A/N:This was a request from the lovely @pzb2006 who asked for an imagine about a girl names Paris who was in Italy while Harry was shooting for his Golden music video and he wanted her number.
Thank you so much for your patience, and I hope you enjoy!!
Warnings:None
Word Count: 3,874
Requests are OPEN! If you have a request for a blurb, oneshot, imagine, whatever, Send me a messageHERE!!!
Friendly reminder to please like and/or reblog. It helps more than you think :)
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Paris was never a particularly adventurous girl, she always wished to be and fantasized about a life of excitement and travel, but she was sure she would be doomed to boredom for the rest of her life. Nothing exciting ever happened to her. It was like she lived her life like the movie Groundhog Day, the same day repeating over and over and over. She was sick of it. And it was on her eleventh straight day of eating the same, boring old cereal for breakfast when she decided she needed a change.
Immediately, she began to do research. At first, she was thinking of something more local; maybe a trip to the city, or the beach. Then she started to broaden her search. Maybe something on the opposite coast. That could be exciting. But, then she paused. If she was going to go on an adventure, she wanted to make it big. She decided to explore the idea of another country. There were so many to choose from. Africa always sounded interesting Then there was Greece; she’s wanted to go there since she was little and watched Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants. And, of course, there was Paris, the city of which she was named after. The City of Light.
But only one country stood out to her. Italy. She found herself constantly circling back to Italy, imagining herself strolling along the Amalfi coast and having lunch, alone, in the park. Meeting some mysterious and handsome Italian boy in the shops along the cobblestone. Relaxing alone along the shoreline, watching the sunset. It sounded like a dream. And finally, she booked a flight for her week-long vacation.
Paris spent the first day exploring the ruins of Pompeii and getting warped into the history of the city. She spent the second day at the beaches of Sorrento, letting the sun kiss her skin and the calming water rinse her of her worries. On the third day, she woke up energized, excited for her full day ahead. Paris enjoyed waking up knowing there was no set-schedule, nowhere she had to be at a certain time. She could do whatever she wanted, whenever she wanted.
In the morning, she took a stroll from her Airbnb to a little coffee shop down the street, deciding to have her little pastry and coffee outside on the patio, again, letting the warmth of the sunshine on her face. She stayed there for an hour, watching the locals walk by, smiling and laughing at each other. Everyone here seemed to be full of life and love; they all seemed genuinely happy. And, at this moment, so was she.
After breakfast, she decided to walk around some more. She visited shop after shop, never buying anything, but making mental notes on shops she wanted to return to before leaving to grab a few souvenirs. Finally, she ended up in a quaint, local grocery shop. Paris had every intention of just grabbing a few things to make back at her Airbnb, but when she saw the picnic basket, her plans changed. She wanted to have a picnic at the park across the street from where she was staying. It was the whole reason she booked it in the first place. It was large and spacious with beautiful cyprus and fruit trees scattered about, overlooking the ocean. And from what she could tell, hardly anyone ever went there. It sounded heavenly.
She went about the grocery store picking up way too much food for one person. How could she not? Everything looked so much better in Italy. Strawberries, a sandwich, pastries, soft pretzels, cookies, and two bottles of water. There was no way she’d be able to eat everything, but she’d sure give it her best shot. But first, she needed to stop by her place. Although it was warm, she thought it would be a good idea to grab a light sweater, just in case. Besides, there was a book in her luggage that she fancied a read, and this would be the perfect opportunity.
Her stomach grumbled when she finally got through the door of her lodgings. ****** Better make this quick, she thought, ******* I’m starving. She set everything down on the dining room table as she hurriedly rummaged through her belongings for a sweater and her book. She upturned everything, unsure of where they were when she remembered leaving them both out on the balcony the night before. As soon as she grabbed it, she flung her sweater over her shoulder, palmed the book, and shoved a pair of sunglasses on top of her head before rushing in, grabbing the picnic basket full of food, and heading out the door.
Paris fast-walked down the cobblestone hill, hiking the sweater that was slipping down her one shoulder while trying to carry the heavy basket and book with both hands as her sunglasses wobbled further down her head, practically sitting on her forehead, now. There was a crowd of mostly girls lining the road at the end of the street, all looking in one direction. ***** Maybe there’s a parade, she thought to herself as she neared, closer.
There was no time to stop and watch, the basket was getting heavier and she was certain she would burst if she didn’t get food in her soon. As she reached the crowd of girls, she noticed a red convertible mustang drive past with people hanging out the back and sides of it. The girls began to scream and jump up and down. Paris tried to look over the heads of the girls, but couldn’t see anyone else coming and figured it was a good opportunity to cross the road.
She squeezed through the crowd but was grabbed at and bumped by the girls, making her sunglasses fall lopsided over her face, tripping off of the curb and sending her book and picnic basket crashing to the ground, her food, which was thankfully wrapped, spread across the road. Hurriedly, she bent down, pushing her sunglasses back and attempting to collect all of her things as gasps, screams, and incoherent Italian babbling sounded behind her, not wanting to be in the way of the parade when it eventually made its way to her when a shadow blocked the sun from her eyes and a large, veiny hand held out her book.
“Are you alright?” she heard a deep, soft voice speak in clear English.
Paris tilted her head up and squinted, freezing for a moment as the condensation from her cold bottle of water trickled down her hand and onto the pavement. Suddenly the line of giddy girls made sense. It wasn’t a parade, it was Harry Styles. Quickly, Paris got to her feet, grabbing the red bound book from his grasp as she tucked hair behind her ear.
“I’m so sorry, I thought it was a parade. My sunglasses fell off my head and I couldn’t see and I tripped off the sidewalk, I’ll probably have to throw out my cookie,” Paris trailed until she heard Harry chuckled and put a warm hand on her shoulder which made her stop. She hadn’t realized until then that he was panting and a little sweaty, but his curls were still perfectly intact.
“No worries,” he reassured her, “Let me help.”
He bent down with her to collect her things as girls just stood back, giggling, and taking pictures. Harry did his best to entertain them, saying hello and responding quickly to things they shouted out like ‘how are you?’ and ‘I love you’ all while carefully placing her sweets and food back in her picnic basket.
When they had gotten the last soft pretzel in, Harry took hold of the basket and stood up, “I’ve got it,” he offered, giving her a nod that made her know that it was okay for her to follow him.
He waved goodbye to the girls that stood off to the side of the road and slowly walked down the middle of the street where, just yards away, that red mustang was idling with several men and a camera strapped to the back of it waited. He held a hand up with his finger waving to signal that he just needed a minute as he helped her cross the street.
“There’s a lot of food on this. Is it just you?” he asked.
Paris blushed, shoving her glasses back on top of her head, “Yeah. My eyes are bigger than my stomach.”
He chuckled again, stepping up on the curb, “You’re not from around here?”
She shook her head, “No, I’m from the states. Just needed to get away for a bit, so I took a solo trip. It’s my first time here.”
His eyebrows raised, pursing his lips in intrigue, “I took a solo trip once. Probably one of the best vacations I’ve ever been on.”
“Yeah, I’m starting to feel that way,” she bit her lip to hide her smile, looking down at her feet. Her butterflies were going berserk, trying to figure out if this was real, or not.
Harry smiled, looking down at her as they slowly walked down the sidewalk, side by side. She was quite beautiful, with soft skin and a bright smile, and her eyes reflected the light in a way that reminded him of stained glass. He nudged her a little, joking, “Don’t look down. That’s how you tripped in the first place.”
She let out a breathy laugh, looking up at him, “I think I’m just inherently clumsy.”
He grinned, keeping his eyes on her as they walked before he realized that he probably shouldn’t stare and looked straight ahead, asking, “So where are you headed with all this food?”
She nodded her head and pointed a little further ahead at the path that led into the park, “Just in there. Was going to find a tree to sit under for some shade and have some lunch.”
“Ah. Lunch and a view,” he noticed the sea waves crashing into the coast just below the cliffs, “Sounds wonderful,” he stopped as they reached the path, looking down at the basket with food, “Well, save me a pastry. In case I see you again,” he handed the basket over to her.
She giggled, taking it from him and heaving it into the crook of her arm, “Thanks. Sorry again. Have fun doing…..whatever it is you’re doing,” she motioned to the mustang.
He laughed, walking backward and waving, “I’ll try. Bye, it was nice meeting you!”
With a tight-lipped grin, she nodded, watched for a second longer, and turned to make her way down the path. But with the loud, echoing sound of his voice, she heard him yell, “Wait! What’s your name?”
She turned, laughing, and shouting, “Paris!”
“Paris,” she barely heard him repeat as his smile widened toothily and he shouted back, “See you later, Paris! Don’t forget! I want that pastry!” And with one last wave, he took off down the street, running as his puffy white top flowed and rippled behind him.”
A few girls ran up to her right after he left and asked her what he said, but there wasn’t much to tell. When they realized she didn’t have much information, they all stuck around for about an hour longer, waiting, in hopes that he’d come back. And as she ate her lunch, even she found herself looking around for any signs of him. After a while, she realized he probably wasn’t going to be back and attempted to read her book, but it was next to impossible to focus on any of the words after that.
The girls eventually left and Paris was one of the few people left in the area, leaning against the tree, picking at the strawberries beside her, book unread and open on her lap as she stared out at the ocean. She could hear a little dog barking in the distance, birds tweeting as they swirled in the air, the rustling of leaves as the ocean air blew through them, and the soft sounds of waves crashing against the shore. She had never been so relaxed before in her life.
She must have zoned out and been there for hours because by the time she came-to and something was trying to get her attention, it looked as though the sun would be starting to set shortly. Her name was being called, echoing somewhere behind her. She straightened up, hearing the ruffling of feet against the grass and twigs, turning, only to see Harry Styles making his way over in a hoodie, shades, and carrying a lump of fabric.
He smiled when they made eye contact, and as they approached, he held up the lump of blue and white fabric in his hands. “Blanket. Noticed you didn’t have one earlier and didn’t trust it to not be muddy.”
Paris smiled, standing up and moving out of the way so that he could lay the blanket out. And with a shake, he spread it out evenly on the first try.
“Was hoping you’d still be here,” Harry admitted, sitting down on one side of the blanket with a grunt, “I was afraid I wouldn’t make it in time.”
Paris blushed, reaching into the picnic basket and pulling out the now-cold pastry, “Couldn’t leave you hangin’.”
Harry’s eyes lit up, taking hold of the pastry and ripping a piece off, handing it to her before taking a bite. Moaning, he muttered, “These are my favorite pastries here. Still good, even if it’s been sitting out for hours.”
She smiled, staring at him in wonder. How was this happening? Why was this happening? She relaxed her shoulders, leaning back against the tree with her legs stretched in front of her, shoes off as they had been for hours now, looking down at both of their feet with the sea landscape before them.
“So, why are ***** you here?” Paris asked, turning to him, “I mean, clearly you’re not here on a solo vacation.”
He smiled, taking the last bite of his pastry and swallowing it down, “I’m shooting a music video.”
Paris nodded, trying to hold back a smile, and reaching for the spare bottle of water to offer him, “Makes sense. All the cameras, and the unnecessary running down the street in puffy white shirts.”
Harry chuckled, taking hold of the water, “Well, why are ***** you here? You said you needed to get away? What from?”
Paris shrugged, letting her head fall back on the tree and picking at the strawberries again, “It was just getting boring. I was living the same day on repeat for months, it seems. The same boring desk job, the same boring town, with the same boring people. I just needed to get out of there for a little before I went stir-crazy.”
Harry nodded, understandingly, “I’ve been on the go for so long that it’s almost impossible to stay still for too long. Sometimes it’s nice to sit and do nothing somewhere **** else. Somewhere that’s not home.”
Paris twisted her head in his direction to see he was sitting just like her, their shoulders touching. They didn’t say anything, but their eyes seemed to share the same understanding. It was so easy to be caught up in day-to-day life; doing what you’re told and switching to autopilot just to get through it. But it was times like these that made you sit back and just enjoy life for what it is and what it could be; beautiful.
Harry watched as a soft, closed smile stretched across Paris’ face and he felt his stomach start to do flips. This was new to him. He had never been so forward before. Sure, he’s gone back to places in hopes to get a girl’s number. But he’s never felt this inclined to stay and talk. Heck, they could sit there in silence, for all he cared. But something about her seemed to make his stress vanish.
He suddenly didn’t have to worry about waking up at the ass crack of dawn to continue shooting, he didn’t have to worry about the twelve-or-so people back at the rental who was probably waiting for him to get back or the dozens of emails he needed to respond to. He didn’t need to worry about the multiple contracts that still needed his revision and approval, and the legal battles he was in the middle of, and he didn’t have to worry about being seen by fans. Who cared? They weren’t important. This was. Sitting on a blanket, underneath a bug-infested tree, watching the sunset over the sea with a stranger.
