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!!!
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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: Harry and Y/N have been dating for a few months when Michael invites them over for a small dinner party.
Chocolate cake, double decker, vanilla frosting with the words “Let’s be fucking happy” on top sat upon the large marble counter. Old friends leaned around it discussing memories and ideas, laughing often and smiling even more.
Shoes messily scattered Michael’s walk in room where his guests hastily discarded them- caring more about hugs than shoe placement. Coats were thrown over the bench beside the door, the top two close to toppling over on the floor. Michael and Crystal didn’t mind at the hint of a mess. In fact no one even really noticed, besides Y/N.
She bent over at the hip as she grabbed matching pairs of shoes and lined them up together neatly on the soft black rug. She hummed in satisfaction when the last pair was set in place. Her eyes caught sight of the coats and she moved to fix those into place too.
Truth was, she didn’t give a damn about the messiness of Mike’s house. Well she did, but that wasn’t what her issue was. Calum brought Maya to this stupid get together and she didn’t want to be around them just yet.
Over the months Calum and Y/N got back into the groove they experienced most of their lives, but this time without the romantic agony of pinning after the other helplessly at opposite intervals. The pair was good, but Y/N still didn’t really know Maya. Truth was she was too embarrassed after how Maya first saw her talk to Calum. That was the first impression and it was a rotten one.
Maya seemed nice and of course there wasn’t bad blood, but Y/N still felt like an outsider as she moved to organize the coats better. Maya and Calum came to these dinner parties in the months that Y/N was leaning on Harry for support.
The boys still invited Y/N to get together the whole time but she took the time away that she felt she needed to properly move on. And she loved the boys but the time away allowed her to heal and create a wonderful bond with Harry.
“Having fun down there?”
Y/N sheepishly set the coats down and craned her head upwards to look at the person standing above her.
Luke.
Y/N awkwardly laughed, letting go of the coats and letting her hands fall lamely into her lap. She was caught trying to distance herself from the group.
“Y/N, why are you in here organizing our belongings when you could be in the kitchen having wine and a good ole time?” He joked, blue eyes offering true friendship, consideration, and kindness.
Luke was always so freaking kind, just a really good friend all around.
“I don’t fit in anymore.” She mumbled in embarrassment, “I feel like… I don’t know, I was away for so long that I lost my spot.”
Luke sighed as he struggled to navigate his lanky body to sit with his knees up to his chest on the floor across from her. His back rested against the wall comfortably.
“Y/N, you’re our sister: we love you and you’ll always be one of us.. are we doing something particular to make you feel like this?”
Y/N shrugged, playing with the fray string on her favorite black and gray sweater. A sweater that Harry bought her the other day when she said she needed one. She kept slipping money in his wallet for it but he always caught her and demanded she take it back. Truth was, Harry spoiled her rotten.
“Not specifically. It’s not even your fault. I just feel like you guys have a groove now and I’m messing it up. It’s silly.”
“It’s not silly at all.” Luke’s hand grasped onto her knee and gave a comforting squeeze, “I’m glad you came tonight. We’re glad.”
Y/N smiled, nodding her head. “Okay.”
“Let’s go back into the kitchen.” He helped her stand and together they walked back to the kitchen.
Michael was laughing as he leaned over the counter, Crystal was rubbing his back lovingly as she giggled along with him. Calum was sitting on a barstool with Maya leaning against his left side, her arm wrapped around his neck, playing with the little tuffs of hair. Ashton and Kaykay were painting digging around in the fridge. Sierra turned when she heard the pair walk in and a charming smile graced her lips.
“There you are.” Sierra said, announcing the new entry into the kitchen.
Y/N blushed as she crossed her arms and leaned against the wall across from the counter, “I was organizing the shoes…”
Luke laughed, “Yeah she was, and the coats. Little nerd.” He pushed her and she fell into the wall. She smiled slightly as she pushed away his hands.
“We thought maybe Harry finally showed up.” Ashton said, turning from the fridge with a can of Pepsi in his hands. Kaykay grabbed the can from him and opened it, taking a sip and grinning.
“Nope, he should be here soon though. He was working out a song with Sarah.” Y/N explained, shuffling over to stand between Sierra and Crystal.
Crystal patted Y/N back as she walked over. The girls were really kind and understanding through out her trying to get over Calum. They would always invite her to girls nights and would call her regularly to check in and to distract her from the heart break. And they were her biggest supporters when they discovered that Harry and her were an item.
“Sarahs the drummer, right?” Cal asked, looking right into her eyes.
“Yeah, she’s an amazing drummer. And an even cooler person.”
“She seems so. One time I visited for a show and the guards wouldn’t let me backstage and she recognized me. Took me with her. She’s super nice.” Michael recalled the memory.
“Ha, me at your shows. One time the guard called me a groupie and wouldn’t let me in for the first half of your show until the members of Hey Violet realized I was missing. That was some bullshit.. but going back to Sarah, she’s honestly the best.”
“Oi, you can date her then.”
Harry stood in the doorway, two bottles of wine resting comfortable in his hands. His smug grin made him all the more attractive as he gazed into his girlfriends eyes.
Y/N felt the weight of the world fall off her shoulders as she took him in. He was so fucking beautiful. His jeans and gray hoodie looked casual and so domestic. She wanted to curl into him and explain that he made her feel more herself than when she was with anyone.
“Bout time you showed up with that wine.” Crystal said, moving around everyone to grab the two bottles as Mike grabbed the glasses from the top shelf.
Harry walked behind Y/N and slid his arms over her shoulders, pressing a kiss to her forehead and leaning his chin against her head. Her nose took in the natural smell of Harry, closing her eyes momentarily to let it settle the nerves.
“How’d it go at the studio?” She quietly muttered, leaning slightly against his tattooed arms. The very arms that were almost like home.
“Swell. We got most of the music written, I think you’d love the feel of it. Sarah made sure the rhythm was sturdy and it ties it all together.” He explained, nodding a thank you at Crystal as he bent over Y/N to grab her and him a glass of wine.
“That’s great, Har. I wish you’d let me hear it..” Y/N grabbed the glass and took a sip.
Harry snorted, taking a sip as well, “You will. When it’s finished, dork. Already told ya that.”
“Mi mi mi mi mi” she mocked, elbowing him lightly in the ribs, “all I hear when you talk.”
Maya burst into laughter, wine falling down her chin- hand coming up to cup it from falling on the floor. Calum smiled in confusion as she grabbed her a napkin.
“Y/N, you kill me. Your sass is unmatched.” She said, wiping her mess up. Maya smiled towards her and Y/N felt herself shooting one back.
“Yeah, it’s bloody endearing until it’s aimed at you.” Y/N knew Harry was bluffing because he was in love with everything about her. She knew this because he only told her every day.
“Imagine how we feel.” Ash deadpanned.
“You should feel lucky that you got to know me all of these years, and especially since I put up with your boyish bullshit for years while on tour. A moment of peace never existed.”
Ashton blushed, crossing his arms, “Yeah, yeah. Rub it in some more that you took care of us like a mom.”
“I’d say so. You guys would crawl in my bunk when you were home sick.” Y/N said, finishing her wine in one big gulp, “play with my hair, Y/N. Rub my back, Y/N. Talk about home, please, Y/N/N.”
“Wow, thanks for fucking exposing our manly composures in front of our women!” Michael yelled, throwing someone’s IPhone charger at her.
Harry’s reflexes must’ve kicked in because his hand grasped the thick cord before it could come in contact with his lover’s face. She hummed in appreciation, slipping her hand under his sweater and rubbing her thumb over his arm.
“Babe, we are well aware that you guys are softies. She didn’t expose shit. I’m sure she could if you really wanted her to-“
Before Crystal could finish all the boys were quickly shouting out no. Y/N knew the darkest dirtiest, most horridly embarrassing moments of them and they rather not share those right now.
“What’s with the cake?” Harry asked as he set his wine glass down and moved away from Y/N to get a better look at it. He chuckled in amusement as he read the lettering upon the creamy frosting.
“A lot is happening in our lives, and I figured we could just take a night to celebrate our success, happiness, friendship, and creativity. You’re all beautiful and deep souls that I’m glad to have the pleasure of knowing.” Sierra said, wrapping her arms around one of Luke’s.
Sierra’s words were genuine and Y/N felt emotional. She was dumb to think that she wasn’t loved anymore by her friend group. They were good, loyal people that saw her heart and adored her as she was. Awkward tension between her and Cal for a few months wouldn’t ruin the unconditional bond. She felt guilty for pushing herself back in the first place. It wasn’t fair to the group and especially not Calum and Maya.
Y/N should’ve been honest about her feelings. Calum deserved to have known and instead it blew up in her face. She was attempting to shelter herself but her lack of actions was really what wounded her.
Shit worked in crazy way. First heartbreak and then a euphoric relationship with Harry motherfucking Styles? Y/N knew things worked out in the way it was meant to. And she felt bad that so much time was wasted when she could’ve gotten to still see Calum and created a friendship with Maya.
Y/N’s eyes wandered to Calum’s as cheering of concurrent glee filled the kitchen. His brown eyes held the upmost love as his lips quirked into a small smile. He made a kissy face and she let out a content sigh.
Kissy face was their signal of saying “I love you, you’re my best friend.”
It was created when they first started touring and they were embarrassed to say it in front of the boys. The action was used at the most important times when sometimes the words wouldn’t mean as much as the mere gesture.
Y/N made a kissy face back, feeling her lips tremble a bit from trying not to cry from the emotions of relief and joy flood through her veins.
“Cut this bitch up! I wanna slice. The one on that corner? Fuck yeah. Dibs.” Ash said, poking his finger in it to seal the spoken claim.
Calum laughed, dropping his head into his hand. Y/N playfully rolled her eyes at the duo. Ashton could blink and Calum would find it hilarious. The two men shared a beautiful companionship. Y/N knew that she was calums best friend, but after her was Ashton followed closely by Roy, Luke, and Mike tied.
“Nasty.” Harry teased, “you gonna have some?” He asked the woman trapped again in his loving embrace.
“Yep, are you?”
Harry snorted, “My love, you underestimate me. Fuck, it looks so good, but not as good as you do all the time.”
He grinned when she rolled her eyes, “Shut the fuck up and get your cake.”
A few hours later and the group switched to hangout in the living room. Board games were brought out along with wii games. Harry, Crystal, Luke and Sierra played Mario cart while Maya, Michael, Ash and Kay Kay played Sorry. Y/N and Calum watched in amusement.
Harry cursed at Luke as he got hit with a banana peel, “Fucking hell, Hemings.”
Calum shifted so that he could pull the cigarette pack from his pocket along with his beloved blue lighter. His eyes glanced to the balcony before he nudged the woman beside him.
“Y/N, wanna join me for a smoke?”
She knew what he meant. Not for her to actually smoke, but to talk alone for a few minutes while everyone was busy.
She nodded.
Y/N figured it would be chilly so she grabbed her jacket- well it was Harry’s that she loved to wear. Together they made their way onto the balcony of Michael’s house. She wrapped the material of her boyfriends coat close to her, slipping her hands into the pockets.
