pressed against the volume button, the music slowly lowering until he finally grabs her wrists and pulls them down.

He mocks her pout before breaking into a smile, teeth showcased and dimples prominent as he stares at her. She shakes her head and yanks her arms away, hoping Harry won’t take note of the way her cheeks begin to tint red. She grabs her binder from beside her and hands Harry the textbook. She watches as he takes the text book as he grumbles under his breath how unfair all this is and how he can’t wait for it to be over. She can’t help but to smile softly at his behavior as she grabs her own pen and hands one to him.

They begin their session, Y/N will read one of the questions from the worksheet and Harry will mumble an answer either one he knows or he’ll search for the answer in the book. Y/N starts off but just going over what they discussed the last time they studied like normal, giving him small praises whenever he gets something correct and he only grumbles and huff in response - he thinks she’s acting as if he’s a little boy learning how to talk for the first time but he can’t help the small flutter in his chest with every praise and compliment that falls from her lips.

The silence has grown comfortable but there’s still that electric tension lingering in between them and it only grows worse the longer they continue. Harry finds new ways to annoy Y/N whether it’s him purposely telling the wrong answers, searching through her books and pictures littered around her room, or his personal favorite using his phone during the session.

He’s currently scrolling through Instagram, laughing ever so often at whatever post he found funny while music blares from his speaker. The textbook in his lap is long forgotten because he wanted to be done an hour ago, but she has other plans.

“Harry! Come on, I’ve given you your break and let go on far longer than you asked for, it’s time to get back to work.” She groans as she waves her hand in front of his phone screen.

“Now now, you’re not being a very good host Y/N. I don’t think me being burnt out would help me learn anything.” He chuckles when he sees her roll her eyes in his peripheral.

“Burnt out? Seriously? There’s no way, we’ve only been actually studying for like an hour which is usually how long ours last. We’re literally almost done! You were doing so good.” She almost whines out the last sentence, her frustration seeping into her words at the boy. He can’t help the laugh the escapes through his lips at her antics, he feels as if she’s being dramatic about all of this.

He rolls his eyes playfully before beginning to speak again.

“Yes, seriously, plus we’ve been at this for two hours actually. You should do the same. Relax, take a moment to breathe.” She frowns as she shakes her head, her hair brushing against the middle of her back.

“I do relax Harry. I just don’t do it whenever I actually need to get something done.” He nudges her shoulder, not moving afterwards until a couple seconds later and he swears he can hear her breath hitch.

“You know what you need?” His tone has taken a softer approach and he chuckles mentally at the sight of goosebumps appearing on her skin as she hums softly.

“You’re always so uptight, so dedicated… you stress yourself out by doing so much all day. You need to release the stress.” He slowly moves closer, his knee touching hers and his voice directly in her ear and he watches as she shivers slightly.

“I.. I do release the stress. I take baths every night and just soak.. in the water..” her voice trails off as she feels his nose skimming up the expanse of her throat.

“Y’wanna know my favorite way of releasing the stress?” His voice has dropped slightly and she nods in response, a slight flutter beginning to form in the pit of her stomach.

“Sex.. or if I’m not able to, I’ll touch myself. Works every time. When’s the last time you let yourself feel good?” His voice is honey to her ears, the slight rasp causing wetness to begin to form in her panties.

Her eyes flutter shut when his lips just barely graze her ear lobe, a soft touch and promise of what was to come if she allowed. Her conscious is screaming at her to stop right now and continue studying just because of who Harry is but he’s already moved to soft and gentle kisses along her neck and she’s screwed. A quiet moan escapes into the air and she can hear Harry laugh under his breath before gently nicking at the spot where her neck and shoulders meet, causing her to moan slightly louder and one hand aimlessly searching for something to hold onto.

“C’mon Y/N. I asked a question, it’s rude not to answer.” He pairs the sentence with one hand cupping the back of her neck and tilts her head backwards so he can place a kiss on the underside of her jaw.

Her mouth opens but no words come out, just a soft whine as she clenches her thighs together in search for relief from her throbbing center. She can’t focus on his words, just how good she feels in this moment. Another kiss is placed onto her neck, one with slightly more force and a gentle suck - not enough to make a mark but enough to have her squeezing her thighs together tightly and another moan to fall from her lips.

