#One direction fanfiction

[harrywavycurly]

Worth the Fight: Comes in Waves

Masterlist: Here

CW: Language, smut (unprotected sex, I mean you’re literally pregnant so yeah he didn’t wrap it up lol), per usual Harry is panicking.

A/N: I think this is some progress and I am excited to see how y’all feel about it! Also I’ve never written anything like this before so be gentle with me! Enjoy Harry being a complete mess✨

Tag List: @kookjipao @msolbesg @lomlolivia @namoreno @outofthisworl-d @mema10 @watarmelon212 @natykn @sassamanda77 @st-ev-ie @ghayda0 @hannah9921 @indierockgirrl @chaoticthoughts2022 @lizsogolden @gmikaelson @styleswithaseaview @sofaritsalrightt @babegoals @fangirl509east @one-sweet-gubler @stylesftcher @umadirectioner @last-saturday-night @montgomery-929496 @laughterismytherapy @hisparentsgallerryy @jerseygirlinca @behindmygreyeyes @mads3502 @tpwkdpr @unfuckwitablenarry @itscoucouharry @latedirectionerera @ell0ra-br3kk3r @cumuluscranium @donutsandpalmtrees @silastylesswift

Summary: You finally get your rocking chair, Harry is dealing with some odd feelings all while the two of you try to figure out the best way to tell the world you’re pregnant✨

Harry can hear the faint sound of music coming from under the bathroom door but he can’t tell what song it is or who’s singing because all he can focus on is how good the person’s neck he has his face nuzzled into smells and how good he feels. If he had to describe it he’d say it’s an intoxicating mixture of something fruity combined with just a hint of sweat that adds to the feeling of pure bliss that’s got him surrounded like he’s being engulfed in a warm blanket. His hands are roughly gripping their hips as their dress is hiked up, panties pushed to the side while his jeans and boxers are down by his ankles allowing him to have all the access he needs while they are sat on the edge of the counter next to the sink. A low moan comes from deep inside his chest when he feels nails digging into his back from under his shirt desperately trying to pull him closer.

“Fuck baby.” His voice is muffled as he barely lifts his lips away from the spot below their ear. “You feel so good.” He punctuates each word with a hard thrust as one of his hands slides down their hip to under their thigh so he can wrap their leg around his waist letting him get a little deeper, each thrust of his hips has the tip of his cock hitting that sweet spot inside making them let out a loud moan.

“Oh god.” A breathy moan leaves their lips when Harry begins nipping at their neck as he keeps up the quick and rough pace of his thrusts. He can feel the velvety walls of their pussy begin to squeeze around his cock as his grip on their thigh tightens. “Don’t stop Harry please don’t stop.” Harry looks up and catches a glimpse of the person’s face in the mirror when they lean their head back and rest a hand on the counter behind them and then suddenly everything turns black.

Harry’s eyes snap open as he shoots up in his bed, his chest is rising and falling rapidly as he tries to catch his breath. He looks down at his hands that are fisting his sheets, releasing his grip on the soft fabric he runs a hand through his hair finding it a little damp no doubt from sweat. His mind is spinning trying to catch up with him and realize he’s awake as he looks around his dark bedroom his eyes squinting at the clock on his nightstand. A groan leaves his lips as his head falls back down onto his pillow when he sees it’s just a little after four in the morning.

“What the fuck.” He mutters to himself as he places both hands on his face as he tries to come to terms with the fact he just woke up in the middle of a very hot and heavy dream. A hot and heavy dream that he swears felt more like just reliving a memory than an actual dream, but more importantly this dream was about you, the mother of his children that he’s due to see in a little less than five hours.

“This is not good.” He mumbles as he tosses the sheets over himself after a few minutes of staring at the ceiling. Coming to the conclusion sleep isn’t coming back to him tonight he rolls out of bed and slowly walks to his bathroom, refusing to look at himself in the mirror when he flicks on the lights he walks over to the shower. “Why’d it have to be today? Of all days?” He groans as he turns the water on, leaving it on cold in hopes the chill of the water will help clear his mind. He’s willing to try anything that will have him be able to go about his day with you with minimal issues because at the moment the thought of being around you does nothing but make his skin feel hot and his heart to race as images of you in not the most appropriate positions fill his mind.

“For fuck sake Harry get it together.” He scolds himself as he undresses and steps into the shower and closes his eyes as he turns his face up towards the water, with each drop that falls on him and runs down his body he’s imagining it’s washing away all the filthy thoughts and images of you and sending them down the drain by his feet. But something inside him knows that’s not the case, he’s not that lucky when it comes to you but it can’t hurt for him to at least try be a little optimistic.

All of Harry’s early morning hopes of being optimistic about not letting his dream affect the rest of his day have officially gone out the window as he stands in your kitchen. He swears he’s not trying to be weird and he really is doing his best to focus on what you’re telling him but it’s as if his mind at the moment can only seem to make everything you say or do snap him back to the dream he just woke up from not even six hours ago.

He doesn’t know why the simple mention of you wanting pineapple in your morning juice has his eyes closing for a split second as the vision of his lips trailing opened mouth kisses down the side of your neck spills into his brain like a flash flood. It’s as if he can still smell the faint scent of your skin as soon as he cuts into the fruit causing its sweet and tangy fragrance to hit his nose. He opens his eyes when he realizes that’s the same fruity smell he couldn’t place, pineapples but there’s also something mixed within it but luckily he knows exactly what it is.

“Cherries.” He whispers to himself as he looks down at the cutting board and goes back to slicing the rest of the fruit so he can add it to the blender. He doesn’t know why you smelled like a mixture of pineapples and cherries but then again he still isn’t sure if his dream is just a dream or a memory that’s slowly starting to reveal itself to him.

“I don’t have cherries.” Your voice snaps Harry fully out of his thoughts as he turns his head to see you staring at him with a quirked brow and your hands on your hips. “Are you okay? You look a little-”

“I’m fine-totally fine.” He knows his cheeks are pink and his eyes are probably a bit darker due to the images and thoughts swirling around his head but he hopes you don’t look too far into it and just brush the whole moment off as him just having an odd morning.

“Do-do you like cherries? I can get some from the store next time I do a grocery run.” He quickly adds while putting his focus back on the fruit in front of him hoping your pregnancy brain will help you switch from worrying about if he’s okay to thinking about fruits and vegetables for your juices next week.

“I don’t really know if I like cherries.” This answer has Harry rubbing his lips together as he nods while you run a hand over your growing bump. “Honestly I’ve only ever had them in cocktails. My go to pre pregnancy was vodka with pineapple and they always toss in cherries with it I’m not sure why.” The knife nearly drops from his hand as you casually confirm that you do in fact drink cocktails with cherries and pineapple making his dream have a more memory feel to it than just a normal sex dream he’d have about someone he finds attractive.

“I’ll pick some up for you to try.”

“Okay.” You say with a shrug before turning and heading into the living room, Harry lets out a deep sigh of relief that for the moment you seem to have let his odd behavior go. For the rest of the time he’s in the kitchen Harry doesn’t let his mind wander off into the deep end, he stays focused on the task at hand because he knows the two of you have a busy day ahead so he needs to be mentally present and not off daydreaming about how good you felt wrapped around him while sitting on a bathroom counter.

“Here you go.” You give him a big grin as he hands you a glass of juice he just made, he even went ahead and put it in your favorite glass that has little books all over it with a lid and glass straw that one of your coworkers gave you for your birthday last year.

“Oh god that’s good.” Your words have Harry’s hands sweating as he watches you close your eyes and tilt your head back so it’s resting on the back of your couch. He swallows thickly as he practically falls into the loveseat across from you as his mind takes a nose dive straight into the deep end of the endless pool of thoughts swishing around in his head.

“Right there.” Your voice is rough as Harry gives you a particularly harsh thrust while his hand that’s not holding your leg over his hip slips down between your open thighs. “Oh god-fuck that’s so good.” You pant as Harry’s thumb beings rubbing circles over your clit, adding just the right amount of pressure to have your eyes squeezing shut in pleasure.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Harry shakes his head as if his mind is some sort of etch-a-sketch and the faster he shakes it the quicker the images that have momentarily taken over his thoughts will disappear.

It’s when he looks at you and sees the concern etched on your face that he becomes very aware of how he looks. His hands are gripping the armrests of the loveseat so tightly his knuckles are white, his cheeks feel hot and he’s sure if he checked he would have a slight sheen on his forehead as if he’s about to break out into a full body sweat due to the way his whole body feels as if it’s on fire. So he clears his throat and says the only thing he can think of on the spot.

“Yeah I just-uh too much caffeine this morning my mind s’a bit all over the place and uhm it’s giving me-me uh a hot flash of sorts.” He pinches the fabric of his shirt right below the collar and makes a show of trying to cool himself down by tugging it up and down a few times.

“How much caffeine did you have because you’re all flushed.” You lean over to place your glass down on the coffee table before standing up so you can step around the table so you’re now standing next to an armrest of the loveseat. Harry feels his heart rate rise as you place a steady hand on top of the armrest so you can lean over and run a hand through his hair. “Did you shower right before coming over? Why is your hair damp?” He wants to answer your question, truly he does but all Harry can think about is how good your hand feels as it runs through his hair.

“N-no I didn’t shower right before-”

“Oh gross it’s wet from sweat? Harry that’s not normal are you sure you’re not sick or something you look-and I’m sorry for how rude this sounds but you look like shit.” He lets out a pathetic sounding noise that you either didn’t hear or are choosing to ignore when you quickly snatch your hand out of his hair and wipe your palm off on your bike shorts.

“M’fine really.” He stands up making you take a step backwards but the look on your face tells him you don’t believe him, but thankfully you just send him a pointed glare before turning so you can head down the hallway.

“You’re very far from fine but whatever just don’t get sick on my couch because then I’ll have to burn it and I really love my couch.” You tell him as you walk down the hallway to grab your computer from your bedroom.

Harry takes the few minutes he has alone to run a hand over his face before he closes his eyes lets out a few deep calming breaths. “I will not have anymore inappropriate thoughts about the mother of my children. I will remain calm cool and collected the rest of the day.” He thinks to himself, repeating it over and over again like a mantra. It’s not until he hears the sound of ice clanking the sides of your metal water bottle that he opens his eyes and takes a seat on the couch.

“What’s this guy’s name again that we are meeting with?” You ask as you take a seat next to him after placing your laptop on the coffee table.

“His name is Jeff he’s my manager but also a good friend of mine. I’ve known him since back in the One Direction days.”

“Okay and he’s going to help us determine when to post the baby announcements? That’s what this meeting is about right?”

“Uh yeah and he’s just going to give us some ideas on what to expect after the announcements are made public and uhm just-stuff like that.” You just nod as you turn on your laptop so you can log into Zoom, Harry chews on his bottom lip as he tries not to let his eyes focus on any part of you for too long because he knows that will only cause issues and he really needs to be alert for this meeting. But when his eyes land on your fingers as they move around the keyboard just simply typing in your information he knows he’s royally screwed because all his mind will let him think about are how those same fingers felt running through his hair.

“Ready?” Harry can only nod as he prepares to have to white knuckle his thoughts during this meeting since just a simple glance at your fingers has his mind reeling.

“So you’re saying you think he should tag me in the post?” Harry looks away from the screen and towards you as you raise an eyebrow at Jeff who in turn just nods his head before turning his attention from Harry over to you.

“I think it’s smarter to just get it out of the way because people will figure out who you are eventually even if he doesn’t tag you so this way we have a little more control over the situation. But what do you think Harry? Are you comfortable with that?” He can feel your eyes on him the moment he turns to look back at Jeff, he rubs his lips together as he messes with the ring on his index finger.

“I uhm-yeah I’m fine with that.” He answers while nodding his head. “Besides your profile is private already so that helps.”

“It helps to a degree but you’re still going to get bombarded on all socials so just be prepared for that.” Harry absentmindedly nods in agreement and if he’s being honest he hasn’t ever wanted a meeting to be over with so badly in his life like he does this one.

He’s been struggling to maintain control of his thoughts since the moment he chanced a small glance in your direction at the beginning of the zoom call just to see you chewing on your bottom lip. What nearly sent him over the edge was when you swiped your tongue over them to get them wet before speaking, it’s like you did it on purpose making sure to do it torturously slow making him have to clear his throat and get up to grab a glass of water before his mind got the better of him.

“I think I can handle that. I only have an Instagram but do you think-I mean I won’t need like a body guard or anything right?”

“That’s up to you. We can see how it goes once it’s out there and if you feel like you need one we can set that up but you’ll be getting a driver that was something Harry mentioned wanting-I think starting next week after the announcement.”

“You want me to have a driver?” It takes Harry a moment to realize you’re speaking to him, it’s not until you place a hand on his arm that he zones back in on what’s happening and what the three of you are discussing.

“A driver? Oh uh yeah I-I was gonna let you use Nick since you’re familiar with him.”

“Nick is your driver.”

“Well now he’s yours.” Harry says with a smile that he knows Jeff can tell is forced as his eyes go from looking at you back to staring at Harry.

“So do-do you have anymore questions?” Jeff asks in a quick save for Harry because it makes you turn your attention away from him and towards the screen of your laptop.

“Not right now. So on Monday we both just post the same photo with similar captions and that’s it?”

“Yeah pretty much. Pick whatever photo the two of you agree on and the rest we will deal with as needed.” Harry nods his head as he half pay attention to the words coming out of his manager’s mouth. You nervously begin to spin the silver band on your thumb finger around as you take in all the information Jeff has dropped on you over the last half hour.

“Okay well thank you. It was nice to meet you Jeff.”

“No problem. You’ll be taken care of okay? We won’t let this get too crazy and it was nice meeting you as well. Hopefully we can meet for lunch or something soon.”

“Yeah sounds good. Talk to you soon Jeffrey.” Harry says with a smile while Jeff sends him a look that tells Harry he’s going to be getting a call from him later. But with a few waves and another round of goodbyes you’re leaning over and closing the zoom application and shutting your laptop.

“That was a lot.” You say in a huff that makes Harry feel like he is being tossed right back into the deep end of his mind that’s a swirling whirlpool of bits and pieces of what he has now come to realize is a memory his mind is trying to put together like a puzzle.

“That was-that was a lot.” He pants as he rests his head on your shoulder and tries to catch his breath. You let out a satisfied huff as you lean your head back so it’s resting on the mirror, your eyes are closed but you still have a hand in Harry’s hair and one fisting the front of his shirt.

“Told you I could handle it.” Your breathy laugh mixed with your nails lightly scratching at his scalp as you run your hand through his hair has Harry letting out a groan as his grip on your hips tighten.

“I only doubted you for a second.” He teases between kisses to the top of your shoulder making a stream of giggles escape you as your hand loosens its grip on the fabric of his shirt.

When Harry feels your hand on his leg he jolts back to the moment and he knows he has to tell you what’s going on because he can tell by the way your brows furrow and the corners of your mouth turn down a bit as you look at him that you’re concerned for him. He doesn’t want to keep making you feel worried about him when in reality all he is doing is having dirty dreams and now daydreams about you, the only mildly concerning thing about them being the timing. He just doesn’t know when would be the appropriate time to tell you this so he just places a hand on top of yours that’s on his leg and gives it a soft squeeze, his silent way of trying to let you know everything is going to be fine.

It’s as if the universe is trying to really teach Harry a lesson today, what the lesson is he has no clue but there’s no rational reason why hearing you laugh and let out a tiny squeal of excitement over your new rocking chair being delivered should have his pulse quickening and his heart rate rising. But that’s what’s currently happening as he stands in the doorway of the nursery and watches you walk over to the green and white striped chair, a smile on your face as you ease yourself down onto the soft cushions. He crosses his arms over his chest as a smile slowly stretches across his face as you close your eyes and begin to gently rock yourself in the chair.

“Oh this is perfect.” Your voice is soft and low as you open your eyes and give Harry a nod of approval since he’s the one who ended up picking the chair out for you from an online store his sister recommended after he learned that a used one just wouldn’t do. “I know just what it needs.” Harry quirks a brow as he watches you get up and walk over to Nora’s crib, the one closest to the door.

Your back is facing him as you lean down into the crib to grab something and the view of you bent over has his head spinning and his hands curling into fists as they fall to his sides. But this time before he can allow himself to indulge in even a second of another glimpse of the memory his mind so desperately is trying to put together he blurts something out that has you momentarily freezing in your spot bent over the crib.

“I remember the night we met.” His words are rushed and his voice is a little louder than necessary but he just needed to get it off his chest. “Or I uhm remember-parts of the night we met.” He explains not wanting you to think all of a sudden he can remember everything that happened between the two of you because he only can remember a very certain part of the night.

“Parts? What parts do you remember?” He swallows down the nerves he feels wanting to take over as you stand up so you can turn around to face him, the pink stuffed bunny from his mother clutched to your chest.

“The uhm-uhm bath-bathroom.” His face is on fire as he admits the only part of the night he can sort of remember.

“Oh my god.” The hand that’s not holding the stuffed bunny comes up to cover your face as a few chuckles erupt from your chest. “Of course you remember the bathroom.” Harry doesn’t understand if you’re mad or not so he just looks down at your feet as you run your hand through your hair. “Is that why you’ve been so weird today?”

“Uhm well-yeah yes that’s why I’ve been a little off today.”

“Off? Harry you’ve been acting like you’re on the verge of spontaneously combusting all day.”

“I’m sorry I just-I had a uhm.” He can’t believe he’s about to admit this to you but it’s the truth and you deserve to hear it. “A dream about it last night and then I realized it wasn’t really a dream it was more like I was reliving a memory.” You want to laugh at how absurd it is that of all the things that took place that night his mind opted to have him remember their romp in the bathroom, but you can tell by the way he’s avoiding looking at you that he’s a little embarrassed about it.

“Well if you remember that maybe the rest of the night will show up in your dreams eventually too.” Your words are somehow exactly what Harry needed to hear making relief wash over him like an ocean wave, you give him a reassuring smile when he slowly lifts his head until his eyes meet yours. “Can I ask you something?”

“Uh sure. Yeah. You can ask me anything.”

“Which part had you sweating and white knuckling the armrest of my love seat earlier?” Harry rolls his eyes while shaking his head as his cheeks turn red at your teasing question. You try to hold back your laughter but it’s useless making Harry let out a dramatic huff as he turns to walk out of the nursery.

“I’m just gonna leave you to enjoy your new rocking chair. Call me if you need anything and uh-I’ll see you Sunday.” He pauses in the doorway when he sees you take a few steps towards him so you can reach out and place your free hand on his forearm.

“Thank you for the chair Harry I really do love it.” With that he just gives you a smile as you drop your hand from his arm. He takes a few steps into the hallway, running both hands through his hair as he finally feels like he’s not hiding anything from you.

Well he is still hiding one thing from you, the fact he has a massive crush on you. As he walks to your front door he thinks calling the feelings he has for you a crush doesn’t do them justice, it feels deeper now that he can remember having you in the most intimate way but that’s something he knows can wait to be discussed when he’s not trying to fight off his dirty thoughts about you left and right. That’s something that deserves to be talked about over dinner or even during an episode of The Voice that you now force him to watch all while he tries to not act like he’s jealous every time you swoon over Niall, but either way it can wait a few more days until he can get a firmer grip on how he feels about you and also is more prepared for the off chance you to tell him you don’t feel the same.

[allwaswell16]

All the One Direction fics I read and enjoyed in Feb 2025. For more new fics, check out this month's fic roundup at @1dmonthlyficroundup ! You can find my other fic recs here.

- Louis / Harry -

🎀 can we please get back to loving? by journeytothepast / @suckerforhome

(E, 20k, famous/famous au) exes to lovers AU where Harry and Louis have to meet up with each other after their sex tape gets leaked.

🎀 tread lightly on my ground by fairytalelights / @lookslikefairytale

(E, 20k, omegaverse) the one where Harry is having Louis' baby, but Louis doesn't know it's his.

🎀 a flicker of hope that i wanna keep (please don’t leave) by localopa / @voulezloux

(M, 12k, canon) harry is in love with louis, and he had thought louis felt the same until he accidentally left his journal in harry’s home. 

🎀 Unholy by wickedarcher_08 / @wicked-archer

(E, 11k, demon Harry) When Harry Styles started acting different after his 26th birthday, Father Louis Tomlinson is the only one that may be able to save his soul. He has successfully performed exorcisms before. This should be easy. Until it isn't. 

🎀 Roman Empire by Speechless

(E, 11k, long distance) One day Louis answers Liam's phone while he is in the shower. That's how he meets Harry, Liam's friend who moved to Italy just a while ago. And that's how Liam loses ownership of his phone.

🎀 chasin' the high (but it was always you) by kingofthefridaynight

(G, 10k, friends to lovers) the one where there's always something standing in their way and they keep missing their chance. Until they don't.

🎀 Zero Complications by galactic_larry / @galacticlarry

(T, 8k, grief) Harry and Louis have only been on two dates so far, but things seem to be going great between the two of them. What happens when the third date ruins everything?

🎀 Sweetest Poison (series) by @hellolovers13

(E, 7k, witch Harry) It takes all his willpower to keep Harry from devouring it all now. Consume the raw energy that flows through it. Let it become part of him. Let it fuel and rejuvenate him. But it’s too soon. or Nothing like starting the day with a little bloodshed.

🎀 Fall With You by pointerbrother / @pointerbrotherblog

(E, 6k, canon) Harry and Louis are stuck in a hotel suite together watching the Euros 2020 final because they tested positive for Covid, and Louis is quite caught up in the game. Meanwhile, Harry is caught up in Louis.

🎀 The Nestuary by @homosociallyyours

(T, 5k, omegaverse) Louis has never gotten the hang of nesting, so when she gets an Instagram ad for a nest building service, she worries it's too good to be true. It's not, fortunately. She's hooked.

🎀 i forget (but i remember you) by honey_beeing

(T, 3k, established relationship) Where Harry has anterograde amnesia and needs Louis's help sometimes.

🎀 Just Another Card Again by @tippitytap

(G, 3k, epistolary) Dear reader, this is a story of Harry and Louis falling in love through greeting cards and being neighbours. With love, Clifford

🎀 I'll smile to hide the truth by BriaMaria / @briannamarguerite

(NR, 2k, outside pov) the "Happier" AU that finds Louis' ex running into him and Harry as a couple

🎀 Accommodate This by LadyLondonderry / @londonfoginacup

(T, 2k, professor Harry) Harry's a professor just trying to get proper accommodations.

🎀 scent holding me ransom by larryftnoctrl / @the-larry-way

(E, 1k, omegaverse) Louis is obsessed with the scent of an omega he's never seen. Harry knows his dirty secret.

- Rare Pairs -

🎀 (Whoops) Here We Go Again by @lululawrence

(NR, 4k, Louis/Oscar Isaac) the one where Louis and Oscar have been seeing each other regularly on the elevator at work for almost nine months. Maybe it’s time for something to finally happen between them.

🎀 The Stranger the Better by @haztobegood

(G, 2k, Harry/Hozier) Sometimes a painful break-up can lead to an unexpected new beginning. The note with a famous singer’s phone number in Harry’s hand is proof of that. Thankfully it wasn’t Harry’s heartbreak that led to this, but his best friend Niall’s.

🎀 baking me crazy by @disgruntledkittenface

(NR, 2k, Harry/Seth Meyers) Harry bakes when he’s had a bad day. He finds out that his roommate Zayn has been texting their neighbor Seth to let him know on those days that free baked goods are available. 

🎀 Be With Me by @allwaswell16

(T, 100 words, Zayn/Louis) Zayn wants Louis to know she deserves the best. And well, Zayn is the best.

[nickistuffs]

Almost Perfect, Almost Enough Part 1

Pairing: Harry x Designer reader (curvy or plus size whatever you feel they should look like. This is my preference 😌)

Summary: A heartfelt gift goes terribly wrong, haunted by the weight of unspoken pain.

Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings: Angst. self-worth, body image struggles, miscommunication, and emotional disconnect

✨masterlist✨ read the rest of Harry x Designer Reader there

…

Harry always wanted to shower you with gifts. He noticed the little things—the items you left sitting in your online cart, the Pinterest boards filled with outfit inspirations, the way your fingers lingered on certain fabrics or accessories when you accompanied him shopping. He paid attention, memorizing each detail like a quiet devotion.

Anyone would love to be spoiled, and Harry wanted nothing more than to give you everything you desired. But you weren’t like most people. Since you were young, you had learned to weigh the difference between a want and a need, hesitating before indulging in something that wasn’t essential. It wasn’t about depriving yourself; it was just how you were. You lived simply, your wardrobe minimal, your jewelry sparse—something Harry had mistaken for preference rather than restraint.

He didn’t understand at first. He thought maybe you just hadn’t found the right things yet, that you were waiting for something special. So he tried. Little surprises, gifts wrapped carefully in ribbon, things he was sure you’d love. But every time he handed you something new, there was a flicker in your eyes—gratitude, yes, but also hesitation. As if accepting too much made you uneasy. As if love, when materialized, felt heavier than it should.

And that was the part that killed him the most. Because Harry didn’t just want to give you things. He wanted to give you proof—proof that he saw you, that he understood you, that he cherished every small, fleeting moment that made you you.

But maybe love, to you, was never about possession. Maybe it was about presence. And Harry didn’t know how to love you in a way that didn’t feel like giving.

...

That’s when Harry saw it—a beautiful dress, minimal yet sleek, the kind of piece that blended effortlessly into an everyday wardrobe. It wasn’t extravagant or flashy, but it had an understated elegance that reminded him of you.

His fingers traced the fabric, soft and weightless, and for a moment, he could already picture you in it—the way it would drape over your frame, the way you’d instinctively run your hands down the material, testing its feel. He found a size he thought would fit you, holding it up as if trying to convince himself that this, out of everything he had ever wanted to give you, was something you might actually accept.

Because this wasn’t just a gift. It was a quiet understanding, a way of saying, I see you. I know you. And maybe, just maybe, this time, you wouldn’t hesitate to take it.

When he went to the register, he didn’t even glance at the price. It didn’t matter. All that mattered was the thought of you wearing it, the way it would complement you so effortlessly. For once, he hoped you wouldn’t overthink it—that you’d simply take it, wear it, and feel even a fraction of the warmth he felt when he thought of you.

...

Harry made a surprise visit to your flat, his excitement practically radiating off him as he greeted you with a quick, eager kiss at the door. His hands found your waist, guiding you backward with effortless ease until the backs of your knees met the couch.

You barely had a moment to process before you noticed the way he was holding something behind his back, his eyes glinting with mischief.

You laughed, tilting your head as you narrowed your eyes at him. “What are you up to now?” you asked, giggling at his antics.

Harry grinned, biting his lip like he was barely holding back his excitement. “Close your eyes,” he murmured, his voice soft but insistent.

Covering your eyes with a playful sigh, you felt the weight of something settle onto your lap—a paper bag, soft and crinkling under your fingers.

"Okay, now open your eyes," Harry murmured, anticipation lacing his voice.

Blinking, you glanced down at the bag, your heart already tightening at the realization. "Harry… you didn’t have to," you said softly, looking up at him with a mixture of fondness and hesitation.

But Harry only shook his head, his smile unwavering. "I wanted to."

With hesitation, you reached into the bag, fingers brushing against the smooth fabric as you carefully pulled out the dress. Your eyes practically sparkled as you took in the design—the simplicity, the elegance, the way it was so perfectly you.

"Wow… this is beautiful, Harry. Thank you," you breathed, holding it up against your chest. But then, as the weight of the gesture sank in, doubt crept in alongside your excitement. "I don’t know if I can accept this..."

Harry, however, only grinned, leaning forward as if to dismiss your uncertainty before it could settle too deep. "No expense spared," he said with that effortless confidence of his. "You deserve everything."

His words were meant to reassure, but they left you feeling slightly off balance. It wasn’t that you weren’t grateful—you were. It was just that, ever since you were a child, you had been taught to refuse gifts, to be mindful of generosity, to say no even when you secretly wanted to say yes.

And now, sitting there with a dress that felt both too much and just right, you found yourself caught between old habits and the undeniable warmth of being seen.

"Go on, try it on for me. Please?" Harry murmured, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. His voice was gentle, but there was a quiet plea beneath it, a hope that you wouldn’t let hesitation win this time.

You hesitated for a second longer, the familiar instinct to decline tugging at you—but then you looked at him. His eyes held nothing but warmth, nothing but the purest intention. He wasn’t trying to overwhelm you. He just wanted to see you in something he knew you’d love.

With a small, breathy laugh, you nodded. "Alright… but only because you asked so nicely."

Harry beamed, stepping back as you stood, dress in hand, already imagining the way his face would light up when you returned.

...

You stepped into your room, closing the door softly behind you. Facing the mirror, you held the dress against your chest, admiring the way the fabric fell effortlessly over your frame. For a moment, excitement bubbled in your chest—you wanted to love this, to let yourself have this moment.

But as you slipped into the dress and reached for the zipper on the side, your heart sank. It wouldn’t go up. No matter how you twisted, tugged, or adjusted, the fabric wouldn’t budge past a certain point.

A sinking feeling settled in your stomach.

Harry had been so excited. You had been excited. And now, instead of feeling beautiful, all you could think about was how you had let yourself believe—just for a moment—that this could be easy, that accepting something so thoughtful wouldn’t come with a sting of self-doubt.

You hated how quickly your mind turned on itself, whispering cruel thoughts. That maybe this was why you never let yourself want things too much. That maybe it was a mistake to let yourself get swept up in the moment.

You exhaled sharply, blinking back the frustration burning in your eyes. Don’t do this. Don’t ruin this.

But now, standing there in a dress that didn’t fit, you weren’t sure how you were supposed to walk back into that room and face Harry without disappointing him.

...

You took a deep breath, fingers gripping the fabric near the stubborn zipper. There was no point in hiding it—not from Harry. You weren’t shy about things like this anymore. You were used to it, to the quiet disappointment of a dress not fitting quite right, to the feeling of something so close to perfect slipping just out of reach.