They chatted for an hour about life and goals. Harry was a dreamer, and so was she. There were many things they wanted to do or accomplish, some much bigger than others. But, it seemed as though there was always something getting in the way. Paris wanted to get out of her small town and travel more. She couldn’t do it often; finances and lack of time off from work made it difficult, but if this trip taught her anything, it was that she needed to take time for herself.
Harry, on the other hand, wanted to do so much more with his time in the way of helping out any way he can. Wanting to volunteer to help out on trips to third-world countries and set up his own charities to help those less fortunate. Paris wasn’t exactly surprised by all of this, but still found it refreshing to hear his passion for it. It truly was something so heartwarming.
“How much longer are you here for, Paris?” he asked, digging into the container of strawberries that Paris had set between them.
Paris set the leafy bit of her strawberry on the container’s lid while she swallowed her food and muttered, “Three more days,” clearing her throat and turning her head to his she frowned, “Not nearly long enough.”
He nodded, solemnly, “It’s never long enough here. Funny, though. I leave in three days.”
“Yeah? What are you doing for the rest of your trip?”
“Well, I’ve got to finish shooting this music video, but I’ve got nothing planned tomorrow night. If you’re not busy, maybe I can treat you to dinner? As a, uh, thank you for saving me your pastry?”
Paris looked down at her feet, smiling shyly, before looking up, trying not to seem too enthusiastic as she nodded, tucking her hair behind her ear, “Yeah, sure. That’d be nice.”
He nodded, smiling himself, “Great. Do you, uh,” he cleared his throat, “have your phone on you?”
Paris perked up, feeling around her pockets and rummaging through the picnic basket before closing her eyes and sighing, “I left it in my room.”
He smirked, furrowing his eyebrows, “You’ve gone hours not realizing you didn’t have your phone?”
She shrugged, laughing, “I’ve been distracted by the sea.”
He chuckled, shaking his head and pulling his phone out of his pocket, glancing to see the dozens of missed texts and calls he had received since getting here. He groaned, mumbling under his breath as he scrolled through his apps until he reached his contacts, “I should probably get going soon. Do you know your number?” he asked, handing it over to her.
Paris took hold of his phone, the latest and greatest, not a scratch on it. And as she began to input her information into it, her mind raced. She was holding Harry Styles’ phone. She was holding his phone because he wanted her number. He wanted her number so that he could call or text her. He wanted to call or text her so that he could take her out to dinner tomorrow. Harry Styles was taking her on a date tomorrow. Was it a date? Or was it just a casual dinner? What was running through his mind right now? Did he like her? He must, why else would he take her out to dinner? Did he think she was cute? Would he try to kiss her tomorrow? Would she see him again after that?
She handed his phone back and he grinned, hesitating for a moment before asking, “Should we take a picture? Capture this moment? It’s golden hour in Italy. Seems fitting for the occasion.”
Paris grinned, nodding, “Yeah, sure.”
The two shuffled about on his blanket so that their back was towards the ocean, huddling in close. Harry pressed his shoulder to her back and bent his head down so close to hers that their cheeks were touching. She could smell his shampoo and musky cologne, she could feel the warmth from his body on hers. They smiled as he positioned the phone in front of them and double-tapped the camera button, taking two pictures.
“One more. A silly one,” he said.
She giggled, sticking her tongue out and scrunching her nose while Harry puffed up his cheeks and pursed his lips, clicking the button once more. He brought the phone down and turned to her, grinning.
“Thanks for letting me join you on this picnic,” he grinned.
She nodded, getting to her knees before standing up, Harry following suit, “Yeah, of course. Thanks for bringing the blanket.”
Harry chuckled, helping her pack her things back into the picnic basket while she folded the blanket nicely for him. He carried the basket while she hugged the blanket as they slowly strolled back towards the front of the park. The little dog was gone, now, and the only people in sight were an older couple on a park bench too far away to see clearly.
“I’m parked just over here,” Harry motioned to the left, “Can I give you a ride back?”
They stopped walking as they reached the entrance and Paris turned to him, shaking her head, “Oh, no, that’s alright. I can walk. I’m only two blocks that way,” she pointed to the right, grinning.
He nodded, not saying a word as they stood there for a moment. Finally, he held her basket up for her. She smiled, taking hold and swapping him with his blanket, “See you tomorrow?” he verified.
Paris let out a breathy laugh as she confirmed, “See you tomorrow.”
Harry smiled wider, outstretching an arm and giving her a tight, warm, side-hug before pulling away and walking backward, waving, “Bye, Paris.”
She grinned, waving back before she began her trek back to her Airbnb. She turned back to look only once to see Harry, who had been just sitting in his car for a couple of minutes, start up his car and drive off in the opposite direction. Paris twirled and giggled on her walk back, the smile never leaving her face.
When she finally got back to her lodgings, she dropped everything on the dining room table, racing to her room to find her phone, wanting to see if Harry had texted her at all. And, to her astonishment, she had one missed text from an unknown number, opening it to see one picture of her and Harry Styles smiling, and a second picture of them making goofy faces, with a text underneath that read ‘Can’t wait to see you tomorrow. Love, H.’.
summary: the one where harry is dating a latina, y/n and harry are meeting her family for the first time, and harry is stressed that he doesn’t know any spanish
summary: y/n and her brother’s best friend harry m, has some pent up sexual frustration for a while. wouldn’t it be best if they just had a one and done? you know to get it out of their system ;)
He pushed her against the wall, her back hitting it. Hard. With her wrists in his hands, he takes her beauty in.
“What are you doing Harry?” She asked getting no reply. He moved closer to her as if their chests weren’t already touching. He continued to stare at her like he was trying to decipher her. With each passing second she got conscious under his scrutinous glare. She felt bare. She felt violated. Again.
Finally she turned away not being able to take it anymore. A tear slipped down her eye. Harry still looked at her the same. Like he was trying to find something. It was then that she spoke just above a whisper “What do you want Harry? What more could you want that you came back?”
He stepped back then.
He was hurting her. Again.
hiii y’all <3
a very good, fellow fanfic writer friend of mine just joined tumblr!!!
i’m gonna start posting a chapter fic that i’ve been working on! so if you’re in the mood for some average writing, here’s a sneak peek/prologue <3
It’s called Wait for Me, and it’s an epic love story. Cue the tragic, lovesick tortured soul aesthetic because this takes place in 1940’s America. Just two kids just trying to figure out the world and move on from their pasts.
Harry is a fresh twenty-year-old who has no clue what he’s going to do with his life, besides having just joined the army. He’s young and dumb, but oh, so adorably charming. Bright eyed and bushy tailed, ready to see what the world has to offer him.
Julianna is a young teacher who, a year ago, had her whole future set in stone for her. She was engaged to her high school sweetheart with plans to marry, have children, the works. She thought she had her whole future planned, until her entire world was crushed within a matter of minutes.
Turns out, someone who has loved you for nine years can just wake up one day, say “I don’t love you anymore.” and move on like you never existed. After months of grieving she finally and reluctantly agrees to go out with her friends to the county fair, while Harry is there with his buddies as well, of course.
They meet that night, and everything changes. There was an instant connection, one that was so easily magical, and at first felt impossible.
After thinking that her entire future was ruined with no hope in sight, this green-eyed boy comes along and turns her world upside down; leaving her speechless at every turn and they fall hard for each other, so much it’s almost sickening.
So, they totally fall in love and live happily ever after, right? Not when World War Two is ravaging nations across the world and when Japan attacks America, and Harry has to go.
No warning, no clue where he’s going, or when he’ll be back.
*LATEST*:Short smut piece: Y/N touches herself in the office (warning: public, masturbation) - Now, at her work desk, Y/N rubbed her thighs together, getting wet to the thought of it. She glanced around the office to make sure no one was looking, but the few people who were there had their eyes glued to their screens. Harry’s office door was shut. She considered texting him something to mess with him, but she knew it’d piss him off even more if she was horny and wouldn’t let him know. Now it was just her and her dirty thoughts. Link
A/N: Apologies for the wait! Here’s the new Deep End chapter :) Also I wanna share some good news that I submitted a different version of Deep End for my final submission of my Creative Writing MA and I got the highest grade in my class! Thank you for supporting this series and these characters. It means a lot to me.
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When she made it all the way down the steps, she found Koa waiting for her by the front gate. A taxi was waiting for them. Ezili wiped her eyes with the sleeve of her jacket and eyed her sister up and down. Koa was wearing a bright orange dress that looked too big for her. How was she not freezing?
“Did you–”
“No, I didn’t kill anyone for this.” Koa rolled her eyes. “I bought it with the paper notes I stole from that lady sitting by the station.”
“You stole money from a homeless person?!”
Koa shrugged. “It’s just paper. It’s everywhere.”
Ezili rolled her eyes and grabbed her sister’s elbow. “Come on. Let’s get out of here.”
“Ezili, wait!”
“Oh, God,” Ezili groaned. She knew whom that voice belonged to without turning around.
“Wait, that’s your other human boy,” Koa exclaimed. Ezili put her hand on Koa’s head and shoved her into the back of the taxi. Dawson rushed down the steps of the mansion and strode towards them.
“Where are you ladies going?” asked the taxi driver.
Ezili asked him to give them a few minutes, then grabbed Dawson’s arms as soon as he came close. “Dawson, you need to go back inside.”
“Ezili, what happened?” Dawson asked, panting. Then he saw Koa, and his eyes widened. “Dolores?”
Koa waved at him, a wicked grin on her face. Ezili tugged at his arms to turn his attention back on her. “She’s not Dolores. She’s my sister.”
“What?” He looked at her as if he believed she was telling a joke.
“You need to go back inside. I’m so sorry I cannot explain everything to you.” She tried to spin him around, yet he refused to follow.
“Ezili, what’s going on?” His eyes shifted back and forth between her and Koa. “Did Harry do something?”
“No.” Ezili sighed. She wished she could tell Dawson everything, but when she closed her eyes, she could see Harry’s disgusted expression back in that room. She didn’t want Dawson to look at her that way, too. “I’m sorry. I have to go.”
“Go where?”
“Hurry. Mother’s waiting,” Koa hissed.
Ezili threw her arms around Dawson’s neck and felt his body go rigid as she hugged him. She kissed his cheek, probably the first and last one she could ever give him, then quickly got into the taxi and shut the door.
“Wait!” Dawson tapped frantically on the window, but she refused to look at him.
“To the giant bridge with lots of lights,” Koa told the driver, who seemed confused.
“You mean the Tower Bridge?” he asked over his shoulder.
“Yeah, that! I think…”
“Oh, are you girls tourists.”
“Just drive, you–”
Ezili slapped a hand over Koa’s face and faked a smile at the surprised man. “Yeah, it’s the Tower Bridge.”
The driver nodded, probably thinking Koa was drunk so he didn’t ask further questions and started the engine. Ezili didn’t look out the window when the taxi headed towards the gate, leaving the mansion. However, she imagined Dawson watching her go with pain in his eyes, and Harry, somewhere inside, probably still sitting in that chair, was relieved that she was finally gone.
A/N: If you’d like to become a patron and gain early access to fics and have exclusive content for patrons only, the link can be found in my bio or masterlist!
WC:5,577
“Your cousin’s a little forward,” she coughs out nervously, shaking her head to rid the thoughts. Harry’s heart ticks and he scoffs a laugh.
“My cousin’s a cunt,” he corrects her.
Y/N’s eyes widen as she stares up at him, innocence swimming in her features. Harry forgets again that she’s been raised a young lady, that she’s never been around much potty mouth, and he realises just how much he’s going to corrupt her in this marriage.
As much as Harry wants to protect his wife, he won’t pretend to be someone he isn’t for the sake of an arranged marriage. His potty mouth is just one of the things she’ll have to get used to.
“Stay away from Nino. You may think I’m a monster, but I have my morals. Nino is merciless and evil. He will do whatever he wants and take whatever he pleases. No matter the consequences,” he warns her, his voice timid.
or
Wedding bells are ringing, and Y/N is doomed to her miserable fate.
//
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A/N:If you’d like to become a patron and gain early access to fics and have exclusive content for patrons only, the link can be found in my bio or masterlist!
WC:2,654
Harry doesn’t wake her when they stop midway to get fuel. She wakes hours after he sleeps beside her, but she doesn’t wake him. Instead, she observes him for a little while; acknowledges the twitch in the corner of his lip, the little movement behind his eyelids, the gentle snores that tumble through his throat.
She appreciates his dark lashes fanned across his cheekbones, his ungodly waves. This version of him doesn’t look scary, doesn’t look monstrous. This version of Harry looks approachable, soft… dare she think… vulnerable. His jaw isn’t set and his lips aren’t pursed.
She wants to reach forward and caress his cheek, maybe one day she might.
or
Harry takes Y/N to her new life where she’s no longer a prisoner.