“Oh c’mon Y/N. Answer me or I stop.” His voice has dropped an octave, it’s low and gravelly and she can’t help but to roll her hips in an attempt to get some sort of friction going. In response to his sentence, Harry pulls away with a slight smirk on his lips and Y/N wants to smack it off of his face. His eyes wander over the details on her her face, her cheeks turned a dark shade of red, her pupils dilated almost enough to hide the color of her irises and the soft pink lips he hasn’t been able to get out of his mind since last night.

She closes her eyes before beginning to speak, suddenly feeling shy at her admission.

“Can’t remember, don’t really have the energy at the end of the day.” She ducks her head so she doesn’t have to deal with the knowing smirk that’s bound to be plastered on Harry’s face. Harry tsks as one hand comes into her view, his index finger curved as he uses it to lift her face so he can see her.

“Good girl. S’rude not to look when you’re speaking. I pity you, I really do, no wonder you’re such a bitch all the time, you’re missing out honey.” The pet name falls casually from his lips and Y/N’s head is swimming at everything happening and she whines in response, her eyes fluttering shut at his words.

“If my lack of self-pleasure is what makes me a bitch, then what’s yours?” Her voice is airy and soft, lacking the snappiness she intended to have for her response.

“M’just a bitch cause you are Y/N. Gotta match the energy, plus it’s fun to see you worked up.” He chuckles before leaning down to kiss her neck again, his hands moving down to her hips and squeezes softly. Her hands instinctively raise up to his neck, fingers grabbing onto his long brown waves and she quickly scrambles over to his lap, legs splayed across his lap and she sighs in relief from the feeling of his erection pressing against the zipper of his pants.

Slowly and hesitantly she begins to roll her hips against his, desperate in search of any kind of relief and the groan that leaves Harry’s lips makes her want to go faster.

“Oh fuck, that’s it honey. Take what you need, go on. Keep fucking going.” His voice is laced with lust, deep and rumbling with every word, his voice floods her ears and she can’t help but to whine again. She begins to roll her hips faster, the seam of her pants rubbing deliciously against her throbbing clit and her head falls onto his shoulder. His ring-clad hands rest on her hips, fingertips digging into the soft skin eliciting another soft whine to cascade out of her lips. Her breaths fan against Harry’s neck and he can feel her fingertips playing with the hem of his t-shirt, he pulls away only for Y/N to whine and chase his lips causing him to tsk softly before pulling his shirt off by the neck of the cotton fabric.

The sight of Harry’s bare chest sends Y/N into overdrive, her hips rolling faster against him and eyes trained on his chest, her gaze wandering over the various tattoos littering his chest. His hands come back to her hips and he stops her movements, she groans in response, lips parted and eyes clouded with lust.

“Wanna go ahead and take those clothes off honey? Wanna see what you look like under all those pretty little skirts you wear.” She can’t help but to nod as she stands, her legs slightly wobbly as she removes her self from Harry’s lap. She starts to remove her clothing, piece by piece slowly setting each item down all the while Harry’s gaze never leaves her frame. His eyes take over every new section of skin that she exposes to him, he watches as her breath hitches before taking off another article. He in turn begins to tug off his pants and boxers and Y/N can’t help but to watch as his hard cock bounces on his stomach. She doesn’t think she’s ever seen one so pretty before; it’s red and leaking pre-cum, long with a slight curve to the right and she can faintly make out the throbbing of one in the veins in the underside of his cock.

Her mouth waters at the sight of it and she comes back to sit on the bed, settling her legs underneath her with her gaze still set on him. She can faintly hear him laugh under his breath as one of his hands move towards her, finger tips slightly tapping against her knee.

“Why’re y’sitting so far away honey? I don’t bite unless asked.” She giggles softly before scooting closer, the sound of the bed sheets rumpling around her as she moves fills the room and almost immediately she gets pulled to him. Her bare chests collide with him and she can’t help but to laugh at him before his hands are eagerly running across her body. Fingertips dancing across her skin, and the soft skin of his palms rubs against her pebbled nipples, soft moans and sighs escaping from her mouth with every touch.

He grips her hips and flips her around so she’s laying on her back, her chest bouncing from the movement and Harry can’t help but to growl lowly at the sight of it.

