#harry styles sad one shot

[jezebelblues]

talk to me | h.s

summary: holland tunnel for a nose, it’s always backed up! or, harry struggles with sobriety after y/n leaves

cw: cocaine usage/addiction, angst!!! ex!harry, fem!reader, unedited. ladies imagine the vine boom sound as i dare to say.. toxic!harry 🤨

word count: approx 6.1k

| pls don’t read if you’re sensitive to substance abuse. this is pure angst. i literally wrote this on a whim after seeing the car photo on my tl.

masterlist

harry was stubborn. but then again, so was YN.

he didn’t mean for things to end the way they did, he was stuck in a lull since love on tour ended. it was always the inbetween—purgatory, he would call it. a euphoria cut short, leaving him marooned in a space before the settle.

touring ignited his soul, an always occurring rebirth every time he steps upon the stage. but now it’s march, and he’s standing alone in the heathrow airport after his self-imposed exile in italy.

the air was crisp, biting, and tangled with the faintest trace of her perfume—vanilla, the one he'd bought her, the one she wore on the nights they'd venture out together. if he closed his eyes, he could picture her bathed in neon, colors playing on her skin like she was something holy.

if he thought hard enough, he could feel the phantom burn in his nose as it did in october. he could feel the warm trickle of blood drip down his cupid’s-bow if he overdid it. he could taste the metallic crimson that would slip past his lips and stain his teeth. he could remember the look of horror on her face as he shot her a bloody smile, eyes too dilated to come into his senses—too far gone.

but if he fished through his wallet, he wouldn’t find his old debit card—the one he had closed out in 2011 when his fame started to rise. it’s what he always used to form his lines, and remnants of the white powder were a staple on that card. a relic from a life he was beginning to lose control over.

after that night in october, when they got home, YN had snatched it from his wallet and cut it to pieces in front of him, her face twisted in anguish, not anger. she loved him, and that was the worst part.

a superstar like him could indulge, sure. a line here, a hit there—california sober, he used to joke. but as the tour ended, that fleeting thrill had turned into something darker, something that clawed at his insides when the spotlight faded. something he’d turn to for the semblance of exhilaration he had on the road.

so, now he was out of his lucky, unusable debit card. and, sometimes at night, he would think of the way the pieces are drifting around a landfill, scattered and forgotten.

but then he would think of YN. and no, that couldn’t compare, it wouldn’t.

he didn’t have to squint or fish through his contacts, she was just gone. and he knew it.

that night she had threatened to leave if he didn’t get sober, and harry fell to his knees, wrapping his arms around her bare thighs and begged her to stay. he could feel the lotion lift from her skin because of his tears, the way it burned his eyes. she had fell down to the floor with him that night, combing through his curls and whispering promises that she wouldn’t leave if he just tried. that’s all he had to do. they fell asleep on the couch that night.

harry thought he had gotten rid of everything. he had one slip up, and he remembered how YN’s eyes glossed over when she told him he had one more chance.

it was the day before halloween when she found a dime bag of the familiar white powder stashed away in one of his drawers—an afterthought. a remnant, a leftover.

harry tried to explain it wasn’t new, something that remained forgotten. he desperately followed her out to her car in the rain, holding the drivers door open as he pleaded. but she started the engine. she was leaving, and he knew it.

he remembers the way his frustration boiled over. maybe it was projection, withdrawal, or the pain of watching the love of his life walk away. but he had slammed the drivers door shut, slapping his palm against the window with a shaky sob as she drove off.

he hadn’t seen her since. he disappeared into italy afterward, hiding in his villa. he would have virtual therapy sessions every thursday, lots of which ended in his tears.

he knew he was blocked, he could tell by the way his blue messages no longer had the word delivered underneath them. because they weren’t. just conversations with a ghost. a stonewalled grave.

he had only started to come to terms with the end of their relationship in february, after his thirtieth birthday. there was no message, no phone call, no knock upon his door. he was just alone in italy.

harry thought about relapsing that day. he thought about calling a friend of a friend and falling into the vibrant world only the blow could offer.