//
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A/N: If you’d like to become a patron and gain early access to fics and have exclusive content for patrons only, the link can be found in my bio or masterlist!
WC:4,270
Harry doesn’t fucking know what’s gotten him in such an aggy and irritated mood. His palms are sweaty and he doesn’t know why. He tells himself it’s because Y/N’s never been out before and that she and Mike have been gone for almost three hours.
It’s not that he doesn’t trust either of them; he trusts Mike with his life and he trusts that Y/N won’t try something stupid. Ideally, Harry would have liked to have been the one to take Y/N out first, maybe to prove something to the people watching his every move, he’s not sure.
Part of him feels a little guilty. He hasn’t seen her for more than five minutes since she moved to New York and he feels a little bit sick. He’s taken her from her family and everything she’s ever known.
or
Harry starts to open up and Y/N finally leaves the penthouse.
//
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A/N: If you’d like to become a patron and gain early access to fics and have exclusive content for patrons only, the link can be found in my bio or masterlist!
WC:7,091
He reaches a hand against her face again and caresses her warm cheek. She flushes under his touch but doesn’t flinch away.
“Are you scared of me?” He asks.
Y/N gulps and lets out a shaky breath. “You’re a Made Man. You kill and you torture. Of course, I’m afraid of you,” she breathes and it’s the first proper sentence she’s directly said to him… that she’s afraid.
Harry remains quiet, letting himself revel in the sound of her voice. Silky soft, just like her skin and hair.
He dips his face down so he’s level with her. Even with her four-inch heels, he still towers above her, Y/N’s eyes level with his clavicle.
“I kill and torture those who deserve it, those who betray me,” he tells her. “But you are going to be my wife, Y/N. And fear has no place in a marriage.”
or
Y/N’s eighteenth is turned into an engagement party for her arranged marriage.
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WC:1,154
“But she is of innocence, yes? There will be blood on the sheets,” Stefano asks, as though asking of her virginity is the most appropriate question for a father.
Harry can’t help but smirk at the idea. Having a woman completely bound to him, to respect him and please him only.
Harry has slept with enough women to know how to use his dick, but something about taking a woman’s innocence and making her completely his has his cock twinging in his pants.
or
Harry is arranged to marry Y/N in two years time.
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READ NOW ON PATREON ONLY! (link in bio or masterlist!)
— In this dystopian world, Brinley sets off to get supplies for her sick mother and younger sister. She bumps into a snarky, arrogant man who saves her life and somehow this forces them into a bond that neither of them asked for and is purely for survival. At least that’s what they keep telling each other.
Tags and General Warnings: graphic depictions of scenes, slow burn, smut, angst, apocalyptic/dystopian AU *Will update warnings list as needed*
TLDR; In this dystopian world, Brinley sets off to get supplies for her sick mother and younger sister. She bumps into a snarky, arrogant man who saves her life and somehow this forces them into a bond that neither of them asked for and is purely for survival. At least that’s what they keep telling each other.
Tags and General Warnings: graphic depictions of scenes, slow burn, smut, angst, apocalyptic/dystopian AU
*Will update warnings list as needed*
INTRODUCTION:
I wish I could say I woke up gracefully, to the sound of birds chirping their morning songs. Perhaps I could have also woken up to the light breeze of air, tickling the ever-changing leaves in a soft song of their own. Maybe my first inhale of the new-day air could have been filled with the aroma of freshly brewed coffee with sweet maple undertones.
Unfortunately, this was not one of those mornings. I actually can’t remember the last time I ever experienced a morning so delicate and full of potential.
The reality of the situation is a lot less peaceful and a lot more desperate. You see, ten years ago could have given me a morning like that, but now it just feels like a far away dream. Instead of bedtime stories I originally got to grow up with, I hear the same stories my mom tells me regarding the dangers that lurk outside our home and into the city.
Not that it’s completely safe outside of city limits either, because trust me I hear plenty of those stories too. I vaguely remember bits and pieces of a few run-ins my family had to deal with to get where we are now. It’s just that the city is somewhere to never go if you can help it. Home is safe. Home is secure. Mom has made sure of it.
There are other rules that have been drilled into Alayna and I’s head. Whenever the government does their checkpoint drop-offs every 3 months, only mom is supposed to go. I have to stay back and watch after Alayna. She’s 12 now, so this is pretty much all she’s known. At times I think she’s braver than me because of it. Because she doesn’t have to think about what she’s missed out on or what she will continue to miss out on like I have.
These drop-offs are important because they contain necessary means of survival: food, water, gasoline, and medical supplies. When these government assisted drops first started, people went crazy. Mom gets really sensitive about these stories because of the things she saw. I still don’t even know the full gravity of what they were like.
It probably explains why she’s so hesitant to let me go to this month’s drop-off. That’s how I know she’s desperate; she’s getting weaker as each day passes.
This is also the first drop-off since a rather brutal winter. Technically it was a little over a week ago, but we got snowed in. We’re running out of pretty much everything because of that delay. I had to convince her repeatedly to let me go. She wanted us to eat her share of food for the time being so then maybe by then she’d be healthier and more able to go.
Except the food was already running thin and it was getting too risky. She’s still really reluctant, but it’s what we have to do. I would be lying if I said I wasn’t nervous though.
Here’s the chappie where you get a look beyond the Mediterranean fortress Harry calls home… ;)
Timing is sometimes too perfect to be the pure product of coincidence.
Everything is connected: the earth and the seas, the moon, and all the sky’s stars.
Our bodies are made of these, fragments of their nature, tying us to this world.
Aunt Lara used to tell me that we are a part of the cosmos, the cosmos pushing and pulling people into paths they’re supposed to be on. She’d smoke her cigarette on our porch with the full moon hanging high in the sky that she’d soon be flying through, and I’d nod, thinking I was so cool just for being around her. It was our time then, just the two of us, sometime after my parents had gone asleep and I’d sneak past their room to meet her outside. She never told my parents I was staying up late on a school night. She’d take another drag, extending one to me, knowing I wouldn’t take it.
“I’ve seen seven year olds with these things,” she’d mutter, laughing to herself, and when she’d look out, I imagined she was envisioning the Roman Cafe she’d frequent beside the famed Colosseum. A hot sun, and balmy breeze, warm like the foreign friends she’d meet, or the lukewarm seas lapping around her ankles. “So much warmer and clearer than anything you’ve ever felt here. The most miraculous shades of blue…” She’d smoke, she’d smile. I’d admire.
Here’s the chappie where you get a look beyond the Mediterranean fortress Harry calls home… ;)
Timing is sometimes too perfect to be the pure product of coincidence.
Everything is connected: the earth and the seas, the moon, and all the sky’s stars.
Our bodies are made of these, fragments of their nature, tying us to this world.
Aunt Lara used to tell me that we are a part of the cosmos, the cosmos pushing and pulling people into paths they’re supposed to be on. She’d smoke her cigarette on our porch with the full moon hanging high in the sky that she’d soon be flying through, and I’d nod, thinking I was so cool just for being around her. It was our time then, just the two of us, sometime after my parents had gone asleep and I’d sneak past their room to meet her outside. She never told my parents I was staying up late on a school night. She’d take another drag, extending one to me, knowing I wouldn’t take it.
“I’ve seen seven year olds with these things,” she’d mutter, laughing to herself, and when she’d look out, I imagined she was envisioning the Roman Cafe she’d frequent beside the famed Colosseum. A hot sun, and balmy breeze, warm like the foreign friends she’d meet, or the lukewarm seas lapping around her ankles. “So much warmer and clearer than anything you’ve ever felt here. The most miraculous shades of blue…” She’d smoke, she’d smile. I’d admire.
It was a full moon that night.
Just like it was tonight.
There are some things that happen so precisely, I think there must not be any other way these things could have happened, no other explanation, other than Aunt Lisa’s: the universe and its timing are inextricably linked to create our destiny.
Our choices change our future, sure. But there’s something beyond that, in the fickle way our choices play out ironically, that makes me think some things are fated. God, the cosmos, whatever you believed in - they had bigger plans for everyone.
They certainly had bigger plans for me other than a depressing Netflix binge in my dorm room after the game.
Yellow fluorescents flickered in the dismal parking garage. Lionel Styles was waiting by the elevators with Sven, looking oddly casual in normal streetwear. They grabbed Harry from me as soon as I’d parked, carrying him in. I followed, for a brief second questioning whether or not my services were needed. Maybe this was only family now.
But Lionel hastily beckoned me towards him. “You wanted a hands on experience right?”
His words seemed crass in a moment like this, but I brushed it off as stress as I went with them in the elevator. Lionel punched in a code and it creaked to life, slower than normal. A table had already been cleared in one of the surgery rooms, a white plastic sheet like that of a serial killer lain across. Gauze, ice water, rags, forceps, and needles were atop a metal tray. It was everything I expected of a surgical room - stark, sterile, and cold without any frivolous decor. No paintings. I assumed there was never anyone awake enough in this room to enjoy them anyway. Sven lay a white medical pillow down, too thin to be comfortable, as Lionel lowered Harry. I cringed, feeling another wave of nausea wrack through me. His gauze, once pink, was now completely red and looked wet to the touch.
“He’s been bleeding this whole time,” I breathed. Albeit obvious, it was less to inform Lionel than it was to come to terms with it myself.
Lionel flicked one of the syringes, nodding solemnly. “He might need a blood transfusion.”
Blood transfusion. IV poles were behind the table, blood blags and clear IV fluid already ready. He was expecting this.
“Shouldn’t he be at a hospital?”
“Nothing we can’t do. He’s just a boy. Gets into scrapes every now and then.”
“This is more than a scrape.”
He ignored me, plunging the needle in, and less than a second later, Harry’s eyes fluttered.
“Adrenaline,” I whispered under my breath. I recognized the protocol.
Lionel looked at me, curiously. “You’ve done a good job. Did you stuff the wound?”
I shook my head. Harry was still lightly breathing thanks to the adrenaline. But he wasn’t anywhere near stabilized to warrant my work being commended.
“It’ll be enough until my friend gets here,” he said.
I looked at him, skeptically.
“The anesthesiologist,” he clarified.
And I blamed it on the shock for being so daft. Dr. Styles had been established in the medical field since he received his degree, it was no surprise if he had a “friend” for everything.
“Is Mary here?” I don’t know why I asked this question. I don’t know why I thought it was relevant. Perhaps because if my mom knew I was bleeding out on a table, she’d be right there. Right beside me. She would’ve been the one driving, bossing around all the doctors. 911 would have been called and she would’ve moved hell fire and water screaming like a banshee to get to me. “Does she know?” I questioned.
Lionel didn’t even look at me, carefully unwrapping the gauze. “She’s sleeping. I didn’t wake her.”
The separate lives of Mr. and Mrs. Styles spread further in my eyes, only their roof and rings joining them.
I unpacked new gauze, handing it to him. The butterfly bandaids hadn’t held, big shock, and blood trickled down in a steady current. How much blood could he have left? Lionel didn’t have time to be surprised, but the stoic doctor looked a shade whiter when he grabbed the gauze. The wound was exposed and he hesitated, simply applying pressure. His hands bloodied by the second.
For as renowned as he was, in facing his own son, he suddenly seemed paralyzed. I wanted to shake him.
Sven re-entered, slightly out of breath. I’d never noticed him leaving. “They’re here, sir. But they can’t get in-”
A spark was lit. Something familiar for him to grasp onto. “Elevator’s been jamming,” he cursed.
I helped apply pressure, and Dr. Styles looked at me, unsettled.
“I’ll stay here. You can let them in,” I nodded, even though there hadn’t been a question.
“It’s deep. So you have to physically stuff the wound with gauze. Have you ever dealt with a stab wound?”
My eyes narrowed. He already knew what kind of injury it was.
Then, mustering all the poise and retort of the First Lady, “With all due respect sir, I can do this.”
“I’ve seen grown men faint at the sight of needles let alone handling an open wound.”
“Thank God I’m a woman then.” I don’t know what possessed me, but my steely gaze must’ve been convincing. Lionel ran through the door, not even bothering to shut it.
Perhaps it was all the hours of being kept to dull paperwork and the maddening helplessness I’d felt for too long now.
But I couldn’t sit around anymore.
I needed to do something.
Sven watched me as I put on gloves and bunched up the gauze, holding my breath as I pushed it past the skin’s opening, ignoring his little gasps telling me this was hurting him, and ignoring the hot sensation around my hands. Tissue. That hot sensation was his tissue. I was inside Harry. I was touching… suddenly the anatomy I’d memorized in textbooks was a little too detailed. These gloves were too thin. I kept going and Sven jumped in to help elevate Harry so I could wrap the gauze around his entire abdomen, stuffing his wound until it was full.
We didn’t speak.