“You’re so fucking beautiful, every inch of you honey. Can’t believe you’ve been hiding this from me.” He leaves gently kisses across her collarbone and downwards, lips brushing against the sides of her chest causing her fingers to tangle themselves into his brown waves. He puckers his lips and encases one of her nipples into his mouth and sucks on it softly, her back arches in pleasure and she lets out another soft moan.

His tongues slides over the nub as he continues sucking, one of his hands going to play with the other soft mound, squeezing and pinching, fingers rolling her other nipple between them.

“Oh, fuck- god, fucking shit.” She breathes out and slightly rolls her hips in attempt to get some relief. He pulls away and continues leaving sloppy wet kisses to her skin, leaving a trail as he makes his way downwards, sucking softly when he gets to the bottom of her stomach. Her fingers tug at his locks and her head lolls backwards, eyes closing in pleasure.

“shit, please Harry.” She’s never heard her like this before, her voice airy and whiny filled with desperation as she pleads with the boy to do anything. Harry coos before going downwards, kissing the outside of her pussy and making her shiver. He allows his tongue to glide upwards, licking from her hole to her clit, stopping briefly to suck gently on the swollen nub.

She’s sweet, addictingly sweet and Harry can’t help but to shake his head side to side as he pushes his tongue deeper in her wet folds, her arousal smearing onto his nose and around his mouth but he can’t bring himself to care when she moans out his name and her fingers tug harshly in his hair. His tongue dives deep into her hole while his nose nudges her throbbing clit with every movement of his head. He alternates between slow glides, kissing her cunt as if he was making out with her lips and fast flicks, sucking her nub into his mouth allowing his teeth to graze ever so slightly against it. He relishes in the pretty sounds she makes, he could tell that she was sweet and she’d sound just as soft and pretty as she does just because she’s so.. her. Her hips begin to roll against his mouth, slowly finding a rhythm that allows him to experiment, his fingers spreading her lips apart as he pulls away causing her to whine and gentle pout to set on her lips.

He watches as her arousal drips out and leaks onto the sheets below her and he can’t help but to blow gently, laughing as she jumps and attempts to close her legs around him.

“Now’s not the time to be fucking around Harry. Don’t be a dick right now.” She groans, her chest heaving with every breath.

“Last time I checked, it was my head between your thighs, I will do what I want to do and there’s nothing you can do about it. You’ll take whatever I decide to give you and you should be thankful. I’m helping you just like you’re helping me.” His tone is nothing short of cocky and before she can respond to him, his face is back in between her thighs and one finger is circling her entrance. Her back arches off the bed when he begins to push in slowly, her walls soft and sucking him in instantly and he slowly begins to find a slow rhythm as he finger glides in and out.

He can’t help but to moan into her cunt, she just tastes so good and the sounds she makes only spurs him on, his hips slowly rutting against the blanket, not enough to bring him a release but just enough to ease the throbbing sensation in his dick. She squeezes around his finger involuntarily as a rather loud moan falls from her lips when he curves it upwards slightly and brushes against the soft spongey part inside of her.

“Is that it honey? Right there?” He asks and she nods, stuttering out a pathetic excuse for a yes in response. He begins thrusting his finger slightly faster, the wet squelching fills the room and Y/N can’t help but moan at the feeling. She’s close, she knows it and she knows Harry can tell as well and right before she can tip of the pinnacle point of pleasure Harry removes himself from her.

She groans in annoyance and sits up, crossing her arms together and Harry’s eyes can’t help to wander towards the movement of her breasts being squished together.

“You’re being a fucking dick. This isn’t helping me release the stress you asshole.” She replies, frustration from being edged laced into her voice while Harry simply laughs. He searches his pants pocket before grabbing a small gold foil packet and rips it with his teeth. He takes out the condom and rolls it into his length, his veins prominent as he pumps his length a couple times just for extra measures and he hums as her hand replaces his. Her soft hands circle around his length, her fingertips barely touching one another as she slowly strokes him, making sure every once in a while to run her thumb over his rubber covered tip, causing him to shiver and grab her hand with one of his.