So you walked out, head held steady, the dress still draped over you as best as it could be. Harry, who had been sitting on the couch, perked up immediately at the sight of you. His eyes flickered with excitement—until they landed on your hands gripping the side, the zipper still undone.

You gave him a small, almost resigned smile. "Looks like I’ve still got to shrink to get into this," you said lightly, trying to turn it into a joke, to keep the air from turning heavy.

Harry didn’t laugh. Instead, he stood up, crossing the room in just a few strides, his brows knitting together in something that wasn’t disappointment—but something else entirely.

"Hey," he said softly, fingers brushing over yours where they held the fabric. "That’s not on you, alright? That’s on the damn dress."

The warmth in his voice made your throat tighten. You weren’t sure what you had expected—maybe some fleeting awkwardness, maybe even guilt on his part for choosing the wrong size. But instead, there was only understanding, only that unwavering way he looked at you like none of this changed a thing.

"We can exchange it," he continued, giving you a small, reassuring grin. "Or we can get it tailored. Or—" He tilted his head, eyes glinting mischievously. "I can just let you keep it open and call it avant-garde."

That pulled a laugh from you, quiet but real. The tension in your shoulders eased, and for the first time since putting the dress on, you allowed yourself to believe that this moment wasn’t ruined—just another part of the story.

"It’s fine, Harry. No need to exchange it," you said, forcing a small smile. "You can return it and get your money back—it’s okay with me."

You tried to keep your tone light, but the words felt heavier than you intended. You glanced down at the fabric in your hands before adding, "Especially from a high-end store… I know they don’t really make sizes for plus-size women like me."

You meant it as a simple fact, something you had come to accept over time—knowing that high-end brands catered to rigid beauty standards, ones that had been set in stone long before you ever had a say in them. They didn’t design for women like you, didn’t want their clothes to be seen on bodies they deemed too much.

But as soon as the words left your mouth, you saw the shift in Harry’s expression—the way his jaw tensed slightly, the way his brows furrowed, as if he was already preparing to argue with you.

"Hey, don’t say that," Harry cut in, his voice gentle but firm. "There are always other clothes we can look at. Ones that actually deserve you."

He said it so easily, like it was the simplest thing in the world. Like the problem wasn’t you—it was the clothes, the brands, the standards you had spent so long making peace with.

But the way he looked at you, unwavering and certain, made you wonder if maybe, just maybe, he was right. But, no

"No need, Harry. Thanks, but no thanks," you said blankly, turning on your heel as you walked back to your room to change.

You didn’t mean for it to sound so cold, but you just wanted this moment to be over. The dress, the conversation, the way his kindness only made the tightness in your chest worse—it was all too much.

But before you could disappear behind the door, his voice stopped you.

"I just wanted to give you something nice, Y/N… is that so bad?"

There was no anger in his tone, no frustration—just something softer, something almost hurt. And that was the worst part of all.

"I never asked you to give me these gifts, Harry," you said, your voice quieter this time, but no less firm. "I didn’t want this dress."

You gestured vaguely around your apartment, a small, lived-in space that was nothing like the world Harry came from. "God, just look at this place. We live very different lifestyles."

It wasn’t just about the dress. It was everything—the way he spent without thinking, the way he wanted to give and give while you had spent your whole life learning how to go without. He moved through the world so effortlessly, while you had always been careful, always conscious.

And standing there now, in an expensive dress that didn’t even fit, you couldn’t help but wonder if he’d ever truly understand.

"We both understand what it means to work hard for our money," you continued, your voice steady but tired. "But not everyone wants the extravagant life celebrities are always portraying."

You meant it as a simple truth—one you had lived by for as long as you could remember. But as soon as the words left your mouth, you saw something flicker across Harry’s face, something unspoken but unmistakable.

That hurt.

Because that’s what he thought you saw when you looked at him—an A-lister, someone wrapped up in a life of luxury, of excess, of things that didn’t matter to you.

And maybe that was the worst part. No matter how much he tried to show you otherwise, you still believed there was a distance between you that couldn’t be bridged.

You both stood there in silence, the weight of unspoken words settling between you like a barrier neither of you knew how to cross.

Harry’s fingers twitched at his sides, as if he wanted to reach for you but wasn’t sure if he should. His jaw clenched for a second before he exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand over his face.

You, on the other hand, just held onto the fabric of the dress, staring at the floor, feeling the tension wrap around you like a second skin. You hadn’t meant to hurt him. And yet, here you were, watching the light in his eyes dim just a little.

Neither of you knew what to do next. Neither of you knew how to fix this.

Without another word, you turned and stepped into your bedroom, closing the door softly behind you.

Leaning against it for a moment, you let out a slow breath, your fingers tightening around the dress. The excitement you’d felt earlier had long since faded, replaced with something heavier—something you couldn’t quite name.

You changed quickly, slipping back into your usual clothes, ones that felt safer, less complicated. But even as you shed the dress, the weight of the moment still clung to you.

Outside, you could still feel Harry’s presence, still picture the way he had looked at you, caught between understanding and hurt. You hated that look. Hated that you had put it there.

And now, you weren’t sure how to walk back out and face him.

Your breathing was heavy, uneven—shaken by the fear creeping up your spine. Not fear of him, but of what you had just done. Of the way your words had landed, sharp and unintended, leaving behind wounds you couldn’t take back.

Seeing Harry hurt by something you had said—it scared you to death.

With trembling hands, you peeled the dress off, careful, almost reverent, as if letting a single tear fall onto the delicate fabric would shatter whatever was left of this moment.

But it was already ruined. The excitement, the warmth, the way he had looked at you like you deserved nice things—it was all gone now, slipping through your fingers before you even had the chance to hold onto it.

The only thing you could think about was how much you had hurt him.

It replayed over and over in your mind—the way his expression had shifted, how his eyes dimmed just slightly, the subtle tension in his posture as if he was bracing himself for more. You had never wanted to push him away, never wanted to make him feel like his kindness was unwelcome.

But you had.

And now, standing there in the quiet of your room, staring at the paper bag the dress had come in, you wondered if you had just ruined more than just this moment.

Harry was surprised—he had never seen or heard you say anything mean before. Not to him, not to anyone.

But tonight, your words had cut, not because they were cruel, but because they carried something deeper—something sharp with exhaustion, with walls built from years of disappointment. And maybe that’s what hurt the most.

He didn’t know if he should leave or stay.

Part of him wanted to give you space, to let you sit with your thoughts and breathe. But another part—the stronger part—couldn’t bear the idea of walking away, of letting this moment settle between you like something permanent.

So he stood there, unmoving, caught between his instinct to hold on and his fear that maybe, this time, you wanted him to let go.

You took deep, shaky breaths, but it didn’t help. The memories came rushing back, uninvited and relentless—voices from the past whispering, taunting, telling you to be slimmer, to take up less space, to mold yourself into whatever version of acceptable they had decided for you.

Your chest tightened, anger and hurt tangling together until you couldn’t tell which was stronger. It made your head spin, made your fingers curl into fists at your sides.

You thought you had buried this. Thought you had learned to live past it. But here you were, standing in your bedroom, a beautiful dress in your hands, and all you could feel was that same suffocating weight of never being enough—or maybe, being too much.

Gripping the paper bag tightly as if it could steady you. The weight of the moment pressed down on your chest, but you knew you couldn’t stay hidden forever.

Harry was still out there, waiting.

You weren’t sure what you were going to say, or if anything could fix the tension lingering between you, but you had to face him. Swallowing hard, you squared your shoulders, steeling yourself before reaching for the door.

Harry’s attention snapped to the door the moment it creaked open. His eyes landed on you—on your rigid posture, the way your fingers clutched that damn dress like it was something heavier than fabric.

For a moment, neither of you spoke.

You just stood there, face to face, the silence stretching between you, thick with everything left unsaid. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes—soft, searching—held something that made your throat tighten.

You weren’t sure who was supposed to speak first. Or if words would even be enough.

You held out the paper bag to him, your fingers trembling slightly as you forced yourself to speak.

"I—I’m sorry," you stammered, the words feeling small, pathetic, not nearly enough.

Harry took the bag, but his eyes never left your face—watching, waiting. You couldn’t meet his gaze. Your eyes stayed downcast, focused on anything but him, blinking rapidly to keep the tears at bay. Your chest felt too tight, breaths coming slow and heavy, like each one was a battle.

A beat of silence. Then—

"I’m sorry too," Harry murmured, voice quieter than you’d ever heard it. "I should go."

The finality in his words settled like a stone in your stomach.

Harry didn’t say goodbye. Didn’t spare one last glance.

He just turned, walked to the door, and left.

You heard the way his footsteps picked up, turning into a jog as he made his way to his car—like he couldn’t get out fast enough. Like he just needed to be anywhere but here.

The door shut behind him with a quiet click, but it might as well have been a slam for how final it felt.

And just like that, he was gone.

The moment the door closed, the weight of it all crashed down on you.

A loud, broken sob tore from your throat, your breaths coming in quick, uneven gasps. You pressed a hand to your chest, trying to steady the ache, but it was useless. The dam had burst, and there was no holding it back now.

Tears streamed down your face, silent at first, but then the sobs came harder, louder—shaking your whole body. You didn’t even try to stop them.

Because he was gone. And the worst part?

You weren’t sure if he’d come back.

...

I had to, I'm sorry.

[1dmonthlyficroundup]

— 1D Monthly Fic Roundup —

Hi, and welcome to the 1D Monthly Fic Roundup for February 2025! Below you’ll find 1D fics that were all published this month. We hope you’ll check out these new fics! If you would like to submit your own fic, please check this post on how to submit or visit our blog @1dmonthlyficroundup​. You can find all our other posts here.

Happy reading!

＊ Dreaming of You by @louislittletomlintum [E, 30k, Louis/Harry]

“Do you like cigarettes after sex?”

Harry blanched, wondering why on earth Louis would ask him a question like that.

“Oh, well, I - well I have asthma, and ehm, I’m actually a virgin, so,” Harry managed to stutter out, answering purely on instinct as he fiddled with the edge of the vinyl case he was holding and looked at Louis nervously.

He met Louis’ eye after a few seconds and saw an amused glint, one of his curved eyebrows raised in question as he nodded down at the vinyl in Harry’s hands. Harry looked down and was met with three words in white, serif typeface against a misty black background:

Cigarettes After Sex

or the one where harry's in his mid-20's so it's probably about time louis took his virginity

＊ I Can Feel It Take A Hold by @louislittletomlintum [E, 16k+, wip, Harry/Louis]

“Do you always swim in the nude?” Louis broke the silence, his smile growing when Harry felt his blush deepen.

“Sometimes,” Harry answered wearily, pushing his hair back in the hopes that it would maybe not look quite as dishevelled as it felt.

“Mm,” Louis hummed, cocking his head to the side like he didn’t quite believe him. Harry felt properly studied under his gaze. “And what was your plan?”

“My plan?” Harry countered. The water licked at Louis’ legs, darkening his hair and wetting the back of his shorts where he was sitting.

“Well. You were obviously wanting to get my attention,” Louis mused, Harry blushing further. “So what are you going to do with it now that you’ve got it?”

or the one where it’s call me by your name but with; developed frontal lobes, oranges instead of peaches, golden by harry styles, and a happy ending

＊ laid bare by @disgruntledkittenface [NR, 3k, Harry/Haymitch Abernathy]

It's not the first time that Haymitch and Harry meet.

But it is the first time that Haymitch really sees Harry.

＊ Caturday Night by @disgruntledkittenface [M, 6k, Harry/Sutton Stracke]

“You know it’s Caturday,” Sutton continues, lifting her eyebrows. “Now that’s non negotiable. Please tell me you like cats.”

“I do actually,” Harry says, pleased to find that she doesn’t mind keeping up with the twists and turns of the conversation. “I like how independent they are. Everything on their terms.”

“Amen,” Sutton replies. “I have three. Just call me crazy cat lady. Or kitty cat. Those can be good nicknames.”

Harry chokes on a sip of her lager. Given the right circumstances, she'd be more than happy to call Sutton “kitty cat.”

Sutton is intimidating and charming and maybe a little mercurial. But also she’s kind of weird.

And Harry fucking digs it.

＊ baking me crazy by @disgruntledkittenface [NR, 2k, Harry/Seth Meyers]

Harry bakes when he’s had a bad day. He finds out that his roommate Zayn has been texting their neighbor Seth to let him know on those days that free baked goods are available. But he doesn’t mind.

Seth does a better job of cheering him up than baking ever could.

＊ Isn't She Lovely? by @enchantedlandcoffee [G, 312 words, Louis/Harry]

"Lou, our jobs revolve around being up at night." Harry chuckled, his voice getting closer signalling to Louis that he'd entered the room. "Yeah, well apparently I've got dad brain. How could I misplace a football uniform of all things?" Louis groaned before leaning to look through the drawers again.

Or, Louis and Harry as first time parents.

＊ You Can't Go To Bed Without A Cup Of Tea by @enchantedlandcoffee [G, 333 words, Harry/Louis]

"Hazza?" Louis whispered, tiptoeing further into the kitchen and around the island. The sight infront of him broke his heart. Harry's face was red and blotchy from crying, his duvet wrapped tightly around him. "Oh Hazza, love. What's wrong?"

Or, Louis can't sleep and stumbles across a sad Harry on his way to make a cup of tea.

＊ We Made It by Blue_Green28 / @bluegreen28fics [M, 10k, Louis/Harry]

5 times Harry hints that he wants a baby and 1 time Louis finally gets it.

or, the one with Harry having a bad case of baby fever

＊ I’ve been thinking about you by nevermind_991 / @nevermind991 [M, 50k, Harry/Louis]

“It’s not that I don’t trust her, but you know how she is, Lou. Taylor’s so…”

“Perfect?”

“Exactly! She intimidates me a bit. I wouldn’t be this worked up if it were someone else. I’d probably be less nervous if it was a total stranger or, I don’t know… someone I knew wouldn’t judge me if I’m terrible at it.”

Louis knew he shouldn’t laugh, but he couldn’t help a small chuckle from slipping out. “Sorry, sorry… but, H, aren’t you overthinking this a bit?”

“I don’t know… I just want everything to be perfect…” Harry seemed to drift off, thinking, then turned back to Louis. “Lou?”

“Yeah?”

“You wouldn’t… No, forget it.”

Louis raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “No, Harry, come on. What’s going on in that curly head of yours?”

Harry flicked his cigarette to the ground, taking one last drag. “Would you… help me?”

Oh.

Or- Harry and Louis were best friends, but after a rather unusual request for help, their relationship—and their friendship—fell apart. They cross paths again five years later, with Louis now in the same band as Harry’s ex, Taylor, and a past to confront and a future to decide.

＊ Blue eyes look my way (Make today my lucky day) by magpielivingforglitter / @builtyouahousefromabrokenhome [E, 98k, Louis/Harry]

November 1968. Harry has to quit the Liverpool College of Art and go back home to Sheffield to work in the steel mill, after his step-dad died and left his family with debts and too many mouths to feed. But that also means Harry gets to catch his local ice hockey team’s games again. And the Sheffield Steelers have two new players who could turn the season around - maybe even Harry’s whole life …

＊ The Stranger the Better by @haztobegood [G, 2k, Harry/Hozier]

Sometimes a painful break-up can lead to an unexpected new beginning. The note with a famous singer’s phone number in Harry’s hand is proof of that. Thankfully it wasn’t Harry’s heartbreak that led to this, but his best friend Niall’s.

＊ History's pullin' me back by Worldsofdreamers / @defences-down [M, 1k, Zayn & Louis]

A plan years in the making comes to fruition.

Or the story of the 2025 reunion in LA

＊ Flowers for You by Worldsofdreamers / @defences-down [E, 3k, Harry/Louis]

Louis might be exhausted from writing his next album and travel but he'll be damned if he doesn't find a way to make his baby's birthday special.

Or what they got up to on Harry's 31st.

＊ If We Were Living In Utopia by Worldsofdreamers / @defences-down [E, 3k, Zayn/Niall]

The tour reaches San Francisco and they have a conversation they've been putting off for a while.

＊ Hearts All Whole by @justanothershadeofblue [M, 33k, Louis/Harry]

Father Louis Tomlinson hasn't seen or talked to his high school boyfriend in over a decade, not since they went to different universities and slowly grew apart. This means it's a bit of a surprise when he looks out from the pulpit on the first Sunday of Advent and sees Harry Styles' unmistakeable head poking up from a pew halfway back and on the left. How's a priest supposed to make it through the madness of the holiday season with his very friendly, very attractive ex distracting him at every turn?

＊ Pink Guinea Club by @haztobegood [NR, 837 words, Harry/Chappell Roan]

Harry's one night stand was interrupted by four adorable guinea pigs.

＊ (un)stuck by yeah_alright / @uhoh-but-yeah-alright [T, 3k, Harry/Zayn]

Coworkers Zayn and Harry find themselves stuck in their office elevator together one evening after work. In such a small space, there may not be enough room for Zayn's crush on Harry to stay hidden.

＊ The Nestuary by @homosociallyyours [T, 5k, Harry/Louis]

Louis has never gotten the hang of nesting, so when she gets an Instagram ad for a nest building service, she worries it's too good to be true. It's not, fortunately. She's hooked.

Harry is too, for entirely different yet not unrelated reasons.

＊ Be With Me by @allwaswell16 [T, 100 words, Louis/Zayn]

Zayn wants Louis to know she deserves the best. And well, Zayn is the best.

＊ You Keep Pulling Me In by galactic_larry / @galacticlarry [T, 5k, Louis/Harry]

Being invited to a high school reunion was pretty much the last thing Harry wanted, so of course it had to happen.

What happens when her friend and co-worker, Louis, offers to be her fake girlfriend for the evening?

＊ The Best Gift Is One You Can Share With Someone You Love by @loulousmiles [M, 2k, Harry/Louis]

“Wow, Harry,” Louis said. She sounded hesitant—maybe confused?—as she turned the box over in her hands and looked at the packaging. Louis’s brow furrowed before she seemed to remember her manners. “Thank you,” she said, looking back up at Harry. She cleared her throat. “I really wasn’t expecting this.”

“What do you mean, Lou?” Harry asked. “Isn’t this what you told me you wanted?"

Harry may have misunderstood what Louis said she wanted for her birthday slash Christmas present. It may be just the thing for them to finally share how they feel about one another.

- Fic Fests -

＊ 4th Annual Femslash Festuary / @girldirectionfest / masterpost

A short and sweet fest in honor of Femslash February for Girl Direction lovers of any stripe.

[haztobegood]

Pink Guinea Club by haztobegood

Pairing: Chappell Roan/Harry Styles Rating: NR Words: 1k Summary: Harry's one night stand was interrupted by four adorable guinea pigs.

Written for @girldirectionfest 4th Annual Girl Direction Femslash Festuary

[merrybloomwrites]

When You're Lost, Just Look For Me

Summary: You’re not always good at asking for what you need. Luckily your bandmates know when you need a little extra love and are there to support you.

Word Count: 2.5K

CW: mentions of: neglectful family, periods, little bit of online hate

This story is set in the 1D days, and therefore Liam is a main character just like the other boys. Wanted to give a heads up in case anyone wants to avoid stories with him in it.

AN: When the news broke last week I wasn’t sure if I was going to continue writing, and really didn’t know what I would write about if I did. But then Passing Contact doubled in notes so I took that as a hint that it’s what people might want to read right now. So I decided to write a part 2 in hopes that it can help people in any way.

I have a couple other ideas for stories of reader x one direction that would also take place back when they were touring, but if you have any requests please let me know

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

It’s a day off in a random hotel room in a random city in the United States. Of that you’re sure. But you're not sure of much else at the moment. 

You’re thinking back to the past few days. You’d messed up your backing vocals on stage, and had to re-record your parts for the next album because you just could not get it right. Numerous rumors were being spread about you being spotted with random boys, leading to renewed comments calling you all kinds of nasty things. 

You’re still in your pajamas, which you realize somehow consist of a pair of Louis’ sweatpants, one of Zayn's t-shirts, and a sweatshirt Liam had given you a week ago that you have yet to return. You think about texting one of them to come hang out, but you don’t want your glum mood to bring them down. Instead you turn on the TV and wrap yourself in all your blankets. 

It’s what you always did as a child when you were sad. Your family was never open with their emotions, and affection made them uncomfortable. From a young age you knew that going to your parents for comfort would end with rejection. So you’d learned how to comfort yourself. 

The blanket nest barely does its job today, and you’re still lost in your thoughts of self doubt when a knock at the door startles you. 

For a second you think about ignoring it, but odds are the person knocking wouldn’t just go away. So you pull yourself up and open the door, seeing Niall there waiting for you. 

“Hey, haven’t heard from you today, wanted to see what you’re up to,” he says. 

You’re hit with a wave of embarrassment, not wanting to admit that you've been wallowing all day. 

“Just taking it easy,” you reply, “Catching up on sleep.” It’s believable enough, none of you sleep too well on the bus and this is your first hotel bed in over a week. 

“I hear ya, think I slept twelve hours straight,” Niall says with a laugh. 

Knowing that he’s hoping for an invitation you step aside and motion your arm, silently asking him to join you in your room. You glance around quickly, glad to see everything is neat except the bed. You hope that he doesn’t judge the mess of blankets, and considering he just kicks off his shoes and climbs into your bed, you assume he’s fine with it. 

“What are we watching?” Is his next question so you sit on the other side of the bed and pass him the remote, allowing him to scroll through the channels until he finds some nature show that looks mildly interesting. 

You stare at the screen but you’re not focusing on it. You’re more focused on Niall just a couple feet away from you. 

During a celebration after the first tour, where you’d all indulged a bit with some drinks, you’d let slip about your family and your reluctance when it comes to physical affection. They listened and then made it a goal to help you be more comfortable with hugs, and hand holding, and all kinds of friendly contact. 

And it was nice. You’d always known that babies could be touch deprived, but you’d learned that adults can be starved for human touch as well. There was no doubt that you fell into this category, so getting random bouts of touch and affection from your band members had been healing in a way.

But lately things have been so crazy that everyone has been focusing on themselves. Plus you’re older now, not the teens that you were when you started the band. As people in your early twenties, the casual physical affection has dwindled. 

The boys seem to be coping with this, as though they haven’t even realized that the group hugs and cuddle piles have stopped. But you’ve noticed. And you’ll be the first to admit that you miss it. 

Now especially, with all this stress and disappointment weighing you down, you can’t help but desire a hug, one so tight that you can just burrow into one of the boys for a little while and feel safe and loved. 

But even though Niall is right there, you can’t bring yourself to ask. You can’t even move closer and get rid of the space between you. Because it was always the boys initiating the contact. You’re nervous to try, terrified that you might get rejected. 

Niall can tell something is going on with you, but he’s not sure what. He’s never been the best at navigating other people’s emotions so he calls in backup by sending a text to Harry who arrives a little bit later. He brings lunch with him, and you’re grateful for that since you’ve barely eaten all day. 

The three of you sit together at the table to eat. The food is good, and you’re grateful that Niall and Harry are talking to each other because you don’t have much to add right now. You don’t realize the way they’re watching you, communicating their worry through pointed looks. 

When lunch is done you all head back to the bed and put on a movie. You’re sitting against the headboard, Niall on your left and Harry on your right. And somehow, they’re still not touching you. At this point you’d take a brush of their arm against yours. Anything to help you feel less alone. And yet, you can’t bring yourself to lean closer to either of them. It’s maddening. 

“Y/N,” Harry says, catching your attention.

“Yea?”

“What’s wrong?” he asks.

“Nothing,” you reply, not even sure why you’re lying to him.

“We know something is bothering you,” Niall adds. 

You take a breath before spilling everything that’s been going on. They listen and reassure you and while you do feel better after talking with them, there’s still that part of you that’s so on edge.

“What do you need?” Harry asks.

You think about it for a moment and say, “What I need is for people to stop judging me.”

“That’s a fair point. But I want to know what you need right now. From us.” Harry says.

The thing is, he knows the answer. He’s already aware of what would make you feel better. But he wants you to say it. He wants you to be comfortable to voice your needs with him and the other boys. 

Finally you blurt out, “I just need a hug.”

“That’s not it,” Harry says.

Now you’re confused. It’s what you want. You tapped into all your bravery to even say that. And now he’s telling you that’s not right?

“You want something more than that. Need something more than that,” he adds. 

You think about it for a moment and you realize that he’s right. A little hug isn’t going to cut it.

“I need someone to hold me,” you say quietly. “I need to be held.”

Neither boy hesitates now, and you end up tucking into Harry's side with Niall wrapping around you. They hold you tight, hands gently rubbing your back or arms to soothe you. 

It’s not often that you allow yourself to cry, but you do now. You heave out a sob and feel their arms tighten around you. They stay like that until your sobs turn into tears before finally drying up. 

“Thank you,” you say quietly once you’ve calmed down fully. 

“Of course, YN,” Niall says. “We’re always here for you. Whatever you need.”

“We’re in this together,” Harry adds. “And we take care of each other. Always.”

Their kindness, and comfort has you feeling so much better, but you remain in their hold just a bit longer. It feels so nice to have this type of physical contact after so long without it. 

The three of you eventually get cleaned up and join the rest of the boys for dinner. You end the day feeling so much better than you did at the start, and you know it’s thanks to these boys you call family. 

But despite how nice it felt to be held, thoughts of doubt and embarrassment fill your mind in the weeks that follow. When you look back at that afternoon you first think about how good it felt. And then you begin to feel weak that you even needed to be babied in the first place. 

You vow to be stronger in the future and not ask for that again. They have their own things, they don’t need to be taking care of you too. At least, that’s what your parents had always said. 

Tour continues, and one night you all have to stay at the venue for a while after the show. Security said something about it being unsafe to travel just yet, but you were too tired to listen to the details. 

After more than an hour of hanging out backstage you finally get the all clear to head out. But in that time you’d practically fallen asleep on the sofa. You have zero desire to get up so you sleepily raise your arms and look at Liam who’s standing before you and say, “Carry me.”

He chuckles, and a sweet smile appears on his face. Without even saying a word he leans down and slides an arm behind your back, the other under your knees to scoop you up bridal style. You sling one arm around his neck and hold on as he adjusts his grip to make sure you are secure. 

Once back on the bus he tucks you in, straightening your extra blanket and placing your stuffed cat in your arms. He runs a gentle hand through your hair until you fall asleep, once again feeling so safe and loved. 

A couple weeks later your period hits, and for some reason this month is especially bad. It’s day two of non stop cramps, and as much as you try to keep this a secret from the boys, they always know when you’re feeling particularly bad. 

Louis is the one to find you curled up on the couch. He brings chocolate, pain relievers, and some tea that’s supposed to help. You’d never heard of it before, but apparently his sisters swear by it. 

When nothing helps right away he lays down with you. His hand goes to your stomach and begins to rub, somehow soothing more than just the pain. Once your cramps finally go away you turn so that you're facing Louis. You tuck your head under his chin and he puts his arm around your waist to keep you close. 

It should be strange, being so close to him. But it just feels right, just like it does with the other boys. You let yourself enjoy the comfort as Louis’ hand rubs gentle circles on your back. 

Not only are your cramps gone, but the feelings of sadness and anxiety that usually come with your period are gone too, all thanks to Louis’ compassion and gentleness. 

A few days later you're sleeping in your bunk when a nightmare hits. It’s one that you used to get all the time, but now only comes when you’re extra exhausted or stressed. And with it being the last couple weeks of tour, you’re both of those things. 

You wake up gasping, adrenaline coursing through your body. You hoped that you were quiet and didn’t wake anyone else, but a moment later Zayn appears and asks if you’re alright. 

“I’m fine,” you reply. “Just a dream. I’m good now.”

But of course these boys can read you like a book. And Zayn immediately knows you’re not fine. 

“Scooch over,” he says, and you listen. As soon as there’s room he climbs in the bunk with you. He lays on his back and pulls you so your head is resting on his chest. 

You get comfy but you can’t help but feel bad. These bunks are small, uncomfortable for just one person. Definitely cramped with two.  

“You don’t have to stay. I’ll be fine,” you say. 

“Nonsense. No one should be alone when they don’t have to,” he replies. 

You can't argue with that. The two of you hold each other close and fall into a peaceful sleep. He’s still there when you wake up in the morning and you snuggle closer, taking advantage of his comforting touch. 

When tour ends you’re a weird mixture of relieved and sad. It had been exhausting, but so wonderful. 

And you have to admit to yourself that you’re going to miss the boys. It’s only a couple of weeks apart before you come back together, but you’ll be back home with your family during that time. 

And you’re realizing that they’re not really family to you. 

Zayn, Niall, Louis, Liam, and Harry are your family. They care for you in ways your own parents never did. And you’re going to miss that while you’re all back home. 

The boys know how you feel about going to stay with your family. That’s why they plan a night in rather than going out to party. You have some drinks and pizza, and spend the evening reminiscing about the past months you had together. 

The later it gets, the more glum you feel. You know the goodbyes are coming soon, and that puts a damper on your mood. 

Liam’s the first to notice how quiet you’ve gotten. He sits next to you on the couch and gently nudges you with his shoulder. 

“What’s wrong?” He asks.��

You don’t want to bring down the party, but you can’t ignore his pleading eyes so you reply, “I’m just going to miss you guys.”

He nods but continues to look at you, knowing there’s more to it. Sighing you add, “And you guys are so happy and so warm. At home everyone’s cold and distant.”

“What can we do to help?” He asks. A memory pops into your head. Another hotel room when you were feeling down. You know exactly what you need. And you’re no longer scared or embarrassed to ask for it. 

“I need to be held,” you say. 

“I think we can do that,” Liam says before once again picking you up and announcing, “Cuddle party on the bed!”

He gently tosses you onto the plush king bed and in no time you’re surrounded by your boys. That’s how the six of you sleep that night, all snuggled together in one big pile. 

You’ve never before felt so safe, so loved. And you’ll forever be grateful for the opportunity you received that brought you close to these boys. Because they are the ones who taught you what love truly feels like.

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

AN: While I was working on this a butterfly landed next to me and stuck around for a while. Brought me a bit of peace.

