Routine - Bad Habit (3)

behind the doors

pairing: tanktoprry x yn

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

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

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

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

It was a phase, she thought.

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

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

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

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

That's how it's always been.

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

It worked every time.

But this time, it was different.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Go ahead, say it."

"No."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But there was only so much he could ignore.

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

He ran after her.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That was it.

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

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

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

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

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

"Are you not going to say anyt--"

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

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

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

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

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

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

The first time they had ever hugged.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She hummed softly, "Okay."

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

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:

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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.

favourite trope 🤗🤗 made by fav writer 🤗

tanktoprry masterlist

tanktoprry stans, here is your masterlist of all the fuckboy shit this man comes with. ur welcome.

(*) indicates smut. (lets be real, this whole thing is smut.) read at your own risk.

-harry is a ass kinda guy*

-y/n wants harry to degrade her*

-y/n uses harry this time*

-hate fucking...that is all.*

-y/n tries on harry's tank top*

-y/n finds out she's not the only one

-random fucking*

-good girl*

-good girl pt 2*

-mutual masturbation*

-mirror fucking/recording with a camera*

-spitting kink*

-more spitting....*

-nipple play*

-harry’s hinge account

-harry and y/n have the talk

-harry chokes y/n with his rings*

-y/n rides harry’s abs*

-harry ties y/n up with his tanktop*

-choke her with a sea view*

-threesome blurb*

-short narry threesome*

-fucking against the window*

-the club

-edging*

-harry gets pegged by y/n // aftercare

-mommy? sorry…mommy? sorry…mommy?*

all of harry’s feature moments from the video.

love on tour forever.

@lukesaprince this is for you x

Always a Fineline

warnings - little angstyyy blurb!

summary - basically just you and harry divorcing. lol.

—————————————————————————

There sat the divorce papers between you and your husband, Harry.

Nothing had worked, you’d both been doing couples counselling and tried to build the love back up with endless dates and nights with just the two of you.

Still nothing.

You two weren’t toxic to each other, no, the spark between you both just wasn’t there anymore. It’s like the love between you and Harry had died down, all that was left was an empty hole in both of your hearts.

You met Harry while he was alone at a bar in 2013, from there you both built a really good relationship that soon turned romantic with Harry finally getting down onto one knee in 2016. Now, 2 years later you were both sat at the table Anne gave you and Harry after you’d both moved into the new house.

Harry stared down at the piece of paper, a sad gloomy dew clouding his eyes, the green appearing almost a dark grey colour.

Signing this paper was the last thing you’d have to do before parting ways for good.

“Who gets the house..?” Harry asks, holding the tip of the pen just above the signature box on the form, a frown prominent on his lips, eyes never leaving the paper.

“H, we already talked about this. I’m okay with staying with my parents till I get my new apartment.” You lean back in your chair slightly, eyes still on the curly headed boy you’d thought you’d always call home.

Harry nods sadly, bringing the pen down onto the paper, signing his name slowly before dropping it onto the page, sliding it across to the middle of the table. Yet, he still doesn’t look at you, his eyes still find his way to either the table, the wall behind you or the piece of paper.

“So.. that’s it?” He almost whispers, shrugging one shoulder, finally his eyes meet yours, both your hearts almost break, seeing the visible pain and tiredness on both of your faces, dark circles under your eyes from the lack of sleep due to the build up of this moment.

“You’ll be okay, Harry. I’m still gonna be here for you.” You smile sadly, trying to lighten the mood, even though there’s nothing light about this.

He shakes his head. “It won’t be the same as it was, Y/N. You know that.” He frowns, his head bowing down once again to avoid eye contact.

You stand up, walking around to his side of the table, hands softly coming in contact with his jaw, picking his face up so he’s looking up at you, like he’d always do when you were sad. “I know it won’t be the same, H. But we have to do this, do it for the sake of our mental health. All we’re doing is going around in circles, It’s an endless cycle of this.. of us.” You choke on a sob at the end, tears finally spilling out of your eyes.

Harry had tried so hard to be strong and not breakdown in front of you, but seeing you cry did it for him. Endless tears are shared between the two of you in what seems to be your last moments close to each other. “I still love you though Y/N.”

“Do you really love me or do you just love the thought of me being around you. Think about it Harry, our love is gone.” You lean down, pressing your forehead against his as you both cry, thumbs caressing the pads of his cheeks.

“I really wanted forever.” He whispers.

“Forever in another lifetime, i promise. We’ll be alright.”

————————————

2021, Las Vegas.

The screams of fans roar through the MGM Grand Garden Arena, it was his first show of Love On Tour where he’d debut his latest Fineline album.

Taking the place onto the centre of the stage, a crew member passes him his guitar as the stage rises up slightly, “This is a special one to me, i know a lot of you have been dying to hear it. I hope you love this song as much as I do.” He smiles, clapping and awes can be heard all around the stage.

The first strum of the guitar to the beat of Fineline is played, Harry takes a deep breath, a sudden emotion coming over him in a flashback of how this song was made. Who inspired this special song to him.

“Put a price on emotion, I’m looking for something to buy.”

“You’ve got my devotion, but man I can hate you sometimes.”

Singing from the crowd can be heard, harmonising Harry in a way no other concert could compare.

“We’ll be a fineline.”

“We’ll be a fineline.”

“We’ll be a fineline.”

Somewhere through the song Harry had closed his eyes, he finally opened them, looking out to the crowd, something in him tells him to take a quick glance up to the VIP box, so he does.

It takes time for him to recognise the person peering over the edge, before it clicks. Y/N.

The person that inspired him to make this album was watching Harry like a hunter show this special album of his to the world.

A small smile cracks at his lips before returning his eyes back to the crowd.

Maybe they will be a fineline.

————————————————————

TBH THIS WAS REALLY BAD AND SHORT CONSIDERING BUT IT IS MY FIRST EVERY WRITING PIECE SO DONT FEEL BAD IF YOU CRINGE BAHAHA!! PLEASE GIVE ME FEEDBACK LOVE YA! I AM ALSO NEW TO WRITING SO THERES PROBS ALOT OF GRAMMAR ISSUES ALSO COS I RUSHED THIS WHILE LISTENING TO MONTELL FISH 😭

i dont exactly like this so feel free to skip like the whole thing!! this is my first time writing a piece like this even though i have many drafts put away, but I wanna say a big thank you to my kind friend @harringtons-honey for quite literally helping me for tips with my writing, i want to truly give you the world for that!!

missing Adam.

“I wanna take a quick second to introduce you to my wonderful, incredibly talented band. On bass and vocals mister Adam Prendergast! On keys and vocals, make some noise, miss Clare Uchima! On drums and vocals, please make some noise for the wonderful miss Sarah Jones! And on guitar and vocals, please put your hands together and make plenty of noise for mister Mitchell Rowland!”

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

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

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!

running buddies

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

word count: ~-1.5k

pairing: long-term-boyfriend!harry x reader

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

That’s how your morning had started.

A rude awakening and a run.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You okay?” He asked.

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

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

“Fuck off.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

It made the run worth it.

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

“Why?” You furrowed your brows.

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

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

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

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

“And yet you still want to marry me.”

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

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

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

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

“Mhm.”

“So if I got down on one knee now…”

“Which you’re not.”

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

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

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

“No friend of mine would know that.”

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

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

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

You moaned through the kiss and held onto him tight.

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

He pulled away and rested his forehead against yours.

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

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

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

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

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

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

So… they were following you.

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

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

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

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

“Oh okay.”

“Lovely to meet you though.” Not.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I love you.” You reminded him.

“I love you too.”

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

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