He uses one hand to grip the base of his cock as he guides himself to her entrance and he mutters soft praises. As his tip breaches its way inside, he can’t help but to let out a groan at just how good it feels, her warm and slippery walls stretching around his length as he slowly pushes his way in. His eyes flick up to watch her face, her nose scrunched up and mouth parted in a small ‘o’ as small pants escape, her eyes half lidded and fluttering. Inch by inch he pushes until his hips are flushed with hers, his forehead resting on top of her own as he waits for her to adjust. He swears he can almost come just like this, the feeling of being inside of her is almost too much for him to bear and he can’t just come before her and especially this early, so he reaches one hand down and pulls his hips back slightly - just enough for his hand to comfortably be able to rub her clit between them.

She whines and turns her head to the side, eager to move in some fashion at the feeling of being full. She knows she’s utterly fucked, there’s no going back from this and she knows this will definitely change their dynamic but oh does it feel good. She nods before giving Harry the ok to move, and she cries out when he does. His hips thrusting slowly first in and out of her gummy walls until she’s begging for more.

“Doin so well for me honey. Taking me so good, such a good girl. Always been such a - fuck - sweetheart haven’t you? Always so nice and sweet to me, even when I don’t deserve it.” She mewls and nods her head, unable to form a coherent thought at the feeling of his hips thrusting into her.

The coil in her stomach tightens with every thrust, the sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room mixes well Y/N’s soft whines and pants and Harry’s deep groans and grunts. She’s never felt so much pleasure all at once and she’s never felt more full, Harry’s cock is much thicker than her own fingers or any of her toys so he always manages to brush against the soft spot inside of her as he thrusts deeper than she’s ever been able to do. Her head rolls back in ecstasy at a particular circle of his hips, one hand rubs her swollen and throbbing clit, alternating between small and quick circles and figure eights, and the other hand is beside her head as he holds himself up.

Her walls begin to squeeze him more frequently as she grows closer, that coil in her stomach tightening with every stroke and causes Harry to curse under his breath.

“Y’close honey? I can just feel it, feel you squeezing ‘round me like a fucking vice. C’mon Y/N. What do you need?” He pants out, a sheen of sweat is beginning to form on their bodies and the mattress shaking with every thrust. She moans rather loudly before telling him she needs more, she’s not sure what exactly she wants more of, all she knows is that she’s so close to finishing she can taste it. Harry picks up his pace, his hips thrusting into her at a brutalizing speed causing her breasts to bounce with every thrust. The hand between them rubs faster circles, he’s desperate and close and he’ll be damned if he comes before she does. After all, even though he’s known for his fuck boy tendencies, he’s still a gentlemen at the end of the day.

She mewls out as her arms wrap around his broad shoulders, her eyes fighting to stay open at the immense amount pleasure she’s receiving. At a particular thrust, her arms scratch down his back causing him to groan and rest his forehead against hers, their breath mixing together with every pant released. He circles his hips once more before her body tenses up, legs attempting to close in on him and arms wrapped tightly around him, her mouth falling open in a quiet moan. Her cunt gushes around him, the feeling of her warmth is too much so he reaches his own climax after her causing a string of curse words to fall from his lips, his hips stuttering as his cock twitches with every spurt of his hot seed being released into the condom.

With a heaving chest and sweaty body, Harry slowly pulls out causing her to frown at the complete emptiness only to be interrupted by a long yawn. She tiredly rubs her eyes as she sits up slowly, grabbing Harry’s hand as he leads her to the bathroom. Her legs are shaky and she’s never felt so tired in her life. They walk hand in hand together, and he opens the bathroom door for her, allowing her to walk in first and get settled on the toilet. As she’s reliving her bladder, Harry asks her where she keeps her towels. Once she answers, he opens the drawer underneath the sink and grabs a soft face towel and turns on the faucet, waiting for the water to get warm enough to run the towel underneath it.

She quickly finishes and comes to stand beside Harry, her head coming to rest on his arms and Harry can’t help but to smile softly. He wraps an arm around her bare torso and steps over some so she can wash her hands, she does quite quickly, she’s getting tired with every second she’s not in bed. He leads her back into her bedroom and allows her to lay down, instructing her to spread her legs and she whines at the assumption of them going at it once more. Harry can’t help but laugh at her before explaining how he just needs to clean her up so she can go to sleep. The feeling of the warm cloth only makes her more tired, eyes beginning to flutter shut before she feels a gentle tap on her stomach. When she opens her eyes, she’s met with Harry’s beautiful emerald green orbs, irises bright and apologetic.