To my readers, I hope you’re all doing okay, and if you need someone to talk to know that I’m here and willing to talk!

[daisyblog]

Risky Fun

Our Story Masterlist Summary: YN and Harry have a little fun on the boys tour bus and get caught by Niall.

warning: sexual theme, oral (m receiving), smut, caught

Based on this request.

Craving each others touch and a moment alone to explore one and other, Harry and YN had snuck back onto the boys tour bus in between soundcheck and the show.

Harry was pleasantly surprised as he laid down in his designated bunk and YN wasted no time in reaching for his belted jeans, her smaller hands undoing them with ease.

“Someone’s eager!”. Harry gave a lazy smirk as he felt his lower half become harder with anticipation.

“Might wanna say that to your dick bubs!”. YN sent back a larger smile as the more she fumbled with his jeans, the longer and bigger his length grew.

Before Harry could return the quick whit, he felt the warmth release down his long length with ease and as he dared to look down, he was met with YN’s gentle strokes and her pink tongue swirled around his tip.

“Oh fuck…feels so good!”. Harry moaned into the air above him as his head voluntarily tilted back to meet the plump pillow. His fist traveled down and met with YN’s head to hold her ponytail tight.

As YN twirled her tongue with ease around the tip, leaving a path of wetness behind, her hand stroked up and down his length with rhythm.

“Oh yeah…uh fuck me!”. YN felt a pang at her ego rising and Harry continued to echo his moans with a grunt.

Knowing her wet tongue had teased Harry enough, she gently slid his long thick length down so it met the back of her throat causing her eyes to sting and his hips to buckle.

“Oh my fucking- your mouth is heaven”. Harry complimented as he took a shaky breath, feeling his thickness pushing its way down her tongue. Getting ahead of the feeling, Harry buckled his hips up to quick causing YN to gag on his length. “Shit…fuck…m’sorry babe!”.

Despite the worry in Harry’s voice as he panicked he’d pushed the moment too much, YN caused a whole new feeling inside him. “I liked it…do it again!”.

“Fuck me…you’re going to be the death of me!”. Harry dramatically announced into the air around them as he lolled his head back in search for comfort.

As YN’s mouth returned to her movements of licking and sucking his length, Harry moaned loudly without thought that they were only a few feet away from the others.

“Your moans are so fucking hot!”. YN spoke as she brought her mouth up for a break before her lips and nose met with the base of Harry’s stomach.

“Oh yeah….fuck…fuck…oh…oh…YN…yeah…I’m gonna cum…”.

In between Harry’s grunty moans, YN froze as she heard a familiar accent. A thick Irish one to be exact. “Fuck!”.

Harry’s ears quickly tuned into the noise coming from the other side of the curtain that kept them hidden.

YN could feel her cheeks rise with embarrassment as they heard Niall’s voice and loud contagious laughter. “Fucking hell lovebirds…you can hear you from the car park!”.

“Fuck off Niall!”. Harry was frustrated that their moment had been interrupted and the sound of his bandmates voice was enough to kill the mood.

“Oh yeah…feels so good…fuck…fuck…oh yeah YN!”. Niall mocked Harry’s moans before a teasing chuckle followed through the bus.

YN had made her way to lay next to Harry, knowing their moment alone was over. “Horan…kindly fuck off! You cockblock”. She felt Harry chuckle lightly at her honesty.

“Oi watch your mouth Tomlinson…or I’ll go and tell Louis what I’ve just heard!”. The couple knew Niall was teasing them, the comment was just banter but the heavy gulp in Harry’s throat spoke volumes at how worried he was about him spilling the information.

“Don’t test me Horan!”.

Tag List:

@pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy @harrys-flower @platinumbarbie143 @frickin-bats@harrysbbyh0ney @chronicallybubbly @goldensunflowe-r  @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite@kaverichauhan @peterholland04 @panicattheuc @or-was-it-just-a-dream @hittiesontour@bunnyharold @fanfictioncafe @lilfreakjez @iamahallucinationnn @theekyliepage @indierockgirrl@buckybarnessimpp @ashleighsss @jerseygirlinca @fake-coolbeans @itsmytimetoodream@treehouse-mouse @mrs-anna-styles211994 @macy-tpwk @mrs-anna-styles211994

[hazzashouse]

Forgotten - Harry Styles one-shot

A/N: Merry Christmas everyone! This one is a bit sad but I hope you’ll like it!

Summary: After Harry forgets an important anniversary, tensions boil over into a heated argument that leaves both of you hurting. Harry is forced to confront his mistakes and the cracks forming in your relationship. Determined to make things right, he sets out to prove that his love for you is stronger than his faults.

Triggers: arguments/raised voices, miscommunication and emotional tension, feelings of neglect/loneliness in a relationship, brief mention of crying and hurt feelings

Pairing: Harry Styles x female reader

Harry stepped into the house, running a hand through his hair as he closed the door behind him. It had been a long day, back-to-back meetings and calls about the tour, and all he could think about was collapsing into bed.

But when he looked up, you were standing in the middle of the room, arms crossed tightly, your expression a mix of anger and something sharper—disappointment.

His brow furrowed. “What’s wrong?”

Your gaze flicked toward the dining table, and his stomach dropped. The candles, the neatly set plates, the untouched food—it all clicked too late.

“It’s our anniversary,” you said quietly, your voice trembling with restrained anger.

“Shit.” The word slipped out before he could stop it. He ran a hand through his hair again, cursing himself. “I—fuck, I forgot. I didn’t mean to, I just—”

“Got busy?” you snapped, cutting him off. “That’s your excuse for everything, isn’t it, Harry?”

“It’s not an excuse,” he shot back, a defensive edge creeping into his tone. “You know how crazy things have been. I’m trying to keep everything together—”

“Everything except us,” you interrupted, your voice rising. “Do you even care anymore? Or am I just supposed to sit here, waiting for you to remember I exist?”

His jaw clenched. “That’s not fair. You know I love you. I’m doing all of this for us—for you.”

“For me?” You laughed, bitter and sharp. “Don’t put this on me. I didn’t ask for your schedule to swallow you whole. I didn’t ask to be forgotten.”

“Forgotten?” he repeated, his frustration bubbling over. “I’m out there working my ass off, trying to balance everything, and you think I’ve just forgotten about you? That’s not how this works!”

“It’s exactly how it feels!”

The words hit him like a punch to the gut, but he didn’t know how to respond. He wanted to explain, to make you understand how much he hated being away, how much he hated this argument. But the words got stuck in his throat, tangled up in his exhaustion.

You shook your head, tears shining in your eyes. “I can’t do this right now.”

Before he could stop you, you grabbed a blanket from the closet and headed for the couch.

“Don’t,” he said, his voice quieter now, tinged with desperation. “Don’t do this.”

But you didn’t look back.

———————

The house was silent, the weight of your argument pressing heavily on Harry’s chest. He lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, replaying every word you’d said. Forgotten. The word echoed in his mind, a sharp reminder of how badly he’d messed up.

Around 2 a.m., he gave up on sleep, his body restless and his guilt gnawing at him. Quietly, he slipped out of bed and padded down the stairs.

There you were, curled up on the couch, your face turned toward the backrest, your body stiff even in sleep. The blanket you’d brought was tangled around your legs, barely covering you.

Harry’s chest tightened at the sight. You looked so small, so vulnerable, and it killed him to think he was the reason you were here instead of beside him in bed.

Carefully, he grabbed another blanket from the chair and draped it over you, tucking it gently around your shoulders. He crouched beside the couch for a moment, watching the slow rise and fall of your chest.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered, his voice barely audible.

———————

When Harry woke up the next morning, you were already gone. A note on the counter simply said, At work. See you later.

The pang of guilt in his chest only deepened. He couldn’t leave things like this—not after last night.

When you came home that evening, the house smelled incredible—like garlic, herbs, and something warm and inviting.

You stepped into the kitchen, dropping your bag by the door, and froze. The dining table had been reset, fresh candles flickering softly, and a vase of flowers sat in the center. Harry was there, standing by the stove, wearing an apron that made you bite back a reluctant smile.

“Hey,” he said, turning to face you, his expression equal parts nervous and hopeful.

“What’s all this?” you asked cautiously.

He stepped closer, wiping his hands on the apron before pulling it off. “This is me trying to make it up to you. For last night. For forgetting. For everything.”

You stared at him, your emotions tangled. “Harry, I—”

“Please,” he interrupted gently, his eyes searching yours. “Let me say this.”

You nodded, crossing your arms over your chest, waiting.

“I know I’ve been…distracted,” he admitted, his voice low. “And I know I’ve been terrible at showing it lately, but I love you. More than anything. I hate that I made you feel like you don’t matter, because you do. You’re my everything, and I never want you to doubt that.”

Your throat tightened, and you looked away, afraid he’d see the tears welling in your eyes.

“I’m not perfect,” he continued. “I’ll probably mess up again. But I want to do better. For you. For us. If you’ll let me.”

When you looked back at him, the vulnerability in his expression made your chest ache. Slowly, you stepped closer, your walls crumbling. “You really hurt me, Harry.”

“I know,” he said softly, his voice thick with guilt. “And I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you if that’s what it takes.”

You let out a shaky breath, nodding as you wrapped your arms around his waist. He pulled you close, his chin resting on top of your head as you finally let the tears fall.

For the first time in weeks, you felt like you had him back.

The two of you ate dinner together, talking and laughing like you used to. It wasn’t perfect—there were still things to work through—but it was a start.

And for now, that was enough.

[likea-silhouette]

pairing: harry styles x fem!reader

rating: mature

word count: 3k

summary: Harry was once the boy you loved and wanted to spend your life with. The funny thing is that addiction is something that is never predicted. What happens when you run into your ex-boyfriend years after your breakup that was due to his vices?

*based on the song Complex by Katie Gregson-MacLeod*

30-year-old me could've never fathomed life would've looked like this.

The 21-year-old pictured it a million times—a future with him and me, maybe children, maybe a flat.

Our love was solidified in my mind as if something like ours would never change or dwindle. How could it? 

But that's what love feels like at that age—until reality sets in, and those dreams and visions of future eternal love begin to fade. Then, the reality of adulthood kicks in.

Harry started going out—a lot. 

It was not unusual for a man at an age that was just beginning to kiss their 20s, but then it changed. It evolved into this dark cloud that hovered over he and I until it intermingled with every feeling I held towards him.

I could tell he had a problem. The drugs, the drinking-all of it had turned into something far from a normal night of fun. Before I knew it, the Harry I once knew and adored more than anything had evaporated into an air drenched in dismay, regret, and questioning. 

Until our early 20s, our shared friends watched me sling Harry’s arm around my shoulder each time we went out together. Their sets of eyes always preached sympathy, yet their tongues must’ve been cut off-or at least that’s what I assumed due to their lack of actual words. 

Each one of those frequently occurring nights where I struggled to move his flimsy legs out of a bar as his larger, drunk stature slurred words that only made sense to him, I could feel myself hating him a little more.

Eventually, I was questioning it all. Why wasn’t I enough? Why wasn’t his music and his family enough? Why did it have to be substances that turned him into a human that I never met nor signed up to be so deeply in love with?

I began to opt-out anytime Harry said we were invited for a night out with others. I could tell his disappointment the first couple of times I declined. Still, eventually, he stopped letting me know of these invitations altogether, with me only finding out about them as I watched him slip on his coat near the front door and tell me not to wait up for him.

At the tip of our shriveling iceberg, I became so numb that it rarely bothered me anymore. Those first nights when this was more of a rare occurrence, I would find myself crying into a pillow as Harry’s passed-out body lay in a corpse-like pose on our couch. Now, I felt nothing. Everything that once annoyed and worried me had turned into just another item on my checklist that I needed to be bothered with at 3 a.m. on a Saturday, Sunday, Monday, and Tuesday…

His drunkenness had not only made Harry a completely different person but also made me a person I didn't recognize. It had me questioning whether I was even happy in our relationship, something I had never felt or imagined would happen to two people who were as deeply in love as we once were.

I wasn’t a total novacained creature; even if that’s what I wished I could be. Eventually, those feelings would bubble up and I would find my pot simmering over its edge. Tears would leak and leak from my eyes as I’d pace both metaphorically and physically while I tried to process how this had become what my life with Harry was. My throat would scratch and rub raw as I cried out into our empty apartment until my eyes were so tired and swollen that the nothingness of sleep was the only thing that sounded appealing and worth succumbing to.

___

One night, Harry managed to make his way back home from the bar on his own. How? I wasn’t sure and truthfully, I didn’t care anymore.

Even if that meant he recklessly got in a car while inebriated beyond belief or if he paid for an overpriced cab he’d never have to worry about the price of thanks to fame, riches, and loss of reality.

I nearly jumped off of the couch in surprise as his heavy hand slammed our front door closed.

Little did I know, that very evening, when I was adorned in a pair of Harry’s boxers and an oversized t-shirt, would be the last night I would spend in this living room that we shared. “How did you get home?” I said with my palm lying flat over my heart. “What are you-my mum?” Harry scoffed with a smirk, a clumsy tongue, and a stench of vodka that clung to the fabric of his clothes.

I rolled my eyes, not even bothering to continue a conversation that would never move anywhere except to a space where Harry made rude comments and insults at me. He always got this way when he was gone beyond belief and choosing silence seemed like the best option from my point of view.

“Oh, now you can’t speak, huh?” Harry spat as he took a swig out of the quarter-gone wine bottle that sat on the coffee table next to the glass I had been nursing all evening. Quickly, I stood to my feet. My chest puffed in and out rapidly as I snatched the bottle out of his hands. Harry looked at me in disbelief. “This is the last thing you need right now Harry!” “Oh come on! You really are acting like my mum now,” he said with a joking tone despite my tense face sending him very real daggers.

“I’m not fucking kidding Harry! You’re already far gone as it is.” Our chests brushed as I attempted to grab the bottle out of his hands. It gave me butterflies.

I hated how touching him in any form still gave me a euphoric feeling despite the less-than-enthused circumstance we were currently in and had been in for the last couple of years. With a smirk, Harry held the bottle of wine above his head, extending it beyond my reach. I groaned, not wanting to play his little game tonight. “You know what-fine.” I raised my hands in front of my chest in surrender, “You get even more shit-faced than you are now and I’ll go to Nadia’s place so I can have some fucking peace”.

I couldn’t lie that it stung watching Harry’s mouth downturn at my words, but I wouldn’t allow it to change my mind again as it had so many times in the past. “Babe, c’mon”, Harry whined as he lowered the bottle to waist height. “Don’t be such a prude just because I like having a good time.” “A good time? You getting trashed and then coming home to drink yourself to sleep before you eventually wake up in the morning, puking up everything in your stomach and having the worst migraine of your life-that’s a good time? Meanwhile, I’m the one who brings you food! I’m the one who cleans up the vomit! I’m the one who has to leave early to get your drunk ass home! I’m not your goddamn mother Harry and that’s how you’re treating me and I’m sick of it.”

Suddenly, Harry’s voice rose and his nostrils began to flare-he morphed into a creature that only appeared when mixed with inebriation and anger. “Fucking sue me for going out and having a drink every once in a while!” Once in a while? As if this wasn’t happening multiple times a week. “But that’s the point! It’s not once and a while H, it’s several times a week that this happens.” Harry shook his head and rolled his eyes as he took another sip out of the open bottle. That rapidly beating heart of mine somehow increased even more as my hands acted before my brain could rationalize. Before I knew it, I was smacking the glass bottle out of Harry’s hand, sending glass and poignant, fruity liquid to the ground and on mine and his clothes.

I watched in horror as Harry took a step back and lifted his hands in front of his chest with wide eyes as he examined the evidence of my aggravation and utter exhaustion. Immediately I felt shame and disbelief towards myself and the person I had become. I didn’t know who I was anymore. I was being pushed to my very brink, all while living constantly on edge and mourning the loss of who my boyfriend once was. Harry was turning me into someone I didn’t recognize anymore. Quickly, my feet darted between pieces of shattered glass, as I ran to the bathroom and let my ass meet the cold tiled floor. My knees hugged into my chest as I rocked back and forth with gasping breaths and eyes freely sobbing. Harry was mumbling something on the other side of the door, but my state of panic and disbelief shielded me from comprehending a word he was saying. Eventually, he went silent. I wasn’t sure how long I sat on that bathroom floor before I heard the light wrap of a fist against the door. I didn’t look at him as his head peaked around the now open door, but I knew his eyes would be soft and sorrowful. This was the hardest part.

He always looked sorry-so deeply sorry, and I didn’t doubt that he was genuine in that feeling. Harry was a good guy before and I knew that person was still inside of him somewhere, except he was buried six feet under and suffocating underneath the dirt and grime.

Harry proceeded to stare at me and I could tell his mind was going through some sort of internal conflict. Maybe he was regretful? Ashamed? Sorry? Hurt? I didn’t know and I was much too numb to even begin to care now. The damage was already done. Eventually, Harry gave up with his silent ‘I’m sorry’ and retreated to the couch where he drunkenly slipped into a state of slumber.

Meanwhile, I packed a large duffle bag with as many of my necessities as I could fit, and I left. —---

The months following my sudden departure were filled with texts, phone calls, and voicemails from Harry. I never answered any of them, but that never stopped him from trying to reach me. “Babe, I’m sorry. Can we talk? x ”

“You’re all I’ve ever wanted you know? I love you.”

“I’ll quit drinking. I promise this time.”

“Please don’t do this. I can’t do this without you in my life.”“You’re so perfect,” Harry sobbed into the phone with drunken speech, “how could I fuck this up so badly. I’m sorry.” When those methods of communication were not satisfying enough for Harry, he resorted to sending me DM’s on social media to confirm I was receiving his calls and texts.

I left him on read each and every time. When Harry finally let himself believe that my silence was something I was looking to make permanent and not just some sort of other excuse, his calls became more spread out and his texts sparse, until nearly six months after our final dispute, he fell silent and not only from me, but from the rest of the world as well.

—----

Two full years had passed since we split up and I hadn’t heard a single word from Harry since he gave in and granted me the space I silently requested. However, something I wasn’t expecting was that little part of me that felt sad once those calls and messages stopped rolling in. Had he really given up on me after only trying for a few months? I knew it was dumb and selfish to be upset about someone's sudden cutting off of communication when that was the very thing I had done and initiated, yet I felt that silence so cripplingly.

On the night of my 22nd Valentine's Day, I sat on my couch with a joint and a large to-go container of veggie fried rice as I tried to appease my melancholy of the evening, as many others were on this night. Eventually, the drugs kicked in and the TV couldn’t hold my attention long enough, so I found my thumb lazily pressing the letter ‘H’ on the keyboard of my phone as I hovered in the open tab of the browser. I knew I shouldn’t. I had blocked him on anything and everything for a reason, but it had been a few years, and, sue me for being naturally curious…especially on a fateful night such as this.

So pathetic-i’m aware, but somehow I convinced myself that it was okay and that maybe, just maybe, this would somehow bring me comfort or peace. Others were able to look their ex up on social media to get a peak into a life they were no longer a part of, so why couldn’t I google my ex and look for his name in headlines on major press websites? That’s what I told myself as I typed out the rest of his name and hit enter.

Several items popped up, but none were too terribly personal. It seemed that even to the public eye, Harry was nowhere to be found unless it was a promotional photoshoot, tour photos with One Direction, or blurred candids that were taken in secret. There was zero gossip around those stereotypical things you would think a single man would experience; women, getting kicked out of various bars, etc. The only headlines I was consistently seeing were ones questioning Harry’s absence from the public eye. I guess we both had that question in common. However, I at least had images that I could look at.

His face looked slightly more grown up and chiseled. His green eyes that once glimmered still looked nearly the same, minus the deep set purple circles underneath his waterline that were something I couldn’t remember seeing before. His hair was even longer than before and his body had a more athletic build and was filled up with several more tattoos.

He looked good. I wouldn’t deny that. Several minutes-hell, maybe even an hour-went by of examining images of a man who looked like the person you had thought was your soulmate. When you were finally able to pull yourself out of the trance, you threw your phone down on the coffee table in frustration. Your heart was swelling and you hated it. You were smiling as you looked at those images, admiring how handsome Harry still was and that much more as he grew further into adulthood- you hated that even more. You hated that you still adored him. Fucking hated it. —----

Six years later

“Fucking Idiot”, you mumbled as your hand slammed down on the horn button set dead center on your steering wheel. The traffic was horrendous and your patience was naturally always thin, but today made you that much more intolerant of any sort of inconvenience. Your best friend, Nadia, was throwing a surprise birthday party for her husband that would be filled with top-notch cuisines, free booze, and many of his close friends and family members. However, the party wasn’t the cause of your irritability. It’s who you knew could potentially be there that was causing a disturbance within your mind and body. When Nadia met her now husband, you and Harry, who you had just started dating at the time, naturally went out on double dates often, thus, forming a close friendship between the four of you. When you and Harry parted ways, your friendship with Nadia and her partner remained, but Harry was never spoken of. You weren’t sure of the exact reason-maybe it was out of fear of disturbing your peace or maybe they both cut him of-you weren’t sure. Either way, you were grateful that it was an unspoken condition that your friends caught on to naturally. Except for today, you were far from grateful for it; to say it would be helpful to know if your ex-boyfriend would be making an appearance at the same party you would be attending, thus, the both of you having to be in the same room together again after several years, is an understatement.

Sure, you could’ve asked your friend if Harry would be making an appearance today in case you needed to mentally prepare, but you also didn’t want to give off the vibe that you cared about his whereabouts, despite you very very much caring. Especially if it meant you and him being within the same realm again.

Before you could psych yourself into any more made-up horror-filled scenarios of your and Harry’s potential reunion, Nadia’s home came into view as your car rolled into an open parking space.

The area around their home was packed with various cars and people exiting their vehicles with gift bags and envelopes in hand.

As soon as your hand puts the car in park, you are pulling the mirror down and wiping away any concept of imperfection on your face or in your hair. Once finished with your final touches to your appearance, you took a deep breath-in and then out-before grasping the giftbag in your hand and stepping out of the confines of your car and into the crisp air.

Immediately, you are greeted by familiar faces of acquaintances you couldn’t put a face to the name of. Regardless, you smiled politely and spoke the standard conversation starters, such as, “How’ve you been?” or, “I haven’t seen you in ages!”. All paired with a masked smile, of course.

You found yourself scanning your perimeter as you walked to Nadia’s front door and twisted your hand on the unlocked door knob. One last deep, deep breath was sucked in between your teeth and out through your nose as you stepped into the unknown.

To be continued

[niallerspayno]

English Love Affair (frat boy Harry x reader) - Fic Request

Masterlist

Inspired by the song English Love Affair by 5SOS

Request for @purplekimijks: What began as a one-time fling quickly evolves into something more as you and Harry find yourselves seeking each other out for frequent, secretive hook-ups. As Ashton’s sister and a songwriter for 5SOS, the situation grows more complicated by the day. Will you and Harry continue with these fleeting encounters, or will you take the risk and make it something real?

Tags: frat boy Harry x reader, Ashton x sister!reader, smut with plot

Author's note: I unfortunately never really got into 5SOS, which is weird because I saw them open for 1D in 2013 and I'm Australian - just incase I get any details wrong about them

...

The tour bus hums beneath your feet, the steady vibration lulling you into a sense of rhythm as you absentmindedly scribble lyrics in your notebook. Life on the road with 5 Seconds of Summer isn’t always glamorous, but it’s the kind of chaos you’ve grown used to—probably a genetic thing, considering your brother Ashton thrives in it.

Being the band’s unofficial fifth member and go-to songwriter is a role you love. You’re good at it, too—helping the boys find the words to match their stories, giving them the push they need when inspiration runs dry. It’s fulfilling, creative, and keeps you close to your brother.

But if you’re being honest, it’s not just the music that keeps you here.

It’s him.

Harry Styles.

You don’t know when it started—maybe the first time you met backstage at some award show, his charm disarming and his dimples practically illegal. Or maybe it’s been brewing longer, a quiet fascination that finally burst into a full-blown crush when One Direction invited 5SOS to join their tour.

Now you see him almost every day. In rehearsals. At afterparties. Lounging around during those rare, stolen moments of downtime. And every time, you’re drawn to him like a moth to a flame.

Not that you’d ever admit it.

It’s dangerous territory, crushing on someone like Harry. Ashton would lose his mind if he found out, and you can’t even imagine the chaos if the rest of 5SOS or One Direction caught wind. For now, you’re content to steal glances, laugh at his terrible jokes, and feel the thrill of his attention when his green eyes linger just a second too long.

“Daydreaming again?” Michael’s voice snaps you out of your thoughts, and you glance up to find him smirking at you from across the lounge.

“Just working,” you say quickly, holding up your notebook as proof.

“Sure,” Michael teases, waggling his eyebrows. “Working on a song or working on Harry Styles in your head?”

Your face burns, and you throw a pillow at him. “Shut up.”

He laughs, dodging easily, and Ashton walks in, his expression suspicious. “What’s going on in here?”

“Nothing!” you and Michael say at the same time, a little too quickly.

Ashton narrows his eyes, but thankfully, he lets it slide. “Whatever. We’ve got soundcheck in fifteen. Let’s go.”

You gather your things, your pulse racing as you follow the boys out. In the corridor, you almost run into Harry himself, who flashes you that devastating grin and holds the door open for you.

“Thanks,” you murmur, your heart doing that stupid fluttery thing it always does around him.

“Anytime,” he says, his voice low and smooth. His gaze lingers, just for a second, and it’s enough to make your thoughts spiral.

Yeah, this tour is going to be complicated.

…

The music thumps through the walls of the club, loud enough to make your chest vibrate. Ashton and the rest of the boys are deep into their second round of drinks, Michael and Luke shouting over each other about who can chug a beer faster. You should probably intervene before they make fools of themselves, but the atmosphere is charged, and you’re not in the mood to play referee.

Instead, you slip outside, the cool night air a welcome relief against your flushed skin. The alley is dimly lit, the sounds of the party muted as you lean against the wall and take a deep breath.

“You, too, huh?”

The familiar voice makes your stomach flip. You turn your head to see Harry stepping out of the club, his hands stuffed in the pockets of his black blazer. His hair is a little messy, his shirt unbuttoned just enough to give a teasing glimpse of the tattoos on his chest.

“Needed some air,” you say casually, though your pulse quickens when he walks closer.

“Same.” He leans against the wall beside you, close enough that his cologne—warm and woody—lingers in the space between you. “It gets a bit… much in there.”

You nod, unsure what to say. This is the closest you’ve been to him all night, and the awareness of his presence is almost overwhelming.

For a moment, neither of you speak. The sounds of the city fill the silence: distant cars, muffled laughter from inside the club, the soft buzz of a streetlamp overhead.

“You’ve been quiet tonight,” Harry says finally, his voice low.

“Just tired,” you lie, forcing a small smile.

He looks at you, really looks at you, and you feel like he’s peeling back layers you didn’t even know were there. “You’re not much of a party person, are you?”

“Not really.” You glance at him, trying to keep your tone light. “But it’s a necessary evil when you’re on tour with two bands of extroverts.”

Harry chuckles, the sound soft and warm. “Fair enough. But you do it well. I’ve noticed you’re good at blending in when you need to.”

His words catch you off guard, and you turn to face him fully. “You’ve noticed?”

He shrugs, but there’s a glint in his eye that makes your breath hitch. “I notice a lot of things about you.”

The air between you shifts, charged with something unspoken. His gaze drops to your lips for a split second, and you’re sure he’s about to say something else, but he doesn’t.

Instead, you find yourself closing the gap.

It’s not planned, not even a conscious decision—just a moment of pure impulse. His lips meet yours softly at first, tentative, as if testing the waters. But when he pulls you closer, his hand brushing your waist, the kiss deepens.

The world fades away, the sounds of the city and the party melting into nothing as the two of you press closer. There’s a heat, a hunger, that neither of you bothers to hide.

When you finally pull back, breathless, Harry’s green eyes lock onto yours, and there’s a playful curve to his lips.

“Well,” he says, his voice low and teasing. “That was unexpected.”

You laugh softly, the sound nervous but giddy. “Yeah. It… it was.”

But neither of you moves to step away. Instead, he leans in again, his breath brushing your ear.

“Think you can keep a secret?”

Your pulse races at Harry’s question, his breath warm against your skin. You should say something—anything—but all you can do is nod, your body leaning instinctively toward his.

“Good,” he murmurs, his lips brushing just below your ear. “Because I’ve been thinking about this for a while now.”

His confession sends a shiver down your spine. The thrill of his words, combined with the tension that’s been simmering between you for weeks, pushes you over the edge.

“Harry,” you manage to whisper, but it’s less of a protest and more of an invitation.

He takes the hint, his hands finding your waist as he presses you back against the wall. His mouth captures yours again, this time hungrier, deeper, as if he’s been holding himself back and can’t any longer. Your hands slide up to his shoulders, gripping the soft fabric of his blazer as his body pins you in place.

The alley is quiet, the world shrinking until it’s just the two of you. His lips trail from your mouth to your jaw, then lower, skimming the sensitive spot just below your ear. You bite back a gasp, the sound catching in your throat, and he chuckles softly.

“You’re so quiet,” he teases, his voice a mix of amusement and desire. “I was starting to think I’d have to work harder.”

“Shut up,” you mutter, your fingers tangling in his hair as you pull him back to you.

He grins against your lips but doesn’t argue, his hands sliding down your waist to your hips. The pressure of his touch is firm, grounding, and you feel yourself melting against him.

“Let’s go,” he says suddenly, pulling back just enough to look at you. His eyes are dark, his lips slightly swollen from kissing you.

“Go where?” you ask, your voice breathless.

“Anywhere but here.” He nods toward the club. “Unless you want to risk your brother walking out and catching us.”

The mention of Ashton jolts you back to reality for a split second. This is a bad idea—a terrible idea, really—but the way Harry’s looking at you makes it impossible to care.

“Fine,” you say, your voice steadier than you feel. “Lead the way.”