I sat on the only steel stool in silence. I may not want to sit around, but right now the floor could move beneath me at any moment. Sven was in the corner of the room, gaze locked to the clock. The minutes seemed to tick by slower than anything I’d ever felt. I could feel time, just like in the elevator. And maybe it was because his time was running out. He could die. Harry could very well die. If I’d chosen to go with Renny, if I’d stayed a moment longer, if I’d left a moment sooner, I would’ve passed the locker room without hearing him, without seeing him at all. What would the alternative have been? An image of Harry bleeding out, cold on the floor made me nauseous.
And still the clock ticked.
I could have screamed by the time they burst through the doors in a flury. Two men I’d never seen before entered in slacks and untucked button-downs. This hadn’t been an expected call. This wasn’t official. They ignored Sven and I, instantly getting to work, which was fine by me as long as I could stay. They inserted needles and attached wires and masks until I wasn’t sure I could untangle him if I tried. The smallest mewling noises came from him, but he didn’t stir. I don’t think he had it in him to move anymore. Only able to give one desperate lolled roll of his head.
One of the men, the anesthesiologist, fiddled with a machine. The whooshof releasing gas sounded when Harry took his first breaths. A slow, but steady, heart rate appeared on the monitor.
Lionel looked at it briefly.
The Doctor and his helpers worked for what seemed like hours. Maybe it was. For how long time felt and despite how intently I’d been staring at the clock, I couldn’t recall when we’d arrived. I cringed as they undid my handiwork, only to excavate deeper into the wound. I know this might be my future when I pursued medical school, but on more than one occasion I had to look away.
Sven had left the room entirely, standing guard just beyond the door. At least Sven escaped the smell of metal and flesh.
They stapled Harry together like meat, a butchered boy on the operating table, like Hasbro Operation except no one was laughing when the forceps dug in, and nobody won.
Every time I cringed, I reminded myself: Harry was asleep. He couldn’t feel any of this.
He looked like a corpse under the unforgiving white light, but the heartbeat reminded me he was alive.
When Lionel Styles finally turned away, tossing his gloves in the bin, he looked whiter than the sheet beneath Harry.
It was the longest night I’d ever had.
But for him, to excavate into his son the way he just had, I imagined it was longer.
——
“I didn’t have to come,” Matt said, for the first time irritance lacing his voice. Golden Boy stood at my doorway, recoiled, after I’d practically growled upon seeing him.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “It was a long night.”
And annoying after the e-mail notification I’d received about the DG Pretty Please. Time was running out, and it was the last thing I’d had on my mind recently.
“Why was it so long?”
I twirled my hair around itself in a messy bun, letting it hold itself up. I just shrugged while Matt’s concern mounted.
Lionel had asked me not to speak of it. “We’ll let you know when you can see him,” he’d said. As far as anyone else was concerned, I hadn’t been there that night. There was a reason he didn’t want Harry going to a hospital. Less questioning, less spotlight, less of an impact on their image… it still unnerved me. Such a horrific injury, and yet… it was almost expected, brushed under the rug. Had Harry really been this much of a troublemaker growing up that a stab wound was equivalent to a scrape for Dr. Styles?
Matt set the steaming Del Taco bag on the floor. “Y/N, seriously, what’s up? You couldn’t even stay the weekend on campus? She told me you’ve been gone for weeks.” He sat down at the foot of my bed when he was sure I wasn’t going to turn into a snarling monster. Which, to be fair, must have been a hard conclusion to come to. “And it’s true, I haven’t seen you around at all. You just… disappeared.”
“Okay, it was ONE week,” I clarified. “And we don’t see much of each other anymore anyways so don’t act like you’re so butt hurt that I decided to come home again.”
I wanted to take the words back as soon as I said them. They were the ones we hadn’t said. The ones we knew were true. But a mood had crept through me last night turning me sour against the world. And now each word I spoke was infected with its poison.
His brows scrunched, eyes flashing with indignation, not sure how to handle me, of all people, lashing out abuse.
“Yeah, because youquit your PT job.”
“I got a new one!”
“And that’s fine! Why are you so… defensive right now??” he laughed briefly at the absurdity. “I just don’t know why you’re trying to blame this on me. Where is this coming from?”
I remained silent. I didn’t know why I was blaming him so harshly for our friendship reaching a downward slope. I knew we had different circles of friends, and as gross of a cliche as it was, he was with the athletes and I was with… Renny. Though now I was starting to hang out with Lynn more, too. A part of me envied him for having such an instant community with his team. Isn’t that why people joined sororities? For community? I’d seriously flunked that one, though a little voice told me I just wasn’t trying hard enough.
He looked to my collaged wall, expecting to see our photo strip. But it wasn’t there. He stood up, finding it atop my mom’s arts and crafts bin.
“Haven’t been here in a while,” he said, softly.
I watched him, stood in my room like all those high school nights of old, seeming taller than before. Like in the months we’d lost touch he’d somehow gotten too big for this room, like he’d somehow outgrown me.
“It fell down,” I lied, because Harry had taken it off.
They say your high school friends won’t stay with you forever, that as you grow older, the number of friends you stay in touch with start dwindling until it’s down to one or two. I stopped speaking to most of mine after the first year of community college. People move on. People change. I changed too, even though I stayed behind. But there was always Matt. Of all people, I didn’t think it would be him and I standing apart and feeling farther, still. When these relationships change, the transition feels gradual. It’s like, in some unspoken unseen moment, your lives sync up, and you’re both busy at the same intervals. And then you make plans to see each other, but both of you don’t reach out the day you’re supposed to meet up. Neither of you follow through. Because it’s easier. It’s natural. An unspoken agreement.
“We’ve both been busy,” I said.
“The last time I saw you, you had a massive mark on your neck.”
“You can say hickey, Matt.”
His eyes fluttered, and he looked away. If I wasn’t devoid of emotion then, I’d think it funny how he got flustered just thinking or talking about anything sexual with me.
“You’re pretty close with Harry then?” he asked, ears slightly reddened.
“What makes you say that?”
“An educated guess.” A charming smile lit his face, almost shy, the hostility in the air dulling for a moment. “I’ve seen you with him before, and you were wearing his jersey at the game… I didn’t really believe it though.”
“What do you mean?”
“C’mon. Harry Styles.”
“And?”
He raised his hands as if the answer was so obvious it was floating in the air. They dropped. “He’s not really your scene, is he? I don’t mean that in a bad way, he’s not really my scene either.”
“So?”
“So, nothing. I was just trying to find something to talk about.” He was getting more irritated now, his thumb digging in between his fingers. “Really, I don’t even care to talk about him, let’s talk about you. Please. Have you drawn anything recently? Why’ve you been feeling off?”
I snorted. “Please, I haven’t drawn anything since high school. There’s nothing new.”
He crossed his arms, testing me. “I don’t buy it.”
He was smart not to.
“You know… It took a lot for my dad to ask me to stay behind instead of going off to Princeton,” he said. Every molecule seemed to still around him. “He can barely speak now. The guy who wouldn’t ask you to fetch the boogie board even if you were the one who’d let the waves take it in the first place…” his voice trailed off, a silent sadness swirling in blue eyes.
I remembered Patrick Price taking us to the beach and pushing us beneath the big waves, teaching us how to balance on those harmless foam boards we’d pick up at Rite-Aid. Just three years ago at high school graduation, Patrick was running across the grass playing football with Matt and Dad at the BBQ while Mom and Summer dished out the pasta salad and watermelon. He was diagnosed two years ago, and now instead of serving pasta salad, Summer serves him, watching him closely on his wheelchair. ALS was a nasty disease and it acted fast.
“I can’t help you if you don’t want to be helped,” he finished.
I wanted to say that I was sorry. I wanted to say that it wasn’t him, that it was me. But something else had already consumed me, not letting in the light, finding the darkest parts of me and unfurling them until some spilled past my lips. “You didn’t have to drive all the way down here just to see me.”
“I didn’t,” he said, and even though he hid his hurt well, I could still see it. He stood from the bed, making up his mind that there wasn’t any use being with someone who pushed away anything that ventured near. “I’m helping my dad move offices. The rent is too high now for landscapers.”
“They’re leaving? But you guys have been in the same spot for years.”
Matt gave a shrug, taking his turn at the silent treatment.
“I didn’t know,” I said, lamely.
The chasm between us grew bigger, and I shrunk even smaller, letting the silence and guilt consume me.
“But you wouldn’t want to talk to me about that either, right?”
I swallowed, hard. I deserved that.
And I was too ashamed to stop him from leaving.
Less than an hour later, I was cursing him again. The smell of Del Taco drove my mother away from the living room. Messy wrappers lay scattered around me when the door opened. I may have been too ashamed and prideful to apologize to Matt, but my growling stomach was stronger than both.
She saw me in the same position Matt had left me, and I avoided her gaze, checked my phone. No updates.
The room seemed cold.
“You look like you’re having the same day I’m having.” She came in with a basket of clean clothes, setting it on the floor.
“Mom, I told you I’d do that.”
“No, you needed rest.” There was a flash of pity, but it was lying beneath a thick shell of annoyance. She huffed, sitting on my bed, just like Matt hours before.
She snuggled closer. I faced her on my side, hands pressed against my cheek. She mirrored me.
I waited for her to say something, but in the silence her eyes grew wide, shaking her head. The mysterious reason for her mood like a gorged balloon floating towards a fan.
“What?” I asked.
“I think your Dad has feelings for somebody else.”
My brows scrunched. “What?”
“I don’t have any proof. But we were on a date night last night and…” -she let out a cruel laugh that made me want to hold her- “He was texting her.”
“Who?”
“A waitress.”
“A waitress?”
“Nicole the waitress.”
“How do you know it was her?”
“He denied it. But I looked at his phone when he went to the bathroom. She’s been a little… friendly with Dad.”
“Nicole?? Mom, she’s like nearly forty.” A brief memory of a friendly blonde working in the restaurant trickled up and left a sour taste on my tongue.
“Still fifteen years younger than me.”
My nose shriveled up, the thought of Father being romantic with my own mommade me cringe, but the thought of Father being romantic with somebody else? It didn’t seem… conceivable. My parents weren’t like the Styless. They kept us together. They loved each other.
“Have I met her? I’ll punch her next time I see her,” I said, the words still not connecting with my brain. With the facts laid out before me.
Mom snorted. “Not before I do.” She plucked at a hangnail, a habit I’d gotten from her, and I could practically see the insecurities already rolling around in her mind.
“You’re gorgeous, Mom.”
She gave me a look. “I’ve been stress-eating chocolates. I need to watch myself.”
“Mom.” I frowned, seeing worry behind her humor. “He needs to watch himself.”
She sighed, turning to the ceiling. “I don’t know. I just have this… feeling.”
“Women’s intuition?”
“Yeah,” she breathed, and I knew if Mother was telling me this from her vault of secrets, it must have been significant. She wasn’t one to listen to Lara’s spirituality, but intuition was something she would never refute. Momma turned back, rattling her thoughts together. “Anyway. I’ll just be… shocked. If it’s true. I mean…a waitress? Really?” Silence suspended. The afternoon sun warmed the room a little more than usual, exposing the paled filmy stars on my ceiling to be illuminescent frauds. “Or maybe I’m not,” she said, quieter. Before I could bat my eyes, she changed the subject. “Why’d you come back last night?”
But I could still see the steam rolling off her shoulders. “Do you want to talk about it more?” I offered. The Del Taco turned queasy in my stomach, and as much as I loved her, I really hoped she said no.
She shook her head. “No, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have mentioned anything.” She squeezed my hand, letting me know she meant her apology. She did a once-over at my stale big t-shirt. “Did something happen to make you want to come home?” Her fingers ran along the tops of my knuckles. “Or do you just love me.” Her smile was less than half-hearted.
“I was going to be alone at the dorm again. Renny was going to a party and I didn’t want to go with her…”
“I hate how she leaves you alone. Maybe we should get you a puppy for company?”
I gave her a look and she caved. “No, you’re right. Probably wouldn’t fit in there. You couldn’t take care of a puppy now anyways. Too needy. So, did he like the house?”
Her mind seemed scattered in a million directions. Mine struggled to keep up.
“Mom, seriously whatare you talking about?”
“Oh, I didn’t know if he said anything about it afterwards or-”
“Mom,who?”
“Harry, honey.”
She was clueless of what her words did to me. My heart lurched just hearing his name, and the worry from last night washed over my exhausted frame like a crab on the shore, strong tides like a persistent weight, threatening to carry me away again.
“I’m sure he liked it,” I said.
“It’s an older home…he’s probably used to columns of marble.” Her embarrassed smile for even asking the question made my heart split further.
“Actually, he did say something! I remember now, he told me it was cute. Homey. He thinks the marble stuff is too cold anyways, he’s excited to come back,” I reassured her. The last bit was probably a stretch but it worked. Embarrassment fell away and her smile glowed.