“Here, let’s get you dressed.” His voice is gentle as he sets an oversized shirt and a pair of underwear and she pouts but complies. Standing up long enough to slip into her underwear and t-shirt, she clambers back into her bed before turning her gaze to Harry who is also slipping in his black Calvin Klein boxers.

“Will you stay the night? It’s probably late.” She asks, voice riddled with the want for sleep and Harry can’t help the smile that appears on his lips.

“Yea yea, scoot over.” She quickly scoots over enough to allow him to climb underneath the covers beside her, wasting no time she wraps an arm around his bare waist and nuzzling her face into his chest.

His own arm wraps around her frame, his hand rubbing up and down softly against her arm as they lay there in silence. His mind is full of thoughts and emotions and he has no choice but to listen for the sound of her breath evening out once she finally gets to sleep.

“Hey, Harry…” he hums in acknowledgement, the sound traveling through his chest and seemingly into her bones.

“You’re gonna ace these finals.” Y/N replies and Harry chuckles.

“What makes you so confident, lala?” He asks and she shrugs.

“Dunno, just know we worked hard and you were always doing good on tests and exams when we were younger. You got this.” He smiles lightly even though she’s unable to see it.

His mind replays it over and over again, creating a warm feeling to form in his chest and after a couple minutes he manages to mumble out a quiet ‘thank you’. He doesn’t get a response but he can hear the way her breathing has changed into a slower rhythm and he slowly begins to detangle his way from her hold. He moves slowly in an attempt to not wake her, that task is easy so he grabs one of her bigger and more firm pillows and replaces the spot he was once laying in. He sighs as he quietly gets dressed and grabs his jacket, choosing not to bring the textbooks or any of the worksheets home with him. As he’s heading out, he can’t help but to turn back around just to catch another good look at Y/N and admire her because he knows it won’t be the same as it was before now. After a couple excruciatingly long minutes, he’s finally able to test his gaze from her sleeping form and with that he’s out of her door, out of her house and into his car.

After all, Harry’s known for meaningless fucks and one night stands so why does this one feel completely different?

aaannd the end ! i’m kidding i have so so much more for these two 🤭. we got a little insight of their history if you look close enough :). as always come talk to me about this chapter in my ask box. tell me how you felt about it, what do you think’ll happen next anything of the sort ! i love you all, thank you for reading and see you soon <3. as always, reblogs and comments are much appreciated 💜

tag list: taglist: @lomlhstyles @gotthecinema @ch3rry-styles @lovrave @ivorygowns @hillzrry @iamjustaholeforyousir @jazzmynerule @lomlolivia @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @mysteriouslydecaffeinatedfox @tenaciousperfectionunknown @jerseygirlinca @zucchinimalfoy

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!

can he not🔥🔥

Oreos and Pickles

in which you spent 2 years with Harry and a grocery store trip makes you realize it was all secondary...

[Warning- Just angst, fluff if you like close your eyes ig, pregnancy cravings, complicated feelings and a very awful grocery store trip]

A/N- Don't even ask me where these sad things even come from

Masterlist

*****

"Why do they have Oreos so far back?!" You whined as you walked down the lines and lines of grocery racks. Harry laughed beside you and slid one of his arms around your waist while other held onto the trolley.

"Why don't you stay here and choose which pickle you want, and I will be back with your oreos, okay?" Harry said, and you nodded quickly, ready to go home as quickly as you could. Harry gave you a kiss on the forehead and walked forward while you chose from the plathora of pickles.

This pregnancy has made you weird. You used to be one of those people who would make faces while seeing pregnant people eat weird things like cucumber and ice cream and now you're one of those people and your weird craving of the month has been oreos and pickles.

You sighed and took out two jars of lemon pickles and decided to just walk towards your boyfriend since he was taking ages to get a packet of oreos.

As Harry came into your view, so did someone else.

"So how have you been?" You heard them ask to your boyfriend who was picking on loose threads of his sweater, which was one of his nervous ticks.