“Glad you came?” Cal asked, flicking his lighter three times before the flame stayed. The cigarette caught the light and he brought it to his plump lips.
“Yeah. Feels right to be back with you all… I’m so sorry that I hid from you guys. So fucking childish of me.”
Calum shook his head, “No, no don’t even apologize, bub. None of us blame you. And to be honest it’s partly my fault.”
Y/N scoffed, hands gripping the railing to ground herself, “It’s not.”
They sat in silence, not wanting to upset each other and start a fight that was pointless. Calum flicked ashes over the railing, his other hand not holding his cig was running through his hair.
Y/N crossed her arms, pulling the hood up over her head to cover her ears. Soft material swallowed her whole, providing a safety blanket.
“You and Harry- you just fit. I’ve never seen you act like that anyone. It was obvious that you felt sorta awkward but the second he walked in, you were back to being our Y/N.” Cal spoke, taking a hit.
Y/N shrugged, “I dunno; he’s like my comfort person now. Probably because it was just the two of us for so long. But I’m content with him.” Her eyes drifted to gaze in at the window. His brown curls could slightly be seen from the bulk of the couch.
“You love him?”
Y/N blinked in surprise, “I do love him. He’s…”
Calum chuckled at her lack of words, “Difficult to describe the intense feeling into lousy English words, huh?”
She blushed but meekly nodded, “Something like that. I imagine you know the feeling?”
Calum put out his cigarette and pulled his jacket closer to him, “Yeah. I’m not talking about Maya here though. Well, not yet. Im falling in love with her, but Y/N you’re my absolute favorite person in the world. You’re my family in ever sense of the meaning. Words can’t explain how sorry I am that I didn’t realize how you felt and that I hurt you.”
She stood up and pulled her best friend into a hug. His arms dangled around her torso as she shoved her head into his chest, taking in the familiar smoke smell.
“Maya seems super authentic Cal, and she’s like.. hot.” Y/N paused when she felt his body shake against hers from laughing, “I should’ve talked to you about it instead of getting angry. You deserve to be happy.”
“Promise I’ll be the maid of honor at your wedding?”
Y/N giggled, swaying them side to side as her cold hands went under the shirt of his back to warm them up. He jumped at the touch. She grinned at his reaction because she’s done it to him since they were little kids.
“Only if I’m your best man?”
Cal hummed, “Hell yeah, wouldn’t want anyone else.”
She nodded while elbowing him gently in the side, “good. It’s settled then.”
Y/N heard yelling inside and the two turned to see that Harry was dancing around Michael’s living room. His arms flared around in the air as he moved his body side to side. She knew that dance. It was a victory dance. The same one he would do when she agreed to wake up with him to watch the sunrise or when he would get all of pieces in home while playing sorry before her.
Harry turned around and cheekily smiled at her as he pointed at the tv and then himself and gave a joyful fist pump. She gave him an enthusiastic thumbs up in response.
“We better head back in.” She said, grabbing Calum’s arm and leading him inside.
“Love, I just kicked their asses!” Harry yelled, hitting Michael with a pillow. Harry cackled when Michael quickly plucked the pillow from him and threw it back with more force.
“You’re a goofball.” She said, crossing her arms.
Couple hours later everyone warmly hugged their goodbyes, slipped on coats and hats, and they walked out of Michael Cliffords house towards their own. Harry and Y/N were the last ones due to her being adamant on helping Crystal clean up. Harry and Michael had talked about FIFA as they attempted to help too but were more so in the way. The girls appreciated the gesture though.
Harry kissed Y/N a couple times instead of letting her get in her own car. Her muffled words kept getting shut off by his lips meeting hers.
“It’s almost like we have a house that we could make out in instead of my friend’s driveway, Har.” She said, pushing his face away with her hand like she did the first time he kissed her outside the poetry shop.
“Have to drive there first, hun. Takes too long.” He whined, his hands pulling her closer to his chest as his lips dragged across her neck, “What did Cal have to say on the balcony?”
She snorted as he nosed along her jawline, peppering kisses and moving his leg to rest in between hers. She ran her fingers along his arm until she intertwined her fingers with his.
He was jealous.
Harry would always ask her how it went when she met up with Calum. Y/N wasn’t dumb, Harry was scared that her feelings for her old best friend would randomly punch her in the face. Harry was hurt before and she understood that he was just scared of getting hurt again.
Especially since he has been in love with her since he was freshly eighteen years old.
“Just that he was glad that I came. Heart to heart about being best friends. I promised him he could be in our wedding if I was in his.” She said, halting Harry’s kissed against her skin.
His head snapped up so that his green eyes looked into her, “Our wedding?”
She nodded, grinning from ear to ear.
“If we’re in this for life, I’d figure it would happen sooner or later. I don’t know if I wanna wear a traditional white dress with you in a boring tux. I think our style is too spectacular for that normal shit. You look so good in vibrant colors, Har.” She whispered, squeezing his hand.
He seemed in a daze as he listened, nodding frequently in agreement, “You’d look amazing in anything as long as you’re walking towards me to meet me at the altar.”
“Yeah, you think?”
Harry laughed, “Yeah, I do.”
“I’ll marry you as soon as you show me that damn song. It’s driving me crazy, dude.” She said, pushing him away when he went in for another kiss that would turn into ten.
Harry was a lovey, touchy feely man, but she loved it. She loved him.
“You ruined one of the best moments of my life by calling me dude. Seriously, you’re killing me here. Cruel woman, you are.”
She shrugged, “I have my ways.”
“Go home!” Michael yelled out the window, making them separate quickly. Harry flipped him off before opening Y/N’s door and helping her in.
“I’ll see you at home, wife.”
Y/N cackled when Harry gently shut her door and saw him hurriedly got into his. She knew that tonight would be spent in each other’s arms with how absolutely thrilled he was to hear that she thought about their wedding.
She turned her car on and thanked Mother Nature for working her mysterious ways to make her life fit into place so perfectly.
Type-Multiple blurbs, but in total word count, they make a One-Shoty blurb. So, consider this a One-Shoty Blurb!
Verse- Model!Harry x Fashion-Designer!Y/n
Word Count- 1.6k
Warnings- Slight smut. Not proofread.
A/n- I had been planning this one for days but when the teaser came out, the inspo hit.
Sort of a description- Harry is a model and doing a photoshoot, and the clothes are obviously designed by the woman we all love, Y/n. Hahah xD Also, this one includes the dazed photoshoots, as well as what he wore in the teaser, so let’s assume that all of these are for the same: Dazed (including the teaser one <3).
A sigh leaves Y/n’s mouth from the back of her throat as her mouth hangs wide open, eyes never seeming to leave the beauty that just walked in and is standing parallel to the doorframe.
“Y- you look, oh- ugh, oh my lord. You look so pretty,” she trailed off, standing up from where she had sat down on the wooden floor due to the chair being full of Harry’s home clothes he had arrived on the shoot wearing. And then again, it’s a dressing room, you can’t expect it to have ten chairs and three sofas.
The sofa being full of the next clothes he’s gonna wear, is just whole another story.
Y/n walks towards him, eyes glued to his frame as he poses for her. “You look gorgeous, Harry. Just the way I had wanted you to look,” she says, her hands coming to touch him.
She slowly slides her hand all over his body, checking out her work on him, or checking out him in her work, she’s not quite sure.
“Harry! Everyone’s ready!” The photographer calls for him.
The Designer was about to kiss him good luck when she halts her actions. “Holy- wait a second,” she asks, causing him to chuckle as she rushes towards the tiny desk in the room and fishes out a few things from her purse.
“Here,” she quickly applies some of her lip-balm on his lips, and yells that Harry is going out there in 5 to the crew, in the process.
Very frantically but smoothly, she draws a thin line of black eyeliner towards the end and just above his pretty eyes-lashes. She moves back a bit to observe her work and checks everything out as the makeup artist had already worked on him.
She just hopes that they won’t get mad, the make-up artist.
A sloppy smile stretches out on her lips. “You’re good now. Look like an absolute angel,” she admits, kissing the tip of his nose.
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: ceorry is finally here with plus size reader!! hope you guys will love it, i really enjoyed writing this and i can’t wait to read your thoughts!
WORD COUNT: 13.7k
WARNING: sexual content, struggle with body image
SUMMARY: You’re about to start your business as an interior designer. Thanks to your best friend, your first client turns out to be none other than Harry Styles, the insanely handsome and stupidly rich business man.
The front door shuts closed behind you just as Bianca drops the spoon she was holding into her bowl of ice-cream upon hearing your announcement and before she could even speak up you continue.
“And I think Vincent and I kinda broke up.”
She coughs with wide eyes, placing her bowl to the coffee table as she moves to one side of the couch.
“There’s a lot to unpack there, come on, sit down and tell me about it all!” she urges and sighing you drop your bag by the front door and walk over to her, collapsing onto the couch after what felt like the worst day of your life so far.
You eye the ice-cream Bianca just discarded and you feel like you could inhale it in one go so you point at it turning towards your best friend and flatmate.
“Can I eat that?” you sigh with a frown.
“Uh, sure, go ahead! Seems like you need it more than I do.”
You dig into it right away, drowning everything that happened today in the sweet, creamy, icy dessert. You eat it way too fast so you get an instant brain freeze, but in your current state it’s not even that painful.
“So, what happened?” Bianca asks cautiously.
“Um, well, my boss threw out the window everything I worked on the past month and wanted me to start over so I had enough and quit,” you start with the first part of your announcements.
“It’s kind of good, isn’t it? I mean, you hated working there and you’ve been thinking about leaving for a while.”
“Yeah, but not this abruptly. I knew I wouldn’t work at fucking Ikea forever, but it would have been nice if I had a full plan before quitting.”
Shoving one spoon full of ice-cream after the other into your mouth you try to keep yourself together and not think about how uncertain your life has just become. Everything you had and thought to be stable a few days ago is now gone.
“You’ll figure it out. You can finally start your own business, like you always wanted!” B tries to cheer you up.
“Yeah, I guess,” you shrug, still focusing on the ice-cream.
“I’ll help you, okay? I have some connections, it’ll be fine.”
“Thanks,” you sigh with a weak smile.
“Okay, now onto the next thing, what did that scumbag Vincent do?”
Bianca has never been a big fan of your… who was even Vincent? You never agreed to be boyfriend and girlfriend, just acted like it, but every time you tried to bring it up he just dodged it. And because having someone was more than having no one, you went with it and stayed quiet. But lately things have been rockier and you’ve had enough.
“He… He sent me a text with a picture that was definitely not meant for me.”
“What?” she gasps. “What did he send?”
“A picture of a lingerie set and the text said he can’t wait to see me in it. The set was for a woman who is the size of my arm, B.”
You almost fainted in the kitchen section when you saw it, had to hide behind one of the displays to pull yourself together and not have a meltdown in the middle of Ikea. You had to wait until your lunch break to call him and question what it was about, it turned into a screaming match and at the end he just saved his ass by saying you were never exclusive so it’s not cheating.