Satisfied that she was happy, I turned to face my ceiling, closing my eyes. The problems with her and Father swum in the back of my mind, but I was too tired to take on anything else. She was an adult. She could make her own decisions. The information settled in a box in my brain, waiting for a moment when I could fully process it and I’d unlock it all again. I could feel the inklings of damage it would do to me if I truly unpacked it - anxiety, anger, confusion, fear, pity.
Family was a constant.
I couldn’t think about that changing, too. Not when I could barely keep my eyes open.
“You’re so sad, angel. What’s going on in your mind, hm?”
I shook my head, shifting to look at the ceiling. I didn’t need to feel guilty for not confiding in her. I needed to not feel anything.
Her presence was like a lighthouse, radiating heat, beckoning me to come back. All without her saying a word.
She looked as if she were going to say something else, but her hand fell back into her lap. “Okay,” she said.
She didn’t even try.
Maybe she knew the fog was too thick for me to see her light.
Then, through the fog, a vibration shook me to the core.
—–
“Y/N, I wasn’t expecting to see you so soon,” Sven stepped aside, the grand foyer to the Styles estate stretching out before me. Any other time, it would be enchanting, captivating. Now, it looked as treacherous as a hospital hall. I wasn’t sure what rendition of Harry was waiting for me on the other side of the staircase.
My feet carried me up a familiar path, my heart pounding at the unknown.
Irrationally, I had to remind myself that Harry was alive. I wasn’t going to find him, not like I’d found my Grandpa in his room.
Regardless…
“Are there people watching him? Is he alone?”
“He’s stabilized. There’s no need for nurses to keep watch.” Sven held dirty linens as he stayed in my shadow up the stairs.
I nodded, the assurances not really meaning anything, not until I could put an image in my mind as to what he looked like. Right now, all I could conjecture was a gray blur for a head sticking out above the sheets. How bruised would he be? How much stained blood would there be? I didn’t know what to fill in the gray with, so my mind envisioned the grim Harry I’d last seen, the Harry that, if it weren’t for the monitor, I wouldn’t have known still had a beating heart.
Each step carried me closer with a horrifying thought. My brain playing connect the dots as I walked.
Pale.
A clay boy.
A stitched up doll.
And everyone knew dolls didn’t breathe.
I didn’t realize I was alone until I turned around. Of course Sven wouldn’t have followed me, but for some reason I wanted him to be here.
Maybe it’s because he was with me when I’d seen Harry last.
“Y/N.” The familiar voice was weaker, but the grim tone was still so painfully bare. Of course he’d sensed me.
When I stepped out from behind the door, I didn’t find a dilapidated monster. Harry lay resting.
“Hey.” I snuck in, light as a swallow’s feather in the morning breeze, floating down beside him and resting my head atop crossed arms. The sight of him shook me. “Raggedy Harry,” I barely whispered, a horrible punch-to-the-gut feeling ballooning in my chest.
Half of his face swelled more than the other, his bottom lip completely bruised and jutted out, with a fairly deep gash that had started to scab. I fought the urge to trace over it.
“Looks worse than it is,” he said, watching my eyes carefully. Besides the pink-red swelling, his face appeared flushed. And despite his injuries, he was still miraculously beautiful.
I didn’t even blush from staring. Loose earthy curls had not been affected by time spent smooshed against the pillows. If anything, it’d pushed them forward, the floppier fringe defying gravity just there above his forehead. People could go to a stylist and ask for effortless mussy curls and not have it turn out as good as his - and this just with his genetics and days spent sleeping.
If I were him, I’d look like a grease monkey.
“Well, I can’t see the worst bits I’m sure.”
His chest was wrapped in gauze, this time not bloody to the touch. It was thick, white, and secure, and suddenly the tears that had yet to spill started pricking my eyes. I didn’t know just how badly I needed to hear the words before he said them.
“Y/N, I’m fine. I promise.”
The heaviest weight lifted from my shoulders, but my body slumped deeper into his mattress from an instantaneous realization. I’d needed Harry to be okay. I needed him here, even if I couldn’t explain why.
My hand reached out, brushing the tops of his hand.
“It would’ve been a dick move if you died,” I managed to breathe. I let out a sorry excuse for laughter, nervously sniffling.
His eyes seemed heavy, tired. The circles beneath them a cry for help from his beaten body.
“You can sleep if you want. I just wanted to check in on you.”
“I’m not sleeping when you’re here. S’all I’ve been doing,” he croaked. A flood of relief washed over me. Being apart from him was the last thing I wanted right now. The anxieties that’d been plaguing me the past 24 hours were muted to a dull simmer, drowned out by the highs of my body being close to his. Noticing his body…
A steady drip came from the IV hooked to his arm. Five pill bottles were on his nightstand, within arms reach. He noticed my staring.
“To stay hydrated.” Then, under his breath, “And numb.”
“I know,” I barked a laugh that instantly felt out of place. “I want to go into medicine, remember?”
His voice seemed lower when he rumbled, “S’right. You’re a smart girl.”
The tenderness in his voice sent an unexpected warmth straight to my chest. “You know that’s also a curse,” I noted. “I think too much.”
“I know,” he said, but he didn’t laugh like I had. It sounded like an apology. I almost jolted when his hand reached out to touch mine, not expecting him to be warm.
“You almost died,” I said, taking a breath. “I was there when you almost died.”
“I never wanted you to be there-” Before I could take offense, he weakly squeezed my hand. “I want to protect you, Y/N. I never wanted you this involved with me.”
“Well we’ve done a shit job at staying uninvolved. You can barely protect yourself. You can’tprotect yourself.”
“That isn’t going to happen again.”
“The fact that it happened! Harry, I don’t think you understand how scared I was. How scared I am. I could be next, I don’t know what they want…”
A horrifying puzzle piece clicked into place. My nightmare of being stabbed could become a very real reality. It wasn’t until I saw Harry wincing that I realized his breath had quickened.
“I’m sorry,” I apologized. “Shit I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to stress you out. We don’t need to talk right now.”
The sting of I never wanted you this involved with me pulled me to the door, but his hand pulled me back.
“No. Fuck no.” But his grip softened again, his abdomen screaming at the effort to pull me back to him. When he spoke again his voice was a murmur, quiet-quiet, so gentle I could’ve imagined it. “Stay. Please. Seeing you here is the happiest I’ve been all week.”
My heart could’ve flown out of my chest, but for the buzzing electrical phenomena his words ignited in me, I was frozen by his sober admittance of want. It seemed all we ever did was dance around each other, literally. As if we were in an old 1700s ballroom, and everyone was dispersing into pairs. We spy each other from across the room and tiptoe around, refusing to seek other partners, yet refusing to commit to a dance.
“Is that sad?” His sincerity broke my reverie.
I leant closer, and his eyes fluttered shut in expectation… But my lips pressed soft kisses to closed lids. “I’ll stay,” I promised, nose to nose. Because my answer to his question would be yes. Something told me the mess of his body finally matched the inside of his heart.
Rather than tilt his head up to kiss me, he tried scooting over in the bed. It was painful to watch. I stopped him. There was plenty of room for me to lay beside him. So I did, scared to touch him.
“I’m not going to break,” he huffed. Tough and untouchable, I imagine being tip-toed around was the exact opposite of what he was used to.
“You didn’t see yourself that night.” Bloodied gauze and feeling his hot insides against my hands was enough to make my own blood curdle. It was enough to make me question if the Harry in front of me was simply a mirage. He was okay now, I reminded myself. But after I’d seen him bleeding out in the seat next to me, I wasn’t sure I believed him to be unbreakable anymore.
“You’re right, I’m… sorry,” he looked away, as if not being able to meet his reflection in my eyes. As much as I could hear regret, I knew he felt it even more.
My hand reached out, fingertips gently touching his raised cheek. “You were the one who felt it.”
He barely leant against my touch, gaze boldly probing my tired eyes, puffy from crying. The longer he stared the guiltier he became.
“Maybe we both did,” he said. The statement seemed to confuse him, brows stitching together. “No one’s ever been there for me like you. And-” he smiled as wide as he could with the swelling- “honestly it scares the living shit out of me. I know you didn’t have much of a choice to help-”
I surprised myself again, the definitive statement flying out of my mouth faster than I could comprehend. “I’d do it again.”
But the words seemed to hurt him more. His head lulled to the side, his prominent adam’s apple moving as he swallowed, deep in thought. “You’re too good for me,” he surmised. Before I could argue, he took my hand, pressing the back of it to bruised lips. He was acting so soft, so vulnerable. Was it the drugs? Was it an act? But if it was, how could eyes lie like that?
He hummed as if we were laying on the beach on the first hot day of summer, despite all the pain he must be in. The pros and cons list I’d written and stashed in my purse was sending out a throbbing heartbeat in my body, burning a hole where my purse lay at the end of the bed. No matter if the list were true, it couldn’t encapsulate the complicated person that he was. It wasn’t a fair portrait to paint. And putting me on a pedestal wasn’t either. “That’s not true,” I mumbled, far too late.
“It is,” he said. No room for argument.
“Did they give you some love drugs in this medicine bag of yours?”
His brows quirked at love, but he didn’t seem mocking when he said, “Maybe.” Emerald eyes were a mix of admiration, torment, and want as they drank me in, and I was sure if I let him stare into my soul a moment longer, he’d discover I wasn’t perfect at all.
I looked out towards his panoramic balcony window. Little flickers of light told of a city at the bottom of the hill, the dark ocean like a blanket for the rest of the world just out of reach. I wondered how long it’d been since the sun had set. Like any night with Harry, the rest of the world slipped away.
I stole a glance back at him, the beautifully broken boy resting his eyes. As if sensing me, he stirred, mumbling something incoherent.
“Too far,” he repeated, opening up his arms.
“I’m not laying on you Harry. Your stitches could burst.”
He growled. “I don’t care.”
And I didn’t doubt it. I came as close as I dared, thankful his shoulder wasn’t bruised as I lay my head in the crook of his neck, hands blindly combing through curls.
I could feel him relax into me, hear the boyish smirk across his face. “My mum used to do that,” he whispered. “Not this mum, my other…” his voice stuttered out. “My biological.”
It grew quiet in the room. An opening to the door of his past just barely letting in light.
“Do you miss her?”
“Can’t miss what you don’t remember,” he dismissed. And just like that, the door to his past was slammed shut. It was exactly what he said about the Styles’s first child Jane. But this time it sounded rehearsed, mechanical, a river of emotion carefully masked. But not to me.
My hands stilled, not sure if I should continue. But he leant into me again, and I continued my gentle work, as if undoing his tresses could untangle messy thoughts. “Thank you,” he sighed.
In some unspoken moment, he turned his head down, his tanned beaten face leant closer to mine. And with the intimate intensity only he possessed, he saw me. Like I was the only woman in the world. The oxygen seemed pulled from the room as time suspended. He leant lower until our foreheads brushed, his brows stitching together when I instinctually drew my leg across him, careful not to hitch it up too close to his wound. Our breathing deepened, the anticipation building as my hand drew across his face, my fingers settling behind his ear. He huffed, irritated at the tangling of the IV chord when he wrapped his arm around my side.
We stayed like this for a while, cradling the other. And just like I had done before, his pillow-soft lips ghosted over my cheek, then my nose, then my chin, until they hovered just over my lips. My eyes fluttered closed, the trail he left leading to one place…
“Y/N,” he breathed. I opened my eyes. There wasn’t any reluctance in his eyes, but something similarly cautious yet fervent, an unspoken sentence pushing against closed lips.
But the sound of glass shattering woke us both up. His body turned hunter, still as stone as he listened for what came next. A hysterical cry drove Harry to stand, miraculously faster than I thought possible, and it wasn’t until he limped halfway towards the door that I realized he ripped out his IV. The banshee scream turned into a chilling wail, freezing me to my core.
My mind went to the worst case scenario. I’d have to jump from the window somehow. The gang must have found us. They must be in the house-
“It’s Mary,” he cursed, stopping my spiralling mind so quickly I was left dizzy. I don’t remember following him, but he stopped me at the door, hands locked around my shoulders.
“She has… fits, sometimes,” he explained.
“I don’t care.”
“Y/N, you don’t have to see this, too,” he said, and the amount of shame that shadowed his face was like a gouge through my heart.
I barely had time to say the words before another scream ripped through the empty house. “I’d do it again.”
With a somber nod, he rushed us out, practically sprinting to the living room where Mary Styles lay cradling her shell-shocked frame on the floor.
“You were gone. You left me,” she sobbed. Her hair was ripped from its usual loose curls and mascara ran down her face like the clear snot running from her nose.
“Oh my God,” a voice mumbled.
But I realized the voice was me.
The glass mirror at the bar had shattered. Shards of glass lay scattered all over the floor. Harry trudged through it, barefoot, bits of red mixing on the marble floors.