He takes your hand, his fingers lacing with yours as he pulls you toward the back entrance of the club. The thrill of sneaking off together sends a rush of adrenaline through you, and by the time you make it to his hotel room, you’re both laughing softly, your nerves tangled with excitement.

The door clicks shut behind you, and for a moment, you just stand there, looking at each other. The room is dim, the city lights filtering in through the window casting shadows on his face.

“You sure about this?” Harry asks, his voice low but serious.

You step closer, your hands sliding up his chest. “Are you?”

Instead of answering, he kisses you again, and this time there’s no hesitation. His hands are everywhere—your back, your waist, your thighs—pulling you closer, as if he can’t get enough. You stumble toward the bed, his jacket slipping off his shoulders and landing on the floor.

The backs of your knees hit the edge of the bed, and you let yourself fall back onto the soft mattress, pulling Harry with you. His weight presses down against you, solid and warm, grounding you in this moment that feels both thrilling and inevitable.

His lips move against yours, hungry and sure, leaving you breathless as his hands slide under your top, his fingertips grazing the bare skin of your waist. The heat of his touch sparks a fire that spreads through your entire body, your senses heightened by the closeness of him—his warmth, his scent, the soft rasp of his stubble against your cheek.

“Are you sure?” he asks again, his voice lower this time, tinged with impatience and raw need. His green eyes are darker now, locked onto yours, the question more of a formality than anything else.

You don’t answer with words. Instead, you pull him down to you, crashing your lips into his, fingers tangling in his hair as you take what you’ve both been craving all night. It’s messy, hot, and desperate, and you feel his groan reverberate against your mouth as he presses his body firmly against yours, pinning you to the mattress.

The shift is immediate. His hands are on you, rougher now, gripping your waist and sliding down to your thighs with a possessive strength that sends a jolt of arousal through you. He’s not gentle, and you don’t want him to be. You arch into him, your nails digging into his shoulders as he grinds his hips into yours, his hardness pressing against you through the thin barrier of clothing still between you.

“God, you feel so good,” he growls, his voice ragged as his lips trail down your neck, teeth grazing just enough to leave marks. You gasp, your body responding instinctively as heat pools low in your stomach.

“Harry,” you gasp, his name falling from your lips like a plea, and it only spurs him on. He yanks your shirt over your head in one swift motion, his hands immediately returning to your bare skin. His palms are hot, his touch firm as they slide over your curves, fingers digging in just enough to leave a sting that’s more pleasure than pain.

“Fuck, you’re so perfect,” he mutters, his voice rough and breathless as he pulls back just enough to take you in, his gaze hungry and intense.

You don’t give him a chance to say more. Your hands move to the hem of his shirt, tugging it off him in a rush before your fingers are on his belt, working it open with shaking hands. He smirks, the sight of your urgency clearly fueling his own, but he doesn’t stop you, his eyes darkening as you shove his jeans down his hips.

He’s on you again, his body pressing into yours with a weight that feels overwhelming in the best way. His hands grip your thighs, spreading them wider as he settles between them, his lips crashing against yours with a bruising intensity.

Your head tilts back against the pillows as he moves lower, his teeth scraping against the sensitive skin of your chest before his lips trail lower, biting and sucking his way down. Your moan fills the room as he pulls your underwear down with a sharp tug, tossing it aside before his hands are on you again, exploring, teasing, claiming.

When he finally moves back up, his lips find yours again, rough and insistent, and you feel him against you, hard and ready. Your breath hitches as he presses forward, his hand gripping your hip tightly to hold you in place as he pushes into you with one slow, deliberate thrust.

The stretch is overwhelming, and you gasp, your hands clutching at his shoulders as your body adjusts to him. He stills for a moment, his chest heaving against yours as he curses under his breath, his control clearly hanging by a thread.

“Jesus, you feel so good,” he groans, his voice strained. But the pause doesn’t last long. He pulls back and thrusts again, harder this time, and the sharp cry that escapes your lips only seems to fuel him.

The rhythm he sets is relentless, his hips snapping against yours in a way that leaves you breathless. His hands are everywhere—gripping your hips, tangling in your hair, pinning your wrists above your head as he takes you apart piece by piece.

“Look at me,” he demands, his voice rough, and you force your eyes open, meeting his gaze. The intensity there steals what little air you had left, and you feel the raw hunger in the way he looks at you, like he can’t get enough.

The room is filled with the sounds of heavy breathing, skin against skin, and the soft creak of the mattress beneath you. Every thrust pushes you closer to the edge, your body trembling beneath him as you surrender completely to the heat and intensity of him.

“You’re mine,” he growls, his lips brushing against your ear as he drives into you harder, his grip on your hips almost bruising. And in this moment, you don’t care about anything else—just the way he feels, the way he makes you feel, and the fire that’s consuming you both.

The tension in your body builds with every thrust, every roll of his hips, each movement pushing you further toward the edge. Your nails dig into his skin as your body tightens, every inch of you alive with the electric buzz of him, the heat between you. You can feel him, deep inside you, moving relentlessly, his breath ragged and harsh against your neck.

"Harry..." you gasp, your voice breaking as your body starts to tremble, your chest heaving with the effort to hold on. You’re so close, so close that everything else fades away, leaving only the overwhelming sensation of him and the burning need for release.

"Fuck, I know," he grunts, his fingers gripping your hips harder, his pace quickening, his breaths coming in sharp, uneven gasps. His eyes are locked on yours, his face a mixture of concentration and raw desire. "Come on, baby. Let go."

And then, just like that, it snaps. Your body gives way, a wave of pleasure crashing over you, your breath catching as you cry out his name. The world tilts as you lose yourself in him, the intensity of your release leaving you breathless, your body shaking as it waves through you.

Harry’s movements become more erratic, his control slipping as he follows you, his own release tearing through him with a low growl. You feel him pulse inside you, each throbbing wave of his climax pushing you even further into the haze of pleasure, your body still trembling under the weight of it.

He collapses onto you, his chest heaving against yours, both of you slick with sweat, breathless from the overwhelming rush of it all. You lie there for a moment, both of you tangled in the aftermath, the room heavy with the echoes of your connection.

The silence between you is thick, the only sound the frantic beating of your hearts. His hand brushes against your cheek, his thumb stroking the soft skin there as he raises his head to look at you. There's something almost apologetic in his expression, but also a glint of something deeper—satisfaction, maybe, or desire, or something you can't quite place.

"That was..." he starts, but he doesn’t finish. Instead, he presses a kiss to your forehead, lingering there for a moment, before pulling away slightly to look at you again. "We don't tell anyone about this, right?"

You nod, your fingers lightly tracing the contours of his jaw, feeling the roughness of his stubble under your touch. "Yeah. No one," you agree, your voice still a little breathless, but with a steady resolve.

His lips curl into a small, almost mischievous grin. "But we can definitely do it again, yeah?" he asks, his voice lowering, as though testing the waters.

You can’t help but smile at the suggestion, your fingers running through his hair as you look up at him, the heat of the moment still lingering. "Definitely," you reply, your voice steady, the hint of a laugh in your tone.

He leans down to kiss you again, soft and slow this time, a promise of more, as both of you settle back into the bed, the world outside forgotten. The night stretches ahead, and in the quiet aftermath, there’s only the unspoken agreement between you—what happened stays between the two of you. But it’s not over. Not by a long shot.

...

You wake up to the soft light of dawn streaming through the window, the quiet hum of the city just beyond the walls of the hotel room. You’re tangled in the sheets, your body still warm from the night before, but there’s an underlying tension creeping in with the awareness of what happened. You blink a few times, the events from last night flooding your mind in vivid flashes—his touch, the way he kissed you, the way your bodies moved together, and the marks he left on you.

You feel his breath on the back of your neck before you even realize Harry’s awake. He’s lying next to you, his arm draped over your waist, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm, looking impossibly calm for someone who shared such an intense experience with you.

Your eyes widen when you catch sight of the dark purple marks scattered across your neck, a line of them creeping down toward your collarbone. Your breath catches in your throat as you shift slightly, trying not to wake him. Then your fingers trail down to your hips, where you feel the telltale pressure of his hand—the faint outline of bruises, each one a reminder of the night’s wild intensity.

Panic starts to creep in. You have to hide these. You have to figure out how to sneak back to your room without anyone seeing. You don’t even know why it’s bothering you this much; it’s not like you and Harry made any promises, not like anyone would find out. Still, the idea of the band—especially Ashton—finding out makes your stomach churn.

Carefully, you slip out of the bed, trying to make as little noise as possible, but Harry stirs slightly. You freeze, heart hammering in your chest, but he simply groans softly and rolls onto his back, one hand draped casually over his eyes, completely unfazed. His deep voice, laced with sleep, cuts through the silence.

“Morning,” he says, his tone as nonchalant as ever, like he hasn’t just turned your world upside down.

You bite your lip, trying to keep your composure as you stand near the bed, searching for something—anything—to cover the marks. Your mind races, fingers fumbling as you search for a shirt or anything that will help hide the evidence.

“Everything okay?” he asks, his voice low but teasing, not even glancing your way as he stretches. He’s acting so casually about it, like nothing out of the ordinary happened, like he doesn’t see the way you’re scrambling to cover up.

“Yeah,” you mutter, forcing a laugh, though it’s thin and awkward. You grab your shirt from the floor, pulling it over your head in a hurry. “Just, uh... need to go back to my room. Don’t want anyone to notice.”

Harry finally opens his eyes, his lips curling into a small, apologetic smile as he watches you. He sits up, running a hand through his messy hair. “I’m sorry about that,” he says, nodding toward your neck and hips, where the marks are still evident. “I didn’t mean to leave them... though, you do look pretty fucking beautiful with them.”

You glance at him, surprised by his tone—genuinely regretful but also teasing, in that way only Harry can pull off. You try not to smile, but it’s impossible not to. The apology, even if wrapped in his usual charm, makes something warm stir in your chest.

“Doesn’t matter,” you shrug, trying to brush it off, even though you’re clearly bothered. You finish pulling on your jeans, quickly tugging the fabric over the marks on your hips. “I’ll figure it out.”

Harry slides closer, his hand reaching out to gently tug your chin so you’re looking directly at him. His expression softens, and he leans in, pressing his lips to yours in a kiss that’s much gentler than anything from last night—sincere, almost apologetic.

“Next time, I’ll be more careful,” he whispers against your lips, his breath warm against your skin. His thumb traces the side of your neck where the marks are, making you shiver. “But I’m not sorry for last night. That was perfect.”

You lean into him, kissing him back for a moment longer before pulling away. "You really have to stop marking me," you tease lightly, but you can’t help but grin. "People are going to ask questions."

He grins back, his lips curving into that devil-may-care smirk. “If anyone asks, we’ll just say we were... being friendly,” he says, his tone playful but laced with that same intensity from the night before.

You laugh softly, but there's a tightness in your chest that you can’t quite shake. As much as you want to be carefree like him, you know the reality of sneaking back to your room is a little more complicated.

“I’ve got to go,” you say, standing up quickly, suddenly feeling the weight of the situation. “Before anyone notices.”

Harry nods, his smirk never fading, his eyes still gleaming with that mixture of mischief and satisfaction. “Don’t worry, babe. I won’t tell anyone.”

You pause, glancing back at him as you reach for the door. “I’ll see you later.”

He leans back on the bed, his hands behind his head, looking completely unfazed by the chaos of the night you both shared. “You know where to find me,” he says, his voice casual, but there’s that familiar undercurrent of promise.

You slip out of the room, your heart pounding, your mind racing. The door clicks shut behind you, and for a moment, you just stand there, breathing in the cool hallway air. It feels like everything just changed, and you’re not entirely sure how to process it. But as you make your way back to your room, you can’t shake the feeling that this won’t be the last time Harry’s hands leave marks on your skin.

...

You walk into the breakfast area, trying to shake off the lingering tension from last night. Harry’s already sitting with a coffee, looking casual as ever. You meet his gaze, but the smile he gives you is knowing, making your pulse race for a second before you force yourself to act normal.

The rest of the band is chatting, and you take a seat, trying to ignore the burn of the marks on your neck and hips. Ashton’s eyes keep flicking to you, the silence between you palpable. You can feel the weight of his stare.

Liam, ever the conversationalist, breaks the tension with an innocent enough question. “Hey, what’s up with you two?” he asks, glancing between you and Harry.

Harry shrugs, cool as ever. “Nothing, mate. Just breakfast.”

You nod quickly, sipping your coffee, trying to seem casual. But Ashton’s quiet. He’s not buying it. His eyes flick to your side, where you shift uncomfortably. “You okay?” he asks, his voice sharp, before glancing at Harry with suspicion.

“I’m fine,” you snap a little too quickly, and Harry intervenes just in time, his voice smooth and easy. “We’re all just adjusting to the time change, right?”

Ashton hesitates but then shrugs it off. The conversation moves on, but you feel like something’s off.

Then Niall spots the marks on your side. “Hey, what’s that?” he asks, pointing. “New ink or something?”

Before you can answer, Louis leans in with a grin. “Bite marks? Who’d you go home with?”

You force a laugh, brushing it off. “Just some random guy from the club. It didn’t mean anything.”

Niall raises an eyebrow. “A random guy at the club? Didn’t expect that from you.”

You shrug. “Sometimes you just need to blow off steam.”

Louis teases more, but Ashton’s quiet, his jaw tight as he observes. “Sure,” he mutters, his tone colder. “Nothing.”

You feel the shift in the air, Ashton’s unspoken frustration hanging between you, but you stay silent. Harry gives you a small nod, his eyes locking with yours for just a second before turning back to his coffee.

The rest of the conversation continues, but you can’t shake the feeling that everyone knows—or at least senses—something happened. And you’re left trying to keep it together, even though the heat from last night still burns beneath your skin.

...

A few days have passed since breakfast, and things have shifted, though no one’s mentioned last night’s heat. The band is busy with rehearsals and interviews, and the air between you and Harry feels charged, like electricity just waiting to snap.

That night, after the show, you slip away from the usual after-party chaos. You need to clear your head, to get some space from the noise and the people, but the moment you step outside, your gaze lands on him. Harry’s leaning against the back of the venue, hands shoved in his pockets, watching the stars like he’s waiting for something—someone.

You’re not sure what pulls you to him, but you find your feet moving before you can stop them. When he sees you, that smirk appears, the one that you know so well, and his eyes light up.

“Thought I’d find you out here,” he says, his voice smooth but with a hint of playfulness.

You stop in front of him, the cool night air biting at your skin. "Couldn't sleep," you reply, your heart already picking up pace as he steps closer.

"Couldn’t sleep, huh?" He steps forward, his hand brushing against yours. The simple touch sends a wave of heat through you, making it impossible to ignore the tension between you two. “I think I might be able to help with that.”

The words hang in the air, thick with meaning, and without thinking, you close the distance between you. His lips find yours almost instantly, pulling you into him. The kiss is hungry this time, no teasing, just raw need.

His hands are on your body, pushing you against the cold brick of the building, his lips trailing along your jawline, down your neck. Every movement is deliberate, urgent. You gasp when his teeth graze your skin, a rush of heat flooding your veins. You can feel him hard against your stomach, and it makes you dizzy.

“Right here?” you ask breathlessly, your hands running over the muscles of his back, the tension in his body matching your own.

He looks at you, his green eyes dark and intense, a spark of mischief dancing in them. “Why not?” he murmurs, his breath warm against your ear. “It’s just us.”

You don’t hesitate. With a quick move, your hands are tugging at the hem of his shirt, pulling it off in one smooth motion. His skin is warm under your fingers, and your breath catches when his lips find yours again, harder this time.

You can’t keep up with the speed of it, the way he’s pushing you toward a part of the alley where the shadows swallow you whole. His hands move over your body, finding the zip of your jacket and pulling it down. Every touch, every movement sends you spiraling. There’s no waiting this time, no slow build-up. It's frantic, raw, like you’re both trying to chase the same thing.

You help him out of his jeans, the fabric sliding off his legs just as you pull your shirt over your head, tossing it aside. The cool air hits your bare skin, but Harry's warmth, the heat of his body, is enough to make you forget the chill.

With a sudden, fluid motion, he lifts you up, pressing you against the wall as your legs wrap around his waist. His lips are back on yours, and you can feel the intensity building again, the desperation of it. You feel his cock against you, and a shiver runs through you at the feel of him, so close, so desperate.

“Fuck,” you gasp, your hands gripping his shoulders as his hands find their way to your hips, guiding you toward him. The way his fingers dig into your skin makes your heart race even faster.

The way he enters you, quick and relentless, takes your breath away. The world narrows down to the sensation of him filling you, the rhythm of his thrusts, the pressure in all the right places. You meet him with equal urgency, the rhythm between you sharp and frantic.

It doesn’t take long for the heat to build, for the world to go blurry and insubstantial. You’re caught in the force of it, lost in the way his body moves against yours, in the sound of his breath, his low groans as he pushes deeper.

It’s raw, fast, just what you both need to feel alive. The noise around you fades into nothing. All that exists is him—his touch, his body, the overwhelming heat that’s too much and not enough at the same time.

And when you reach the edge, when everything seems to come apart at once, you feel him release into you, his grip tightening as he lets out a low, guttural sound that makes you dizzy. It crashes over you like a wave, pulling you under, and you cling to him, riding the wave of pleasure until it finally fades.

You both stand there for a moment, catching your breath, leaning against each other for support. He places a gentle kiss on your forehead, still breathing heavily. “You good?” he asks, his voice soft but rough from the intensity of it all.

You nod, a smile tugging at your lips as you look up at him, feeling the aftermath of everything. You didn’t know it would feel this good—this easy, this undeniable. But it does.

“I’m good,” you reply, your hands still on his chest, feeling his heartbeat match your own.

He smirks again, leaning down to kiss you one more time, his lips soft now, slower, almost tender. "This isn't over," he murmurs against your lips. "We’re not done yet."

You pull back slightly, looking at him with a knowing smirk of your own. "I think we both know that."

...

A few days later again, and the night is loud, the music and chatter from the party blending with the thrumming bass of your own pulse. You're moving through the crowd, adrenaline pulsing, and you know exactly where you're heading. You don’t need to find him—Harry’s always in the same spot, tucked away from the chaos, waiting for the perfect moment.

You don’t waste time looking for him. As soon as you find him, you step into his space without hesitation. He’s leaning against the wall near the back of the venue, his eyes immediately finding you as you approach. The air between you thickens, a knowing tension hanging heavy in the seconds before you speak.

He smirks, his lips curling, but his eyes are dark with something more dangerous. “You alright?” His voice is low, deliberate, the edge of it making your pulse quicken.

You don’t answer with words. You reach up, your fingers curling into the collar of his shirt, and pull him into a hard, bruising kiss. The kind that burns, urgent and hot. No hesitation. No sweet words. You’ve had enough of waiting, of being passive.

Harry’s hands find your waist, but you don’t give him the chance to pull you closer. Instead, you shove him back, pinning him against the wall with your body. His breath hitches, and for a moment, you feel his control slipping.

You pull back just enough to meet his eyes. “Not this time,” you murmur, your voice rough with desire. “I’m in charge tonight.”

Harry’s lips part, a flicker of something dark passing through his gaze. He’s caught off guard for a second, but the challenge only fuels him. He smirks, but it’s different now—almost predatory. “You sure about that?”

Without answering, you grab his wrist and tug him toward the back hall. There’s a small storage cupboard just around the corner, hidden from the rest of the crew. You reach it quickly, slipping inside with Harry close behind you, your back pressing against the cool metal door.

The moment the door closes behind you, it’s like the world shrinks to just the two of you. There’s no one around to stop it, no one to see what happens next. And that’s exactly what you want.

You waste no time, pushing him up against the shelves, the sound of metal scraping against the wall echoing in the small space. Your hands are on him instantly, pulling at his jeans, your mouth on his neck, the heat between you rising fast. There’s no teasing, no soft caress—just the immediate pressure of wanting him, needing him, right here, right now.

Harry’s hands come to your hips, fingers digging in as he tries to guide you, but you won’t let him. You’re not here for him to control. You kiss him again, harder this time, your hands undoing his belt, unzipping his jeans with quick, practiced movements. When you pull him free, his breath catches in his throat, and you feel him twitch under your touch.

“You think you can just take over?” Harry’s voice is low, rough, and it makes your pulse race even faster.

“You’re about to find out,” you respond, your voice steady despite the heat building inside you. You drop to your knees in front of him, not wasting a second before you take him in your mouth. It’s quick, sharp, the way you want it. His groan fills the small space, and you feel the way his fingers tighten in your hair, pulling you closer.

You know he’s holding back, fighting against the rush of pleasure, but you won’t give him the chance to regain control. You move faster, harder, your mouth working him while your hands hold his hips still, forcing him to take everything you give him.

“Fuck,” Harry groans, his voice strained, low. His grip on your hair tightens, his chest heaving as he struggles to stay in control. “You’re gonna make me lose it.”

You look up at him, meeting his darkened gaze, and you can see the struggle in his eyes. It’s almost like he wants to push you away, take the lead again, but he can’t. Not now. You’re too far in control. You pull away for a moment, and his eyes flicker to yours with frustration.

But before he can say anything, you grab his wrist and pull him into the corner of the cupboard. The cramped space forces you both closer, heat between your bodies rising by the second. You push him back against the shelves, your hands sliding over his chest before you drop to your knees again, taking him in your hand, guiding him where you need him most.

This time, there’s no slowing down. You lower yourself onto him in one quick motion, feeling the stretch of him fill you completely. The angle is different, sharper, and the way he groans under you sends a thrill of power through you. You move against him, setting the pace, your body riding him with the urgency of a fire you can’t put out.

His hands grip your hips, but you don’t let him take over. You fuck him harder, faster, feeling the pull of your body tightening with each movement. The sound of your skin slapping together fills the small space, your breath coming in quick bursts, matching the frantic rhythm between you.

“You feel so fucking good,” Harry mutters, his voice low and raspy as his hands grip your waist, pulling you even closer. He’s close, you can feel it. But you don’t stop. You drive yourself harder onto him, taking him deeper with each thrust.

The heat builds, pressure coiling tighter and tighter until, with one final, sharp push, you both come undone. The force of it takes you by surprise, your body trembling as you collapse against him.

You’re both breathless, sweaty, and still reeling from the intensity. Harry holds you close for a moment, his hands running up and down your back, trying to steady both of you. You pull back slightly, looking up at him with a smirk.

“You didn’t think I could take control, did you?” you tease, your voice husky with satisfaction.

Harry chuckles, his lips brushing your forehead as he presses a soft kiss there. “You fucking blew me away, love,” he mutters, his voice filled with admiration and something else—something you can’t quite place.

You smile against his chest, the rush of power fading as you both come back down. You’re not done, not by a long shot. But for now, you both stay there in the cramped storage cupboard, tangled in each other’s arms, letting the aftermath wash over you.

For now, it's just you and him.

...

The next day, you walk into your hotel room, exhausted from the day's events, only to find Harry waiting for you. The door clicks shut behind you, and before you can say anything, he’s there, stepping toward you with that same confident smirk on his lips. His eyes are dark, and his stance says it all—he’s taking control again.

You try to keep your cool, but your pulse is already quickening. You hadn’t expected him to follow you, hadn’t thought he would be here, but now that he is, there’s no denying what’s about to happen.

“Still thinking about last night?” he asks, voice low and teasing, as he reaches you in two strides.

You can barely find the words. All you can do is stare back at him, your body reacting before your brain can catch up. “I thought we agreed—”

“We did,” he cuts you off, his hand brushing lightly against your arm, sending a shiver through you. “But I think it's my turn again.”

His mouth is on yours before you can protest. It’s a demanding kiss, his lips parting yours with purpose. His hands quickly make their way to your body, pulling you flush against him. You can feel the heat of him, the hard press of his chest against yours. There’s no room for hesitation, no time to think. He knows what he wants, and he's making sure you know it, too.

“Take your clothes off,” he murmurs, pulling back just enough to let you breathe, but his eyes never leave yours.

Your body moves almost involuntarily, your shirt falling to the floor as he watches, his gaze intense. There’s something about the way he looks at you now that sends a rush of heat to your core. You can feel your body responding before you even realize it, your breath catching in your throat as he moves closer.

With one swift motion, he pushes you back toward the bed, never breaking eye contact, his hands on your waist, guiding you down. You’re almost powerless against his grip, the way his hands are everywhere, touching, exploring, pulling you closer.

"Stay still," Harry growls as he hovers over you, his lips trailing down your neck. His touch is rough, deliberate, his hands gripping you like he owns you. You try to fight it, try to hold on to some sense of control, but it’s impossible.

His mouth moves to your neck, biting down hard enough to make you gasp, leaving marks, branding you in a way that only he can. "You’re mine, remember that," he mutters against your skin, before trailing his lips lower, down your chest.

Before you can fully process what’s happening, his fingers are at your waist, slipping under your waistband. You tense at the suddenness of it, but there’s no stopping him. He doesn’t give you a chance to breathe before he's moving, quickly and efficiently, pulling you closer, his mouth returning to your skin.

“Missed this,” he murmurs, his fingers sliding over your hips, his touch like fire.

He flips you onto your stomach before you can even react. His hands grip your hips, pulling them up, positioning you exactly the way he wants you. You brace yourself, knowing what’s coming. It’s not gentle. He’s not gentle. His hand smacks against your ass, hard enough to sting, and you gasp.

“Don’t move,” he growls, his voice rough as he enters you in one swift motion. The force of it makes you cry out, the suddenness taking your breath away.

He doesn’t wait. His thrusts are relentless, harsh, driving into you with a power that has your body shaking. There’s nothing soft about it. Nothing tender. It’s all control, all power, and you can’t help but give into it, letting him take you in a way that only he can. The bed creaks beneath you, his hand still gripping your hip with a bruising force, and the sound of his skin meeting yours fills the room.

He’s rough, pushing you to the edge, your body moving with his, the tension building in your stomach. “Fuck, you feel so good,” he mutters through gritted teeth, his pace quickening. The marks on your neck throb with every movement, the bites and bruises adding to the intensity. You can feel him everywhere, his hands, his mouth, his body against yours.

It’s not long before you feel the tension snap, your body clenching around him as you cry out, your release crashing over you. Harry doesn’t stop. He keeps going, chasing his own release, his grip tightening as he finishes with a low groan, his body shuddering against yours.

He stays inside you for a moment, his hands resting on your hips, before he pulls out slowly. You collapse onto the bed, breathless, the marks on your neck and hips still stinging with the reminder of what just happened. He doesn’t move away. Instead, he leans down, pressing a kiss to the marks he left, his lips lingering on your skin.

"Next time, don’t try to fight me," he murmurs, a smile tugging at his lips. “I’ll make sure you remember who’s in charge.”

You can’t help but shiver at the thought, your body still tingling from the aftermath. Harry pulls away, his expression smug as always, but there’s something in his eyes that tells you this isn’t over. Not by a long shot.

...

The night air is thick with the promise of something to come, the city lights flickering below as the storm clouds gather above. You’ve been feeling the electricity between you and Harry all evening, the kind of tension that only seems to grow the longer you spend together. Tonight, something is different—there’s an undeniable pull that neither of you can ignore.

You’re in Harry’s hotel room, lounging on the couch, the hum of the city barely reaching your ears through the thick glass windows. Outside, the wind picks up, and you catch the first few drops of rain against the glass. You glance over at Harry, and your heart races at the sight of the mischievous grin that’s spreading across his face.

“You know,” he starts, voice low and tempting, “I’ve got a better idea than staying in here.”

Before you can ask, he’s already pulling you to your feet, his hand gripping yours with a firm urgency. The way his eyes glint with intent sends a thrill running through you, your pulse quickening. Without a word, he leads you to the door, and your stomach flips with the knowledge of what’s about to happen.

As you step into the hallway, the sound of rain grows louder, and Harry’s grip tightens around your wrist, guiding you toward a hidden staircase. “You’ll see,” he murmurs, a devilish smile tugging at his lips.

The air is charged with something unspoken, and as you ascend the stairs, you can feel the growing anticipation, your heart thumping in your chest. The storm outside is starting to pick up, a low rumble of thunder echoing in the distance. As you reach the rooftop door, Harry opens it, and the full force of the rain hits you—cold and sharp, the droplets crashing down as you step onto the wet rooftop.

The view is breathtaking, the city sprawled out beneath you, the sky above heavy with rain. You can hear the sound of water pounding against the pavement, but it doesn’t drown out the rush of your heartbeat as Harry turns to face you. His lips are on yours before you can even think, hot and insistent despite the cold rain soaking through your clothes.

“You’re crazy,” you murmur between kisses, your hands gripping his shirt as the rain drenches you both.

“You have no idea,” Harry replies, his breath hot against your ear. He pulls back for a moment, looking down at you with that smirk of his. “Let’s take this somewhere... a little more private.”

Without waiting for a response, he grabs your hand and leads you toward the far side of the roof, where a small, secluded corner offers some shelter from the storm. The wind howls around you, but the heat between you both only intensifies. Harry’s fingers work their way down your body, pulling you closer, your breath coming faster.

He presses you against the wall, his lips finding yours once more in a kiss that’s rough, desperate. His hands slide under your clothes, the cold rain making his touch even more electric against your heated skin. There’s no teasing this time—he’s all urgency, a desperate need that matches the pounding rain around you.

“Harry,” you gasp, your hands pushing his shirt off, “we shouldn’t be—”

But you’re cut off by his mouth trailing down your neck, his teeth grazing your skin as his hands push you further against the wall. His words are muffled against your skin. “We don’t need to care about that now, do we?”

The adrenaline is coursing through your veins as you feel his hands tugging at your clothes, eager, impatient. The rain pelts down harder, drenching both of you, but it only makes everything feel more intense—more real. You’re soaked, and yet there’s nothing about the cold that can stop the heat building between you two.

He drags you up against him, his lips moving with feverish need, kissing you in the rain like it’s the only thing that matters. You can barely keep up as he lifts you, pressing you against the wall, your legs wrapped around his waist as he pushes you further into the corner.