Then you told him to go fuck himself and all of his side bitches and ended the call. Two hours later you also quit your job, so it’s a miracle you’re not crying like a baby right now.
“Fucking hell, I always knew he was a pig. But you’re better off without him, he never appreciated you enough.” Bianca circles an arm around your shoulders as she brings you closer to her and you lean into her, spooning the rest of the ice-cream into your mouth.
“I think he always had an issue with my looks,” you mumble.
“Because he is a fucking assturd, that’s his issue,” Bianca scoffs and the way she says assturd always gets to you, so you can’t help, but laugh. “There’s nothing wrong with your looks, you look fucking sexy, don’t let an idiot make you think otherwise.”
“Maybe I should go on a diet again. Last time I lost a few pounds, so…” Placing the empty bowl to the coffee table guilt washes over you for eating the ice-cream.
“Fuck no! There’s no diet in this house!” Bianca protests. “You know what? We’ll go for a pamper day tomorrow and then the day after we’ll start to work on your business. Update your portfolio, I already have a few people in mind who would be open to hiring you.”
“I don’t want to put you into extra work, B. You have enough work at the firm.”
“It’s not work, and you’re not putting me into anything. I offered it so just take it. Alright, now let’s watch a movie to cheer you up and never talk about Ike or Vincent again.”
You know Bianca has connections in circles that fall way out of your league. She’d done all kinds of hostess works during college and she made an advantage out of them for herself, networking and connecting with the right people, building herself relationships in fields you can only dream of stepping foot into. She’s been going to business dinners and high end bars with people that hold the kind of power a normal person can’t even imagine. She has dragged you to some outings as well, mostly where drinking was included and whenever she mentioned the name of the places your eyes fell out of their sockets.
“B, I cannot pay for a night there, I would end up just drinking tap water in the restroom!” you protested, but she just rolled her eyes.
“We are not paying a penny. Everything is covered, we’re gonna be guests!”
And that’s exactly what happened. Your money remained in your purse while the drinks just kept coming and coming. During these occasions you got to see what she’s like around these men. It was always obvious they saw her as just an eye candy and nothing more, a pretty woman they can walk in with and earn jealous glances and they probably never even realized how smart she really is, working at an all women law firm. Whenever business talk started and she could chip in once legal topics were touched, she impressed them all with her knowledge and she knew they would be calling her soon, willing to pay any amount just to have her work with them.
Bianca is naturally confident and the kind of woman every man stares at when she walks into a room. But she never makes other women feel less, what’s more, she can go absolutely feral when someone treats a woman in her presence less just because they don’t find her that pretty or charming.
One time, when you were freshmen in college you were out at a bar near campus. A guy came up to the two of you and very obviously tried to flirt with Bianca, completely ignoring your presence. He didn’t last more than five minutes before she grilled him so badly he walked away without a single word, never even glancing her way for the rest of the night.
So when she told you about this “friend” of hers who might be interested in your work, you knew it would be some prestigious businessman, one of the big fish, but now as you’re nearing the office building that towers above most of the city’s other skyscrapers, you can feel your stomach churning. This is not just a big fish, this might be a whole shark and you might not survive a meeting with him after all.
Walking into the lobby you’re met with a modern design, it’s spacious and minimalistic, but also kind of welcoming, makes you want to linger around longer. You approach the front desk where a woman with a headset smiles at you, her makeup and outfit absolutely spotless and suddenly you feel underdressed compared to her.
“Good morning, how can I help you?” she asks in a nice, warm tone.
“Hi, I-I’m here for an appointment with Mr. Styles?” you tell her, already cursing yourself out for making it sound like a question, as if she knew why you were here.
“May I ask your name, please?” she turns to the computer, her fingers already typing away on the keypad.
“It’s Y/N Y/L/N.”
She hums, her eyes glued to the screen, the smile never leaving her features. A few more clicks and she turns back to you.
“Welcome, Miss Y/L/N. Mr. Styles will see you in a few minutes, would you be so kind and go to the 78th floor? They will be already waiting for you. Elevators are on your right,” she instructs, gesturing towards the three elevators.
“Thank you,” you nod breathing out the words before making your way to the elevators.
People come and go, you’re not the only one waiting at the elevators, but you’re definitely the odd one out. The blue midi dress Bianca urged you to wear is out of your comfort zone and you feel like it’s tighter around your curves than what’s considered classy. You paired it with a white blazer you haven’t worn in ages, but it’s the most business-looking piece you own. The women around you seem to be wearing outfits that cost about three times more than yours, designer purses and ankle-breaking high heels appear to be the normal around here while you’re wearing flats, because you simply don’t put yourself through the torture of forcing your feet into heels.
And the cherry on top? The massive folder you brought your portfolio in is anything but professional with the colorful fruits printed all over it, strawberries, watermelons and cherries are floating around on it. You swore you had a simple black one somewhere in your desk at home, but you failed to actually find it and this one was the only one that wasn’t used to the point that it was threatening to fall apart. You thought you could play it off, but seeing everyone around you know you wish you chose one of the beaten-up folders instead.
On the way up the elevator stops three times before you reach the 78th floor and stepping out you’re immediately met with a woman who could easily be the clone of the one at the front desk downstairs. She is just as spotless and perfect as she was, her smiling lips are painted red and so plump, you wonder if they are even real.
“Welcome, Miss Y/L/N! Mr. Styles will see you in a second, would you like to have a coffee or tea while you wait?” she asks, walking you over to a waiting area with comfortable looking couches and massive paintings on the walls.
“Uh, no thank you, I’m good,” you shoot her a shy smile and she nods before walking back to her desk near the elevators.
Pursing your lips you look around and decide to drop your bag and folder to one of the couches before taking a better look at the paintings. With your arms folded over your chest you squint your eyes looking at the first one, trying to make out what it’s supposed to be picturing.
All of them seem extremely abstract, minimal color schemes to fit the design of the office and while they look sophisticated and expensive, you’re still looking for the meaning behind the patterns. You get so into the decoding that you start tilting your head to the sides, a frown etched over your face and you don’t even realize when someone joins you in your examination.
“I think they look like birds,” a male voice with a heavy British accent speaks up behind you, making you jump, your heart racing in your chest as you turn around with wide eyes and finding yourself facing the most handsome man you’ve ever laid your eyes on.
He is tall, broad shoulders and a muscular build paired with a charming smile that’s already making it hard for you to think straight. The fitted suit he is wearing must be designer and the massive rings adorning his fingers are also subtle reminders of his wealth. His appearance is oozing confidence and power, there’s no doubt he knows what he is doing and he is good at it too.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” he chuckles softly at your reaction. “I’m Harry Styles and you must be Y/N Y/L/N, right?”
Holding out a hand he smiles at you warmly as you slip yours into his, the touch of his palm sending a shiver down your spine. He’s got a firm hold, but not the kind with which someone would try to dominate you. It’s more like a reflection of his strong personality.
“Yes I am. It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Styles,” you manage to speak up despite your awe, though your voice sounded thinner and weaker than you intended it to be.
“Please, call me just Harry,” he asks you, his hand letting yours go and you love how his words are dripping from his accent. “Follow me into my office and we can get down to business,” he gestures towards the door and nodding you gather your stuff from the couch, rushing after him while trying to get your thoughts straight so you don’t make a complete fool out of yourself during this meeting.
His office matches the rest of the building, it’s modern and clean in every way, one full wall covered with floor-to-ceiling windows, gifting you with an incredible view of the city.
“Please, take a seat,” he gestures towards the couch and armchairs with a coffee table in the left side of the room instead of approaching his desk. You opt to sit on one end of the couch, not sure where he’ll sit, and after dropping your bag next to you, you place the folder onto the coffee table, trying not to cringe at how ridiculous it looks compared to basically everything in the room.
“Can I offer you a drink?” he asks and you see him standing by what seems like mini bar, it’s got that typical crystal set wit the amber colored liquid in it that very much appears to be whiskey and your eyes involuntarily wander over to the clock on the wall, checking that it’s ten in the morning and he’s offering you alcohol. Harry catches your reaction and lets out a chuckle, opening the built-in mini fridge underneath that’s got all kinds of non-alcoholic drinks as well.
“I know it’s too early for whiskey, I’ve got other choices as well.”
“I’m good, thank you,” you breathe out a chuckle, shaking your head. Nodding he grabs himself a bottle of water and pours some into a glass before walking over to join you, deciding to sit on the other end of the couch.
“Thank you so much for coming in, the last few designers I connected with could only squeeze me in weeks later,” he chuckles and taking a sip from the water he sets the glass down on the table before placing an ankle over his knee, giving you his undivided attention.
“My schedule is not that full at the moment,” you clear your throat and what you meant by that is that you’re free all the time. But he doesn’t need to know that.
“Lucky for me, I guess,” he smirks, his eyes wandering over to the folder and you expect him to comment on it, but he just keeps smiling before nodding. “So, where should we start?”
“Um, I brought my portfolio, I know Bianca suggested me without anything to show, so I thought you might want to see some of my works,” you explain, taking the folder from the table and laying it to your lap you open and start roaming through, trying to figure out what to show him first. “I have some digital plans I’ve done and some actual ones that I was able to create. I don’t know how much B told you, but I used to work at Ikea.”
Just as you say it out loud you regret it, your previous job at Ikea does not sound too prestigious and respected, but now you can’t take it back. Clearing your throat you hand him the booklet that has your digital works, seemingly he didn’t have a problem with your slip about Ikea, so you just move on.
“I like to try myself out in different styles, though of course I have favorites.”
Harry starts to flip through the booklet, taking his time examining the pictures in it before glancing up at you for a moment.
“And what are your favorites?”
“I’m… I’m a fan of everything vintage. My taste is more of a maximalist, if we want to categorize it, I like mixing different styles and being creative.”
Interior design is truly your passion. You chose this as your career because it’s the only thing you see yourself doing even decades later and you always wanted a job that was also kind of a hobby as well.
You don’t notice it, but Harry is watching you in awe as you talk so openly about your work. It’s rare he sees someone be so passionate and in love with what brings them money and seeing you be that person is like a breath of fresh air.
“And do you have a favorite project?” he asks and he doesn’t miss the shine in your eyes as you nod with a shy smile and pull out another booklet. You flip through it until you find the section that’s dedicated to your parents’ weekend house you worked on a few years ago. Handing it over to Harry he doesn’t even need to ask you to tell him more about it.
“Growing up we spent almost every summer here. My mother inherited it and my parents decided to renovate it fully a few years ago. I wanted it to keep its charm and all the memories we have, but also get it into shape.”
“Do you have any photos of what it looked like before?” he asks and suddenly you realize it’s something you should have included in the portfolio. Harry catches how your face falls and somehow reads your expression perfectly. “I wasn’t expecting it to be included, don’t worry. I’m just curious about what parts you kept.”
“I have a few on my phone,” you breathe out, pulling your phone out of your bag. Frantically swiping back you find some old photographs from your childhood, you digitized them for your an anniversary gift for your parents last year, now they come in handy.