“No one was here, no one saw.” Her eyes were crazed as Harry bent over to pick her up and she pushed him away. “No! NO!!”
Fear spiked in my body. I’d never seen someone look so disconnected from the present reality. This was raw. Unpredictable.
But Harry seemed unphased.
“No one saw her, no one saved her,” she wailed. The weight of the words caused crippling sorrow. She stopped resisting, retreating into a shell of herself with choked cries, “Jane, Jane…” as Harry let out his own shout at the effort to lift her.
“Be careful, you’re hurt,” I called out, weakly. He didn’t bat an eye.
“Go through those doors, through the living wing, there’s a closet on your right. Grab the Valium and meet me in the guest room.” He avoided my gaze, looking instead to the direction I should be running to.
“Where in the closet?”
“Black box,” he ordered. Then, whispering to Mary, “It wasn’t your fault.”
But if she heard the words, they didn’t register, her face twisting, her own little trickle of blood running from the tips of her hands.
Her sobs barely quieted as they rounded the corner down the hall, abandoning me in the wreckage.
I was careful to step around the glass, heading to the massive hidden door in the wall I remembered Harry pointing out as the “living wing.” No one was around to confirm if memory served correct, but when I finally found the latch handle and tugged it open, tropical foliage surrounded me. It smelled humid, like stale water and… musky. Like when I had a hamster in fourth grade and forgot to change out its bedding. The light from the moon shone through their giant skylight, illuminating caged birds gently calling behind bars, enclosed in a sizey aviary. A small raised indoor pool made of rock looked like a concave fossil, with a shadow swimming amongst the mossy water. A miniature crocodile skirted to the furthest edge away from me and raised for air, two eyes looking skeptically in my direction. “Toto” was etched into the rock.
There were more enclosed habitats, and at the head of the room overlooking it all, a giant wooden desk. But no closet. No closet.
Frick.
I didn’t have time to ponder the eccentricity of the Styles’s owning a freaking zoo in their mansion. Nor did I have time to try and find a friggin light switch. Not at all.
I walked the length of the wing which seemed just as expansive as their living room. Ironic, I thought. Because this was literally a livingroom.
Then, beneath an arching tree canopy held in a planter box, two wicker handles protruded from the wall with a crack running between them.
Bingo.
They opened easily, revealing a deep closet full of filing cabinets and old paintings. My phone light illuminated the top, where two black boxes seemed to have gone untouched for years.
My foot tapped impatiently, not sure which one to grab. I hadn’t heard any cries of bloody murder, but someone (not me, someone more athetlic) could’ve run a mile in the time I’d been gone.
I reached for the one closest to me. It was velvet, I realized, surprised even this family’s storage containers would have some element of luxury. I prayed to find pills. But instead, a wax sealed envelope holding a thick stack of documents glared back at me. I was just about to secure the lid again when the inklings of a photograph peaked through between the papers. The deep-red seal, already opened, was their insignia, a cursive “S” that looked like it’d come from the 18th century.
Since the seal was already broken…
My hands carefully leafed through the pages, and as if they knew, the animals grew louder, alarming themselves of an intruder. These documents seemed court-ordered. Various signatures adorned the pages using language I couldn’t understand. My heart dropped when I realized what I was holding. Adoption papers. Among them, a newspaper clipping about a boy separated from a violent family, and adopted by rich Americans.
Slowly, with each word I read, the oxygen felt snuffed from the room, another puzzle piece falling into place. One that changed the picture completely.
Wednesday morning at 5 am, neighbors of Sheffield awoke to gunshots at the King flat. After an attempted murder of his wife resulting in two gun shot wounds to Maisie King’s abdomen, Roger King committed suicide. Maisie is currently in recovery, and her two children have been placed in foster care while the court assesses their home situation.
More newspaper headings were clipped out, detailing the TV star rescuers of the boy, how lucky he was and how a wonderful, ritzy life in California awaited him. His entire fate had been changed - but there was no mention of Gemma. And in each photo, the child-like innocence in his eyes seemed vacant, replaced with a stoic sadness I’d only seen glimpses of when he was medicated. When he was too numb to remember to keep up the mask.
For how little the Styles’s divulged about Harry’s past to the American press, in England the story seemed to be the tragedy turned happy ending. At least, to some extent, the Styles’s were owed credit for something. They’d probably paid off the international papers.
Little Harry… My stomach suddenly flipped, the room’s darkness transferring to something physically heavy in my chest. There was a photograph, too, and I carefully wedged a finger where the worn corner of it peaked out from the paperwork, keeping its place as I tugged it out. But when I saw it, I almost dropped everything.
The familiar curly-haired child I’d known from old Housewives episodes stared back at me in a worn blue polo from discolored film. Reddened tear-stained eyes looked at whoever was behind the camera.
There were fresh bruises on baby-plump cheeks, cuts across rosy cherub lips.
I looked away as soon as I saw it, but the image had already burned in my memory. A taste for the shadows of scars I could only imagine he carried ten-fold. His cuts had buried much deeper than flesh; the most dangerous wounds afflicted his soul and stole the air straight from my lungs.
Oh, God.
Oh, Harry.
How could anyone do such a thing? He was just an innocent boy, how could anyone- how often…?
Bitter bile rose in the back of my throat. Dealing with bloody injuries was one thing, but seeing a beaten child had me sick for another reason entirely. This was something evil.
I put the photo back just as quickly. I’d gone too far this time. I’d really gone too far.
So it was almost an accident that the next photo fell out when I was putting back the first.
A man, strewn across a red puddle seeping from his head. A gun tossed at his side. The bile rose again and I refused to stare, but my mind caught the ends of wavy brown hair and a face that wasn’t really quite there.
I should’ve noticed when the animals quieted, I should’ve heard footsteps quicken in the other room, but it seemed far away, muted by the roaring secret I’d just uncovered, my mind fully fixated on the life no one could have known about Newport’s playboy hier.
If Harry hadn’t noticed the velvet top of the box not quite closed shut, he saw the guilt in my eyes when he stood square before the closet doors.
He looked irritated, almost grabbing the closed box from my fingers.
“It’s the wrong box!” I cried, horrified that even my voice reeked of pity. And something else. Fear.
He froze. A flame flashed beneath the dulled emerald, a spark of knowledge I was sure he’d like to forget. That he’d probably triedto forget, countless times. He shoved it away and grabbed the other box, stopping briefly as he walked past me again. He threw a cold glare.
“Don’t be scared of the snake,” he said. “But he doesn’t like strangers.”
As if on command, a giant boa constrictor slithered out from the overhanging tree, tightly coiled around a branch.
I felt my heart lurch in my throat.
“Harry!” I called, but he wasn’t here anymore. And if he was, he didn’t answer. He left, rushing to deal with one mess, when I feared I’d just created an even bigger one. Frozen to the spot as I figured out how to basically army-crawl out of the closet, I ran out past screaming birds and rustling waters, snake eyes burning two holes in the back of my neck as I chased Harry’s shadow.
Hope everyone is keeping themselves mentally/physically well… here’s the next update in your adventure. Please safely read from home ;)
The sun moved slowly up my window, illuminating the dancing dust in the air. Even though I knew dust didn’t have feelings, it all still looked very peaceful, suspended there in space.
I wanted to be suspended, floating, with no obligations or pressures.
Instead, I watched time slip by, slowly, as the shadows stretched along my floor and I lay still, wrapped in a giant Winnie-the-Pooh sheets burrito.
If there was one word to describe what Y/N was feeling right now, it would be shame.
Her situationship with Harry was hardly wrong. They were both single, consenting individuals who came to each other in time of need. Affection and validation, to put it simply. It wasn’t like Harry was cheating on someone else with her, yet Y/N felt her shoulders slug her form because it felt like she was the other woman. The secret getaway you receive on the weekends; the ghost of a kiss tempting you on the side.
In a way, Y/N felt as though she was cockblocking Harry and his girl, Sloan. As though Y/N was the sole reason why they couldn’t get together; be together, because doing so meant having to break her heart. It was as if there was an unspoken word that they had given her the opportunity to move on first before essentially rubbing it in her face. Y/N knew it was all in good faith, even if it was not intentional. In fact, she kind of appreciated it–except there was no chance that Y/N would be able to detach herself from Harry anytime soon. Believe her, she had tried multiple times. With each time, Y/N only found more characteristics about him that she admired; that she loved with an inkling bit of annoyance because she wasn’t supposed to like him more. But somehow, her heart found a way to override the logical listings of her brain and overlooked each blaring alarm to stop falling deeper and to start climbing out of the hole she had managed to get herself in.
Sure, Harry was oblivious to her feelings–still perceiving her emotions as overemphasized showcases of her caring nature. Her feelings were friendly, her touches were friendly. It was all friendly. The way she dropped everything at a mere second’s notice because she’s always got Harry’s back was only amicable. Besides, Y/N couldn’t really blame him for thinking that way because it was what they had agreed on some months ago. When all of this had started, it wasn’t what you could call ‘heat of the moment’ because the pair of them continued on with little awkwardness. After that passionate night that had occurred between them, there wasn’t any avoidance–uncertainty, sure–but Harry and Y/N were so close that talking about it didn’t make a dent in their relationship.
So, they made ‘rules’; boundaries and limitations that not only included the sexual aspect of their budding relationship but it also encompassed the confines of their emotional capacities. It wasn’t like they weren’t allowed to catch feelings–they both recognized that controlling that realm was a lost cause because, well, you can’t really control them. It would just be preferable if they didn’t. And amongst it all, Harry and Y/N were both confident that these said hypotheticalfeelings had no possibilities of showcasing themselves. It was easy.
See, feelings made things complicated. For Y/N, it made her soft. It wasn’t a bad thing, per se. But what were once rough corners were now rounded edges that shifted her personality. Being with Harry–as a friend–made her see things from a new perspective; a way in which she saw the good intentions of people that attempted to get to know her. Y/N learned to smile at the small victories instead of scowling at how little she had accomplished. She began to view the glass as being half full and each millilitre as a stepping-off point to achieve a new height–no matter the difference. It was refreshing for her. Y/N rarely thought about her thought process before Harry had come along with a set of eyes that had her comparing the two of them.
Y/N remembered the time when she baked chocolate chip cookies. It seemed simple enough to pull off; she was never really a baker in her years of living but Y/N figured that by paying meticulous attention to the instructions, there was no way that she could get it wrong. And well, Y/N had managed to get it wrong right off the bat. She had forgotten to grab a bag of sugar specific to the recipe so she was forced to use the one sitting in her pantry. The end result wasn’t that bad either. In fact, it was quite delicious but it wasn’t what Y/N was trying to pull off.
With such a mundane moment like that, Y/N would have usually beat herself up for not double-checking everything. But Harry was so enthusiastic about her cookies despite the mishap, going as far as complimenting her with a grin after taking a bite. He was genuine, of course. Harry had said something along with the words ‘now, you know two recipes!’. Y/N laughed at his statement; it was so stupid and silly but damn if it wasn’t true. She just didn’t think of it that way.
See, feelings made things complicated. It muddled your mind and sparked a touch of idealized optimism as though nothing could go wrong. If there were any, it would be faced with calm positivity that encouraged someone that they could fix it with no problem. It was nice at times but now, it was really fucking annoying.
Y/N would find herself scoffing sometimes at how foolish she was being. How she wouldn’t even think of blocking a portion of her day just in case he’d call. She would spend hours at a time convincing herself that she had nothing to do anyway, so that if the time Harry ever did think of her as a first choice for once; she’d be there.
Always available, never too busy. For him, at least.
__
It was the third day this week that Harry saw Y/N at her place.
It was ‘the usual’ for them; to see each other often. Aside from their relationships, they were one of each other’s closest friends. So here Harry was, splayed on the couch of her apartment with a movie playing on the television screen. Y/N attempted to remember the title and figure out the plot about twenty minutes ago but she had abandoned that ship since then. Something gnawed from deep inside her when the realization struck that Harry truly was only there for a movie, a chat, and some food.
He hadn’t even progressed from his position of closing in the distance between the two of them. Usually, Harry would encourage Y/N to lay her legs on his lap, his fingers tracing outlines of whatever image he could think of on her skin. That affection was missing. Y/N could tell because there was a waft of cold air bristling on her side, reminding her that there was a physical distance between their bodies; a sheer contrast from how this is usually projected.
It wouldn’t have bothered her if it was the first night she took note of it. Y/N would never force Harry to do anything he didn’t want. But when the second night came with no difference from before, Y/N had begun to feel an oozing feeling sprouting from her chest. Her heart dropped to her stomach, reacting to the acidity by making her feel sickly. Now, the third night was what confirmed everything for her. It was done. They were over.
“When were you gonna tell me?’