“God, you feel so fucking good,” Harry mutters, his voice rough and low as he grinds against you. His hands roam, exploring, pulling you closer as if he can’t get enough. You respond with equal hunger, the rain streaming down your face, the world falling away as you lose yourself in him.

His lips trail down to your neck, biting into your skin, leaving a mark that’s sure to last. The cold rain and the heat between you are at odds, yet they make everything feel more electrifying. You can’t stop your own moans, your fingers tangled in his wet hair as you pull him closer.

“Harry,” you whisper, your voice breaking as he moves faster, more urgently, each thrust more demanding than the last.

With each breathless moment, you know this won’t be the last time you end up like this—caught between the madness of the storm and the chaos of everything you two are. You’re both drenched, but it doesn’t matter. The rain may fall, but it’s the fire between you that keeps you both burning, relentless, until the world outside seems to disappear.

...

A few weeks have passed since that first hookup with Harry, and the tension between the two of you has only grown. The encounters have become more frequent, more intense. Sometimes it feels like there’s no hiding what’s between you, even though you’re doing your best to keep it under wraps. Harry’s smirks have become a constant, and the moments when he looks at you with that knowing glint in his eyes have started to make your stomach flip every time.

The bands—5SOS and One Direction—have started picking up on it, though no one’s come right out and said anything yet. There’s an unspoken feeling in the air, a shift in the dynamic, but everyone’s too polite—or too unaware—to confront it directly. The only one who seems to have picked up on something more than the others is Ashton. He’s been quieter, his eyes lingering on you with that concerned look you’ve come to recognise. He’s your brother, and you know him well enough to know that he senses something, but hasn’t quite put his finger on it.

You’re sitting backstage, your guitar resting on your knee, the hum of voices and instruments in the background. You’ve been working on a new song—one that’s personal, raw, and a little too close to the truth for comfort. The lyrics have poured out of you, each word more revealing than the last. It’s about what’s been happening with Harry, about the passion, the uncertainty, and the way he makes you feel all at once. You’ve titled it “English Love Affair,” a playful nod to the chaos of your tangled situation.

It’s time to show the guys. The atmosphere is a bit lighter today, everyone milling around in a relaxed mood after a long rehearsal. You grab your guitar, your fingers hovering over the strings as you make your way to where 5SOS and One Direction are gathered. Ashton notices you first, giving you a small smile, though his eyes still hold that familiar concern. The others are scattered around the room, laughing, teasing, but there’s a flicker of interest when they see the guitar in your hands.

“Got something to share, love?” Louis calls out from across the room, his voice loud and playful.

“Yeah, she’s been working on something,” Niall adds, eyeing you curiously.

You take a deep breath, nerves fluttering in your stomach. You’d been writing for months, but this one—this one feels different. The song is about Harry. About all the emotions, the heat, the connection, and the chaos of what you two have been doing. You’re not sure if you’re ready to show them yet, but if anyone’s going to understand, it’s them. You know how to separate your personal feelings from your music, but with this song, it’s a little harder to mask it all.

“Yeah,” you reply, strumming a few notes to test the sound, “it’s... a new one.”

Ashton steps forward, crossing his arms as he leans against the wall. His eyes are on you, searching, but there’s a quiet understanding there, even if he’s not sure what’s going on. You meet his gaze, offering a quick smile before looking down at your guitar.

The guys quiet down as you start to play, the melody flowing easily as you strum the chords. Your voice fills the space, the words slipping out with a raw honesty that makes your heart race:

“It started on a weekend in May I was looking for attention, needed intervention Felt somebody looking at me With a powder white complexion, feeling the connection

The way she looked was so ridiculous Every single step had me waiting for the next Before I knew it, it was serious Dragged me out the bar to the back seat of her car”

As you sing, the room grows quieter. The words, the rawness, the honesty—it’s clear this is something personal, something deeper than the usual pop tunes they’re used to hearing from you. You continue, each verse building with the tension that’s been hanging between you and Harry:

“When the lights go out, she's all I ever think about The picture burning in my brain, kissing in the rain I can't forget, my English love affair Today, I'm seven thousand miles away The movie playing in my head of a king size bed means I can't forget My English love affair My English love affair”

The last chord rings out, and the room is silent for a moment. You lower the guitar, waiting for their reaction, your heart thudding in your chest. Ashton is the first to speak, his voice quiet but steady.

“So, what’s this really about?” he asks, his eyes meeting yours with a mix of concern and something else—something you can’t quite read.

You don’t know how to answer. The song is about him, but it’s not. It’s about the complications, the passion, the messiness of what’s been happening between you two. It’s about more than just sex—it’s about feelings, connection, confusion. But you know the guys won’t get that. They’ll just hear the lyrics, the heat, and they’ll know. They’ll know exactly what you’ve been hiding.

You hesitate for a second, then shrug, trying to play it off. “It’s just a song. You know, inspiration. Whatever comes to mind.”

But Ashton doesn’t seem convinced. His gaze sharpens, and you can feel him trying to decipher what’s going on. The others, though, are still taking it in, the intensity of the lyrics lingering in the air.

“I mean, it sounds like something... more than just a song,” Luke says, his tone casual but with a knowing look in his eyes.

“Yeah, you’re not fooling anyone,” Michael adds with a smirk.

You try to laugh it off, but Ashton’s stare is unwavering. He’s not buying it. He knows something’s up, and though he’s not pressing you for answers, you can feel the weight of his silence.

“It’s nothing,” you say quickly, forcing a smile. “Just some fun lyrics.”

But in the back of your mind, you know that everything is far from just “fun” anymore. The song says it all, even if you’re not ready to admit it.

...

It’s late, long after the song reveal. The buzz of everyone’s reactions still lingers in the air, but you’ve distanced yourself from the others, needing a moment alone to process it all. You’re sitting in the corner of your hotel room, the soft hum of the city filtering through the window. The lyrics you poured out have left you raw, the reality of what you’ve been doing with Harry settling heavily in your chest.

Writing the song made you realize something you hadn’t let yourself acknowledge before: you want more. This—whatever this thing is between you and Harry—isn’t enough. It’s thrilling, electric, and addictive, but it’s not real. And you can’t keep letting it consume you if it’s never going to be anything more.

The knock at your door startles you. You already know who it is before you even open it. Harry stands there, leaning casually against the doorframe, his signature smirk in place. But there’s something more in his eyes tonight—a flicker of something softer, almost vulnerable.

“You were brilliant today,” he says, his voice low. “The song... it’s incredible.”

“Thanks,” you reply, your voice quiet but steady. You step aside to let him in, but as you close the door behind him, you already know how this conversation will go.

Harry wastes no time. The moment you’re alone, he steps closer, his hands finding your waist as his lips brush against your neck. “You know,” he murmurs, his breath hot against your skin, “I can’t stop thinking about that song. About you.”

You place your hands on his chest, stopping him gently but firmly. “Harry,” you say, your voice soft but resolute.

He pauses, pulling back slightly to look at you. His brows furrow, and you can see the confusion in his eyes. “What’s wrong?”

You take a deep breath, gathering your thoughts. “I can’t do this anymore,” you say, your words steady but heavy with meaning.

His hands drop from your waist, and he steps back, his expression shifting to something you can’t quite read. “What do you mean?”

You meet his gaze, determined not to waver. “I mean this. Us. These... hook-ups, the sneaking around. It’s not enough for me, Harry. Writing that song—it made me realize I want more. I can’t keep doing this if it’s never going to be anything real.”

Harry’s jaw tightens, and for a moment, he looks like he might argue. But then he sighs, running a hand through his hair. “You know how complicated this is,” he says, his voice quieter now. “With the bands, the press... everything.”

“I know,” you reply, your tone softer but still firm. “But that doesn’t change what I want. I can’t keep being this... secret. If you don’t want more, then we need to stop.”

The room feels heavy, the weight of your words hanging between you. Harry looks at you, his green eyes searching yours as if trying to find the right thing to say. But he stays silent, his hesitation speaking louder than any words could.

You feel your chest tighten, but you force yourself to stay strong. “I care about you,” you continue, “but I can’t keep pretending this is enough for me. So unless you’re ready to make this real, we go our separate ways.”

Harry’s gaze drops to the floor, and you can see the conflict written all over his face. He opens his mouth to speak, but nothing comes out.

“I mean it, Harry,” you say, your voice breaking slightly. “I can’t do this anymore.”

He looks back up at you, and for a moment, you think he might say something—anything—to fight for you. But instead, he nods, a small, almost imperceptible gesture.

“Alright,” he says quietly, his voice barely above a whisper.

Your heart aches, but you know you’ve made the right choice. You step back, giving him the space to leave, and after a long, silent moment, he does. The door closes behind him with a soft click, leaving you alone in the quiet room.

You sit down on the edge of the bed, your emotions swirling as you try to process what just happened. It hurts, but deep down, you know you deserve more. You deserve someone who isn’t afraid to love you out loud, someone who will choose you without hesitation.

And if Harry isn’t ready to be that person, then it’s better this way.

...

The greenroom hums with pre-show energy—chatter, guitar tuning, the low buzz of excitement. You sit on the couch, your notebook resting on your lap, though the words you’re scribbling barely register. The tension in your chest is suffocating. Since giving Harry your ultimatum, he hasn’t acted on it, and it’s tearing you apart. Worse, the teasing from both bands has started to escalate as they slowly piece things together.

“So, Y/N,” Louis calls out, his grin mischievous, “who’s the muse behind your little ‘English Love Affair’ masterpiece?”

Your head snaps up, heat crawling up your neck. “It’s just a song,” you reply quickly, forcing a light tone.

“Sure,” Niall drawls, smirking. “Except it sounds like someone’s been dragging you up staircases and kissing you in the rain. Pretty specific, if you ask me.”

Michael leans back in his chair, raising an eyebrow. “And the sudden obsession with scarves? You trying to start a trend or cover up some marks?”

Liam chuckles softly, shaking his head. “Definitely the latter,” he murmurs, though there’s a flicker of concern in his eyes.

“I knew something was up,” Luke adds, his teasing smirk widening. “You’re glowing, Y/N.”

“Alright, alright,” Calum cuts in, laughing. “Who’s the mystery guy? Come on, spill.”

The room falls quiet as everyone turns their attention to you. Your heart pounds, panic tightening your throat. Before you can stammer out a response, Ashton’s voice cuts through the noise.

“That’s enough,” he snaps, his tone sharp and unyielding.

All heads swivel to him, the easygoing atmosphere evaporating. He pushes off the wall where he’d been leaning, his arms crossed tightly over his chest. His eyes dart between you and Harry, narrowing as the pieces click into place.

“It’s him, isn’t it?” Ashton’s voice is low, but the anger simmering beneath it is unmistakable.

Your stomach twists as the room goes deathly silent. Harry, sitting on the armrest of a nearby chair, stiffens but doesn’t look away.

“Ashton—” you start, your voice trembling, but he holds up a hand to stop you.

“Don’t,” Ashton says, his gaze locked on Harry now. “Don’t even try to deny it.”

Harry rises to his feet, his expression calm but guarded. “Ashton, I—”

“You’ve been sneaking around with my sister,” Ashton interrupts, his voice rising. “Sleeping with her behind everyone’s back? Leaving marks all over her? And now you’re stringing her along like she’s some casual hookup?”

Harry’s jaw tightens. “It’s not like that,” he says firmly.

“Oh, really?” Ashton’s laugh is cold and bitter. “Because it sure as hell looks like you’re screwing her over—physically and emotionally—while you figure out whatever it is you want.”

“Ashton, stop!” you plead, stepping forward, but Zayn gently places a hand on your arm, holding you back.

“Let them talk it out,” Zayn says softly, though his dark eyes are watchful.

Harry steps closer to Ashton, his voice tight but steady. “I care about her,” he says. “More than you can imagine.”

“Then why are you hurting her?” Ashton demands, his face red with anger. “You’re leaving her bruised, confused, and heartbroken, Harry. That’s not love—that’s you being a selfish prick.”

“I know I’ve messed up,” Harry snaps back, his composure finally cracking. “I know I’ve handled this all wrong. But I’m not using her. I’d never do that to her.”

Ashton scoffs, his fists clenching at his sides. “You already are. If you cared about her, you’d stop treating her like some dirty little secret and give her the respect she deserves. She’s not just some girl you can screw around with—she’s my sister.”

Harry flinches at that, the weight of Ashton’s words visibly sinking in.

The tension is suffocating, the room silent except for the heavy breaths of the two men squaring off. Finally, Louis breaks the silence with an awkward cough. “Well… this is fun,” he mutters, earning a glare from both Ashton and Harry.

“Ashton,” Liam says gently, stepping forward. “Maybe give them a chance to work this out?”

“There’s nothing to work out,” Ashton retorts, his eyes narrowing. “Harry knows what he needs to do. Either step up or stay the hell away from her.”

“Ashton, I can handle this,” you say, your voice trembling but firm.

Ashton looks at you, his expression softening slightly, though the anger in his eyes doesn’t fade. “I hope so, Y/N,” he says quietly. “Because you deserve better than this.”

He turns and storms out of the room, slamming the door behind him. The echo rings out in the silence, leaving everyone in a tense, uneasy stillness.

Harry turns to you, his face unreadable. “Are you okay?” he asks, his voice soft.

You nod, though your chest feels tight. “Are you?”

He doesn’t answer, his gaze dropping to the floor. Because the truth is, neither of you are okay.

...

The steady patter of rain against the hotel window is the only sound in the room as you sit on the edge of the bed, your legs crossed, your fingers lightly tapping the sheets. You’ve been staring at the door, thinking about everything that’s happened—the conversation with Ashton, the way he confronted you, and how much of your own behavior you’ve been running from.

When the knock comes, you know it’s him.

“Come in,” you call out softly, your heart thudding in your chest.

The door creaks open, and Harry steps inside, looking hesitant but determined. His hair’s damp from the rain, his jacket clinging to his shoulders. For a moment, he doesn’t move, just looks at you, eyes searching, waiting for permission.

He steps closer, his voice low when he speaks. “I’m sorry, Y/N. For everything. For the way I’ve been handling this... or not handling it.”

You don’t respond immediately, your mind racing with the weight of everything. You’ve been torn in so many directions lately, guilty for the way you’ve been playing this game with him, unsure if you were using him to fill a void, or if it was something deeper.

“I didn’t mean to make you feel like you were nothing more than a distraction,” Harry continues, his voice thick with sincerity. “But I’ve been acting like I don’t care about you, and I do. I care about you more than I’ve let on.”

You take a slow breath, looking up at him. “I’ve been stringing you along too, haven’t I?” you say quietly, the guilt surfacing. “I let things go on like this—casual, no strings, knowing full well that I wanted more, but not giving you a chance to show it. I made it so easy for you to stay at arm’s length, but I don’t want that anymore.”

Harry’s face softens, and he steps closer, kneeling in front of you. His hands hover near yours before finally resting gently over them. “I’m glad you said that,” he admits, his voice thick with emotion. “Because the truth is, I’m scared too. Scared of what this means for us, for the band, for everything. But what I’m not scared of is you. I don’t want it to just be a fling anymore. I want this. I want you. For real. Not just when it’s convenient or when we’re sneaking around.”

Your heart flutters as you take his words in, your fingers curling slightly around his. You’ve heard him say things like this before, but now—this feels different. There’s no more running, no more hiding.

“I want that too,” you say softly, your voice steady, though a hint of uncertainty lingers. “But we both know this isn’t easy. I can’t keep doing this with you unless it’s real, Harry. No more games, no more keeping it quiet. If you’re in this, then I’m in it too. But I can’t keep pretending, not anymore. And if you can’t do that, then we’ll have to go our separate ways.”

Harry swallows, his gaze intense as he watches you. He’s not looking at you with the same playful glint as before. This time, it’s sincere, the weight of his words matching the look in his eyes.

“I’m in it,” he says quietly, nodding. “For real. I want you, Y/N. And I’ll do whatever it takes to make this work, to show you it’s real. I’m not backing down this time.”

You take a deep breath, your chest tightening with relief. There’s something so final about his words, something that makes you feel like you’re stepping into a new chapter.

“Okay,” you whisper, your hand reaching up to cup his face, your thumb brushing over his cheek. “No more pretending. We do this, or we don’t. But I’m not looking back.”

He leans into your touch, pressing his lips to your palm gently. “I don’t want to look back either.”

The moment stretches between you, the weight of the words still lingering, but now there’s a sense of peace—a promise that this, whatever this is, will be real.

You lean in, closing the distance, your lips brushing over his in a kiss that’s softer than the ones before, but carries the weight of something much more substantial. When he pulls back, he rests his forehead against yours.

“We’ve got this,” he says quietly, a hint of a smile curving on his lips.

The quiet between you both is comfortable, filled with an unspoken understanding. For once, there’s no rush. No expectations. Just the two of you, finally on the same page. Harry stays close, his hands gently brushing against yours as he leans back against the bed, pulling you with him. You settle into his arms, your body fitting perfectly against his.

The only sounds in the room are the soft rustle of the sheets and the gentle rhythm of your breaths. Harry’s fingers trace small circles along your back, as if memorizing the feel of you in his arms, and you do the same, your hand resting over his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your palm.

“You okay?” he whispers, his voice low, a little hoarse from the emotion of the conversation, though it still holds that warmth you’ve always loved.

You nod, lifting your head slightly to look at him. “Yeah. I’m good. It feels like… everything makes sense now. Like I’m not pretending anymore. Like this is real.”

His lips curl into a soft smile as he tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “I’m glad,” he murmurs, his thumb brushing over your cheek. “I want you to know, Y/N, that this is real for me. All of it.”

The words linger between you both, but this time, they don’t feel heavy. They feel freeing. The quietness of the room feels like a safe cocoon, a place where nothing needs to be rushed, where there are no games, no pressure. Just the quiet rhythm of the two of you, finding comfort in each other’s presence.

You press your lips to his, gently, a soft kiss that’s slow and unhurried. It’s not about passion in this moment. It’s about connection. About feeling the weight of what’s changed between you both. The kiss deepens, but it doesn’t push for more—it’s tender, the kind of kiss that’s meant for taking your time, for savoring what’s just beginning to unfold.

Pulling back, you rest your head on his chest again, your eyes fluttering closed. His arm wraps around you, holding you close, and you feel the warmth of his body seep into yours, grounding you in this moment.

“Goodnight, love,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

“Goodnight,” you reply softly, your voice barely audible.

His fingers continue their gentle movements against your skin, and the steady beat of his heart becomes the rhythm that lulls you into sleep. The world outside the room feels miles away, and all that matters is the feeling of his arms around you, the peace of knowing that this—what you two have—is real.

You drift off to sleep, wrapped in the comfort of him, the quiet promises of the night hanging in the air. It’s the first time in a long time that you feel truly at peace, knowing that you’ve found something that isn’t fleeting, that isn’t just a momentary thrill. This is real. This is yours.

And as you fall asleep, the last thought in your mind is that you’re not just a fleeting part of Harry’s life anymore—you're something more. And for the first time, you believe it.

...

The next morning, the air feels lighter between you and Harry, a sense of calm settling over you both. The conversation from the night before has laid the foundation for something real, and while there’s still a part of you that’s nervous about what comes next, there’s no more uncertainty between you two. You know where you stand, and you know that this time, it’s different.

You’re sitting with Harry in the common area, trying to act like everything’s normal. You’re not hiding anymore, but the rest of the bands are still operating under the assumption that something’s been happening between you two for a while now. Their teasing comments have become more frequent, but there’s an undertone of curiosity that lingers.

Harry catches your eye across the room, his expression soft. He stands up, extending his hand toward you, and you know what’s coming. You take a breath, pushing aside any remaining nerves as you reach for his hand.

“Oi!” Louis calls out, noticing the two of you getting up. “Where are you two off to?”

Harry doesn’t hesitate. He pulls you closer, his arm resting around your shoulders as he walks you toward the others. The whole room falls silent as you approach, the energy shifting instantly.

Ashton’s eyes narrow on you both, but there’s a look of relief in them now, even if he’s still on edge. Niall raises an eyebrow, still unsure of what’s going on. Luke and Michael are watching carefully, their expressions unreadable but attentive. Calum glances between you and Harry, a quiet smirk tugging at his lips as he folds his arms. You glance at the floor, feeling the weight of their eyes on you as Harry gives your hand a reassuring squeeze.

“We’ve got something to say,” Harry begins, his voice steady but there’s a slight tension in his jaw, as if he’s bracing for their reactions.

You take a deep breath, your nerves a little more palpable now that you’re in front of everyone. This feels like a big moment—like things are finally being put out in the open. You’ve kept this secret for too long, and now, there’s no turning back.

“We’re together,” you say softly, your voice clear but quiet. “For real this time. Not just... whatever it was before.”

There’s a beat of silence, and then the reactions come fast.

“Oh, thank god,” Niall says, a grin spreading across his face. “You two have been dancing around this for ages. About time you made it official.”

“I knew it,” Louis adds with a smirk. “You two were always making eyes at each other. It was only a matter of time.”

Harry laughs, his hand tightening around yours. “Yeah, well... we had to figure things out first. But now we’re here.”

Ashton crosses his arms, his expression a little more guarded. He’s trying not to smile, but you can tell there’s still a hint of protectiveness in his eyes. He looks at Harry, then at you. “I just want you to know, Harry,” he says, his voice low, “if you hurt her again, I won’t hesitate. You’ve got one chance to make it right.”

Harry nods immediately, without hesitation. “I know, man. I won’t hurt her. I care about her too much for that.”

The tension eases a bit, but Zayn and Liam exchange looks, their expressions still weighing the situation. Zayn’s lips curl into a small smile, but he remains quiet. Liam gives you a warm look, the faintest glimmer of approval in his eyes. It’s clear he’s not against this—it’s just new territory for everyone, and a lot has changed in the time since the last time they saw you and Harry together.

“So, we’re all good then?” Niall asks, a grin still on his face.

You nod, squeezing Harry’s hand tighter, your voice steady now. “Yeah. We’re good. We’re not hiding anymore.”

It feels like a weight has been lifted from your chest, like everything is finally falling into place. It’s not perfect—it’s never going to be—but it’s real. And for the first time in a long time, you’re not running from it.

Ashton looks at Harry one last time, then nods, a little less tense than before. “Alright. I trust you.”

Harry’s face softens, a grateful look crossing his features. “Thanks, Ash.”

The atmosphere in the room shifts, and suddenly, it feels like things are less complicated. Everyone’s starting to come to terms with it, the unspoken questions beginning to fade away. For the first time, there’s no judgment, no tension. It’s just you and Harry, and the rest of the band, finally adjusting to the new normal.

Luke looks at the two of you, a knowing smirk on his face. “Alright, alright. So when’s the wedding?”

You roll your eyes, but there’s a smile tugging at your lips. “Not that fast, mate.”

Michael laughs, leaning back in his chair. “Yeah, but at least it’s not a secret anymore.”

Calum chuckles, nudging Luke. “Maybe they’ll invite us to the wedding. They’ve been keeping us on the edge of our seats for far too long.”

The banter continues, but there’s a sense of ease in the air now. No more secrets, no more uncertainty. And as Harry pulls you close again, his hand resting on your shoulder, you feel like this is just the beginning. This time, it’s real. And you’re ready for whatever comes next.

[harrywavycurly]

There’s No Rush: Pinky

Masterlist: Here

CW: Language, mentions of drinking, mentions of anxiety and reader is very shy.

A/N: I made the decision to make this into an AU of sorts, where Niall is still an artist he just isn’t super famous and Harry works in the music industry but as a songwriter. I hope y’all enjoy this series it’s going to be fun!🎶

Tag List: @isinpfortvdmen @cumuluscranium @justagirlthatlovedtoread @secretisme4 @sweetmoonlove0214 @jerseygirlinca @christianaevans @purplekimijks @thislilmindofmine @jane-blogs04 @latedirectionerera

Summary: You run into Harry while preparing to give a speech at your bestfriend’s wedding and he introduces you to his Irish friend Niall🎶💕

As you scan the reception space you begin to regret agreeing to being in the bridal party. The amount of people sat at the long tables being washed in a warm light coming from the thousands of tiny fairy lights wrapped around the tree branches above is enough to have you breaking into a light sweat at the idea of having to give a speech in front of them. But of course you’ll still do it, Ginger being one of your oldest and dearest friends you’ll do just about anything for her but that doesn’t mean you won’t freak out about it first.

That’s how you end up at the bar mindlessly stirring your drink as you mentally go over the speech you’re due to give as soon as Ginger and Allen take their seats at the small table in the front. You close your eyes and let out a deep breath before you open them and raise your glass up so you can take a sip of your drink through the straw. Suddenly a loud laugh filters its way to your ears making you become aware that while you were consumed with trying to calm down your nerves two men have made their way to the bar. You watch as one of them with short curly brown hair, who you swear seems extremely familiar downs what looks to be a shot of some sort of clear liquor while the one with short brown hair laughs at his friend’s reaction to finishing the shot.

“I don’t know how you convince me to do things like that.” The man with curly hair says revealing his British accent that makes your shoulders drop in relief as you recognize who the voice belongs to, Harry Styles. He’s been a close friend of Ginger’s since she met him in a music theory class back in college, but you didn’t meet him until a few months later and since then he’s somehow wormed his way into your life and has become a very good friend of yours as well. It comes as no surprise that the first time you see him tonight is at the bar, he’s always been quite the party animal.

“Oh right like you needed a whole lot of convincing. Yer arse is the one who dragged me to the-”

“Is that Pinky I spy over there?” You’re too lost in the deep Irish accent coming from the short haired man that you don’t even notice that Harry has taken a step towards you with a playful smirk on his face while the man he’s with steps up to the bar and orders a drink.

“Fuck off Harry you know she hates that nickname.” Allen’s stern voice knocks you out of your trance, bringing you back to reality as you look at Harry who offers you a dimpled grin. You feel a hand on top of your shoulder giving it a reassuring squeeze, you know Allen has always seen you as a little sister so he doesn’t hesitate to try to put an end to things he knows make you upset, such as the nickname Harry has been calling you since you met him nearly six years ago at a college party Ginger dragged you to.

“Oh come on we all know she doesn’t mind it.” Allen sends Harry a glare from his spot behind you. “Besides I personally adore how pink your cheeks are all the time.” Harry explains as he takes two small steps so he’s standing right in front of you, blocking your view of his Irish friend, you feel your face get hot as Harry shoots you a wink. “Come on Pinky get in here.” His voice is soft and sweet as he opens his arms up for a hug and against your better judgment you put your drink down and allow him to wrap his arms around your shoulders and pull you into a tight embrace.

“It’s nice to see you Harry.” Your voice gets lost in the fabric of his dress shirt as he begins to gently rock you back and forth while his hands rub up and down your back. You wonder for a moment if he can tell your nerves are through the roof and that’s why he’s doing these little things to calm you down or if he’s just a bit more handsy and clingy due to the shot he just took. But either way you find yourself melting into his embrace, something that always tends to happen with him as if he just knows exactly what to do to get you to relax.

“How’ve you been love?” He asks as he pulls away just enough so he can get a good look at your face making you instantly look down at the cross pendant that hits him right in the middle of his chest, not fully ready to look him in the eyes just yet.

“Uhm I’ve been go-good. Yeah I’ve been-been good.” You stumble through your answer making Harry nod while a small chuckle makes it way through him.

“What’s going on? What’s got you all wound up?” His voice is hushed so only you can hear him as his hands run up and down your arms. You let out a sigh as you slowly lift your head so you can look him in his emerald colored eyes making a smile stretch across his face once your eyes find his.

“Sorry I’m just a little nervous about my-my speech.”

“Oh that reminds me-” You turn to look at Allen over your shoulder as Harry drops his hands from your arms but doesn’t move from his place in front of you. “Ginger said you’re due up there in like ten minutes.” You know he can see the panic take over your face little by little as the words leave his mouth. “Don’t stress it okay? You’ll do great.” Is all he has time to offer you in terms of reassurance before he turns and grabs his drink from the bartender and heads towards his table.

“I don’t think he likes me very much.” Harry mumbles and before you can reply you’re suddenly being pulled into his side by the arm he somehow managed to drape over your shoulder without you even noticing. “Don’t worry about your speech Pinky you’re gonna smash it and besides half these people are drunk anyway so they won’t even-”

“Jesus H is this s’posed to be a pep talk?” You feel Harry’s arm drop down to around your middle as he turns the two of you towards the man with the Irish accent.

“No it’s better than a pep talk. It’s the truth.” Harry says with a playful wink sent your way when he glances down at you before looking back over to his friend. “Oh where are my manners? Pinky this is Niall Horan. Niall this is Pinky she’s the one who I told you used to crack into the campus records and change my D’s into B’s.”

“That’s-that’s not true I ne-never did that.” You shake your head and fumble with your words as Niall looks from Harry down to you with a warm smile that you would return if you could manage to look at him but instead you just decide to look down at his shoes as your whole face feels like it’s on fire as soon as you feel his eyes on you.

“She’s just being modest.” Harry gives your side a soft pinch, something he knows will get a little giggle out of you. “She’s a wiz on the computer that’s why she works in a dark little corner office for some cyber security company and gets paid to try to hack into things to find holes in their security systems.” You want to crawl into a hole as Harry tries to make your job sound way cooler than it is when in reality you’re just an accomplished computer nerd who gets to spend her days in peaceful solitude while typing away at the keyboard and staring at her monitors.

“Really? That’s so cool.” Niall’s voice doesn’t hold an ounce of sarcasm instead it’s full of awe as if he’s actually really impressed by your job, and you’d be able to really tell how impressed he is if only you’d dare to look up at his face but you’re not ready yet.

“Oh thanks but it’s actually not that cool.” You say in one long breath as you begin to mess with the ring on your index finger, trying your hardest not to let your awkwardness ruin the mood. Moments like this make you wish you were more outgoing and not so anxious and shy when it comes to meeting new people, but you can’t help it sometimes especially when your mind is elsewhere instead of trying to focus on forming complete sentences in front of an Irish dude named Niall Horan.