Without a second thought you scoot closer to him on the couch and show him the screen where you swipe through the handful of photos.
“I convinced my mom to keep the hardwood floors and the wallpapers needed to be changed, but I managed to hunt down the exact same design, so it’s new but also old,” you smile, you’re pretty proud of it, took you weeks to find it and you drove to the next state to get it yourself. “We kept a lot of the furniture in the living room, I just gave them a little makeover and I kept almost everything in the same place as before.”
The pictures also feature you and your brother as kids, as well as your parents’ younger version. Though you’ve changed quite a lot throughout the years, people always tell you how easy it is to recognize you in older photos. Harry notices as well. The last one you’re showing is of the back porch and you’re sitting on the stairs, your hair is a mess and you’re wearing a yellow sundress, one you loved wearing at the time as much as possible. You have an ice-cream in your hand and some of it is smudged around your mouth as you smile at the camera. Faintly, but you remember this day and the moment your mother snapped this particular picture. It was the last day of summer and she tried to get your mood up with the ice-cream so you wouldn’t be too blue about going home in the morning.
“I assume that’s you, right?” Harry asks, pointing at your younger self on the screen.
“Yes,” you let out an airy chuckle.
“The house looked incredible before, but I truly love what you did with it too,” he then continues, switching back to business. “I can see why it’s your favorite project.”
“Thank you,” you reply, your cheeks heating up from the compliment.
The two of you go over some more projects, Harry seems to be interested in anything and everything you say, he is impressed by what you’re showing him and as the minutes go by you slowly loosen up in his presence.
“So, what do you think?” you ask, when you get to the end of your portfolio, booklets and pictures splattered over the coffee table in front of you.
“I love what you showed me and I think that Bianca did not lie when she told me you’re the best I could find,” he smiles at you with that charm you’ve been feeling ever since you laid your eyes on him. “I had plenty of questions, now I assume you might want to ask me a few.”
“Well, B didn’t tell me much about the project you want to work on. Can you tell a bit more about that?”
“Of course. I just bought a new home and learning from my past experience it might be a better idea to furnish it with someone who knows what they’re doing,” he says with a smile that definitely hides a story, but you only have guesses what it meant. “It’s completely bare, I only have a few things I want to bring with me from my current place.”
“Do you have a budget?” you ask, and grabbing your notepad from your bag you start scribbling notes down. Harry smiles as he shakes his head no.
“No budget. Don’t worry about the money.”
Your hand that’s holding the pen stops in motion as you glance up at him, making sure you heard that right before crossing over the word “budget” in your notes.
“I have a few ideas, but I’m open to basically anything and judging from what you showed me, I know I would like anything you come up with,” he smiles. Standing up he walks over to his desk and awakening his laptop he clicks a few times before glancing up at you. “Y/N, if you’re free, I would love to give you the project.”
It surprises you. how fast he decided and didn’t even ask for time to think about it and hear out other designers. He can see the shock on your face and walking back he sits on the couch again.
“I love what you showed me, I can tell you’d take it seriously and put your heart into it. There’s nothing else I need, Y/N. I’ve only met two designers at this point and neither of them caught my attention like you did. I don’t want to waste my and your time. So, if you’re available, I’m open to start whenever you’re free.”
“I uhh–I’m definitely available and I’d be honored to take the project, Mr–erm, Harry.”
“Great, then I’ll handle the documentation, if you’re fine with that and we can meet for a more in-depth meeting, I assume you have more questions for me.”
“Yeah, I do. And it’s perfectly fine by me.”
“Amazing. As much as I would love to stretch this meeting longer, I have a call in a few minutes, I’m very sorry. But my assistant will get in contact with you about the rest.”
Nodding you quickly gather your portfolio and stuff it back into the folder in a frenzy, not wanting to make Harry late in any way, though he doesn’t seem to be in a rush. As you stand you hold the folder to your chest and follow Harry towards the door.
“Thank you so much for your time, it was a pleasure and I can’t wait to see you again,” he smiles at you as he opens the door for you and walks you out to the elevators. “If I’m correct you live with Bianca, right?”
“Yes, we share an apartment,” you nod.
“Well, when you get home and meet her, please thank her for bringing us together. It’s not the first time she helped me out and she always has a solution for me.”
“She is just that good,” you chuckle in agreement. The elevator arrives and the doors slide open.
“Thank you again, Y/N. I’ll see you soon.” Reaching into his suit jacket’s inner pocket he pulls out a business card and hands it over to you. “Call me if you have any questions, anytime.”
“Thank you,” you nod, slipping the card into your bag.
“Have a nice day, Y/N,” he calls after you as you walk into the elevator and turning around you face him one last time.
“You too, Harry,” you breathe out as the doors close and you’re taken down.
When Harry said you’d meet soon to go over your further questions you imagined that you’d have to come into his office again. Yet, now you’re just about to meet him at his current place, it’s six in the evening, definitely after business hours, so you’re a bit thrown off by it.
His current home is not far from the office building and of course, it’s just as luxurious as you expected and you can only imagine where he is moving from here.
The doorman greets you with a bright smile and when you say you’re here to see Harry, he doesn’t question who you are, just walks you over to the elevators and pushes the button for the 45th floor. Harry must have told him he was expecting a guest and for some reason it fills you with excitement, just the thought of Harry talking about you.
The elevator takes you up so fast, it’s like you teleported to his floor and when the doors slide open you’re met with a hall with two doors. Just as you step out the door on the right opens and Harry appears, no suit, just a pair of simple jeans and a black t-shirt that bares his tattooed arm you couldn’t see last time. It’s like a whole different version of him, but the warm smile he flashes you ensures he is the same man you met a few days ago.
“Y/N, hi! Come on in!” he invites you inside, holding the door open.
“Hi, thank you,” you return the smile and walking past him, you enter his private space.
It’s a modern looking, spacious apartment with a similarly amazing view of the city as his office, lots of big windows, a simple, but luxurious looking interior design, and it makes you think about what he said about his current place and how it was furnished and designed.
“Thank you for being so flexible about the time, I just simply could not fit in another meeting during the day and since I thought you might want to see the things I want to bring with myself, this seemed to be the best solution,” he explains as the two of you walk further into the apartment. It’s spotless and tidy, he definitely keeps his home organized, or has someone to do it for him. “Do you want a drink maybe? It’s after business hours, so it could be alcoholic, right?” he chuckles and you follow him into the open concept kitchen.
“Just maybe a water, please,” you smile. It’s not that you don’t drink, you just don’t trust yourself when drinking, especially around Harry.
“Alright, a water coming right away,” he nods, smirking as he opens the massive fridge. “Could you find a parking spot somewhere near? I forgot to tell you to use the garage, I have a few extra spots.”
“Oh, I don’t have a car,” you tell him and he gives you a surprised look. “I usually take the subway.”
“You’re not planning to go home by that as well, right? It’s gonna be dark out there.”
“I don’t have many other choices, I can’t really finance a cab drive every time I need to be somewhere.”
He grabs a bottled water and just nods to himself, though you can see the gears turning in his head. He pours some water into a glass and hands it to you, before suggesting to take a seat in the living room.
“Is this the interior design you did?” you ask, taking a look around. It’s not what you think would suit him, but it’s not as bad as he made it appear to be.
“Oh, no. It’s… I shared this place with my ex-girlfriend,” he tells you and your ears perk up at the personal detail he just shared.
“Ah, I see,” you hum, taking a sip from your water, pretending not to be dying to know more about him.
“The design was redone by her, so it’s all her style. We broke up a few months ago and neither of us wants to stay here. She moved out already and I’m staying just until the new place is being finished.”
“You didn’t have a saying in the design?”
“Not really. I mostly didn’t have the time to care about it and she willingly took the project into her hands. Unfortunately, or maybe fortunately I don’t have any photos of the before,” he adds with a cheeky smile.
Following some chit-chatting you get down to business. You have tons of questions for Harry and he answers them all willingly. He also shows you the floorplan of the new place, arranging another meeting already so you can check it out in real life.
Hours pass by and the picture gets clearer with each crumb of information you learn about him. The project now definitely has some stronger points you can lean onto when you’ll build up the whole plan. Time flies and the next time you look at your phone to check how long you can stay without feeling like you overstayed your welcome, you realize it’s past eleven.
“Oh God, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to bother you for this long,” you snap out of your comfort.
“You did not bother, it didn’t even feel like work,” he chuckles.
“I’m glad you enjoyed it,” you smile sheepishly as you start packing your stuff. “Can I use the restroom before I leave?”
“Of course. First door on the right down the hallway,” he instructs you.
Quickly finishing your business you take a moment to smooth out the wrinkles on your clothes and fix your hair before walking back out. Harry is now standing with his phone in hands, smiling when he looks up at you.
“Alright, I’ll head out then,” you exhale, grabbing your stuff from the couch.
“I ordered you a car already.”
“What?” you ask with wide eyes.
“I can’t just let you go home alone so late. Please, I insist!”
“Harry, you don’t have to–”
“Yeah, but I certainly want to. It’ll be here in a few minutes, I’ll walk you down.”
“Okay,” you nod, accepting defeat as the two of you walk out to the elevators. “At least let me pay for the ride.”
“Absolutely no way.”
The way he said that leaves no place for protesting so you keep your mouth shut and just go with it.
“I can’t wait to see what you come up with, Y/N. First amount will be forwarded to you by the end of the week, okay?” he says as the two of you arrive at the downstairs lobby of the building.
“Oh, yeah, that’s perfectly fine,” you nod. The amount Harry insisted on paying you when you negotiated the costs earlier is about three times of what you originally thought about and he didn’t budge when you offered to lower it. He said your time and knowledge are worth this money and he would feel bad if he didn’t pay the right amount.
He also told you the first third of the payment would be completed by the end of the week when you sign the papers and it seems like he’ll definitely keep his word.
A car parks down right in front of the building as you step outside, Harry opening the door for you like a true gentleman.
“Thank you for everything, Y/N. Have a great night and I’ll see you soon,” he smiles as you’re about to get into the car.
“Thank you too. See you soon,” you nod with a shy smile. He shuts the door when you’re inside and he waves after you once the driver starts driving to the address you just told him.
Over the course of the next week you spend every waking moment working on this project. Your room turns into a full time office as well as 80% of the dining table. The remaining space is just enough so Bianca can eat her breakfast in the morning while you’re already working before she even leaves.
You want everything to be perfect, down to the smallest bit. The trust Harry has placed in you is something you simply can’t afford to waste, this is the base of your business. If he likes your work he might recommend you to some of his friends or partners and you can build a clientele then.
You’re more nervous when you present your plan to Harry than you were at your last college exam. You made a board, several digital designs, floorplans and basically anything that could help him visualize what you had in mind.
He loves it. All of it.
When you ask him if there’s anything he would want to change he can’t bring a thing up.
“I’m blown away, Y/N. It’s perfect, really,” he tells you and it feels like every weight you’ve been carrying on your shoulders is now lifted and you can finally breathe.
So then starts the actual, physical work.