The soundtrack of the movie changed to an ominous one. How fitting, Y/N thought. Harry seemed to freeze in place, his eyes staying glued to the scene in front of him. Though, the stuttering of fingers told Y/N that he had heard her loud and clear.
“What?” He replied, inhaling deeply before shifting his body to face her. Y/N mirrored his actions.
Y/N didn’t even know what to say, didn’t know how to word it. So many thoughts ran through her mind, some more than others. She didn’t know if she was allowed to ask them. If someone were to come up to her and ask ‘do you know who you are to him?’. Y/N would say no because, at this moment, she represented nothing of relevance.
Y/N didn’t know who she was to him anymore.
“That this…” She gestured between them, the distance biting her with the emphasis, “This thing between us–it’s over isn’t it?”
Harry sighed, biting his lip. A nervous tick. Y/N hated that she knew that.
“I was going to tell you,”
“When?” Y/N pushed, “There is no time when you’re going to tell me without making me feel humiliated as I am now,”
It was true. Y/N felt like melting on the floor to avoid confrontation but at the same time, she really needed this to bring her peace.
“I-I didn’t know when but I was. Believe me, darling.”
She scoffed, “Okay, let’s say I believe you. What happened, then?”
Harry furrowed his brows at Y/N’s tone. His posture became defensive, more guarded.
“Why wouldn’t you believe me? I’ve been nothing but honest to you,”
“Have you? What about Sloan? Have you been honest to me about her?” Y/N raised her voice a tad bit. She was angry and frustrated, and Harry was looking at her was a crumpled face that resembled confusion.
“What–I don’t understand why you’re yelling at me. Frankly, I don’t appreciate it. I’ve been truthful with my intentions with Sloan and with you,”
Y/N stood up abruptly just as Harry let the last few words slip from his mouth. The television was too loud, causing her to swiftly grasp the remote and jam her thumb into the power button to turn it off. Y/N stared at Harry for a brief second before turning away from him, hiding her face away from his view. Why was she yelling at him?
She couldn’t upright say that she was jealous of Sloan; how she had harboured Harry’s romantic feelings towards her. Y/N couldn’t point out that it was the third night in a row that Harry had refused to touch her. She couldn’t bring herself to ask if Harry was in a relationship with someone that wasn’ther.
“Y/N?” A gentle touch was placed on her shoulder as Harry approached her with caution. “Why are you crying?”
Y/N didn’t even notice tears brimming her eyes and wetting her cheeks.
She sniffled, “You’re so stupid,”
Y/N shook her head, staring up at his discombobulated face. “You’re so fucking stupid. You don’t even know,”
“What? Y/N, you’re not making any sense right now. I promise you that I have never lied to you,” He pleaded with Y/N to make her believe him.
He didn’t need to do that. She did. It was just another stab in the heart to hear and see him being so patient with her. Y/N hated herself for letting things go as far as they did.
“I know that. I’m just… crying like a baby because it’s not me that you want. It’s her, isn’t it? You love her. You told me that you loved her after I told you how I felt. Do you remember that? God, I hope you don’t,” She muttered the last part under her breath, “You were kissing me, touching me, being with me–but it’s her that you want.”
“Y/N…” Harry began, words caught in his throat as her assumptions strangled him in a place of ultimatum.
Y/N took steps back away from him, now favouring the distance that was between them only minutes prior. She should have done this ages ago; detach and separate.
“You should leave. I want you to leave,” Y/N held her head high after a moment of hesitance.
“We should talk about this,”
“No!” Y/N yelped, halting Harry in place before he got any closer to her. He was magnetic and she knew she didn’t stand a chance. “Please, leave. There’s–there’s nothing to say. I caught feelings when we established that this was. . only platonic. I fucked up. It wasn’t you; you don’t need to apologize. We don’t need to talk about it. You just. . you go be with her. I’ll call you when–if–I’m ready,”
Y/N winced at the numerous voice cracks that littered her monologue. Could she be any more pathetic right now? With that being said, Y/N felt her breathing get a little easier. There was no one to blame but her. He needed to know that for the sake of herself.
Harry mauled over what Y/N had said, his legs stuttering as he contemplated stepping forward or stepping back. He stepped away, nodding his head. He slowly gathered his things sprawled on the coffee table as if to give Y/N a chance to change her mind and let them discuss things. She didn’t.
He was walking towards the hallway leading to the door, lethargically as if the life had been drained out of him. Harry sighed just as the door handle was in his grip. He shook his head, a ghost of a sad smile splintering his face. Y/N wouldn’t have noticed it if she wasn’t watching him closely.
Y/N spent the past two weeks having minimal contact with her campers. Not only had she lost the privilege to undertake fun activities with them like wall-climbing, canoeing, and swimming but she mundanely had the opportunity to tuck them into their uncomfortable beds and mattresses when the day was over. Usually, Y/N would stay in the cabin until lights out, either reading them a story from the small collection of books Y/N had borrowed from the camp library.
Sometimes little Emy would share her favourite parts of the day with her peers to which they would agree or squeal a high-pitched ‘no’ when Jacky preferred one over the other. Y/N went the extra mile to sneak some extra chocolate chip cookies from the kitchen for them to nibble on only if they promised to properly brush their teeth when it was the groups’ turn to use the common bathrooms.
Y/N really missed those nights when she would make her rounds around the wooden house, kissing the campers’ foreheads as per their request. Some of them would even ask to be tucked in safely because of the scary stories told by the older kids sticking to their tiny heads’ imagination. It warmed Y/N’s heart that the kids trusted her ability to give a little affection and deem them safe from their hyperactive imaginations. But now, she had barely interacted with the kids–only when they were holding their trays as they waited for the cafeteria line to move up and Y/N would be adjacent to them, serving scrambled eggs, fried bacon and a fruit cup on the side. Her role as a counsellor was temporarily given to two Counsellors-in-Training as recruited by Harry.
Even though Y/N technically wasn’t supposed to be responsible for her campers, her conscience rarely left her alone until she had visited poor, injured Daisy in the infirmary. It was kind of silly the way Y/N felt like she had to sneak into the building to check on the little girl. It wasn’t like she was going to hurt her–she could never–and what was wrong with wanting to check-in with Daisy? She was most likely alone, at least until she healed completely, and Y/N was more than willing to give her company.
So even if it was against the spoken rule that Y/N had to keep her distance–she simply could not. Daisy did not mind her presence either, often sitting up straight when Y/N opened the door with her meal for the day and an extra vanilla pudding to go along with it (Daisy disliked the chocolate flavour). They would braid each others’ hair and watch morning cartoons from the ancient television propper on a ledge. By the fifth visit, Daisy’s knee and calf prognoses were healing accordingly so Y/N was there to help her walk without adding too much weight to her leg.
______
Sometimes Y/N forgot that as much as Harry was just another ordinary person working at a summer camp; he was also the boss. And maybe having feelings for him and Harry reciprocating them made this situation a bit more painful than it should have been because it hurt that somebody who Y/N thought she could trust (and vice versa) would see her side of the situation and comprehend the misunderstandings that occurred.
Come to think of it, Y/N had a lot of free time to reckon about what actually happened with that whole fiasco. Since she was moved to mostly kitchen duties, Y/N had the chance to finally finish that conversation with Agnes who shared her insights on Belle’s sketchy perspective. Being new and all, Y/N had barely been exposed to Belle’s personality aside from the snippets that she had witnessed, mostly when Harry was around. Y/N was sure that she was a pleasant personality to be around with, probably also a great counsellor considering Belle had been working here for years.
Y/N didn’t want to assume that Belle was two-faced; though, it was increasingly difficult to keep that way of thinking, especially when she was alone in her cabin late at night. While staring at the ceiling Y/N wondered if whatever was stirring between her and Harry was only short-lived. A summer fling. A seasons’ romance that scarcely made the four weeks’ mark before Harry awoke and realized that he could do better. Someone like Belle who matched him in each entity and someone who obviously knew him longer.
____
And maybe that was the reason why Y/N gulped heavily, throat bobbing as she watched the pair laugh with each other at the corner of the room. Y/N was already feeling queasy from the moment she woke up because of the cold temperature. She had decided to pass on using Harry’s cardigan since their conversation. It simply did not feel right for her to use it. As she made the walk from her cabin to the cafeteria hall, Y/N couldn’t help but tug her own flimsy sweater around her body, neck craning to look over her shoulder and see if Harry was jogging up behind her with his messy curls and a bright smile that she did not know could appear in the wee hours of the morning. They had gotten into a habit of matching each others’ stride; it was how they got close in the first place.
But Y/N could see that Harry was avoiding her–it seemed like it.
From her position serving breakfast over the counter, Y/N had a clear view of Belle and Harry sitting across each other at the designated counsellor’s table. She may have slabbed a portion of eggs a little too hard on a poor campers’ plate when Belle leaned over to grab a piece of maple-flavoured sausage from Harry’s plate before feeling her cheeks heat up and offering a sheepish smile at the doe-eyed boy.
The knots in her stomach coiled even tighter when the breakfast line sprawled through an end and the kitchen staff finally had the chance to eat their own breakfast. Y/N miserably carried her tray to an empty table previously occupied by some campers who were now energetically playing outside, despite the chillier weather. With a sigh, she took her fork and stabbed the piece of meat, tilting the corner of her lip in indifference when the juices oozed from the punctured hole. Y/N chewed her food slowly, keeping her gaze trained on the food in front of her when she felt a pair of eyes burning at the side of her head.
Y/N paused the movement of her jaw, searching for whoever it was and she was surprised when she met Harry’s stare. It had a sort of intensity that would force anybody to cower. From the distance, Y/N could tell that the cogs in his brain were overworking themselves, paired with the seemingly permanent crease between his brows. He didn’t even blink when she had caught him, nor had he looked away.
She swallowed the mouthful of food, reaching out for her glass of orange juice– a decision Y/N had made for a deviation from her usual drink of water, hoping that the extra sugar would give her some energy. Y/N blinked as she tilted her head back, satiating the ache of her throat with a splash of liquid. Through her lashes, she snuck another glance in Harry’s direction, further noticing that he was kneeling in front of Daisy who gave Harry a snuggly hug, short arms wrapped around his neck and his large hand comfortingly rubbing her back as he helped her walk to the nurse set to examine her injury after her first meal of the day.
It warmed her heart. She really missed him.
“Stop thinking that way, Y/N,” She reprimanded herself with another spoonful of eggs.
She almost choked when a deep voice caught her off guard.
“Stop thinking like what?” Jason asked, pulling the seat opposite of hers and plopping himself down on it. Dark sunglasses were perched on his nose, lifting it up to reveal gleaming brown eyes.
Y/N cleared her throat, “Nothing–just talking to myself,”
Jason chuckled at her words, resting his toned forearms on the furniture. He was dressed in his usual attire; a red shirt and shorts. Though, he adorned an extra layer of protection through the form of a grey sweater similar to Y/N’s.
“Well, if you want someone to talk to…” He left his sentence hanging, brows drawn high and Y/N’s heart at his insinuation.
She might carry feelings for Harry but she did not know where these would lead. Besides, Jason wasn’t bad to look at, recalling the first time they had met at the lake dock and how she was left flustered. Y/N pondered if she had made the wrong choice when she took Harry’s hand instead of Jason’s.
“Yeah, maybe sometimes,” Y/N blinked back embarrassment when she tried to shove another batch of eggs in her mouth. A little too quickly, might she add that Y/N had completely missed her mouth and smudged ketchup on her cheek.
“Here, I got it,” Jason acted swiftly even before she could react from her humiliating moment. honestly, it was bound to happen.
“Thanks,” Y/N breathed out, lifting her lowered gaze to Jason who was focused on getting the remnants of the red, sticky sauce from her face.
____
Harry crossed his arms over his chest at the sight. He was not sure if the mess hall had just cleared out because of campers’ finishing their breakfasts or if Y/N really was the only subject of his tunnel vision. That and Jason who was getting a little too close to Y/N and he was not fond of it at all.
Moments prior, Daisy had approached him with a shy smile, reminding him so much of Y/N. The little girl had asked for Harry to not be ‘angry with Y/N anymore’.
~~~~
“What do you mean, Dais?” Harry asked, crouching on one knee to hear Daisy better.
“Y/N said you were mad at her because you thought she left me alone,” She explained, using his shoulder to keep herself balanced. “But she didn’t!”
From his peripherals, Harry could see Y/N take her hair out of the netting required when serving food.
“I mean, she did…but only because Belle said she’d watch over me,” Daisy continued. “I woke up and Belle wasn’t there. I was alone! I was so scared and hungry but Y/N visited me and brought me food,”
Harry let his voice falter, watching Y/N take her first bite of the day, “S-she did?”
“Mhm!” The small camper nodded enthusiastically, “She also gave me extra pudding. Don’t tell her I said that.” Daisy slapped her hands over her mouth, eyes wide and it made Harry chuckled.