“Looks like you’re being summoned.” Niall’s words have you finally looking up from his feet and that’s when you get a real glimpse of his face. You feel your mouth go dry when you notice just how handsome he is and his eyes, you don’t think you’ve ever seen eyes so blue before.

“Pinky? You still in there or did you leave us?” You blink a few times as Harry waves his ring clad hand in front of your face.

“What? Sorry did-did you say something?” You stutter as Niall tries to hide the smile that wants to take over his face at the fact he caught you staring at him by bringing his drink up to his lips to take a sip. Harry laughs and shakes his head as he turns you around so he can lead you towards the front of the tables where you’re meant to stand to give your speech.

“Take a few deep breaths okay? I really meant it when I said you’ll be fine. This room is full of people who either don’t know you that well so they won’t really be listening or people who absolutely love you so you’re gonna kill it.” His hand is on your lower back as he maneuvers you around people that are heading off to their assigned seats at one of the many tables.

“Thanks Harry.” You whisper as the two of you finally make it to the little set up for the entertainment that’s set to go on after the speeches and toasts. It’s nothing more than a wooden stool and a microphone with two guitar stands and a piano all being lit up by warm fairy lights that are wrapped around some fake trees that blend in with the rest of the decor of the reception.

“I’ll be right over there.” He points towards the bar making you nod as you swallow down the nerves that are beginning to creep back up. “So if you feel like you’re about to panic just look at me okay? It’s the oldest trick in the book. Just pick something to stare at in the back of the room and you’ll be fine.” He grabs your hands as you stand next to the microphone, making sure he has your full attention as he bends his knees a bit so he’s eye level with you. “Deep breath Pinky come on.” You follow his instructions and take in a deep breath and let it out slowly through your nose making him smile as he gives your hands a nice squeeze.

“I think-think I’m good now.” You say with a smile making Harry grin as he stands up and lets go of your hands. “Just please don’t tell me if it sucks.” Harry laughs as he leans over and places a quick kiss to your cheek before he turns to head towards the bar.

“So you and uh Pinky seem close?” Niall doesn’t want to come across as suspicious but he can’t help it with the way he saw Harry treat you, he knows his friend is a very touchy feely person but he hasn’t ever known him to act like that with people he isn’t at least sort of interested in.

“I’ve known her for years.” Harry answers with a shrug all while never taking his eyes off the stage area as he leans back against the bar, Niall copies his movements after placing his half empty glass down on the bar top. “I don’t see her as often as I used to when we were in college because she doesn’t really get out much.” He adds as he runs a hand through his hair while Niall turns his focus towards the stage just in time to see you mess with the microphone stand trying to adjust its height.

“She seems-”

“Shy? Anxious? Awkwardly adorable?”

“Honestly? All three.” That answer makes Harry look over at Niall who is staring at you with a soft expression on his face making a smile tug at the corner of Harry’s mouth because he can tell Niall is at the very least intrigued by you.

“She doesn’t like large crowds or meeting new people. That’s especially tricky for her. When I met her at a party back in college it was because I accidentally bumped into her and when I went to apologize I swear her whole body turned pink she was so embarrassed as if it was her fault I ran into her.” Harry laughs at the memory of meeting you back in his wild party days when he had long hair and walked around with an attitude that made it seem like he didn’t have a care in the world, you’d argue that the only thing that’s changed about him is his hair is shorter now.

“And you managed to get her to want to be friends with you?” Niall questions with a quirked brow as he turns his attention away from you and over to Harry who shoots him a glare.

“I didn’t really give her a choice. She made me nervous to leave her alone after that because she just didn’t seem comfortable and I was worried someone would be an asshole about it so yeah I just forced my friendship on her and eventually she gave in.” It all starts to click in Niall’s mind as Harry divulges more details about his friendship with you. You’re someone he feels protective of and that seems to be a common thing among your friends, they all want to make sure you feel comfortable and safe.

“Uhm hello how is everyone?” Niall and Harry both turn their attention towards the stage as your voice hits their ears, amplified by the microphone you have a death grip on. “Incase you don’t know me I’m the maid of honor.” Niall smiles as you introduce yourself and he finally gets to hear what your actual name is.

Harry watches you like a proud older brother as you start in on your speech, his eyes are glued to you as he watches you look around the tables at all the people sitting and staring at you. Only when he sees your cheeks get flushed does he being to slightly panic that you’re about to have a moment where your nerves get the best of you making you stutter and stumble over your words. But to his surprise you seem to have taken his advice, he watches as your eyes shift over towards the back where he’s stood leaning against the bar but it’s not his eyes you’re staring into it’s the sapphire blue ones that belong to his friend that’s standing right next to him.

Everything happens in what feels like a blur and suddenly people are clapping and the best man is walking up towards you so he can begin his speech. Offering you a warm smile and a quick hug before he takes the microphone from you, whispering his praises for the kind words you spoke about Ginger and the happy couple in your ear making you blush. You give a few small waves to your friends and blow a kiss to Ginger and Allen as you pass them on your way to the bar so you can get something to wash your nerves down with.

“That was a lovely speech Pinky you did so good.” Harry’s voice is full of pride as he approaches you with open arms right before you reach the bar. “I’m so proud of you.” You smile as your arms wrap around his middle while his go around your shoulders pulling you into a warm hug.

“It didn’t suck?” You ask quietly making Harry laugh as he gives you a squeeze.

“It was perfect.” He answers as you pull away and look up at him. He leans down so his lips are close to your ear. “Niall was quite impressed as well. Couldn’t take his eyes off you the whole time.” He whispers making your heart feel as if it could burst out of the chest with how fast it’s beating.

“Oh uh really? I didn’t-didn’t notice.” Harry just laughs as your face gets warm and you stumble a bit trying to get your words out in a rush.

“Is that so?” You know he’s teasing you as the two of you pull away but Harry keeps a hand on your arm. “You didn’t notice he was staring at you while you were also staring right at him?” You feel your eyes go a bit wide at Harry’s question, you didn’t even realize you had been staring at Niall until a little towards the end of your speech when you looked away from him and towards Ginger and Allen. “Don’t worry I’m not jealous or anything.” He jokes as he gives your arm a squeeze before leaning in and placing another kiss to your cheek.

“Keep a seat open for me okay? I don’t want to be stuck at the losers table.” You roll your eyes as he drops his hand from your arm and steps around you towards the stage area where the best man is still giving his speech.

“My table is for the bridal party Harry you can’t sit with me.”

“I know the bride and I know how to party so that sounds like the exact table I should be at.” You laugh and shake your head at his response, not bothering to argue with him because you know he will just work his charm on an unsuspecting bridesmaid and end up sitting at the table anyway. With a final wink and grin sent your direction Harry is off leaving you able to finish the short walk to the bar so you can order a drink.

“Sparkling water with lots of lemon please.” The bartender just smiles and nods before working on your very uncomplicated drink order.

“Aren’t you missin somethin with that order?” Niall feels a twinge of guilt hit him when he sees you jump at the sound of his voice. “Sorry didn’t meant t’scare you.” He quickly apologizes as he takes a small step towards you just as you get your drink handed to you.

“Oh you-uhm uh did-didn’t scare me.” You want to curl up in a ball at how dumb you sound trying to get an extremely simple sentence out but you just blame it on the post speech jitters and try to move on. “And uhm I don’t really drink but I like-like the bubbles and it looks like a cocktail so no one notices.” Niall nods along as you explain your drink choice to him, feeling a small bubble of pride grow in his chest at the fact you’re sharing a personal little fact with him.

“That’s brilliant.” He can’t help but smile as he leans his hip against the bar so he is now fully facing you, he doesn’t mind that you haven’t looked at him yet he knows you’re shy and honestly he is enjoying the freedom of being able to look at you without the worry of being caught. “Your speech was great.” He catches the way your cheeks get red and a smile takes over your face as his words hit your ears.

“Thank you Niall.” The way your voice sounds when it says his name makes Niall wants to hear you say it over and over again because it makes his heart flutter a bit in his chest. “So are you uh here with Harry?” You finally find the courage to turn your head to look at him, or at least down at his hand that is wrapped around a glass of brown liquid with two ice cubes that he has resting on the bar.

“M’actually the entertainment for tonight’s festivities Harry got me the gig so he’s gonna be my guitarist for a few songs he helped me write.” Niall takes a moment to let his eyes roam over your figure as you continue to just look at his hand that is now gripping the glass with a little more force than he was a moment ago.

“Oh I uhm didn’t know Harry played guitar.” Your words snap Niall out of his only slightly inappropriate thoughts as his eyes find yours. If he didn’t have such good control of himself he would’ve been startled by you suddenly deciding to look him in the eyes but instead he just stares right back at you, matching your intensity.

“Ah well then yer in for a treat tonight. He’s actually pretty decent at it.”

“And you-uhm you-”

“Sing? Yeah I sing and play the piano as well as the guitar.” He finishes your question for you making you give him a soft smile as a silent thank you because it lets you know he can tell you’re a little flustered but he isn’t making a big thing out of it like some people tend to do.

“I’ve always wanted to learn the piano.” You tell him as you look away, needing a moment to regather your thoughts and get your heartbeat under control.

“I could teach you.” Niall tosses the offer out there in hopes it’ll give him an excuse to get your number but when you look like a dear that’s been caught in a set of headlights he regrets how casual he made it sound because surely you’re probably assuming that’s a line he uses all the time but it’s not. Niall honestly hates teaching people how to play instruments especially since the last person he taught how to play something was Harry when he begged him to teach him the guitar, but for you he’d make an exception because he just wants to spend more time with you.

“I uh don’t-”

“We have a situation.” You feel a hand on your shoulder taking your attention away from Niall and over towards Heather, a bridesmaid and Allen’s younger sister.

“Oh okay what’s wrong?” You try not to panic while a few dozen scenarios begin to play out in your mind of what the situation could be as you turn so your back is facing the bar.

“Harry is trying to add a seat-”

“I’ll get him.” Niall’s voice makes both you and Heather turn to look at him, he downs the rest of his drink setting the empty glass on the bar before he heads off towards the curly haired man causing havoc at the bridal party table.

“Who is that?”

“Niall Horan.”

“He’s cute.”

“Oh I uh yeah if you’re in-into that kinda look.”

“And Irish.”

“Is he? I didn’t-uhm didn’t notice.”

“Right.” She drags out the word while giving you a knowing look as your eyes land on Niall as he grabs Harry by the shoulders and begins leading him off towards the stage set up.

“Harry you’re gonna get us kicked out of your own friend’s wedding for Christ sake get it together.” Niall whispers harshly in Harry’s ear as his grip on his shoulders tightens.

“Oh relax I was just checking if any of the bridesmaids needed anything.” Harry says with a laugh like him trying to squeeze himself in at the table wasn’t that big of a deal, he shrugs himself loose of Niall’s grip and sends him a playful smirk. “Besides you’re the one who would get us kicked out with how much of a poor mess you’re making Pinky over there.” Niall stops in his tracks the moment Harry mentions you, not following Harry up onto the stage.

“What do you mean? I’ve been nothin but polite to her.” Harry grabs his guitar that’s set up on stage and turns to face Niall who looks like he’s about to have a mini panic attack making Harry laugh.

“She hasn’t been this much of a blushing and fumbling mess since-well since I met her.”

“I think it’s cute the uh way she blushes all the time and messes up her words a bit.”

“Yeah well the way you’ve got her acting like a shy little schoolgirl surely won’t go unnoticed by Allen and Ginger.” Harry explains as he begins to mess with his guitar making sure it’s good to go for the first two songs Niall has set for the evening. “Those two are like her personal security but don’t worry Ginger is a sweetheart but Allen he-he can be a real wanker when he wants to be.” Niall runs a hand through his hair as he steps up onto the stage and grabs his own guitar.

“So if I win over the bride you think I could maybe get her number? Or you think she’d freak out if I asked her for it? M’not trying to push her over the edge or anything.” Niall looks at Harry as he adjusts the strap of his guitar he has over his shoulder. Harry takes a moment to think before he gives Niall a grin and reaches for his phone in the front pocket of his slacks.

“Oh what the hell you’re a nice guy.” Niall rolls his eyes at Harry’s statement as he watches him tap the screen a few times until he finds your contact information. “I’ll give you her number.” With that Harry shares your contact information with Niall who stands there with wide eyes, shocked that Harry just tossed all caution to the wind and sent him your information without even checking with you first.

“But if you hurt her I will kill you with my bare hands.” It’s the casual way Harry threatens Niall that has him believing he really would make good on it, the way the smile leaves his face as he looks Niall dead in the eyes making Niall just swallow hard and nod his head in understanding. With that the smile returns to Harry’s face and he slips his phone back into his pocket before going back to adjusting his guitar strap.

As Niall stands on the stage and gets himself ready to start his set he feels as if someone is looking at him. So when he looks up from the guitar in his hands he quickly realizes who it was as his eyes scan the tables that are situated next to the small dance floor in front of the stage. He watches your face turn a deep shade of pink as you look down at your lap, the bridesmaid sitting next to you giggles as she leans in and whispers something in your ear making you place your hands over your face in embarrassment. He smiles to himself as he looks down at the instrument in his hands, he knows he just met you and that you don’t know each other at all but the idea of you letting him learn more about you has a sense of excitement bubbling up inside of Niall. He just hopes you don’t mind how he ended up with your number but that’s something he is willing to risk because you’re not someone he can see himself forgetting about anytime soon.

[midnightwritingsessions]

Promises of forever

Summmary: Louis planned a special date night for the both of you, where unbeknownst to you he planned to give you a promise ring. [1.1k]

Masterlist

Requested

-

The soft hum of your curling iron filled the bathroom as you carefully wrapped a section of your hair around the hot barrel. Tonight wasn’t just any date night, Louis had insisted it would be ‘special’. Though he hadn’t given you much to go on, you could tell by his excitement and how much effort he’d put into planning that he wanted everything to be perfect. His cryptic hints and mischievous smile over the past few days had only heightened your anticipation. You’d spent the afternoon pampering yourself with fresh nails, styled hair, and a simple but elegant black dress that fit you like a dream. As you added the final touches to your makeup, you couldn’t help but feel a flutter of excitement. Whatever Louis had planned, you knew it would be memorable.

Meanwhile, Louis sat on the edge of the bed in your shared apartment, fidgeting with the small velvet box in his hands. His thumb traced the edge of it as his mind raced. “What if I muck this up?” he muttered to himself, shaking his head. He’d never been nervous about speaking to you before, you had a way of putting him at ease, making him feel completely at home. But tonight, with this ring in his pocket, he felt the pressure. He thought back to the moment he’d decided on the promise ring. It had been a few weeks ago, during a lazy morning at home. You were curled up on the couch in one of his oversized hoodies, laughing at something on the telly, and he’d felt it so strongly. The certainty that you were it for him. That he wanted to spend his life with you. He’d thought about proposing outright, but he didn’t want to rush it not because of doubt, but because he wanted it to be perfect. This ring was his way of telling you how serious he was about your future together, a promise of everything to come.

Louis took a deep breath, slipping the box into his jacket pocket. “You’ve got this” he murmured to himself before heading out to meet you in the living room. When Louis saw you waiting by the door, he stopped in his tracks, his mouth going dry for a second. “Wow” he breathed, his eyes wide as they traveled over you. You blushed under his gaze, smoothing your dress nervously. “Do I look alright?”. “Alright?” He let out a low whistle, stepping closer to wrap his arms around your waist. “You look stunning, love. I mean, you always do, but tonight… you’ve outdone yourself”. His words and the way he looked at you sent a warm flush through you, and you smiled, reaching up to brush a strand of hair out of his face. “You clean up pretty nicely yourself, Tomlinson”. He grinned, offering you his arm. “Shall we?”

The car ride was filled with soft conversation and laughter, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that Louis was unusually quiet. You didn’t press him about it, assuming it was just part of his plan for the night. When you arrived, the venue took your breath away. It was an intimate rooftop setting, softly lit with fairy lights strung above. A small table for two sat in the center, surrounded by candles that flickered gently in the evening breeze. Beyond the edge of the roof, the city skyline glittered against the darkening sky. “Louis…” you murmured, taking it all in. “This is incredible”. He smiled, a little sheepishly, as he guided you to your seat. “Only the best for my girl” he said, brushing a kiss against your temple before sitting across from you.

The dinner was perfect- your favorite foods, soft music playing in the background, and conversation that flowed as easily as always. Louis was still a bit quieter than usual, but his eyes never left you, his gaze filled with a mixture of love and something else-nervousness, maybe? As dessert arrived, a decadent chocolate tart, Louis shifted in his seat, his hand sliding into his jacket pocket. He cleared his throat, catching your attention. “Alright” he began, his voice steady but soft. “There’s something I’ve been wanting to tell you- well, more like show you” He hesitated, pulling the velvet box from his pocket and placing it on the table between you. Your breath hitched as you stared at the box, your heart thudding in your chest. “Louis…” you whispered, looking up at him.

He opened the box to reveal a delicate gold ring, adorned with a small diamond in the center. It wasn’t flashy or over-the-top, it was understated and beautiful, perfectly you. “This isn’t an engagement ring” he said quickly, his voice trembling just slightly. “Not yet, anyway. But it’s a promise. A promise that I’m serious about us, about building a life together. I can’t wait to marry you someday, but for now, I want you to have this. To know how much you mean to me”. Tears pricked at your eyes as you listened, your heart swelling with emotion. He reached across the table, taking your hand in his. “You’re everything to me” he continued, his blue eyes locked on yours. “You’ve been my rock, my best mate, my safe place. I don’t know what I did to deserve you, but I do know I never want to let you go”.

A tear slipped down your cheek, and you laughed softly as you wiped it away. “Louis… I don’t even know what to say. This is… perfect. You’re perfect”. He smiled, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “Does that mean you’ll wear it?”. “Of course I will” you said, your voice thick with emotion. “I love you, Louis. So much”. He stood, walking around the table to slip the ring onto your finger, his hands steady despite the racing of his heart. Once the ring was in place, he pulled you into a tight hug, holding you as if he never wanted to let go. As you pulled back slightly to look at him, his lips found yours in a kiss that was soft, tender, and full of unspoken promises.

Later that night, as you both lay tangled together on the couch, the ring glinting softly on your finger, Louis rested his head against yours. “Y’know” he murmured, his voice thick with contentment, “this was the scariest thing I’ve ever done”. You laughed, threading your fingers through his hair. “Well, you pulled it off beautifully”. He looked up at you, his eyes filled with love. “One step closer to forever, yeah?” You smiled, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “Yeah, Louis. Forever sounds perfect”.

-

Thank you for reading! As always requests are open <3

[babyflorencee]

Just Pretending

Part two: Study buddy

Nerdrry x Popular!Reader

The next day, the halls filled with the sound of lockers slamming shut, overlapping conversations, and the steady rhythm of shuffling feet.

As Y/n walked through the hallway, her stomach twisted in a tight knot. The noise around her seemed so distant, barely registering as she made her way to her locker, the weight of what happened yesterday pressed down on her chest like a heavy anchor.

Her friends were already by her locker, laughing loudly as the sound bounced off the walls. Luke leaned casually against Y/n’s locker, his arms crossed, and a smug grin plastered on his face. He was telling a story, while the others were listening, occasionally laughing when he dropped the punchline.

When Y/n approached, they turned their attention to her, their smiles widening. “Hey, Y/n!” Ally chirped, her eyes glinting with mischief. “So, are you ready for our little plan?”

Y/n forced a smile, her stomach churning. “Yeah, I guess so,” she said softly. 

Luke’s grin widened, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction. “That’s my girl,” he said, throwing an arm around her shoulder. The gesture felt heavy, suffocating, as if it were meant to remind her of her place.

“It’ll be hilarious,” Taylor added, flipping her hair over her shoulder. “Can you imagine the look on Harry’s face when he thinks you’re actually friends?”

“Or more than friends,” Ally teased, her voice dripping with mock sweetness, as she wiggled her eyebrows. The group erupted in laughter again, their voices now starting to get on Y/n’s nerves.

She glanced down at her shoes, wishing she could just disappear. “Seriously,” Luke said, his tone sounding more demanding. “You better not back down at the last minute. We’re all counting on you to pull this off, got it?"

Y/n’s throat tightened. She wanted to argue, to tell him how wrong this all felt, that she didn’t want to do this, but the words stayed locked inside of her. So instead, she just nodded, her lips pressing into a thin line.

Luke smirked, clearly pleased with her silence. “That’s what I thought. Honestly, it’ll be easy. Harry’s so desperate for your attention, he’ll fall for it in no time. I bet if you told him to jump, he’d ask you how high.”

The group roared with laughter again, and Y/n’s chest tightened further. Harry didn’t deserve this. But what choice did she have?

“There he is,” Ally said, nodding down the hallway. “It's your time to shine.”

Y/n followed her gaze and spotted Harry standing by his locker. He was hunched over, his oversized sweater swallowing his frame as he fumbled with his books. His thick glasses sliding down his nose, causing him to quickly push them back up. He looked so out of place, so vulnerable, making Y/n’s heart ache.

“Go on,” Luke urged, his voice low and pointed. His hand pressed against her lower back, urging her forward. “Don’t want to keep him waiting.”

Y/n swallowed hard, her feet feeling like they were weighed down. She glanced back at her friends, their expectant faces urging her on. But Luke’s gaze was the heaviest, his expression daring her to defy him.

Taking a deep breath, she forced her legs to move. Each step toward Harry felt like walking the plank, the distance between them stretching endlessly. Her pulse pounded in her ears, drowning out the noise of the hallway. By the time she reached him, her palms were clammy, and her stomach churned with guilt.

“Hey, Harry,” she said, her voice sounding quieter than she intended.

Harry looked up, startled. His eyes widened behind his glasses, and for a moment, he just stared at her, like he couldn’t believe she was actually talking to him. “Y/n?” he stammered, his voice tinged with disbelief. “What’s up?”

Her heart twisted at the genuine surprise in his voice. She forced a smile, pushing down the guilt threatening to consume her. “I was just wondering… do you think you could help me with physics? I’m kind of struggling, and I heard you’re really good at it.”

“Physics?” He repeated, his voice barely above a whisper. “Well, I—I mean, sure. I can try to help, but... I’m not the best at explaining things. I just—uh, I kind of just read the book, you know?”

“No yeah, me too,” Y/n said, a faint smile tugging at her lips. She was fighting the nausea in her stomach. “But I’m completely lost, honestly, you would be doing me a huge favor.”

Harry's eyes flickered with a mix of hesitation and something else—something closer to hope, but he quickly suppressed it, as his cheeks flushed, and he ducked his head, a shy smile tugging at his lips. “So when do you want to start?”

“Maybe after school, if you’re free?” she suggested, hating how easy this was.

“Yeah, today works for me. Where do you want to meet?”

“Anywhere is fine. So just wherever works for you.” She said, offering him a kind smile.

Harry adjusted his glasses nervously. “Would you maybe, uh, want to meet at my house? Only if you’re comfortable with that, of course! It’s just quiet there, and I can spread out my notes and stuff. But no pressure! We can study wherever you’re comfortable with.” His words came out in a rush, his hands fidgeting with the strap of his backpack. He looked up at her briefly, then away quickly, his face burning red.

Y/n blinked, caught off guard, “Your house worked for me. Thank you Harry.”

His head snapped up, his eyes wide with surprise. “Really? I mean, okay! Cool. I’ll meet you at the bike racks after school?”

“Great, see you then.”

As she walked away, she could feel her friends’ eyes on her, their laughter echoing faintly in the distance. Her chest felt heavy, her guilt threatening to drown her. She had done what they wanted, but at what cost? She’d crossed a line, and she wasn’t sure she’d ever be able to come back.

***

After school, Y/n approached the bike rack with slow, measured steps, her heart pounding in her chest. Harry was already there, leaning against the post, fiddling nervously with the straps of his backpack. When he saw her, he straightened quickly, almost tripping over his own feet in the process.

“Hey,” he said, offering her a smile. “You, uh, ready?”

“Yeah,” Y/n replied, her voice warm as she returned his smile. She couldn’t help but notice how his cheeks flushed under her gaze.

As they started walking, the school faded into the background as they made their way toward Harry’s house. The silence between them felt a little awkward but not unbearable.

“Sorry you have to walk,” he mumbled after a moment, his voice barely audible. “I, uh, should’ve thought about that. You probably have better things to do than walk to my house.”

Her laugh made him pause, his shoulders tensing. He glanced at her, unsure if she was laughing at him, and his voice was full of uncertainty. “You’re not… laughing at me, are you?” he asked hesitantly. “I mean, it’s okay if you are. Everyone does…”

Y/n’s smile faltered at the vulnerability in his voice, and she immediately regretted making him feel that way. She stopped walking and turned to face him, her heart aching. She reached out and gently touched his arm.

“No, Harry,” she said softly, her voice warm. “I wasn’t laughing at you, I promise.” She looked him in the eyes, trying to show him that she really meant it. “I was laughing because I think it’s really sweet that you’re worried about something like that. Honestly, it’s not a big deal. And I walk home most of the time anyway.”

Harry’s gaze softened, though doubt still lingered in his eyes. “Oh… okay,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I just… I don’t want to be a burden.”

Y/n’s heart clenched at the words, and she couldn’t help but offer a small, teasing smile. “A burden?” she said, trying to lighten the mood. “Please, I’m the one who asked you to help me study for physics. I think that makes me the real burden here.”

Harry froze, his eyes widening as he blurted out, “No! You’re not a burden, not at all!” He fidgeted with the strap of his backpack, looking flustered. “I mean, I’m happy to help! I just— I really don’t want you to think I’m… you know, I don’t want to make you feel bad or anything…”

Y/n’s smile softened as she stepped a little closer. “Harry, seriously, stop. I’m the one who asked, remember? You’re doing me a favor.” She paused, her expression turning more serious. “You’re being kind, and I’m really grateful for that. Honestly.”

He looked at her, still unsure, but her words seemed to sink in, since his posture relaxed a little, and a small, awkward smile tugged at his lips. “Okay… well, if you ever think I’m being a burden, just let me know, okay?” he said quietly.

“I will,” she assured him, her smile bright. “But right now, you’re definitely not.”

His eyes searched her face, and when he saw the sincerity in her expression, his smile widened. “Oh,” he said softly, “That’s… good to know.”

The rest of the walk was calm, the silence comfortable between them. When they reached his home, it was a modest, two story house with a garden tucked in the front.

Harry unlocked the door and stepped aside, gesturing toward the living room with a nervous but welcoming smile. “Uh, you can sit wherever you want,” he said, his voice slightly higher than usual. “I’ll just grab my notes.”

Y/n settled on the couch, looking around. The house felt inviting, with mismatched furniture and family photos lining the walls. She could hear Harry rummaging in the other room before he returned, a notebook and textbook clutched in his hands.

He sat down beside her, keeping a respectable distance. “Okay, so… where do you want to start?”

“Anywhere, really,” Y/n said, her smile encouraging. “I just need help making sense of it all.”

Harry dove into an explanation about formulas, his voice gaining confidence as he talked about concepts he clearly understood. But no matter how hard she tried, Y/n couldn’t quite grasp it. She furrowed her eyebrows, staring at the equations like they were written in a foreign language.

“Sorry,” she admitted with an embarrassed laugh. “I’m terrible at this.”

Harry shook his head quickly. “No, no, you’re not terrible. I’m probably just explaining it. badly”

“No, you’re not,” Y/n said firmly, “You’re doing great. I think my brain just isn’t made for this.”

He smiled, looking down at his notes. “Maybe we can try again another day?”

“Yeah,” she agreed, relieved to set the book aside. “Let’s call it for now.”

Just as a comfortable silence settled between them, the creak of the front door caught their attention. An older woman with bright eyes and a warm smile stepped into the room, her face lighting up when she saw them.

“Harry!” she exclaimed, her voice full of excitement. “You didn’t tell me you had company over!”

Harry’s face turned beet red as he quickly straightened up, his eyes wide with panic. “Grandma, please—” he muttered.

“Oh, hush now,” she said, waving him off with a carefree laugh. She stepped into the room, her eyes gleaming as she turned to Y/n. “I’m so glad Harry finally brought someone over. You must be something special, dear. He never… well, he’s never really brought anyone home before. And just look at you! You’re so beautiful!” She practically gushed, her voice laced with enthusiasm.

Harry’s face turned a deeper shade of red, and he groaned, burying his face in his hands in a desperate attempt to disappear. “Grandma, please don’t—”

“Oh, stop it! I'm just trying to talk to your guest.” she continued, completely oblivious to his discomfort. “And you guys are studying together? How adorable you two are. Now let me tell you something, Harry’s a good boy, but, well, he’s a bit of a nerd. He’ll get all flustered if you compliment him, but trust me, he’s got a good heart, I promise.” She gave him a playful wink.

Harry was practically melting into the couch, his shoulders hunched in embarrassment. “Grandma! Stop!”

“Okay, okay. I know when to take a hint. So I’ll leave you two alone. Just don’t let him bore you with all that science talk, he can go on for hours, trust me.”

Y/n couldn’t help but laugh, her heart softening at how much his grandma clearly cared for him, even if it embarrassed Harry. “It was nice to meet you,” she said politely, her smile warm as she glanced at Harry’s flustered expression.

“You too, dear,” his grandma replied, beaming at her before turning back to Harry, sending him another wink, her grin never fading as she walked out of the room.

Harry, now redder than ever, dropped his face into his hands again, muttering something under his breath. Y/n smiled, trying to stifle a laugh, but her heart warmed at how much Harry’s grandma adored him.

When they heard a door shut, Harry sighed deeply, still avoiding Y/n’s gaze. “I’m so sorry about that,” he mumbled, his words tumbling out in a rush. “She, uh, she’s just… she’s always like that, and I know it’s super weird, and you probably think it’s weird, and I’m really, really sorry.”

Y/n’s smile softened, and she reached out to touch his arm lightly. “Harry, stop. It’s fine. She’s sweet. And honestly, it’s nice to see someone care about you so much. I think it’s really cute.”

“Cute?” he echoed, his voice cracking slightly.

She laughed again, nodding. “Yeah. It’s cute how much she loves you.”