You quickly moved towards him, thinking he might need comforting. Harry wasn't very talkative person even ordering his coffee gave him so much anxiety that he brought an overpriced coffee machine. So, you didn't think much of it.

"Hey babe, you found oreos?" you asked as you came to stand beside him. The person's eyes went from him to you, and it's then you realized that they both were wearing the same shocked nervous expression.

"Yeah- um here" He took the jars from your hands and put them in the trolley with oreos.

"Who's this?" You whisper asked, not wanting to be rude if this was someone you already knew. It was hard for you to remember people, especially their names. That's why you and Harry fit so perfectly, he would remember people for you while you talked wherever he couldn't.

A perfect team as he called it.

"Hi I'm Allison" She put forward her hand to shake and you took it shaking it happily.

"She" He cleared his throat, "She's my ex wife" He said the last part almost in whisper. You eyes widened but you quickly got your shit together.

"Oh it's so nice to meet you, I'm Y/N" You introduced yourself. Harry never talked about his ex wife, you knew he was divorced and very much depressed considering you two met at the same therapist office when the receptionist accidentally appointed both of you at the same time.

Anytime you would ask, a certain sadness would cloud over his eyes, and his face would morph into a frown, so you stopped asking. If he wanted, he would tell you at his own pace.

The two of them kept staring at each other, not saying a word, and you felt a bit uncomfortable. It might have been your pregnancy hormones you didn't know, but an unknown deep pit sat in your heart.

"I will get some more things over there" You said quickly walking over to the other side still in earshot before Harry could say anything.

You winced as your sore feet ached more from walking.

You just wanted to go home.

"How have things been?" Allison asked but your back was turned so you couldn't see Harry's reaction.

"Good ya really good" He replied and you felt a relief. Why? You didn't know. You trusted Harry he would never break your trust.

"That's good to hear Harry" She replied and from her tone you guessed she was smiling maybe not really but a smile indeed.

"What about you? When did you move here?" He asked and that's when you turned not fully but enough you could look at him sideways.

They were still in their own bubble, eyes locked but neither of them were in present you saw the longing in them, maybe in both of them but you could only speak of Harry's.

You had never felt so out of place near your own boyfriend. For a second, it felt like you didn't belong here like you had separated two lovers, but you did neither of those things. You weren't some other woman who stole someone else's man, but why did it feel like you were?

"I'm just here for a work meeting. It went well so" You heard her speak signaling to the wine in her trolley.

"That's great. Congratulations" Harry said, you picked out more things from the racks you didn't need but you would rather walk home than go in between that awkward conversation.

But you had to cause now your hands were full. You sighed and started walking back, Harry gave you the gentle smile he always give when you wince while the woman's eyes followed your every move.

You stood beside Harry again and saw her eyes flick down to your grocery trolley when Harry put down the stuff you brought over.

"Pickles and Oreos? You hate both of those things" she said with a small chuckle.

"It's for her not me" Harry just gave her a small smile while you shifted your weight on your feet.

You wanted to go home.

It might have been your dramatic brain but you saw the moment realization hit her. When her brain put the two and two together, her eyes flicked towards you and then towards Harry.

"Oh, Congratulations!" She said with choked words but you knew she was forcing it. You gave her a smile and looked at Harry who opened his mouth and then closed it as if he was about to speak.

Like he had an explanation. An excuse.

"I will go to counter for billing" You said a little bit snappy which you didn't mean but he hurt. The pregnancy wasn't planned but what was he about to say? Why he looked like he wanted to explain it to her?

Harry hesitate a bit, you saw it how his legs froze for a second and now they looked like they both wanted to stay there but you didn't.

You had no hard feelings towards her, but you did feel it was wrong. Like this whole meeting of the grocery store was wrong, a glitch in matrix that wasn't supposed to happen.

But no matter what was wrong and what was right, you knew one thing loud and clear.

Harry will never love you like he loved her.

*****

Harry's Pov

it was in my drafts, so I posted it cause I haven't posted in very long.

I've almost settled in my room, but still, it's new, and I have so many classes. I hope you guys understand that I can't update very much. I will update the stages of grief, and I'm so so sorry it's delaying sm.

I love you hope you understand<3

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