Harry is willing to pay any amount to get things done as fast as possible, so you get him the best team to do the needed construction work in his new penthouse. In just a couple of days you get the base of the home to the level where you can start with the designing as well.
It’s a Friday evening when you’re still at the penthouse, working on arranging some decoration on the massive built-in shelves in the living room, the workers have already finished for the day so it’s just you in your yoga pants and an oversized shirt that’s one of your most comfortable ones, definitely not an outfit you’d normally meet with anyone besides Bianca, probably.
So when you hear the elevator doors open, signaling that someone has arrived, you jump in surprise. With a vase in one hand and your printed digital design of the shelving in the other you watch Harry walk in, carrying a takeout bag along with his laptop bag.
“Sorry to drop by unannounced, but I was in the neighborhood and thought I would check out how things are going,” he smiles as you put the vase down and shove the print back into the stack on the coffee table that arrived just earlier that day.
“It’s your house, you can come and go whenever you want,” you tell him, wiping your palms into your pants as he walks up to you. He must have come from work, he’s wearing his usual fitted suit in royal blue this time, and he looks ridiculously good, as always. You kind of want to dig yourself a hole, looking like this next to him, but it doesn’t seem to be bothering him at all as he places the bag to the coffee table, looking around with an excited smirk adorning his handsome features.
“I could give you a tour,” you offer, folding your arms over your chest.
“Do you want me to see it half-done?”
“Well… my original plan was to show it to you when it’s fully done,” you admit and that’s all he needed.
“Alright, then I’ll just stay right here. I brought food, have you eaten?”
“Uh, I had a sandwich in the afternoon…”
“Then I’ll take it as a no,” he smiles, moving over to the massive couch that’s already put together in the living room area, luckily.
“Harry, there’s no need–” you try to protest, but as always, he cuts you off again.
“No need, but I want to. Come on, I haven’t been able to consult with you properly all week, so we can catch up.”
He brought some Italian, and it seems like he was expecting to find you here, because he brought food enough for two people. Since there aren’t any plates or cutlery yet, you eat straight from the box with the wooden forks the restaurant packed for the order.
“You’re working extremely fast, Y/N. I’m surprised I’m seeing this much progress to be honest,” he comments, digging into his pasta.
“You said you want it done as soon as possible,” you shrug.
“When do you think you’ll be done with everything?”
Taking a deep breath you look around as you go over everything that needs to be finished. There’s not much left, but some of the furniture will be delivered only next week, so you have to wait for those.
“I would say… next weekend.” Harry’s eyebrows rise at your estimation and then it’s followed by a nod of appreciation.
“Y/N, you impress me every day. But I don’t want you to overwork yourself, it’s past eight in the evening and you’re still here. No one is expecting you to be home on time?”
“Only Bianca,” you admit with a chuckle. “But she is a workaholic too, so she might not even notice my absence.”
“Just your roommate? No dates?” You can’t help but scoff at his question.
“Exactly. No dates.”
Ever since you parted ways with Vincent you haven’t been in the mood to think about getting yourself out to the dating field and then you didn’t even have time to think about it, putting every free hour of your life into this project.
“That sounded like you had some not too pleasant experiences,” he hums, peeking at you curiously.
“Let’s just say, that a certain guy ruined my willingness to enter the dating scene again for a while.”
“Well, I apologize in the name of every male, then,” he says, hoping to earn at least a tiny smile, and it happens, so he feels like he succeeded. “So, I never asked how you know Bianca.”
“We went to the same high school. She somehow befriended me, don’t ask me how it happened and then we ended up going to the same college, moved in together and we haven’t been able to let go of each other since then.”
“So you have quite the history together, huh?”
“I guess you could say that,” you nod with a chuckle. “How about you?”
“How do I know Bianca?”
“Yeah.”
You never asked her this detail, but now you definitely want to know if they have hooked up before, because then you’ll force yourself to never even think about Harry outside of business thoughts. You respect the Girl Code.
“We met at a conference about two years ago. Somehow got into a conversation and I was in need of some legal help around that time, so she recommended me her boss. We kept in touch, I often go to their firm when I need the help of some outsiders, since I have my own legal team at the company, but it’s nice to get some fresh people involved in some projects.”
“Ah, I see,” you nod, processing the information.
“Not what you expected to hear?” he asks with a smirk as he tilts his head.
“Well, it’s just that some of B’s connections… she tends to make them in unorthodox ways,” you try to explain, in no way meaning to judge your friend.
“We never hooked up, if that’s what you meant by that,” he chuckles and heat crawls up your neck to your cheeks and ears. “We’re strictly friends, sometimes business partners. That’s it.”
“Alright, I have no judgment at all.”
He smiles before returning his attention to his food. You eat in silence for a while before he breaks it next.
“So, do you have a next project after this one?”
“Erm, no, not really,” you admit. You feel like you can be honest with him at this point and drop the professional act. “You are actually my first client, so I’m not quite popular just yet.”
“I’m your first client?” he asks with genuine shock on his face.
“Yeah, I recently quit my job at Ikea. I was a designer for the displays, you know, those fake rooms and little apartments you see on the first floor.”
“You worked on those? You designed them?”
“Yes,” you nod with a soft chuckle. “But I knew I didn’t want to do it for too long and then I had an argument with my boss and got fed up so I quit before coming up with a plan. Bianca said she’d help me out and that’s when you came into the picture.”
“I wouldn’t have thought you just started it. You work so fast and efficiently, I mean it’s obvious you haven’t been doing this for a decade, but you didn’t come off as a rookie.”
This is the best compliment he could give you. You feared possible clients wouldn’t take you seriously because you were just starting the business, but if Harry thought that upon meeting you, it seems like you had nothing to worry about.
“So, no next project then?”
“Not yet,” you shake your head.
“Well… I have news for you then.”
Your eyes widen as you look up at him, a cheeky grin stretched across his face as he places his food box down to the table to give you his undivided attention, so you do the same, unsure what he’s about to tell you.
“If you agree to do it, I want you to design the new office we’re opening soon for the marketing department. They are moving into a separate building, because we plan to eventually turn it into an independent agency, and I have discussed it with the board and we would love to give the project to you.”
“What?!” you breathe out in disbelief. “I-I don’t—that’s… Harry, you don’t have to do it just because I don’t have anything else after this.”
“Up until a minute ago I didn’t know that,” he points out with a warm smile. “And I actually had no power over the decision. I presented your portfolio along with two others I chose, no names, no nothing, they just voted on which one they liked the best. Yours won.”
You stare back at him, total loss of words as you wrap your head around the news you just received. Doing the penthouse was already a good start, but designing a whole office building would skyrocket you into more and more projects, there’s no doubt. And you didn’t even have to ask for Harry’s help, he did it voluntarily.
Touched by the gesture, you can’t stop yourself before you throw your arms around him and hug him tight. Your reaction surprises him at first, but a moment later he wraps his arms around you as well, pulling you close to him.
Then you realize that it might have crossed a line, so you pull back, clearing your throat.
“Sorry… I just… thank you, Harry. Really,” you breathe out, fixing yourself up quickly.
“No need to thank me. You’re good at what you do, it’s a fact.”
You stop yourself from thanking him over and over again, but your look says it all. And that’s enough for Harry.
You finish the penthouse in time and have the big reveal just like you planned it. Harry’s jaw is on the floor the whole time you walk him through his new home, showing him every tiny detail you put into the project with him on your mind.
It’s perfect from the bottom to the top and though Harry was already impressed by your work, now he is completely blown and he keeps telling you that as you wrap up the paperwork to end the project, however you both know it’s not the end of your work together, because meetings about the office building are starting next week.
“What are you doing tonight, Y/N?” he asks when you’re just about to leave.
“Uh, probably just gonna watch a movie with Bianca,” you chuckle, shrugging.
“Would you two like to join me and some of my friends for some drinks? I have a table reserved at my favorite place and I would love to thank you for your work here.”
“No need to thank, you already paid for it,” you add chuckling.
“But this deserves more,” he gestures around, his eyes trailing to the massive windows watching over the city, one of your favorite thing about the place, even though you had nothing to do with that. “And Bianca deserves a thank you for recommending you to me too. Please, be my guests for this one night.”
“Okay,” you breathe out, unable to resist his charm. You’re convinced he could make you do anything with just a few looks and a smile.
“Great,” he beams and pulls you into a hug when you reach the elevator. “I’ll text you the details and I’ll see you tonight!”
“Bye, Harry,” you nod as the two of you part and you step into the elevator, staring at each other until the doors slide closed.
Just a couple of hours later you find yourself at a bar you would probably never go to if it was your choice, it’s obviously way too high end to you, but Harry made it clear no one is spending money tonight except him.
Bianca made you wear a dress you’ve been keeping in your closet for probably years. You never felt the confidence to wear it, finding it too revealing for your appearance, but tonight you changed your mind and took the risk.
Walking into the bar you throw one last look at your reflection in the mirrors lining the walls, the dress wraps around your body way tighter than what you’re used to, making it impossible to hide your true figure. For a moment you second guess your choice and contemplate going back home and changing, but it’s too late for that. At least your cleavage looks good, thanks to your best bra you chose to wear for tonight.
Harry spots you from across the place and his lips part as he watches you approach him, barely even noticing Bianca next to you, which is quite a rare occurrence. You’re not typically the one to be in the center of attention, but you definitely are when it comes to Harry.
“Wow, ladies, you both look amazing!” he compliments, kissing Bianca’s cheeks in a friendly manner before he turns to you and pulls you into a hug for your surprise. The way his hand slides over your spine and down to the small of your back makes your knees turn into jelly, but you manage to stay stood.
“Thank you,” you breathe out as you let go of each other. He is wearing another pair of fitted pants and a white shirt without a jacket this time, the first few buttons undone on his shirt, revealing part of his chest and the necklace you’ve caught a glimpse of before.
You join the circle of his friends, everyone seems incredibly friendly and open and you try your best to remember the names. Drinks keep coming whenever you finish one, but you keep it slow and steady, not wanting to make a fool out of yourself. Throughout the night you catch Harry’s eyes lingering on you several times and you just nervously smile at him before averting your gaze.
“Someone is into you,” Bianca teases you leaning closer so only you can hear her words.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” you shake your head, taking the straw of your drink into your mouth and sipping on it to keep yourself busy. Why would he be into you when there are several prettier and thinner women around. It’s hard for you to believe that someone would took interest in you when Bianca is sitting right next to you.
“I’m gonna go to the bathroom, be right back,” you let B know as you stand from the table and head to the restrooms.
When you’re washing your hand, you take a good look at yourself in the mirror. The outfit makes you feel exposed and you can’t help but spot everything you’d want to change on yourself. Think about how much better you’d look in it if you lost a few pounds, if your arms were thinner and your tummy flatter.
You force yourself to stop before you lose all of your confidence, so turning away from your reflection you head out to return to the table and numb your thoughts with the conversation going on and preferably some more drinks.
As you walk past the bar you almost trip and fall when you spot a familiar face sitting on one of the stools. Vincent is nursing a drink just a few feet away from you, but he’s not alone. There’s a tall, thin woman next to him, one hand on the counter, the other one on his thigh, suggestively scratching her nails over the inside of it.