Harry’s brow furrowed, but he didn’t press. Instead, he fidgeted with the corner of his notebook. “Still. I, uh, I hope it wasn’t too much.”

“It wasn’t,” she assured him. “Really. You don’t need to apologize for her.”

“Okay,” he said quietly, though he still looked unsure.

As the evening wore on, the sky outside darkened, and Y/n glanced at the clock on the wall. “I should probably head home,” she said reluctantly, standing up, stretching.

Harry scrambled to his feet. “Oh, uh, do you… do you have a ride?”

“No, but it’s not far. I’ll be fine,” she replied.

He hesitated, his hands gripping the strap of his backpack tightly. “Are you sure? It’s dark, and I, uh—I could walk you. If you’d want, I mean. I’m not trying to be weird or anything. I just—” He trailed off, his face reddening.

Y/n’s eyes widened in surprise. “You’d walk me home?”

“Yeah. I mean, if you’re okay with it. I—it’s just… it’s not safe, you know? At night. And—and it’s not far, right? So…”

She smiled, touched by his offer. “That’s really sweet of you, Harry. Luke’s never—he’s never offered to walk me home at night before.”

Harry’s expression turned thoughtful, then a little sad. “Oh. Well, uh, I just… it’s not a big deal. I’d just… feel bad, you know, if something were to happen.”

“Thank you,” she said sincerely. “I’d really like that.”

They left the house together, the cool air brushing against their skin. As they walked, Harry kept sneaking glances at her, his words stumbling over themselves whenever he spoke.

“So, uh, what… what do you like to do? You know, for fun?” he asked nervously.

Y/n smiled. “Well, you know I love cheering, but I’m also really into English. I love everything about it—reading, writing, all of it. There’s just something so magical about stories, you know?”

Harry’s eyes lit up. “Yeah. Yeah, I get that. Stories are… they’re like a way to escape, right? To be someone else for a little while.”

“Exactly,” she agreed.

“What’s your favorite book?” he asked, his voice steadying as his curiosity took over.

“That’s such a hard question. Probably Pride and Prejudice. What about you?”

“Oh, uh… maybe The Hobbit? It's kind of old-school, but I like the adventure stuff.”

“That’s a great choice,” she said, smiling. “I read that last year.”

They continued talking and laughing all the way to Y/n's house, the awkwardness from earlier melting away with every step. The air now feeling lighter, as though the weight of her guilt was slowly lifting, replaced with a sense of comfort she hadn’t realized she needed.

As they walked, Harry nudged her with a grin. "Come on, you can’t leave me hanging. There’s gotta be one embarrassing story that you’re not ashamed to share."

Y/n hesitated for a moment, a nervous laugh escaping her lips. She bit her lip, wondering if she should really open up. But something about the way Harry looked at her, so genuinely curious, made her feel like it was okay to share. Maybe it was the way he listened so intently, like he cared more about what she had to say than trying to make her look foolish.

"Okay, fine," she said, rolling her eyes but smiling. "So, in middle school, I had this huge crush on this guy, right?" She glanced at Harry, watching his expression carefully. "And I thought I was being all smooth when I passed him a note during lunch, but... uh, it ended up going to the wrong guy."

Harry raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. "Wait, so who got it?"

Y/n groaned, her cheeks flushing from the memory. "His best friend, Jake. You know, the guy who could barely spell his name right. He read it out loud, in front of everyone, and I was just... mortified."

Harry burst out laughing, and Y/n couldn’t help but join him. "I mean, I had no idea what to do," she continued, now fully embracing the humor of the situation. "Jake was reading it, all like, ‘Does this mean she likes me...?’ and I just wanted to die right there on the spot."

They both laughed for a good few moments, the shared humor breaking down the remaining barriers between them.

When their laughter finally faded, Y/n hadn't realized just how much she’d needed to laugh until now, how much lighter she felt. It was like something about being with him, telling him the story, had made everything seem less serious, less complicated.

"That’s the best thing I’ve heard all week," Harry said, still chuckling. "I can’t believe you lived through that."

"Well, I survived," she said with a sheepish grin. "But barely."

Harry kicked a stray pebble, then glanced over at her. "You know, it’s nice. Just... being able to talk to you like this."

Y/n’s heart skipped a beat. She wasn’t sure if it was the vulnerability of the moment, or just the simple sincerity in his voice, but it made her feel something she hadn’t expected. For the first time since the whole scheme began, she questioned if she could keep going with it. Maybe things don’t have to be complicated, she thought, but the thought quickly faded when they reached her doorstep.

She smiled awkwardly, her fingers grazing the door handle. "Well, this is me. Thanks for walking me, Harry. It… it means a lot.”

Harry gave her a small smile, his eyes soft. “Yeah, of course. Anytime,”

As she went inside, Harry walked back home, his heart feeling lighter than it had in years. But as Y/n closed the door behind her, a heavy weight settled in her chest. The smile that had lingered on her face faded, now replaced by a growing sense of guilt. She leaned against the door, her mind spinning, and for the first time, she felt like a stranger to herself.

She never wanted to hurt Harry, but especially not now. Not after seeing the way he cared for her tonight—offering to walk her home, patiently helping her with physics, showing so much kindness and thoughtfulness—only made her feel worse. Every word, every gesture he’d made had been so genuine, so sincere, and it felt like a slap in the face to what she was planning.

She hated who she was becoming, torn between her friends’ expectations and the weight of her conscience. The guilt gnawed at her, intensifying with every thought of betraying Harry’s trust. He deserved someone who saw him for who he truly was, not as a pawn in a cruel game. The realization that she was about to ruin something so real and pure made her feel like the worst person in the world.

[nickistuffs]

Hello Again Pt. 1

Pairing: Harry x Designer reader (curvy or plus size whatever you feel they should look like. This is my preference 😌)

Summary: This feels fated to meet again and again and again

Word Count: 3.07k

Warnings: None. It's It's just fluff and also a slow burn.

Read Chimed Encounters first to start before this one.

✨masterlist✨ read the rest of Harry x Designer Reader there

...

A ping from your email broke your concentration on work. You sighed, already assuming it was one of your manufacturers asking for yet another confirmation about a product you’d been working over for months. Without much thought, you clicked on the notification, ready to fire off a quick response.

To your surprise, the email wasn’t from a manufacturer—it was from Sam, your old friend and occasional collaborator. His subject line read: “Job Offer You Can’t Refuse.” Intrigued, you opened the email and quickly scanned its contents.

It seemed Sam had found you a project that piqued his interest—and yours. The pay was good, the timeline was tight, and the concept sounded straightforward.

You immediately picked up your phone and called him. No need for formalities; this was Sam, after all.

“Hey, Sam,” you said as soon as he answered, skipping any pleasantries. “What’s this mysterious job offer you’re dangling in front of me?”

“Oh, that.” He sounded smug, which only made you roll your eyes. “I’m under an NDA, so I can’t say too much, but it’s a pop-up store project. The whole thing needs to be modular and removable, so it can be packed up and relocated in two months. Easy, right? You in?”

You didn’t even hesitate. “Of course, I’m in! Sounds simple enough. Send over the contract and details, and I’ll get started.”

“I knew I could count on you,” he said with a grin you could practically hear through the phone. “See you onsite, Y/N.” ...

The day of the meeting arrived, and you were ready—or so you thought.

Sam couldn’t make it and had entrusted you to lead the meeting solo, but you were used to working independently, so it wasn’t a problem. Dressed in a professional outfit that balanced comfort and confidence, you walked into the office where the meeting was being held.

As you glanced around at the product displays, your heart skipped a beat. You could already tell this was a high-profile client. Their products, branding, and visuals exuded quality and creativity.

As you tried to calm your nerves, the conference room door opened, and a group of people filed out.

A friendly woman approached you, pulling you back to reality.

“Hello, are you Ms. Y/N L/N?”

“Yes,” you replied with a polite smile, adjusting your bag on your shoulder. “I have a meeting with your visual merchandising manager.”

“Perfect, you’re our two o’clock appointment. Please come in.”

You stepped inside the sleek, minimalistic conference room and began setting up.

“Our lead designer just stepped out for a quick break,” the woman explained, handing you a water bottle. “They’ll be back in ten minutes and a few other designers. Is there anything else I can get you while you wait? Coffee?”

“Water is fine. Thank you,” you replied.

You opened your laptop, pulled up your notes and sketches, and jotted down a few ideas in your journal. You were mid-thought when the door opened behind you.

You turned, ready to greet whoever entered, but the words caught in your throat.

It was him. Harry Styles.

...

You both stared at each other, completely stunned. Of all the people you could run into at this meeting, it had to be him. You hadn’t seen Harry since your last encounter at Felice’s Café.

For a moment, it felt like the world had slowed down, your mind scrambling to process his presence. He looked just as effortlessly charming as you remembered, his warm green eyes flickering with recognition and surprise.

Finally, Harry broke the silence, his voice smooth but slightly uncertain.

“Hello, I’m Harry Styles. I’m the owner of the company. Nice to meet you…?”

It took you a second to respond, your voice catching in your throat. “It’s Y/N. Y/N L/N. Nice to meet you as well.”

He smiled, extending a hand toward you. You scrambled to your feet, standing taller than you’d expected, and reached out to shake his hand.

Your hands met, and you shook it—a bit too long, you thought as the realization hit. The warmth of his hand lingered, making you feel like time had momentarily stopped again.

You quickly dropped your hand and clasped it behind your back, your face heating up.

For a split second, an awkward silence filled the room. Harry seemed like he was about to say something, his lips parting as if to speak—

But just then, the door opened, and a small group of people filed into the room, shattering the quiet bubble you’d both been trapped in.

“Ah, great,” said a cheerful man from the group, clapping his hands together as he approached. “Harry, you’re here. And this must be Ms. L/N!”

The moment was gone. Harry straightened, his expression shifting seamlessly to one of polite professionalism, though you caught a flicker of something in his eyes as he glanced back at you.

You offered a polite nod to the newcomers, forcing yourself to focus as introductions were made. Yet, as the meeting began, you couldn’t help but feel like something important had been left unsaid.

And judging by the way Harry occasionally glanced your way, he felt the same.

...

As the meeting progressed, Harry found himself quietly observing you. Initially, he’d assumed you might be shy or reserved—perhaps because of the nervous energy that had lingered when you first met. But as you delved into your presentation, he realized just how wrong he was.

The confidence with which you spoke captivated the room. Your tone was steady yet approachable, and your words were carefully chosen to articulate your vision. You presented your design concepts with precision, highlighting the intricate details and practical functionality behind each element.

Harry leaned forward slightly in his chair, his interest piqued. The way you seamlessly balanced creativity with logic was impressive. He could tell how much thought you’d put into this project—every choice seemed deliberate, every detail purposeful.

What surprised him most, however, was your ability to command the room. You weren’t just presenting; you were selling the design, painting a picture of how the concept would come to life. And the team was eating it up.

He stole a glance around the room. His team, typically quick to interject or challenge ideas, sat quietly, nodding along with your points. Even he couldn’t help but admire the way you navigated through the questions and feedback with such ease.

When you paused for questions, Harry cleared his throat and spoke, his voice cutting through the room.

“I really appreciate the thought you’ve put into the design—it’s incredibly well-considered. I do have a question, though,” he said, his tone genuinely curious. “You mentioned incorporating natural textures into the layout. Can you elaborate on how those elements will remain modular while still maintaining their aesthetic appeal?”

You turned to him, locking eyes for a brief moment. His question wasn’t just thoughtful—it showed that he’d been paying close attention to your presentation.

“Thank you, Mr. Styles,” you began, your voice steady. “That’s a great question. For the natural textures, such as reclaimed wood and stone-inspired finishes, I’ve ensured that they’re lightweight and easily removable. The modular framework uses a system of interchangeable panels, so the aesthetic can be retained without compromising functionality.”

Harry nodded, clearly impressed. “That makes sense. And it aligns well with what we’re trying to achieve here—something unique, but also adaptable. Nicely done.”

You gave him a polite smile, though inside, his compliment sent a ripple of pride through you.

As the meeting continued, Harry couldn’t help but feel drawn to the passion and expertise you brought to your work. There was something magnetic about the way you carried yourself—so composed and articulate, yet with a spark of creativity that set you apart.

And as the session wrapped up, he found himself wondering if this serendipitous reunion might be more than just a chance encounter.

As handshakes and congratulations were exchanged, the manager gave a final nod of approval, and Harry himself followed suit, offering his praise for your presentation. It had been a resounding success.

With most of the team filing out of the room, the buzz of conversation slowly faded, leaving you alone at the conference table, still stuffing your things into your bag. You were on a high from the meeting—everything had gone so smoothly, but the exhaustion from a long day was beginning to catch up.

Suddenly, you heard a soft cough. Looking up, you were surprised to see Harry still standing near the door.

“Oh, sorry,” you said, startled. “Are there any more questions you need from me, Mr. Styles?” You quickly adjusted your posture, feeling a bit flustered.

Harry smiled, the easy warmth you remembered from your past encounter resurfacing. “You can call me Harry,” he replied with a casual, almost reassuring tone. “I’m not too big on formalities. Can I call you Y/N?”

“That’s alright with me,” you answered with a smile, pleased by the friendly tone of the conversation. It felt much more natural now that the formality had faded.

A beat of silence passed before Harry spoke again, his eyes twinkling with a hint of curiosity. “So, how long have you been eating breakfast at Feli’s Café?”

You blinked, a bit taken aback by the question. It was unexpected, but not unwelcome. “Oh, I’ve been going there for a while now. I usually grab a matcha latte and sometimes a sandwich. Feli’s a good friend of mine—she’s the one who got me hooked on her menu.”

Good thing I found your journal, your presentation was fantastic. Harry complimented.

Thank you again for giving it back. and sorry I was on a time crunch that I didn't introduce myself.

Harry chuckled softly, his expression warm.

You felt a sudden shift in the air between you two, the unspoken moment starting to surface. But before either of you could delve deeper into the conversation, a voice from the hallway interrupted the moment.

“I’m sorry to interrupt,” the manager popped his head back in, looking around. “But I just wanted to confirm we’re all set for the next steps, Y/N? Can we count on you for the design rollout next week?”

You gave a nod, quickly snapping back into professional mode. “Yes, everything is in order. I'll start on the proper revisions needed for the plans."

“Perfect,” the manager smiled, satisfied. “Thanks again for your excellent work today.”

As he left the room, you turned back to Harry, who was still standing near the door, clearly reluctant to leave just yet.

“I guess I should let you get back to your day,” you said, trying to break the lingering tension. “I’ll see you around, Harry.”

Harry’s smile widened, and he nodded slowly. “Definitely.”

...

It had been a month since you completed your work for Pleasing. You scrolled through their Instagram, admiring how your designs brought their brand to life. Seeing people lining up to buy their high-quality products filled you with a deep sense of pride.

You’d only seen Harry a handful of times during the project, but he always seemed busy, caught up in meetings or surrounded by other people.

Sighing loudly, you collapsed onto your bed, letting the exhaustion of the day wash over you. You had plans to join an art market this month, where you’d sell your prints, stickers, and other handmade knickknacks. It was something to look forward to, at least.

“Will we ever meet again?” you murmured to yourself, staring up at the ceiling. “I mean, what are the chances?” You already knew the answer before you even finished the thought. Harry was probably the busiest person you’d ever met, and you were just a nobody in his world.

Your heart felt heavy as you grappled with the cold, hard reality—he might have only been a fleeting moment in your life, a beautiful memory to cherish but not something meant to last. ...

A month had passed, and Harry still hadn’t been able to properly speak with you. He had been trying—desperately, in fact. He’d gone to the café where you first met, hoping to run into you again, but you never showed up, or you came at different times. He even tried catching you after work, but you were always whisked away to other locations or surrounded by people.

In a final act of determination, Harry had even approached HR for your contact information, but they refused to give it to him. Frustrated and defeated, he began to think maybe it wasn’t meant to be.

As he walked home one evening, his eyes caught on a brightly colored poster advertising an upcoming art market at the same location he frequented. He stared at it for a moment, a flicker of hope sparking in his chest before he brushed it off with a sigh. Maybe it was time to give up. Maybe it was never destined to happen.

But something about the poster lingered in his mind—a quiet, persistent thought that made him decide, almost on impulse, to go to the market anyway. Perhaps, by some happy chance, fate would intervene.

You were busy setting up your booth in the bustling market, carefully adjusting misaligned prints and rearranging trinkets to create the perfect display. The air buzzed with chatter and laughter, the atmosphere lively as other artists greeted passersby and showcased their work.

“Your paintings are just lovely, dear,” an elderly woman remarked, her eyes sparkling as she pointed to one of your pieces.

“They really are,” her partner chimed in with a warm smile. “We could hang one in the hallway, couldn’t we?”

“Excuse me, miss,” another potential buyer interjected, holding up one of your prints. “How much is this?”

“For the A4 size, it’s 25 pounds,” you replied with a friendly smile.

More people began to gather, drawn by the charm of your artwork. You did your best to keep up, answering questions, wrapping purchases, and making small talk with the growing crowd. It was a whirlwind, but you couldn’t help but feel a swell of pride seeing so many people appreciating your work.

...

Walking through the bustling market, Harry wandered past the stalls he always loved to visit. He admired the fresh vegetables and fruits, browsed through racks of thrifted clothes, and flipped through stacks of vinyl records that always piqued his interest. But today, something different caught his attention—a special event featuring local artists who had been invited to showcase and sell their work.

As he turned toward the next stall, his eyes landed on something—or rather, someone.

It was you.

There you stood in front of your stall, surrounded by your artwork, speaking to customers with an energy that radiated warmth and passion. The light in your eyes, the way you animatedly gestured while describing your creations, the genuine smile that lit up your face—it was everything he remembered and more.

For a moment, Harry froze, rooted in place as he took it all in. You looked so at home in your element, effortlessly captivating the people around you. His heart raced, a mixture of excitement and nervousness coursing through him. But before doubt could creep in, before he could second-guess himself, he moved.

Harry started walking toward you, his steps quick and purposeful. His mind was a whirlwind of emotions, but there was only one clear thought that anchored him: now or never.

This was his chance to finally talk to you—to close the distance that had been lingering between you both for far too long. He wasn’t going to let it slip away again.

...

It has been a good day so far. People were buying your prints, admiring your stickers, and complimenting your craftsmanship. You smiled to yourself, feeling content with the steady stream of visitors who appreciated your work.

Just as you reached for your water bottle, a familiar voice interrupted your thoughts.

“Hello, again, Y/N.”

You froze, the cap of your bottle slipping through your fingers. Slowly, you turned toward the source of the voice, your heart skipping a beat.

There he was—Harry. Standing there amidst the sea of market-goers, looking as effortlessly charming as ever in a white T-shirt, jeans, and sunglasses perched on his curls. His lips curved into a small, knowing smile as your eyes met.

“Harry?” you managed to say, your voice barely above a whisper.

“I thought it was you,” he said, stepping closer. His gaze flickered over your stall, taking in the vibrant prints and trinkets on display. “This is all yours?”

You nodded, suddenly self-conscious. “Yeah, just a little side project I do. How…how did you find me here?”

“I didn’t,” he admitted with a chuckle. “I was just wandering around, and there you were. Funny how the universe works, huh?”

You couldn’t help but laugh softly, shaking your head. “Yeah, funny.”

He looked around at your stall again, picking up one of your prints—a delicate watercolor of flowers intertwined with abstract shapes. “This is beautiful,” he said earnestly, his fingers brushing over the edge of the paper. “You’re really talented.”

“Thank you,” you said, warmth spreading through your chest at the compliment.

“Do you take commissions?” he asked, his tone casual but his eyes intensely focused on you.

“Sometimes,” you said, tilting your head. “Why? Are you looking for something specific?”

“I might be,” he replied cryptically, his lips curving into a playful smirk. Before you could press him further, he added, “But first, do you have a break coming up? I was thinking I could buy you a coffee.”

Your breath caught at his unexpected offer. “A coffee?”

“Yeah,” he said, shrugging like it was the simplest thing in the world. “You’ve been on my mind lately, Y/N. Thought maybe this time we could actually catch up without a room full of people or work deadlines in the way.”

Your pulse quickened as you tried to process his words. Was he really asking you out, or was this just Harry being Harry—charming and polite?

“Well,” you started, glancing at your stall. “I do have a little time before the market closes…”

“Perfect,” he said with a grin. “I’ll wait for you to pack up, or we can just grab something nearby. Whatever works for you.”

As he spoke, the faint hum of the market seemed to fade into the background. For the first time in weeks, the heavy feeling in your chest lifted just a little. Maybe this wasn’t just a fleeting moment after all.

...

Okay, this is actually too long I’ll make it into two parts. Give you guys some suspense. Thank you for reading everyone! ☺️

…

Hello, Again Pt.2

Here’s part two loves hope you enjoy it!

[twostepstyless]

Elves Wanted

Main Masterlist

SFW

Author’s Note: Y/N and Harry are drama students from two separate drama schools just looking to make some extra money over the Christmas period. Colleagues to friends to lovers ig? No major warnings I don’t think, maybe a tiny little chat about Christmas being a hard time of year. 

This is my first piece of writing in a looooong long time, so please be gentle  

As always, likes, reblogs and feedback of any variety is encouraged and always appreciated - G x 

Word Count: 7.7K+

It was the middle of November when Y/N saw it. The poster looked threatening. A large font, emboldened and in scary looking shade of red. The paper had gone a bit wrinkly as if it had been clutched tightly in a hand full of piles of the same advert printed over and over again. A contact email was printed multiple times along the bottom on tear-off tabs of paper, the fact that only one tab containing the address was missing added to the overall unappealing look of the advertisement that Y/N found on the ‘Opportunities’ board in the reception of her drama school. It looked threating compared to the opportunity it was offering. 

ELVES WANTED was printed at the top of the sheet followed by a short, bulleted list of qualifications:

Must have an enthusiastic and friendly personality

No experience necessary

No maximum height limit!!!

Great pay for festive season!

DBS checks will be carried out. 

Illustrations of holly leaves and berries bordered the A4 advert and severe looking underlines on the next steps asking for a headshot and CV to be forwarded to the recruiter’s email attached to the tear-off slips. A mall elf. Santa’s little helper. Y/N didn’t think it was the worst gig she could have in the world. Another thing to add to her CV she supposed. She realises she’s trying to convince herself into doing it and she was of the mindset if you had to convince yourself something is a good idea, it probably isn’t. But the Christmas holidays were looming and her student loan never in a million years could stretch towards Christmas presents and the zero hours contract she had a greasy spoon café down the road from her flat was certainly not helping either. She was desperate for consistent income to see her through Christmas. So, with a sigh, she ripped off the email information. 

***

Across the city, Harry was stood in front of an advert on the ‘Opportunities’ board in the reception area of his drama school. Harry frowned, then leaned in closer to get a better look. He read the poster twice, then a third time, and despite his better judgment, he felt a strange pull. There was something ridiculous about it, something he couldn’t quite shake. The idea of becoming an elf at Santa’s Grotto in a shopping centre, a 6-foot (on a good day at least) elf at that, on the surface, was completely mental. But then again, he thought back to the acting gig he had over Christmas last year and thought anything would be better than that. Plus, he loved Christmas really, and getting to spread a bit of joy can only be a positive thing. He rubbed his temple as though to clear his thoughts, still staring at the flyer. ‘Great pay’, the poster said. That was tempting. What the hell? He could be an elf for a month. Maybe there was something strange and fun about playing a cheerful holiday character—something a little whimsical and different from his usual typecast as a tortured soul or brooding romantic lead. Harry's lips quirked into a smile. “I can totally do this,” he muttered to himself, snapping a photo of the requirements and ripping off the contact email and shoving it into his pocket. 

***

Y/N trudged back to her flat after leaving uni, fell into her bed and fished out her laptop to send her email to the elf recruiter. She attached her most recent headshot and newly updated CV and sent it off to the email address she clung onto. As her laptop screen faded to black, she caught a glimpse of herself in the reflection of the screen. She didn’t look happy. She looked knackered actually, with heavy dark circles around her eyes. The past few months had been a lot. Exhausting, frustrating, and filled with self-doubt. She’d just finished a semester of intense Stanislavski system classes which were emotionally, physically and psychologically taxing when she was applying them to the acting pieces she was performing. She longed for a break, for something to remind her why she had fallen in love with performing and acting in the first place. Maybe this odd elf job would do that—maybe she could rediscover some joy in performing, even if it was just a month or so of prancing around in stripy tights and painted on rosy cheeks.

Y/N sighed and shook her head, but a small smile crept onto her lips. Why not? she thought again, maybe she could learn to appreciate Christmas again. 

***

Winter had truly set in the next week when Y/N arrived at the shopping centre’s service entrance. The wind nipped at her face, the only bit of her not covered up by woolly or fleece fabric. Despite the cold, there was a gentle hum of festive energy beginning to spark. She had her phone open directing her to the disused unit nearest the newly built grotto which they had turned into a dressing room and break room for all the actors who were going to be working there over the holidays. She had to agree there would be something distinctly unmagical about a child seeing the elf that had shown them to Santa, or the big man himself, walking through the mall with a backpack over their costume to catch the tube home.  

This was it—the first day of her “elf job,” as ridiculous as it seemed. She still wasn’t entirely sure what she’d gotten herself into. At least Noelle seemed nice enough as a manager when they’d spoken over zoom after Y/N applied. (Y/N still wasn’t sure if that was her actual name or that Noelle just loved Christmas that much, she’d given it to herself, she wouldn’t be shocked if it was the latter) And hey, it wasn’t like there was anything else on her schedule at the moment, classes having broken up for an extended Christmas break this week to allow the students to pick up winter acting gigs. 

The smell of cinnamon and something distinctly chocolatey wafted through the air as she hurried through the shopping centre, the disused unit between the small Boots (the big boots was on the second floor) and Clarks shoe shop was her end goal with a note to show up at 8:30 to be assigned her costume, meet their Santa and the other elves and to be talked through what their role was and what do before the kids started arriving to meet Saint Nick at 10:30 A.M. 

She was first there. Not a shock, she’s notoriously early to everything. Just Noelle in the space, ticking Y/N’s name off the list attached to her clipboard and urging her to pull up a chair until the rest of her colleagues arrived. Tubs of celebrations and heroes cracked open on the tables for the employees to pick at if they were on break. 

Y/N quickly snagged a Malteser one from the red tub knowing those were her favourite but always the first to run out in a box of Celebrations. As she rammed the chocolate into her mouth a deep, slow voice called out.

“Hey! Are y’here for the elf job too?”

Y/N looked up. A boy—no, a man—was walking toward her, a friendly smile on his face. He was tall, like worthy of stating in your dating profile tall, with chocolatey, perfectly tousled hair like he’d just ran his fingers through it and it fell perfectly. His cheeks were also flushed from the cold, and there was an energy about him, an air of confidence that could potentially approach cockiness, but not in a dickhead way, a way that made Y/N feel suddenly self-conscious. She straightened up, trying to look more confident.

“Uh, yeah.” Fuck, she still had the half-chewed Malteser sweet in her mouth, she swallowed it harshly. “I am, yeah,” she said, his voice coming out a little awkwardly. 

The man laughed lightly, as if sensing her discomfort, and stuck out his hand. “M’Harry. S’my first day, too. So, we’re in the same boat.”

Y/N hesitated for a second before shaking his hand. His grip was firm, and his-Harry’s eyes sparkled with a kind of warmth that she wasn’t used to.

“Harry,” she said. “Yeah, I figured I wasn’t the only one.”

Harry raised an eyebrow, glancing around. “Have y’seen the costumes?” he asked with a grin. “Noelle was pulling the rail out as I came in,” he nodded towards the rail now in Y/N’s peripheral, “and not that I’m biased towards the fact me n’you are here first… but I think we’re going to look the best.” 

Y/N snorted, suddenly picturing the pair of them in the green and red get up she could see swinging around on hangers that Harry pointed out. “Yeah, right. I’m not sure there is a looking the best in those but I’ll try not to look too much like a walking, talking Christmas tree.”

Harry laughed again, his voice light and carefree. “You could be a very stylish Christmas tree. And if not, I’m sure the kiddies will love you anyway. I mean, it’s hard t’look serious in tha’.”

Y/N had to agree. She could see tiny bells on the tips of the curly toed shoes and around the base of the pointy hat that were jingling in an absurdly cheerful way as Noelle pulled the rail up towards the congregating elves, more of whom had arrived in the time she had been speaking to Harry not that she noticed them arrive. 

“I’m guessing you’ve done this before?” she asked.

“Nope,” Harry replied with a shrug, his eyes crinkling with a smile. “But I’m an actor, so literally trained in fake it til I make it.” She glanced at him knowingly. “I’m sure you can, too.”

There was something about the way he said it, so effortlessly, as if being an actor was the most natural thing in the world. Y/N felt a pang of recognition. She was the same way, always pretending like she had her shit together when, in reality, she felt like she hanging by a thread the vast majority of the time.

“You’re an actor, too?” she asked, as Harry pulled a twirl out the box of heroes and snaffled it down just as quickly. 

“Yeah,” he said round the mouthful of chocolate, “Where d’you go?” 

 “Oh, I’m at RADA,” she said with a sheepish smile, as though it were no big deal. “How about you?”

“The Conservatoire,” Harry replied in a similar tone. “It’s… kind of intense there. Everyone’s obsessed with Shakespeare n’like fuckin’ Laurence Olivier,” he chuckled. His voice tinged with self-deprecation. “Which is fine, and y’know same but sometimes it feels like m’in an endless cycle of waiting. Auditions, classes, workshops, more auditions…” He trailed off, realizing he was rambling. “Though suppose you’re the same at RADA,” He finished.

Y/N’s eyes softened a little. “I get that. Sometimes it feels like I’m auditioning for my own bloody life instead of actually living it, and the constant seriousness can really knock the wind out of it and make you forget why you started acting in the first place.” She leaned back against her chair, crossing her arms. 

“At least this elf job is different. It’s kind of nice to do just… do something fun, you know?” Harry suggested.