“Y/N’s nice, isn’t she?” Harry quipped, training his stare to Y/N. He didn’t even flinch when they made eye contact.
“Yeah, so please don’t be mad at her anymore. It makes me sad to see her sad,” Daisy gasped exuberantly, smacking her palms over her mouth again, “Don’t tell her I said that either,”
And as he helped Daisy walking to the camp nurse, Harry couldn’t help but think of Daisy’s words. Harry thought that Y/N had gone back to her cabin after their talk. He wasn’t aware that Y/N had taken the initiative to check on Daisy–heck, he did not even check on Daisy after it.
~~~~
“So what do you say?” Jason queried. “Oh, hey Harry,”
Y/N fought the urge to look up at him. Instead, using her fork to roll the few pieces of food around on her plate that she was going to wash after this.
“Hey, man,” Harry greeted, keeping his eyes trained on Y/N who barely acknowledged him.
“I was just asking if Y/N wanted to come to the waterfalls tonight for Counsellors night out,” He gestured towards her, “You coming?”
It was a great way to let off some steam. Being surrounded by kids for the majority of the day was quite taxing and tense. This little trek to the waterfalls nearby was an amazing way to unwind.
“Don’t think so. It’ll be dark and will probably be cold,” Harry answered for Y/N, silently pleading her to at least give him a sign that they were okay.
Y/N snapped her head at that, squinting her eyes at him. “Actually, I wouldn’t mind, Jason.
“Great! Dress in long-sleeves and pants. It’s a bit of a hike. I can bring you a towel if you’d like?”
She nodded at his offer. “Sweet!”
Harry internally rolled his eyes at the action of Jason fist-pumping the air. “Can I talk to you for a second?”
Y/N scooted her chair out, abruptly standing, catching both men by surprise.
“I have to go wash the dishes. Kitchen duties,” Y/N wasn’t sure if Harry could hear the sarcastic tone in her voice. She hoped he did. “Let’s go, Jason,”
Y/N walked ahead without as much as a glance at Harry. Jason got out of his own chair, set to follow her.
“Where are you going?” Harry caught him by the arm to quench his curiosity.
“Cleaning up with Y/N.” Jason responded, “It’s not my ideal first date but hey–it’s the person you’re with that makes it special, no?”
Harry’s throat dried up at the statement, stiffly nodding his head in agreement. Though, he and Y/N never labelled anything or made their relationship official–Harry thought that they were building up towards that. Now, he feels like an idiotic fool who ruined–possibly–the best thing that happened to him.
“I love her, Y/N,” He mumbled against her neck in a drunken stupor.
So close.
“Y/N?” Harry repeated, grasping on her shoulders to meet her gaze again.
Y/N parted her lips. The close proximity dizzying her because he was so close—he was right there and Harry was staying over for the night but at the same time; he couldn’t be more out of reach.
“Then, I think you should tell her, Harry.”
____
If there was one word to describe what Y/N was feeling right now, it would be shame. Her situationship with Harry was hardly wrong. They were both single, consenting individuals who came to each other in time of need. Affection and validation, to put it simply.
It wasn’t like Harry was cheating on someone else with her, yet Y/N felt her shoulders slug her form because it felt like she was the other woman. The secret getaway you receive on the weekends; the ghost of a kiss tempting you on the side. Sure, Harry was oblivious to her feelings–still perceiving her emotions as overemphasized showcases of her caring nature. Her feelings were friendly, her touches were friendly. It was all friendly. The way she dropped everything at a mere second’s notice because she’s always got Harry’s back was only amicable.
Sure, Harry was oblivious to her feelings–still perceiving her emotions as overemphasized showcases of her caring nature. Her feelings were friendly, her touches were friendly. It was all friendly. The way she dropped everything at a mere second’s notice because she’s always got Harry’s back was only amicable.
Y/N would find herself scoffing sometimes at how foolish she was being. How she wouldn’t even think of blocking a portion of her day just in case he’d call. She would spend hours at a time convincing herself that she had nothing to do anyway, so that if the time Harry ever did think of her as a first choice for once; she’d be there.
Always available, never too busy. For him, at least.
___
This is an Early Access fic available to read on my Patreon now. It will be uploaded here on Tumblr on Wednesday, June 1st.
AN: this is my first time writing a fan fiction so bare with me.I hope you enjoy
warnings: much angst, Sexual Assault, attempted suicide
Listen Before I go By Billie Eilish
pairing: Harry Styles X !FEM!reader 
Harry has been on tour for months, five months to be more specific. a lot can change in that amount of time, trust especially.
“I’ve missed you my angel,” Harry said from the doorway, bags dropped to his feet as he walked over to you to hold you in his arms.
You flinched away from his touch. He backs away, understanding the shake in your hands. you don’t want to be held.
Did he do something wrong? what happened in those five months that would have made you flinch away from him? Was it his fault? The answer was no, it wasn’t his fault he didn’t know. You never told him, how was he supposed to know.
He could see on your face something was off. a few seconds maybe 20 had passed before either of you spoke again. “What’s wrong, What happened?” your eyes start to water, you two have been together for two years but have known each other since sophomore year of high school.
He told you everything, from what bothered him that day or what made him so overwhelmed with joy it didn’t matter he always told you about it, but you were more closed off than him. Sure you told him about your day and he already knew everything about you, that’s what he thought at least.
“It’s nothing, really i just missed you and didn’t expect you to be home.” that wasn’t it and he knew it. He’s too good at reading you. “That’s not it and we both know that, what is it lovie.”
The truth was, he called you. the guy who ruined your life. Made you feel like you didn’t deserve love. the man who fucked you up so bad you could hardly live. not safely at least.
“Jace called me.” you mumbled under your breath, it was barely audible but he heard you. “Jace as in your Ex? What did he want.” “He just called to mess with me.”
Technically that was the truth, just not all of it. “There’s more, isn’t there. you can tell me.” god you don’t deserve harry, he’s too good for you.
“There’s some things I haven’t told you, but I think I’m ready.” you look him in the eyes and pull him to the couch. “Now before i say this i don’t want you to get upset, it was a long time ago. Jace wasn’t only an Ex, he did things to me, not exactly good things.”
you had to stop for a few seconds to catch your breath, you were crying? When did you start crying? when will you stop. “It’s okay lovie take your time.” harry said as he put a hand on your back, instead of flinching away you melted into his touch, it calmed you. “ He, uh he would make me do things. things you wouldn’t even believe.”
To say Harry was angry would be the understatement of the century. He was shaking, his face was beet red. You could tell he was trying to stay calm for your sake but it wasn’t working.
This time you leaned into him asking to be held. That’s how you stayed for the rest of the night, tangled with him. Assuming you feel asleep and he carried you to your room.
When you woke up the bed was empty. Was it a dream? you heard the sink running in the bathroom, harry was brushing his teeth. He’s home, “some welcome home present” you thought to yourself. Telling your overprotective boyfriend about the guy who raped you the day he gets home. Not even a welcome home.
“good morning angel, I have a few meetings today just to wrap up tour stuff. I should be home around 3:00pm then we can do whatever you want to do.” it’s 9:00am now. “alright do you want breakfast?” “No thank you i’m already late, but thank you. i’m leaving in a few and have some stuff to do downstairs but i love you and i’ll see you tonight, call me if you need anything.” “love you too, have a good day.”
you’re such an asshole. He just got home and the first thing you do is make him feel like he did something wrong. He was gone for five months and not even an I love you. god your pathetic. Why is he still with you. He doesn’t deserve to be treated with such disrespect, especially from you. “I agree, he doesn’t” your thoughts get the best of you and you spend at least an hour just sitting on the shower floor, just thinking, contemplating.
That’s it, you get up from the shower floor turn off the water and cry off. Your wearing one of his hoodies and som shorts. the pen in your hand is shaking more than you are. you write nonetheless.
Harry, my sweet harry. my love for you is larger than life. i don’t want you to think this was your fault, it’s not. if anything you prevented this from happening a long time ago. but my time is up, god i hope you aren’t the one to find me. i’m so sorry i had to do this to you. I’m sorry I had to hold you back all this time. i hope now that i’m gone you won’t have anything stopping you from greatness, more greatness than you already have. I love you. but i can’t keep living this life. it hurts. more than you’ll ever know. I don’t want you to stop living because of me. i won’t ask much of you for now but can you take care of Rajah? She needs to be fed while I’m gone. take care of yourself. don’t let me be the reason we meet again. but hey when it is your time in 50 years i’ll tell you if there’s a heaven like i’ve always wanted to know. but please know, this isn’t your fault, it’s mine really. goodbye my love
il mio amore per te va di mondo in mondo, ti amo più della vita.
-Y/N
and with that it was done, you grabbed your bottle of prozac in your shaking hands and that was it.
HARRY’S POV
I forgot to tell Y/N I was coming home for lunch but consider it a little surprise. “Y/N, darling i’m home for lunch, what do you have in mind?” when he got no reply he began to worry. He walked the halls searching for his love. when he walked into your shared room he saw you… laying there. limp.
the color drained from his face as he sprinted to you collapsing on top of you. He frantically shook you, trying desperately to get any sort of response, all he got was a low grunt. He looked at your hand, pills. He pulled up his phone and dialed 911 as fast as his mind allowed “911 what’s your emergency?” she sounds too cheerful for this situation “please it’s my girlfriend i just got home and she was on the floor barely responding, i think she tried to kill herself!” “does she have a pulse? what’s the address?” “she has a pulse but it’s weak, the address is 1794 on 64th ave. hurry” the line went silent on the other end for a few seconds “alright sir we have the address someone will be there as soon as 2 minutes” “she doesn’t have 2 minutes, hurry please.”
When the paramedics arrived your pulse was barely there, low and shallow breaths in your lungs. Harry was in the ambulance as they put your IV in and out you in oxygen. after they got to the hospital he wasn’t allowed in the room until they were sure you were ready for visits. a nurse had been giving him updates her name was sarah. Sarah told him to go home, shower grab some clothes, it took time but he did. That’s when he saw the note. He broke. He couldn’t think. He couldn’t move. “il mio amore per te va di mondo in mondo, ti amo più della vita.” he thought of you when you two went to italy for your anniversary, you remembered. it means “my love for you goes from world to world, I love you more than life.”
when he got back to the hospital Sarah said you were better, still haven’t woken up yet but your healing nonetheless. They called your mother and she said he could be put on the emergency list so he could be with you when you wake up. That’s exactly what he did, he sat there right beside you for a week until you woke up.
Y/N POV
It was bright, too bright for your eyes. You turned over but when you felt someone touching your hand you saw harry. He’s asleep, how long has it been, he thinks you’re pathetic. He doesn’t, he’s been crying, his cheeks are red and tear stained. He’s waking up. “Hey lovie, are you alright? How are you feeling? Can I get you anything?” he seemed genuinely concerned, it was hard to answer but you managed to get a few words out “I’m fine right now, where am I?” he looked at you in a way that asked you if you were being serious, you were. “Where at the hospital, you took a bunch of pills but I got to you in time.”
“Hey Y/N, my name is Sarah, i’m your nurse, how are you feeling hun?” “i feel fine, a little drowsy.” i couldn’t really tell you what happened after that, everything’s a bit fuzzy but she kept asking questions. Harry’s eyes never left me.
~time skip to when they get home because it’s late and i need to sleep~
Harry’s hand was on my knee the whole ride home like he was afraid I would evaporate if he let go. When we pulled into the driveway he opened the door for me and offered me a hand, I took it and thanked him. He hasn’t really asked as many questions as I thought he would.
When we got inside he dropped our bags by the door, went to the kitchen and grabbed some water. He walked back into the living room where you were sitting, he sat the glass of water on the table next to you.
He sat on the couch beside you, you basically threw yourself onto him has tears gushed down your face staining his dark blue t-shirt, he wrapped his arms around you and held you as you spewed out apology’s one after another “I’m so sorry, i’m so selfish, you shouldn’t have to deal with shit like this.” he cut you off before you could say anything else with a soft kiss. It has been so long since you two have just kissed.
he leaned back so you could lay on top of him. you fell asleep to harry whispering “i love you” over and over in your ear.
when you woke up harry was playing with your hair, once you woke up a bit more you spoke up. He deserves an explanation “Harry, you deserve an explanation. It was never your fault, just with jace calling me and the things he said-“’‘what did he say?” “uh he uh told me to w-watch myself and that no one not even you, who he called some other fuck up, can protect me from him. i was scared and confused and i didn’t know how to handle it but the things he did to me fucked me up and i don’t want that again.” “ it’s alright baby really i’m not mad, he can’t hurt you anymore, i’m here. that bastard will be in a grave before he lays another hand on you”
An: tell me how you liked it, might fuck around and make a part two idk yet but im going to bed i love you