It’s obvious she is either the woman he intended to send the picture to or maybe another hookup he kept while dating you. Your heart drops seeing the way he looks at her, because you never saw a hunger this kind in his eyes when you were with him. He’s almost devouring her with just his looks and it feels like you’re being stabbed in the chest.
You want to leave, from the bar, from the face of Earth before he notices you, but you’re out of luck. Vincent spots you, a surprised look on his face as you look away in an instant and try to escape, only to bump against a hard, muscular chest.
“Everything alright?” Harry’s hand come to your arms to steady you. He saw you look upset and wanted to check in on you, but now as he sees your expression from up close he is even more worried.
“Yeah, I mean no—I just…” you stutter and before you could give him an explanation, Vincent walks up to the two of you.
“Y/N?”
“Fuck,” you mumble before turning to face him. “Vin, hi!”
“I saw you, but thought it’s not quite a place you like to come to, so I wasn’t sure.”
“You’re right, it’s not my usual place, so I guess that’s why you’re here with someone,” you snicker back, surprising not just Vincent, but yourself with the venom your tone carried. Harry doesn’t need more to realize who he is facing right now, the anger crawling up his spine is hard to control as he thinks about what Vincent could possibly do to hurt you.
But he manages to put it aside and out of the blue he takes the lead. He curls an arm around your waist, pulling you to his side as he flashes a sweet, sugarcoated smile at Vincent.
“I think we haven’t had the chance to meet yet. I’m Harry,” he holds out a hand for him and Vincent is seemingly shocked by the scene, his eyes keep snapping to Harry’s hold on your waist.
“Um, Vincent. Are you two together or something?”
You open your mouth, but Harry beats you with the answer.
“Yes. And I’m the luckiest guy in the city she chose me,” he says, eyes meeting yours as the words roll off his tongue. “Seems like you know her well, so then you know she is the absolute best, right?”
There’s something passive aggressive in his tone, something threatening as he stares back at Vincent who for sure can feel how far behind he is compared to Harry.
The woman from the bar walks over to Vincent and wraps around him like a clingy koala bear, eyeing you with a challenging look, she doesn’t even try to introduce herself.
“I’m getting bored, babe,” she whines to Vincent and you can’t stop yourself from rolling your eyes.
“Not gonna keep you up longer, we have some celebrating to do too,” Harry smiles at them, squeezing you to his side. “It was nice meeting you two, whatever your names are,” he shrugs as he simply pulls you away and your eyes widen at his last comment, but don’t say a word, just walk away with him.
But instead of returning to the table he walks you out to back of the place where people usually disappear to have a smoke. When he finds a peaceful corner, he turns to face you.
“It was him, right?”
“Yes,” you nod, feeling the tears stinging the back of your eyes.
“What did he do exactly?”
“He… He sent me a picture of the lingerie he bought for some other girl, maybe that was her, I don’t know. I just know it wasn’t meant for me, because… Because the sizing definitely couldn’t fit me.”
It feels like you’re dipping yourself in acid, admitting it all to Harry and talking about your insecurities to him. And now that you started, you want to unload more of what you’ve been keeping bottled inside.
“I mean, I would choose her over me too. He would be stupid to settle with me when he can get women like her,” you chuckle bitterly, and it’s the last straw for Harry.
“That’s it, you’re coming home with me, we’re gonna get things straight in that pretty head of yours,” he says and taking your hand he pulls you back inside.
It all happens so fast, Harry tells the rest of the group that the two of you are leaving and before you could even get a word out, you’re sitting in his car, on your way to his place.
When you arrive he helps you out of the car, his hand wrapping around yours and he doesn’t let go as you cross the lobby of the building, marching up to the elevator. The way up to the penthouse is silent, but only verbally. Harry’s hand remains wrapped around yours, his thumb keeps brushing over the back of your hand, squeezing it from time to time. You can’t tell what’s gonna happen now, not after the evening and the shocking turn it took, but you know you wouldn’t be anywhere else now.
The elevator arrives and the doors slide open, Harry’s familiar home welcomes you. The lights are out and you expect him to turn them on, but he just pulls you inside in the dark, towards the windows that are now showing you the incredible night sky of the city. Without a word Harry walks you to the window and then stops, turning you towards the sight, standing behind you.
“Tell me what you see, Y/N,” he then says, his voice coming from right next to your ear, sending a shiver down your spine.
“I see the city. The buildings, the lights…” you softly answer, eyes glued to the picture in front of you, while your mind keeps circling back to his close proximity.
“Do you find it beautiful?”
“Yes,” you nod shortly and involuntarily lean back, your backside meeting his chest, but instead of pulling away you stay. What’s more, his hands find your waist, the warm touch of his palms reminding you of what it felt like when he pulled you into his hold when you were talking to Vincent.
“Now take a better look. Do you find anything you don’t like in this sight?”
“Yes,” you answer again.
“Tell me, what are these things?” You feel his nose brushing against your hair and you almost instantly forget his question biting back a moan, his front still pressed against your back.
“I see… I see chimneys and messy rooftops… some graffiti…” It’s hard to focus, but you keep your eyes on the skyline and try to find more things that aren’t that beautiful. “I see into a few messy rooms through the windows…”
“It’s not perfect, right?” he hums, his fingers gently stroking your waist as he talks.
“No,” you shake your head.
“But it’s still beautiful, something you admire and love looking at, right, Y/N?”
As the words roll off his tongue you realize what it’s about, your breath hitching as your heart starts racing. Harry notices the change in you and his hands squeeze your waist to earn your attention back.
“Yes,” you breathe out, barely more than just a whisper.
“Stay right here,” he tells you and a moment later he disappears from behind you, your body instantly aching to feel his closeness again. You hear his footsteps move away from you and a few seconds later he turns all the lights on. The sudden brightness turns the windows into mirrors, the city lights fading as the inside of the penthouse appears in front of you mirrored, along with your standing figure. Your eyes spot Harry walking back to you until he takes his previous spot, but this time he keeps his hands to himself as his gaze catches yours in the mirror.
“You’re beautiful, Y/N. When I look at you, I see the most breathtaking woman I’ve ever laid my eyes on and I want you to see this beauty too. Look at yourself,” he tells you and you force your focus to move to yourself. “Do you see things on yourself that you don’t like?”
“Yes,” you answer right away.
“But that doesn’t mean you’re not beautiful. All those things make you who you are and when you see it as a whole, you shouldn’t see them, only the beauty.”
Your lips tremble and tears are dwelling in your eyes. No one has ever said anything like this to you and even if someone did, you wouldn’t have believed. But with Harry, you know he meant every single word. You’ve been battling with your looks for so long, beating yourself up for not being pretty enough, thin enough, attractive enough, making yourself believe that no one would ever look at you like you’ve seen other girls being looked at. The envy, jealousy and hurt you had to deal with your whole life never let you see yourself as Harry made you.
“Hey,” he softly murmurs, turning you around when he sees your teary eyes. He takes your face in his palms, worried he might have said something that hurt you. “Talk to me, did I say something that upset you?”
“No,” you breathe out, your hands coming up to wrap around his wrists as you finally look up into his eyes. “I just… You meant it?”
“All of it,” he answers without hesitation. “Do you want to know what I thought when I first saw you?” he asks with a tiny, cheeky smile as he wipes your tears away with his thumbs, his hands remain holding your face.
“At your office?”
“Yeah. I walked out and you were standing there, staring at the art on the wall, your head tilted as you were trying to make out the painting. You wore that dress and I just took a few moments, staring at you, because I was in awe. I thought… I thought wow! This woman could easily be the end of me and she hasn’t even looked at me!”
You can’t help but laugh at how he recalls his thoughts and the sound of it is making his heart soar.
“That first time, I had to try so hard to stay professional and not make it obvious how attracted I was to you. The way you talked about renovating your parents’ weekend house, I was drinking up every word, you talked so passionately and it just made me fall for you even more.”
“I was so fucking nervous,” you admit, leaning into his touch.
“Yeah?” he chuckles softly. “I made you nervous?” he asks with a hint of pride in his words.
“Of course,” you nod. “I saw you and then… I wanted to be professional so you’d choose me, but I was also very into you at the same time.”
“Really? So you wouldn’t have minded if I flirted with you?”
“No, but I would have probably turned into a giggling little girl,” you admit grinning.
“I’m sure I would have loved it,” he hums and leaning closer he nudges his nose against yours, your whole body buzzing to be touched and worshipped by him or at least you need him to kiss you before you pass out from excitement. “I’m sorry your ex made you upset tonight, it’s not what I planned.”
“He’s not my ex,” you correct him.
“How come?”
“He never wanted to be in a committed relationship with me, I guess I was never good enough for him,” you tell him with a shrug, your hands moving from his wrists to his waist where you fist his shirt, wrinkling the expensive fabric, but you couldn’t care less.
Harry doesn’t like this answer. At all. The thought of you with Vincent was driving him crazy all evening, but now that he knows he treated you like this is just the last straw. Vincent is lucky he is not around, because Harry wouldn’t be able to hold himself back and not punch him in the face.
Growling, he slides his hands from your cheeks to your neck, tilting your head up by the chin with his thumbs so you’re staring right up at him. Your lips part and Harry’s eyes are mesmerized by the view of having you like this, in his hold.
“Let me show you what you deserve, baby,” he breathes out before the dam breaks.
Hunger takes over him and he presses his lips against yours as if his life depended on it. His kiss is demanding and heated, but you’re returning it with just as much enthusiasm, the feel of his perfect lips against yours seals the weeks worth of pining that’s behind you. Like two puzzle pieces, you click perfectly and the moan that bubbles from your chest when his tongue pushes past your lips destroys the last bits of Harry’s self-control.
His hands move from your neck, fingers brushing against the swell of your breasts before they reach your waist and dig into the soft flesh, pulling you flush against him while he keeps kissing you, claiming your lips as his.
One hand remains on your waist, while the other moves to your ass and he wastes no time taking a handful of it, squeezing and feeling the curve of it up shamelessly. He loves how it fits perfectly into his palm, it’s so soft and bounces with every movement.
You circle your arms around his waist, nails scratching his back over the fabric of his shirt and you wish there was nothing between your palm and his skin. When his lips move down to your jawline, then your throat, kissing and biting you on their way, he starts walking forward, backing you until your backside hits the cold glass of the window. Gasping your back arches and Harry uses the opportunity to bury his face into your breasts, giving in to the desire he felt every time his eyes wandered down to your cleavage in this dress throughout the night. He’s losing his mind, licking, kissing, biting and sucking your exposed skin wherever he can reach, inhaling your sweet scent that was intoxicating enough when he wasn’t this close to you.
The difference between how Harry is all over you and how Vincent treated you when you were intimate is astronomical. Normally your thoughts would be revolving around everything that could go wrong, how you might be looking, your flaws and imperfections that could ruin the experience, but they are now locked and forgotten in the back of your head.
Harry makes you feel so wanted like no one did before. You see the genuine passion and hunger in his eyes, all of it just for you and for once in your life, you feel confident enough to be fully present in the moment.