Y/N nodded, a little surprised by the ease in which he found the bright side. There was a grounded quality to him that she hadn’t expected, especially when he said he attended the conservatoire. He didn’t seem to be caught up in the competitive, high-strung nature of their shared world, or if he did, he was doing a damn good job of hiding it.  Maybe it was his willingness to embrace something as silly as playing an elf that made him stand out to her.

“Yeah, you’re right,” she said, letting out a breath she hadn’t realised she was holding. “I think I’m just overthinking it. Like, this is the first thing I’ve gotten in a minute that’s actually paying me, and I’m being weird about it. Plus, I’ve got the perfect excuse to wear a fun outfit for a month,” she giggled, hoping to match his blasé attitude. 

Harry smiled back, a mischievous glint appearing in his eyes. “Exactly!” 

Before their conversation could go any further, Noelle, decked out in an obscene Christmas jumper with glittery yarn and flashing lights stood at the front of the now full room.

“Hiya chookies! Welcome to your first day as Santa’s helpers!” she said brightly in her bubbly Welsh accent, clapping her hands together. “I’ve spoken to you all before but just to reintroduce I’m Noelle and I’ll be your manager for the duration of this job! You’ll be working alongside our Santa Claus, Arthur, bringing the magic to life for all the little ones we’ll have coming to visit right up until the 24th of December. You’ll mostly be working in pairs which I can split you up into- or I see most of you have split into little groups already so that will do just lovely too!” 

At the mention of already being in pairs, Harry and Y/N’s eyes flickered up to each other’s with a small smile from Y/N and a wink from Harry that made Y/N’s stomach swoop as he mouthed ‘partner’ at her. 

Noelle continued, “so we’ll get you costumed and your elf’s name assigned to you, then we’ve got a few little training things to get through before we kick off the festive season with our first visitors at 10:30!” 

***

The rest of the morning was a blur of final costume adjustments, training videos about handling children, and learning the ropes of the “Santa meet-and-greet” routine. Introduce, smile, take the kid to Santa, reassure any nervous little ones, pass out candy canes til you’re blue in the face, and sprinkle as much magic and joy in there as possible as they went. As 10:30 approached, Harry found himself standing next to Y/N at the edge of Santa’s grotto ready for the first batch of children to arrive. 

Through the noise of the shopping centre, chatter and the beep of checkouts and the rush of activity, Harry caught Y/N’s eye and offered her a dazzling smile. “Well Sugarplum,” he said, now referring to Y/N as her Elf name, as was required in their training, his voice low enough for only her to hear, “here we go. Let’s see if we can make some Christmas magic without completely embarrassing ourselves.”

Y/N laughed softly, knocking her hip against his playfully. “You’ll do great. Just remember to smile like you mean it and even if we’re pretending that it’s the most magical moment of your life.”

Harry rolled his eyes but found himself smiling anyway. “I’ll try my best. Elf-ing is harder than it looks I reckon.”

As the first family approached the line, Y/N leaned closer to him, her voice playful. “Ready to bring some joy to the world, Jingles?”

“After you, my jolly little elf,” Harry said with a smile, feeling something spark between them that he couldn’t quite name, their shoes jingling as they bounced forwards to greet their first family. 

***

The first shift was chaotic.

Y/N had been bracing herself for the madness of it all, but nothing quite prepared her for the relentless pace of the Santa meet-and-greet. From the moment they arrived at the grotto and workshop themed area, complete with twinkling lights, piles of fake presents, an enormous, fluffy teddy bear in the corner and nutcrackers as tall as Harry, it was clear that the role of an elf was not as simple as it seemed.

The instructions from Noelle had been brief—"Smile, be enthusiastic, don't get in Santa's way, and make sure every child gets their gift!"—but in practice, it felt like a never-ending whirlwind. The line of eager little children accompanied by parents and carers lapped around the grotto and down the hallways of the mall and the air buzzed with the excited chatter of families, the high-pitched giggles of toddlers, and the occasional wail of a child whose feet hurt from waiting or was a little scared of the man with the round belly and red suit. 

Y/N was feeling the initial confidence boost Harry gave her, waver. The green tunic was a tad itchy, the makeup to paint her cheeks rosy was 100% going to cause her a spotty breakout and the pointy shoes, which she’d thought would be a fun novelty, now felt like they were cutting off the circulation to her toes. She was supposed to be cheerful and welcoming, but every time she smiled, it felt a little forced. And then there was the jingle. The tiny bells attached to the hem of her outfit, hat and tips of her curly shoes made every step a clinking reminder that she was no longer the serious actor she aspired to be. No, now she was an elf, and that meant every footstep seemed to ring with the joyful spirit of Christmas. 

"Alright, Sugarplum!" Harry’s voice cut through the noise as he slid into place next to her. "You’re doing great! Just keep smiling!" His eyes twinkled with mischief, and Y/N couldn’t help but return his grin, even if it was more of a grimace.

“I’m not sure I’m pulling off the ‘joyful, Christmas spirit’ look,” she muttered, glancing at Harry. “I think the kids can tell I'm not really feeling it.”

“Oh, please,” he teased, adjusting his own costume, he had managed to twist one of the legs of his red tights around his leg as he peeled them up when he got changed and seemed completely unbothered by it. “You look like you just stepped off of an elf runway. Like we are North Pole Fashion Week right here. Autumn/Winter 2024’s finest!”

He was, in fact, a burst of holiday cheer. His costume fit well, minus the small problem with his tights. His movements were smooth and confident, and he had this way of leaning into his role that made it seem effortless. Every time a child came up to him, he greeted them with enthusiasm, making silly faces to the young ones who couldn’t talk yet, or twirling around to make them squeal and giggle.

Y/N, on the other hand, had already almost fell onto the nutcracker when a child approached her from behind. 

***

"Hey, Elves!" a little girl said in a high-pitched voice, her arms crossed in front of her chest. She was maybe seven years old, with a haughty expression on her face that both Harry and Y/N couldn’t help but find hilarious. "I want a unicorn for Christmas."

“Uh, okay, a unicorn,” Y/N repeated, trying to channel the enthusiasm Noelle had instructed them to have. “Is that, like, a stuffed unicorn or an actual unicorn?”

The little girl stared at her blankly. “A real one. With wings.” As if that was obvious, Y/N thought.

Y/N blinked. “Oh… right. Well, I think we’ll need to ask Santa if he can make that happen. Santa has magical powers, you know, isn’t that right Jingles?” she gestured to Harry, desperately wanting to involve him in this conversation to get it over with quicker.  

“That’s absolutely right Sugarplum, but I’m not sure the unicorn’s gonna make it through customs...” Harry trailed off

The girl raised an eyebrow. “I don’t care about that. I want a unicorn. With wings.”

“Understood.” Harry nodded seriously. “I’ll put in the request to Santa’s workshop immediately.” Y/N couldn’t help but laugh at Harry so turned away to get her giggles out as she organised the piles of gifts for the kids as the little girl continued on.

She gave a dramatic sniff before turning to her adult and questioning, “mummy why does that elf have all those on him?”

“All what, princess?” The little girl’s mother barely took her eyes off her phone while responding to her. 

“All those drawings,” she pointed her sticky looking hand to Harry while her mother finally looked up and over with distaste to see Harry’s lower arm exposed from where the fluffy cuffs on his tunic had ridden up, exposing the inky swirls that littered his arm.  

“I got these in prison,” Harry said to the child, seriously. 

“HARRY,” Y/N shouts whipping her head round from the reorganised piles of presents and a series of giggles. 

“Um, its Jingles to you, Miss Sugarplum,” he responded to Y/N with a sly look in his eye before turning back to the little girl, “I broke a lot of elf and safety rules,” he nodded with a sad sort of soft smile as the girl and her mother moved farther up the queue and away from Harry and Y’N’s section.

“You’re going to get sacked,” Y/N laughed. 

“Nah, no chance, I don’t reckon there’s any understudies for elves, I’m just trying to brighten the place up, they say Christmas cheer is spread through laughter,” Harry said reaching for one of the candy canes they had in a bowl to give out to customers.  

“No one says that” Y/N responded.

“Wel, I did just then,” Harry smirked before shoving his newly unwrapped candy cane between his lips. 

***

Y/N found herself laughing more, letting go of the relentless pressure she usually placed on herself. She still had moments of doubt, but they were becoming less frequent. And more often than not, Harry was there, laughing with her, encouraging her to embrace the more sparkly, joyful side of things.

By the end of the week, both Harry and Y/N were beginning to look forward to their shifts—not just for the pay check, but because of the time spent with each other. Their friendship was growing, deepening in those small moments of shared joy. They spent their breaks together, sharing their lunches and swapping stories about their schools, about their aspirations, about everything and nothing.

“I jus’ couldn’t face doing panto again this Christmas for some work experience, last year I ended up in a production of Cinderella at holiday park in the arse end of nowhere and let me just tell you never again,” Harry said round mouthfuls of the Subway sandwich he’d ran to go pick them up on their joint lunch break.

“You didn’t?!” Y/N gasped dramatically, putting her own sandwich down. 

“I did.” 

“Oh no you didn’t,” Y/N refuted.

“What y’on about? I did, I played Buttons.”

“Oh no you didn’t!” Y/N teased.

“Oh no you didn- OH ha ha, very funny,” Harry rolled his eyes playfully.  “But yeah I had to stay in a static caravan for the length of the run, and not one of those nice, posh static caravans with the deck and did y’know some of them have actual baths in ‘em too? It was a shit one, that smelt of damp and sand from the beach and had a scorch mark on the carpet from the fan radiator someone had put on upside down, the thing probably would’ve looked better if it had gone up in flames.”

***

It was the week before Christmas, when the shopping centre was at its peak. Crowds of shoppers were everywhere. Pushing, jostling, and frantically checking their lists. Santa’s grotto had gotten busier and busier and December went on, and Harry and Y/N were in the thick of it, dodging around children, parents, and cameras, keeping up the relentless pace of their elf duties. 

They were stationed in the photo line, dishing out candy canes left, right and centre to anyone who didn’t already have one clutched in their hands. The music overhead had transitioned from classic carols to the more upbeat, catchy tunes—"Jingle Bell Rock," "Last Christmas," and, of course what’s Christmas without a little bit of Mariah. 

“Honestly, feels like Christmas exploded all over this place,” Harry muttered to Y/N as a child skipped past them, jingling her own set of bells in her hair. He adjusted his own costume and shot a glance around at the sea of red and green. “I love Christmas but even I’m starting to feel a little less Santa n’a little more Scrooge.” 

Y/N’s grin was infectious. “I know, right? But I think I’m starting to really love it rather than seeing this as a quick, easy wage every week. It feels like a big Christmas party every day and really is starting to put me in the mood for the 25th.”

Harry snorted. “You’re a better elf than I’ll ever be then. I’m about two seconds from snapping the candy canes and calling it a day.” 

Y/N chuckled, her eyes glinting mischievously. “You could do that. But you’d be the elf who shows up on the ‘Naughty List,’ and frankly, I don’t think you want that reputation,” Y/N shrugged playfully.

“Well, there’s always next year,” Harry replied with a wink.

As the hours passed, the atmosphere only intensified. The mall was bursting with excited chatter, laughter, and the occasional tantrum from an upset child. Harry was starting to feel the weight of it all—the constant smiling, the relentless energy. He glanced over at Y/N, who seemed unaffected by it all. She was laughing, her face flushed from the warmth of the crowd, her energy infectious, but Harry couldn’t shake the feeling that she was hiding something—something more than the seemingly newly discovered holiday cheer that seemed to shine out of her pores like the lights round the Christmas trees. There was a depth to her that he couldn’t quite place. A vulnerability that was hidden beneath her new, bright exterior. He had seen it before, right at the start of their run—brief moments when her eyes grew a little distant or when she would zone out during a particularly quiet lull. She seemed melancholic a lot of the time at the beginning but the closer they got to Christmas her personality seemed to do a switch to the most utterly joyful person you could ever come across. Harry didn’t buy it, not completely anyway. 

After another round of photos, a break finally arrived. It wasn’t much—only fifteen minutes—but it was enough for them to run off to their break room to rest their jingled feet. Harry slumped down in his seat, taking a long, deep breath of the slightly cooler air of their break room. He caught sight of Y/N across the room, filling up a glass of water each for them from the cooler.

"Hey," Harry said, his voice a bit quieter now. “Y’alright?”

Y/N looked up at him, her eyes wide and a little startled by the question. She blinked a couple of times, as if trying to shake off some thought she’d been lost in.

“Yeah, of course,” she replied quickly, offering a bright smile. “I’m just… y’know. Trying t’make the most of the break.” She gestured vaguely around; the room was empty bar the pair of them.

“Right,” Harry said, but there was something in her tone that didn’t quite match the smile she was giving him. He knew her well enough by now to see that something was off. It was slight, subtle even, but it was there.

He took a deep breath, feeling that the awkwardness of the moment would pass if he just said it. “Look, Y/N... I don’t want to make you uncomfortable n’just tell me t’fuck off if I’m overstepping or anything… but I feel like there’s more going on with you than you’re letting on.”

She froze for a moment before placing the now full glass of water in front of Harry. Her eyes shifted to the floor, her expression briefly faltering before she met his gaze again.

“You’re talking about the personality transplant I’ve had in the last few days, aren’t you?” she asked with a small laugh, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes.

Harry shook his head. “No. I mean… yes. But not just that.” He pulled the chair next to him round to an angle so they would be basically facing each other eye to eye as he encouraged her to take a seat. Lowering his voice slightly. “I know m’not the best at reading people, but I can tell y’hiding something. You’re not as… I don’t know… there’s something not quite right about the smile you’re painting on, right?”

Y/N’s smile faltered, and she glanced away. “I’m fine, Harry. I promise.”

But Harry didn’t buy it. He didn’t know what it was, but there was something in her voice, a tone as if she was trying to convince herself of the fact and not just him, that made him feel that she wasn’t fine.

“Y/N, m’not trying to make you talk about anything you’re not ready to share,” Harry said gently. “But… you can’t just bury everything under the elf costume and the smiles. It’s okay to not be okay sometimes,” he said with a soft smile as he nudged his knee against her own. 

The room was silent. Y/N chewed on her bottom lip, clearly battling with something. Harry held his breath, waiting. Finally, she sighed deeply, as if the weight of it all had become too much to carry any longer.

“I didn’t want to bring it up, s’a bit of a mood killer at this time of year,” she said quietly, her voice thick with something Harry couldn’t quite place. “But... I guess I’m just tired. Not physically—well, kind of. But emotionally. I don’t know… I’ve been pretending a lot this year.”

Harry watched her, his brow furrowing. "Pretending?"

Y/N let out a shaky breath and nodded. “My family... my dad... this time of year is always hard for me. Christmas is supposed to be happy, right? But it just... reminds me of everything I’ve lost. Things that don’t work out. People who move on.” She paused, her voice trembling just slightly. “I didn’t want to let it affect my job here. I didn’t want to ruin the fun, or the magic… and I guess it’s been a lot.”

Harry felt a pang of sympathy for her. The words hung in the air like fragile glass, and he could see how much it had cost her to admit it. For a moment, he didn’t know what to say, he just nodded, understanding. “I get it,” he said eventually. “Y’don’t have to keep pretending, though. Not round me anyway.”

She gave him a small, relieved smile, but there was still sadness behind her eyes. “Thanks, Harry,” she whispered, almost as if she were speaking to herself. “I think I just needed someone to hear it. Even if it’s just for a second. I’m just… knackered,” she sighed.

Harry leant closer, offering gentle smile his hand reaching down to squeeze her knee. “Anytime. You know that.”

For the last few moments of their break, they just sat there, sipping on their water and cooling down for a bit, the noise of the shopping centre drifting in from the distance. Harry didn’t push her to say more, but they both knew something had shifted between them in that moment. Y/N wasn’t just his elf colleague anymore. She was a person with a past, with scars, with feelings. And Harry wanted to be there for her, even if it meant just offering an ear if she needed it.

And maybe she just needed to know that someone was there to listen, even someone she met working at Santa’s Grotto.

The break ended with the sound of a loud cheer coming from the main concourse of the shopping centre, where a new group of children had gathered to see Santa. Y/N downed the rest of her water and gave her cheeks a few quick pats to wake herself up, as if the moment of vulnerability had never happened, and smiled at Harry.

“Ready for round two?” she asked, her voice lighter than before.

Harry nodded. “Let’s do this Sugarplum.” And for the first time in a long while, Harry realized that sometimes, just being real with someone else was the greatest gift of all.

***

The day before Christmas was a blur of lights, music, and the constant hum of holiday energy. For such a manic day, it was a slow one. Harry had stopped counting the hours long ago of his shifts long ago; it was just a matter of getting through the day, but with Y/N by his side, it felt bearable. Their friendship had become a steady constant, something Harry looked forward to in the midst of the holiday madness. They spent their breaks together, talked about everything and nothing, and found little ways to make each other laugh.

But today felt different. There was a quiet tension in the air between them, an unspoken awareness that lingered longer than usual. It was approaching midday on Christmas Eve, the final shift before the big day. The mall was packed, the halls full of families rushing to get those last-minute photos with Santa, children buzzing with excitement. Harry and Y/N had just finished their break and were back on as Jingles and Sugarplum, standing in front of the grotto. They had gotten good at this—good at smiling until their cheeks hurt, good at posing for photos, good at handing out candy canes like it was second nature. But today, something felt… off. Something wasn’t quite as simple as it had been before.

“Last day,” Y/N said, adjusting her costume, the bells twinkling and punctuating her sentence, her tone almost too casual as she looked around at the busy area. “Can y’believe it’s finally Christmas Eve?”

Harry shrugged, trying to sound nonchalant. “It kind of feels like we’ve been doing this forever, doesn’t it? Like, time doesn’t even work anymore.”

“Yeah,” she said softly, her eyes scanning the crowd. Then, turning back to Harry, her gaze lingered a moment too long. “You know, I’ve actually really enjoyed this. Not the work, obviously, but… the time we’ve spent together. It’s been…” She hesitated, glancing down at her costume before meeting his eyes again. “Nice. A break from my usual, I guess.”

Harry’s heart skipped a beat. She didn’t say it directly, but there was something in her voice that made him wonder if she felt the same way he did.

“I get that,” he said, his voice a little quieter than before. “It’s kind of hard to explain, but I feel like we’ve gotten into this rhythm. You know what I mean?”

She smiled, that familiar, easy smile that made him feel like he was the only one in the room. “Exactly. We’ve somehow survived this madness, and now it’s almost over.”

As they stood there, exchanging glances with the busy families waiting in line, Harry couldn’t help but feel a sense of… finality. He had been dreading the end of this gig, not because he didn’t want to go back to the conservatoire and his classes after break but because he didn’t want to not see Y/N every day. The idea of her becoming just another friendly face in the crowd of his life was akin to one of Shakespeare’s tragedies to him, he didn’t want that at all.

“You’re right,” he said slowly, “I don’t want it to be over. This... thing we’ve got going on, I mean.”

Y/N paused, her eyebrows furrowing in slight confusion. “What do you mean, ‘this thing’?” 

Fuck, Harry thought as looked down at his hands, suddenly feeling self-conscious, a rarity for him. Maybe he was reading too much into it. Maybe he was just imagining that there was something between them. But the way her voice softened when she spoke to him, the way they laughed together, the way he felt this inexplicable pull towards her. 

“This thing where it’s easy to talk t’you. Where we don’t have to pretend with each other,” he said carefully, his heart pounding a little harder in his chest. “Where… I don’t know… I feel like I can be myself at least.”

She blinked, processing his words. Her expression was unreadable for a moment, but then her lips curled into a slow, thoughtful smile. “I know what you mean,” she said softly. “It’s like… we don’t have to be perfect all the time, right? Like, we can just… be. Together.”

The way she said the word “together” sent a small shiver down Harry’s spine. He could feel the air between them shift, and suddenly, he wasn’t sure if it was just the holiday magic, or something more. Something deeper.

He took a deep breath, stepping a little closer to her. “Y/N, I—”

Before he could finish his sentence, a loud wail from a child pierced the air, cutting through the moment like a knife. The child, no older than six, was tugging at her mother’s sleeve, refusing to get anywhere near the front door of the grotto where on the other side she’d meet Santa. Her voice was a screech of fear almost, desperate to leave.

Harry and Y/N immediately snapped back into their roles, the brief, intimate moment forgotten in an instant. It was as though the world had snapped back into its chaotic rhythm. Harry plastered on his best elf smile and turned to the mother, ready to jump back into character.

“Everything okay here?” he asked, though his mind was still racing with the things he had almost said to Y/N.

Y/N, ever the professional, was immediately by Harry’s side, kneeling down to the little girls height. “Hey there sweetness, I’m Sugarplum and this is my pal Jingles,” she said in a gentle, soothing voice nodding to Harry who waved at the shy little girl. “Y’know, Santa’s not so bad. Look, we’re elves and have worked with the big man for forever, and we think he’s pretty cool, isn’t that right Jingles?” 

The little girl sniffed, wiping her nose on her sleeve of her little red coat, before glancing up at Y/N and Harry with watery eyes. “Really?”

“Absolutely!” Harry said with a wink, before he too knelt down to the girls’ level, his voice bright and reassuring. “Santa’s just a big teddy bear. In fact he gave me this,” Harry pulled a candy cane from his pocket with a flourish, “t’give to you before we go in and see him!”

The girl seemed to hesitate for a moment, before nodding slowly reaching out to wrap her fingers around the candy cane Harry held out to her, “Okay…”

As the little girl settled, Harry couldn’t help but glance over at Y/N. She had a way with the kids who were a little scared or nervous, a warmth that made him admire her even more. She always knew exactly what to say, always had the right level of energy to make them feel better. It was something he’d noticed before, but today, it felt like a piece of the larger picture. When the little girl finally took a seat on the stool next to Santa’s chair and was yapping away listing off things she wanted for Christmas as well as things she thinks he should give her baby brother, Harry and Y/N exchanged a smile at a job well done. 

As the rest of the day wore on, the mall’s energy peaked and then began to mellow. The final families arrived, children almost vibrating with excitement at Santa’s imminent arrival, parents frantically snapping photos. In the quiet moments between families, Harry found himself stealing glances at Y/N. She was still the same—cheerful, warm, effortlessly glowing—but there was a new layer between them now, an unspoken understanding.

Finally, as the evening came to a close, the last group of families having exited with their pictures in hand. Santa waving a big goodbye to any straggler groups citing that he had a long night ahead of him and had to go see Mrs Claus before he set off on his journey around the world. Harry and Y/N were left alone in the grotto, it was just the two of them now, standing in the glow of the Christmas lights, the last traces of holiday music playing softly in the background.

Y/N turned to Harry, her eyes locking with his. “I guess this is it,” she said softly, her voice quieter now, almost hesitant.

“Yeah,” Harry replied, his heart beating just a little faster. “It’s weird. I kind of thought it would feel like a relief when it was over, but… now it’s here, it feels… wrong, somehow.”

Y/N smiled softly, stepping a little closer to him. “It’s not over, Harry. It’s just… different now.”

He swallowed hard, his voice barely above a whisper. “I hope so.”

And then, as if drawn by an invisible force, they both leaned in, just inches apart. The air between them was charged, the magic of Christmas, the long month and a half of working side by side, and the undeniable pull they felt toward each other all converging in that one perfect instant.

Before Harry could think too much about it, Y/N closed the small gap, her lips meeting his in a kiss that was soft, tentative, but filled with something deeper—something neither of them could deny any longer.

The moment held, timeless and sweet, as they finally gave in to the feelings that had been building between them, and as they pulled back, breathing in the shared warmth of the kiss, it was clear to both of them: this was only the beginning.

“D’you think we can go get changed now? I never want to see or feel another pair of fucking tights anywhere near my legs for a long, long time,” Harry said as Y/N burst into fitful giggles her face slumping against his shoulder as she laughed

***

They had swapped numbers early on in their job, Harry’s suggestion since they were paired together in case one of the two were to be poorly or running late but had never used those numbers. As much as Harry’s fingers twitched to do so. 

They separated outside the mall after their kiss, both rushing off to get to their families to spend Christmas Day with them. Christmas morning came with a quiet calm. Y/N had expected to wake up feeling exhausted, her muscles sore from the constant running around, the endless hours of standing in character, smiling for the camera, but instead, she woke up in her bedroom at her Mum’s house… on edge. Like something had shifted, and now the world around her seemed to have rearranged itself, in ways she wasn’t quite sure she was ready for.

She also woke up to a text and her heart took off running. 

Harry 🧝‍♂️ 🎄 : Merry Christmas Sugarplum!! Hope your day is as magic as you are xx

Fucking hell, he sent kisses, KISSES… Should she send kisses back, never mind the kisses she needs to type the actual text first.

Y/N: and a merry christmas to you jingles. have a lovely day with your family Harry xx

He sent two kisses so she sent two kisses, that seemed a safe bet. 

Harry 🧝‍♂️ 🎄: When are you back in the city? Xxx

THREE KISSES!

Y/N:  i’m back on the 28th, you? :) xxx

Harry 🧝‍♂️ 🎄: Crazy, me too! I’m going to hope you don’t have New Years plans yet and wanted to ask if you wanted to do something with me? Ring in the new year together? Xxx 

A second text came in before Y/N even managed to process what the first one had said. 

Harry 🧝‍♂️ 🎄: Plus I’m not going to lie, going from seeing you and spending all day every day with you to not seeing you at all today is shit and I’ve decided I hate it xxx 

Y/N:  yes!!! let’s do it, i didn’t have any plans anyway so absolutely want to spend it with you xxx 

Y/N:  p.s i hate it too :( xxx 

***

They had met outside the tube station, a warm embrace on the pavement as a greeting as they began their walk to find a spot on Primrose Hill for the night, filling each other in on what they had been up to on Christmas Day and the days since. They had both booked a few auditions for the first few weeks of January and Y/N had decided she was changing her life in the New Year and had done a massive clear out and deep clean of her flat. And Harry? Well, he’d came home from his Mum’s with a pet cat in tow, one his Mum had recently been fostering and Harry fell in love within the space of a few hours. He’d called her Jingles. 

They found a spot on Primrose Hill, both of them unpacking the bags they had brought with them. A picnic blanket each they layered on top of each other to shield their bums from the cold ground. A flask of soup and a flask of tea to keep them warm as well as some snacks and tinned cocktails to see them through the night to the bells. Harry also had a half-sized bottle of champagne tucked in his bag for them to pop at midnight. 

They spent their evening wrapped up in each other in their own little bubble getting to know one another more than they already did and as Midnight came and fireworks began to pop and sizzle in the sky and people around them waved glittering sparklers around and the nearest church bells rang signifying a new hour and a new year Harry kissed Y/N again, this time with more certainty, feeling the warmth of his embrace, the joy of being with someone who understood her completely. For the first time, in what felt like forever, Y/N realized she didn’t need anything else.

They had everything right here and they thought that was pretty magical.

[sogoodtoheritsvicious]

if life is a movie, then you’re the best part

summary: small glimpses into your relationship with louis

vicious speaks: this is my first fic for louis and my first smau ever!! if it’s not good, please take it easy on me. feedback is appreciated as long as it isn’t unkind. hope you enjoy 💗

louis masterlist

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liked by yourbff, louist91, taylorswift and 50,234 others

yourusername he’s so obsessed with me and, boy, i understand

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yourbff as he should be

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taylorswift relationship goals

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username2 we all know she’s just using him

↳ username3 using him for WHAT? she’s a successful business owner, she doesn’t need his money. you’re just bitter cause you realize you never had a chance.

liked by louist91, yourbff

username4 if he doesn’t worship me like this, i don’t want him.

↳ yourusername exactly, you deserve so much more than the bare minimum 🫶🏼

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louist91 has added to their stories

replies:

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↳ louist91 come back to bed, love, i miss you

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username you don’t have to throw this fake bs in our face

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liked by louist91, yoursibling and 78,385 others

yourusername we get fancy sometimes

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yoursibling what did you do to get him to wear something other than a t-shirt, omg?

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louist91 always, darling 🏆

↳ yourusername 💞💞💞

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liked by yourusername, louist91 yourfriend and 16,004 others

yourbff they make me both believe in love and feel incredibly lonely

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yourusername omg i had no idea you took this 😭

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↳ username1 louis having such a good relationship with yourusername’s best friend is such a green flag

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↳ username3 LMFAOO QUEEN

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yourusername vacation mode 🔛

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yourbff day 1 and it’s already so much fun ☀️

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username2 a vacation from what, you don’t even do anything

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louist91 has added to their stories

replies:

yoursibling thank you for always putting that smile on her face 🤎

↳ louist91 it’s my honor

yourusername the best surprise 🥰

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↳ louist91 lou read this to me and i stole his phone to say thank you 🥹 you’re gorgeous as well 💗 - y/n

username2 what does she even need a break from? she just leeches off of you

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liked by louist91, yourbff, yoursibling and 128,474 others

yourusername my job…it’s just louis’ girlfriend.

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yourbff and what a great job you do at louis’ girlfriend!

louist91 lmao, i fucking love you 🖤

↳ yourusername love you so much 🤍

username1 she had the opportunity to do the funniest thing ever and she did 😭

username2 ended those miserable bitches

liked by yourusername, louist91, yourbff and others

liked by yourusername, yourbff, and 1m others

louist91 the most wonderful thing i decided to do was to share my life and heart with you. you’ve delt with some shit since we’ve been together and you’ve handle it all with such grace. i’ve never met someone as kind, beautiful and down to earth as you. you make me a better person and i can’t wait to spend forever with you 🩵

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yourusername i love you so much, i can’t wait to continue building a life with you 🤍

niallhoran congratulations 🍾

yourbff: you two absolutely deserve each other. i couldn’t be happier for you 🥹

↳ yourusername i love you, maid of honor 🫶🏼

↳ louist91 thank you for helping me plan everything!

zayn congrats bro!

yoursibling welcome to the family ♥️

↳ louist91 thank you for trusting me with her heart

harrystyles ❤️

taylorswift i can’t wait to sing at the wedding 🩷