His right hand moves to your left thigh and he urges you to lift it up, his hold grabbing the back of your knee as his hips press against yours in a whole new and tighter way now, your soaking wet pussy rubbing against his thigh in this position.
His lips return to yours, kissing you like it’s been decades since the last time you locked lips, it’s impossible to tell where he ends and where you begin. He loves the feel of your breasts and tummy pressed against him, the way you’re involuntarily rolling your hips to create some friction for your pleasure, how you keep moaning when his hands touch you in a new area. He is convinced he is losing his mind, but if this is the way his life ends, then he’ll go as a happy man.
“You’re fucking perfect, Y/N. Inside and out. Let me show you just how much I love this body of yours! Let me show you your worth!” he begs, his words muffled against your lips, but you understand every single one and they make your core throb even more.
“Please!” is all you manage to get out, your own desires taking control over your mind and body.
Harry wastes no time. Pulling back he moves you away from the window just enough so he can reach the zipper of your dress at the back, the fabric instantly loosening around your form before falling to the floor. He steps back, his eyes roaming your body and you’ve never felt more exposed and vulnerable, people you’ve been with usually didn’t take the time to even take a good look at you and you got used to the rush that usually comes with sex. But Ha
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.
//
READ NOW ON PATREON ONLY! (link in bio or masterlist!)
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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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.
HI LOVIES. Please enjoy a Friday update on the Frat Boy universe. This one is a bit of a breather after the TUMULTUOUS ANGST of the last chappie. Shorter than my usual, but it’s all the chapter needed. Tons more y/n and Harry interaction on the way in the next! Have a safe and happy day loves xx
—————————————————————–
Things I want:
Live a life that helps others
Financial freedom
Experience a great love
Visit the the Pincio Gardens in Italy
To have more dreams and fewer nightmares
Doodle more
Acquire a first edition book, either because an old friendly man who owns an antique bookshop decides to give it to me in a bonding moment, or because I have accomplished #2 and I am celebrating being a Boss Bitch
To be happy
Please note: not necessarily in that order
It was taped above my desk, waiting for me to bring it in to the next session. I hesitated to write number 6. It was a dream I hardly entertained after committing my scholarly life to pursue medicine. I used to love to doodle. All the time. Since elementary school. I doodled so much my mom dedicated a wall in the house to my illustrations. She hung a sign above it that affectionately said “Y/N’s Doodles.” Seriously, you couldn’t get me to stop. Even if it was gross sappy sketches of my crush Billy who I would NEVER show on the playground at recess.
My doodling stopped how these things normally do. Because life grew busier than anything else, and the sketchpad and easel my dad had bought for me at a garage sale became ignored, collecting dust in the corner of my room. At some point, it’d become a year since I’d drawn anything, and then it was two, and three, and by this point I’d realized I was the one who’d need to create her own stability in life and medicine was the more logical fit. It wasn’t that I didn’t see the value in drawing anymore, I just had other things take up my time. It became a comfort just knowing I usedto draw. Paul had paved his way, and now I was on my way to do the same. At least with medicine, my soul felt fed. It was almost comfort enough.
Harry’s heart had been shattered since his phone call with Ashley, his head was all over the place, the one positive thing he had in his life and he had lost it. After another month of moping about in Europe he found his way back to England, visiting Bath in an attempt to regain some sense of normality. He was now back in London and it had never felt less like home, as he stepped into his house it didn’t feel at all like home. The memories of eating ice cream at 2am on his sofa with Ashley when she had her first heartbreak, the late night two person dance parties in the kitchen when they were barely adults, the time he showed her how he truly felt. It felt as though all these memories had faded from existence. He moped into the kitchen, spotting a pink piece of paper on the spotless kitchen counter, he picked it up, seeing a picture that could only have been drawn by Daisy, it was the three of them. When lockdown slowly started easing, Harry had asked Ashley to pop over to his house every so often to check it was okay, he assumed she must have left it then.
“Everything seems to be going the way I’d like it to.” Ashley’s health visitor assured her as she helped Ashley sit up properly. Since Ashley was now seven months pregnant she was becoming fearful that the baby would come early like Daisy did, she had organised several home visits from the midwifery team.
“So the baby’s not too small?” Ashley asked.
“Definitely not, the baby is nearly the same size Daisy was when she was born, so fingers crossed you’ll get the natural birth you hoped for last time.”
“That’s perfect thank you Dianne,” Ashley smiled as the doorbell rang, “Could you just pop your head round the curtain and see who that is?” Ashley asked.
“It’s a man, with lots of tattoos on his arm, holding a massive bunch of flowers.” Dianne told her, “Do you want me to let him in?”
“No thanks, he doesn’t know about the baby.” Ashley told her, she knew full well it was probably Harry, and she had no desire to see him.
Harry stood awkwardly on the step of Ashley’s house, holding the biggest bouquet of flowers he could find. The door was opened by an older lady, wearing a nurse’s uniform, “Where’s Ashley? Is she okay?” Harry whispered, all sorts of things running through his head.
“She’s fine, she just doesn’t want any visitors.” Dianne told him.
“But I need to make it up to her, I need to apologise.” Harry insisted.
“Sir, I’m afraid if you continue to be persistent I will have to call the police.” Dianne told him forcefully.
“Is everything okay?” Lou asked,walking up the road towards Ashlet’s house, she had been looking after Daisy while Dianne visited Ashley. Daisy stood beside her, holding her hand.
“Harry!” Daisy slipped her hand from Lou’s, running into his arms, “I missed you Harry, I’m a proper big girl now!” She exclaimed.
“I missed you too princess, it’s so good to see you,” Harry held her tight as a single tear rolled down his face.
“I don’t think this is a good idea Harry, if Ash sees-”
“I don’t see what the problem is Lou,” Harry replied.
“Sir, I’m going to have to ask you to let Daisy come inside and then I need you to leave.” Dianne insisted.
“What is going on? I have no clue who you are so why should I trust you with Daisy?” Harry replied.
Ashley was watching the commotion unfold from behind the curtain, she couldn’t watch it go on much longer, and she didn’t want the neighbours involving themselves. “Harry.” She said softly, appearing at the front door, he looked up at her, noticing the bump, and the look on her face.
“You’re pregnant?” His voice wobbled.
“Yeah I am, can we have this conversation inside? Lou, would Daisy be able to go back to yours for a bit?”
“Of course.” Lou smiled, taking Daisy from Harry’s arms.
The pair made their way into the living room, both aware of how difficult this conversation would be, “Why didn’t you tell me Ash?” Harry asked, placing the flowers on the side.
“I never really knew how to, you weren’t here, and part of me wanted to be sure that when you came back it would be for me, not for the baby.” Ashley told him.
“Did you not think I deserved to know?” Harry asked.
“Do you not think I deserved to have you by my side as I gave evidence against Will for beating me up after he found out about me and you?” Ashley replied bluntly.
“I know I messed up.”
“You can say that again.” Ashley remarked.
“You’re the most important thing in my life Ash, I need you more than anyone else.”
“It’s too late for that.” Ashley told him.
“But what about us? What about the baby?” Harry asked, “We’re good together Ash, you know that.”
“Are we though? We were together for two months, we barely spent any time together before I got pregnant, Daisy starts school in September, I can’t leave London just to follow you around the world.”
“I’m not asking you to do that Ash, I’m asking you for another chance.” Harry replied.
“We can’t be those people Harry,” Ashley told him, “You’ll still see the baby, you’ll still be their dad, I just can’t do this to myself, I can’t let myself love you more than I already do, only to be let down again. Whenever you’re in America all it does is drive a wedge between us.”
“What did you want me to do? Drop everything and come back?” Harry said.
“Yes Harry, because that is what being in a relationship comes down to. Sacrifice.” Ashley cried, “I think you need to leave now.”
“Before I go, who else knows about the baby?” Harry asked.
“Lou, Lottie, Niall and Louis.” Ashley whispered, knowing how much it would hurt him.
“So our mums don’t know?” Harry asked.
“No. Because I knew what would happen if they did.”
“I want you to know, you never have to worry about a custody battle, I don’t want to take a baby away from their mum.” Harry assured her.
“Goodbye Harry.”
“Goodbye Ash.” As Harry left Ashley’s house he felt as though he could crumble right there on the pavement outside her house, he loved Ashley in ways he had never loved anyone else and he didn’t want a life without her.
Harry had a habit of turning up at Gemma’s house unannounced when he was upset, there he stood on her doorstep as she opened the door to her brother with tear stained cheeks. “Come here H,” She wrapped her arms around him, rubbing his back as he sobbed into her shoulder.
“I’ve ruined everything Gem.” he cried.
“It can’t be that bad H,” she assured him.
“Ash is pregnant, and she doesn’t want me back, she doesn’t want to let herself get hurt again.” He told her.
“Oh Harry, come on, let’s get you a drink so you can explain properly.” She led him into the kitchen, taking a glass and pouring him some of Michael’s whiskey. “I’m lost, so Ash is pregnant?”
“When did you last see her?” Harry asked.
“It must have been the Brits, we had planned to have a picnic for Daisy’s birthday but she said she was unwell, so I guess that was because of the baby.” Gemma told him.
“She said she didn’t tell me because she wanted me to come back because of her, not because of the baby. I get that, I do, I think I just assumed she would always be there, and that I’d never lose her, but I was so wrong wasn’t I?” Harry sighed, downing his glass of whiskey in one go before pouring another one.
“Harry you are Ash’s world, her heart beats for you, I don’t see this break, or whatever it is lasting, there’s no way you two could co-parent a child without ending up together again.” Gemma assured him.
“I know I should’ve come back Gem, and I wish I did, but I was scared that one day I’d break her heart, but it looks like I’ve already done the one thing I was scared of.” Harry sighed, fiddling with the rim of his glass.
“It’ll get better H, I promise.”
“Can I stay here tonight Gem? Home doesn’t really feel like home at the moment.”
“Of course you can H.”
The cool breeze of the summer evening came through the open window as Ashley sat on the living room floor, looking through old pictures of her and Harry. After putting Daisy to bed she put on one of Harry’s hoodies he had left before lockdown as the faint sound of When We Were Young by Adele came from her record player. She sifted through the pictures, remembering how much easier life was back then,pictures from the band’s first and last arena tours, pictures of Harry and Daisy when she was a little baby, her favourite picture of them both, which did nothing but shatter her heart. Those days when all she was to the world was their favourite candidate for Harry’s secret girlfriend, during the days of the band she was pictured with him constantly, she was blamed for his break up with Taylor and the failure of his on and off relationship with Kendall. That man meant everything to her, which made the pain even more unbearable, she didn’t want to let him go, but it was what she needed, and she knew that. A harsh knock on the door bought her out of her feels, she made her way to the hallway, opening the door to see Gemma, “Can I come in? Before you ask, Harry doesn’t know I’m here.” She told her.
“Sure,” Ashley smiled, leading her into the kitchen, not wanting Gemma to see the piles of old pictures on the floor in the living room.
“How have you been?” Gemma asked, noticing how red and puffy Ashley’s cheeks were.
“I’ll get there Gem, I’m just not in a place to raise two children while worrying about my relationship with Harry, I know he’s there for me emotionally, but with a four year old and another baby on the way, I need him there physically too.”
“I get that, and I know he’s going to be in and out of the country a lot, it’s his job, but he’ll never deprive you of time with your child. When he goes away the rest of us will all be here to support you.” Gemma told her.
Several days had passed and Linda had travelled down from Holmes Chapel to be with her daughter, she let herself into the house using her spare key. As she entered the living room she saw Ashley curled up on the sofa, cradling her baby bump. “Where’s Daisy?” Linda whispered, knowing Ashley wouldn’t want her to see her in this state.
“She stayed the night at Lou’s.” Ashley sniffed.
“And how are you sweetheart?” Linda asked, sitting beside her and allowing Ashley to rest her head in her lap.
“I didn’t know how much I needed Harry until I let him go.” Ashley whispered.
“I know angel, but it’s going to be alright in the end.”
hi! here’s a crappy old blurb that i had sitting in the drafts!
in which lovie is sick and stressed from uni at one in the morning and harry finds her hyperventilating.
harry was absolutely exhausted.
per usual— but there was a specific ache in his back today, one that had accompanied him from morning to night—he told his love they needed a new mattress, she told him he needed to stop laying twisted to her chest(he refuses to do so, pouting every time she suggests it)—and it’s pulsing at the top of his spine and making him wince in certain positions.
his hair at this point was ultimately unruly and unkempt from the amount of times his fingers ran through, pulling and tugging in frustration, as if he could rip new ideas out of his scalp.
his hands were sore, too, from gentle plucks of the guitar he had toyed this afternoon, praying that the indents in his fingertips would bring about motivation, inspiration— god, that it would bring anything.
he’s desperate to get out of this block.
nevertheless, he cranked out two songs today, making him ultimately beaming and his throat a bit raw and tired.
he stumbled through the door with heavy feet and an unzipped coat, his nose pink from the cold circulating in the outside air. his beanie had been pulled down to the middle of his forehead from the time he walked from inside the studio to his awaiting driver, who he last-minute remembered possessed a peculiar hatred for artificial heating. so, correspondingly, harry’s body never warmed up in the fifteen minute drive, causing his toes to go numb and his teeth to chatter lightly. he would never ask him to crank the heat, because it’s bad enough he has to drive around a famous stranger all day— harry wasn’t gonna torture the guy with something he specifically despised. (no matter how fucking weird it was).
his boots clunked as he passed through the doorway, wrinkling his nose up and closing the door behind him with his back. a wince, a sharp inhale, then a slow exhale, eyes closed. it was a solid minute before he cracked his eyes open— but he swore he could have fallen asleep standing.
his love had reduced the lighting significantly, the lamps dimmed and several candles lit around the room. it was close to dark, matching the scene outside, and the warmth wrapped his body and nuzzled him. he smiled lazily, his hand carding up and taking the beanie off his hair, curls bouncing out as he shivered. she lit that vanilla candle he likes, and he can feel the sleepiness start to settle further into his veins.
“angel? where are ye, bub?” harry’s voice was a soft coo and his dimples appeared as he leaned his hand against the wall.
he kicked his shoes off, throwing his coat on a chair nearby as he hummed his way down the foyer. he craved for his girl like he craved the warmth to envelop him; he wanted her wrapped around and within his soul, caressing his skin until he was lulled to sleep. he couldn’t wait to bury his face in her neck and stay there for a while, his lips caressing her own and her skin for a time before he found the energy to carry her to bed. he always told her to stop waiting up for him, but she would kiss her teeth and roll her eyes and tell him shut up, and that was that.
stubborn little thing she was— and he loved every ounce of it.
harry pondered what she could be doing on his search for her, thinking about how she may be sleeping with a book on her chest in the den or giggling at a sitcom in the living room; either way, she’d be cozy and wrapped in a blanket—maybe, hopefully, in his shirt, maybe even with no pants on and—
oh.
he was completely wrong.
he turned a corner with a half smile, hearing her laptop keys being softly pressed, but his face sank and his eyebrows furrowed quickly, his lips slowly pronouncing her name.
she was sat on the floor in a ball, papers scattered around her frame and closing in on her body, her face in her hands and a bun wrapped on the top of her head. she was sniffling softly and her breaths were deep— yet shaky. he could hear her mumbling to herself, yet not responding to her name.
“angel?”
she jumped, looking up at him and harry frowned at her red-rimmed eyes and red nose. the sweet thing looked so sad and worn, eyes wide and teary.
“what’s goin’ on, baby?” he padded towards her, her head shaking as she started to begin typing again. “hey hey—” he mumbled, starting to sink to the floor.
she’s continuing to type, not ignoring him as much as she’s so out of it he doesn’t know if she’s here, but he grabs at her hands to stop typing, pulling them towards him. she whines, shooing him away, and his concern deepens. “angel.” he murmurs, tilting his head, starting to pull her body towards him. she barely turns her face away from the screen, but his thumbs still move to pad away her fallen tears as she writhed to get out of his hold. “hey.” he said, “now wait just a mo’, bub—”
“jus’ let me finish—”
“it’s one in the morning.”
she’s typing again, hitting a few keys before he grabs at her hands, stronger, pulling them toward his chest.
“why are you writing at this hour?”
she finally meets his eyes, and she’s snapped back to reality. and once she sees the concern swimming in his irises, it breaks her. she’s sobbing once more, harsher than how she has all night, whining and whimpering as she tried to get back to her laptop. he shakes his head, picking her up, placing her bum on his thigh and draping her legs across his own. she immediately falls into his chest, and she feels fragile.
“stop.” he murmured, pinning her hands down with his own, right on her lap. his thumbs run over her wrists. “take a breath, baby— ’s not good for you. tell me what’s wrong.”
she whimpered then, taking her sleeves and wiping her face, sniffling and shaking, her breathing trembling. “’m so tired.” she cried, wiping her nose and keeping her palms to her eyes.
“you need sleep. why the fuck are you doing work this late, hm?” he’s petting at her hair. “you’re so overwhelmed—” he pauses, to press his lips to her forehead, but he inhales sharply when he felt the heat resonating from her skin. “oh, angel. we definitely need to get you to bed, you are burningup—”
“can’t!”
he flinched as she said it in frustration and sadness, in between a sob; she hastily, in a blur of quick movements, reaches and grabs her computer again, settling it on her thighs before furiously typing.
“stupid paper for my stupid professor on a topic i hate and he made it due at two a-and i just don’t feel well—”
her mumbling broke into cries but she kept going, and harry couldn’t understand how she was simultaneously describing her frustration while continuing sentences about god-knows-what-topic. she was frantic, tears still falling and if she didn’t slow down harry swore she was going to pass out.
“have you been writing this all day?” his hand rubbed at her back.
she sniffled, shaking her head. “been sick and gross all day and i completely forgot. ‘m so fucking stupid and now i jus’ wanna be done—” she gasped for air and broke completely, her voice choking on sobs. her trembling hands pressed to her eyes, cries escaping her lips and her head shaking. “it doesn’t even make sense. can’t focus. ’ve been throwin’ up all day and i jus’ wanna sleep, but—”
“woah,what?” he sputtered. “you didn’t think to call me?” he asked incredulously.
her head fell forward in time with her shoulders, the jumper on her body sliding off her collarbones. her head was absolutely throbbing, pulsing with need and making her dizzy. she looked up and her eyes closed tight, weeping more intensely. her sleeves came to her eyes slowly, pitifully, and harry realized that him scolding her was not what she needed right now. he grabbed her and pulled her back to his chest, her sobs increasing and her will to fight against him diminishing.
“okay, okay, okay.” harry mumbled as his hand came to the back of her head, his thumb stroking the base of her neck. she completely collapsed into his collarbones, her forehead heated and her eyes squeezed closed, a trembling jaw and sniffly nose pressed to him. she was a proper mess. “—hey hey.”
his love whined once, then sniffed, blinking her eyes open to view her fumbling fingers. she sighed, hiccuping, sitting up to look harry in the eyes. he frowned when he saw her flushed cheeks and watery lashes, his knuckles gently coming up to brush at her skin. she smiled sadly, her lips quivering.
“’m sorry i didn’t call.” she swiped at her eyelid, breath staggered. “didn’t wanna disturb you.” he gazed at her with sad eyes and frowned. “a-and… you— ….” she whimpered, shaking her head and gazing at him. “you just walked through the door ’nd you’re like— not even settled and—” her breath hitched and more tears leaked from the corners of her eyes, and harry cooed. her eyebrows furrowed and her soaked sleeves came to her lips, covering them and shaking her head. “’m sorry—” she whispered.
“no no no.” he murmured, brushing her loose strands of hair away. “no apologies, love, okay?”
she sniffled, leaning forward until she was in his neck again, whimpering. harry’s face sunk, his lips kissing the top of her head as he rubbed her spine.
“i hafta finish.” she whimpered, shaking her head. harry kissed her forehead and sighed, shaking his own.
“no. we are going to email your professor and if he has a problem, he can speak to me and—”
“can’t!” she cried, “no exceptions, must be turned in on time.” her voice dropped several octaves to mock her asshole of a professor, and harry shook his head.
“don’t care.”
she hiccuped, eyes sad. “h—”
“i don’t care about his stupid rules.” he gruffed. “you’re sick as hell and your health comes before anything. understand?” his voice is deep and monotonous, frustrated, but not at her. harry wasn’t going to let this teacher make his girl feel as if she must finish a stupid paper when she’s most likely got the stomach flu.
“please, angel. let me get you settled and i will email him, kay?”
she sniffled. she stared up at him with weepy eyes and saw his desperation in his irises. her head was spinning and her throat was sore, but he gazed at her like she spun the stars into their orientations. even with teary eyes, skin irritated and red, he looked at her with such care and awe.
she looks down momentarily and suddenly realizes how bright her laptop seemed, and how the words on her page looked garbled and wrong. even if she wanted to keep going, she doesn’t think she physically could.
she wiped her nose, eyes fluttering around his face. she nodded slowly. “okay” she murmured, shoulders deflating a bit.
harry smiled small and placed a wet kiss to her nose, mumbling an “atta girl”.
she stood slowly, knees cracking as harry’s jumper fell to her the middle of her thighs, the bunched up socks coating her ankles and feet falling off. she was utterly adorable to him, even with teary eyes and a sad frown.
“c’mere, i’ll carry you to bed, angel.”
god did she love him.
he bent slowly, and she draped her weight over his spine, lazily putting her arms around his neck. harry’s hurting back was no longer important to him, because her breath was soft and hitting the back of his neck and the top of his arm, and he swears heaven has continuously blessed him.
“thank you, harry.” she mumbles it as she slides off his back once they are next to their bed, and he presses his lips to her forehead, then her cheeks. he lays her down, pulling the covers over her, stroking her hair back from her eyelids. she catches his hand and holds it to her cheek, her eyes looking at him.