but he didn’t, he called his mum. he called his therapist. he drank some wine, sang himself a somber happy birthday over a strawberry cupcake, and then slept for thirteen hours.

now he was at the airport in the heart of london. he only had his carry on, roses from the gift shop, and so many words left unsaid. the airport was unusually quiet that afternoon, the fluorescent lights casting a sterile glow over harry as he stood there, unmoving. london was a different reality, pulling him back into the damp chill of march and the weight of everything he'd left unresolved. he tasted a tinge of salt in the air, his nerves raw as he thought of her—the girl he'd lost, the girl he couldn't let go of.

he didn’t even know if she still lived in the same brick townhouse, but it was worth a shot. he didn’t really even think this through, he had enough clothing for about three days, and his car was about thirty minutes away from her place at his own house.

but he ubered there anyway, grateful it was only an older fellow who had no clue who he was. he would shove his nose into the flowers occasionally, smelling them with a gentle inhale. he shifted in his seat, turned his phone on and off with every passing minute to watch the time pass. he was restless, he was nervous.

her flat looked the same as it always did when he was dropped off, but there was a festive little reef still hanging on her door from christmas. a whisper of a smile tugged at his lips from that.

his own body felt heavier on his feet as he stood before her door, it felt like he could topple over and perish in that moment. harry thought it wouldn’t be the worst thing if he did, perhaps she would even miss him—no, he thought, tempting as it was—really messed up.

right?

he shook his head at his own thoughts, raising his fist to knock on her door. it was light, he wasn’t even sure if it’s something she’d hear. the brunette debated knocking again, harder this time, but he heard her voice behind the barrier.

“coming!”

he felt weak in the knees. it was her voice, no mistaking it. she was real, still here, just behind the door. YN’s voice felt like a fresh sherpa blanket, still soft and unused. it sounded like honey stirred into tea. harry really thought he could topple over at that point.

the door swung open and there she was, only a foot away after being hundreds of miles apart for so long. her hair was different, and she had a pair of glasses he hadn’t seen before resting on the bridge of her nose. her lips were parted, face drained of all color as she stared at him.

the words caught in harry’s throat, and he stood speechless. he only raised the roses toward her with a shaky hand, his chest rising and falling rapidly.

she looked down at the deep red flowers, then back into his green eyes. the eyes that were so familiar, eyes that took in every part of her being and imprinted into his brain. but the petals resembled the blood pooled between his teeth only a few months ago, the way it dripped onto her new dress as she eased him out of the club that night.

her throat ran dry as she swallowed hard, her stomach lurching and threatening to spill all over her porch and harry’s beat up sambas. “what–what’re you doing here?” her voice barely a whisper, both broken and brimming with something he couldn't place. she had missed him—he could feel it—but the anger lingered, a smoldering ember just beneath the surface.

the bouquet continued to tremble in his hands. “i had to see you.” he murmured, voice shaking underneath his nerves. he couldn’t hold eye contact with her, something he had never struggled with before. “i couldn’t—i miss you, YN.”

she pressed her lips together, the sight of him here in front of her resembling that of whiplash. it’s been five months, how do you even respond to that? he dropped off the face of the earth after she left, and she understood that to an extent. she’s the one who left, she’s the one who blocked him after he would constantly reach out.

she called his mum on his birthday, needing to reach out in some form, needing to know how he was. she begged her not to tell him that she phoned, something anne kept away from her son with an ache in her heart. “why now?” she mustered out, the pressure behind her eyes almost to much to bear.

he blinked, surprised by the softness in her tone.

he had expected a door slammed in his face, anger, roses thrown onto the snowy pavement. but this—a fragile, weary version of her—felt like a wound laid bare. the question hovered in the air, unanswered. he wasn't sure if he had the words to explain.

"i know i hurt you.” his voice cracked, breaking under the weight of his guilt. he hated himself for it—for leaving her, for drowning in his own mess, for not being stronger. "i thought maybe if i went away, if i fixed myself, i could come back."

"come back?” her laugh was bitter, sharp. "you think this is something you can just come back to, like nothing happened?" she shook her head, taking a step back, as if his presence was suffocating her. "you don't get it, do you? i spent my days worrying if you were okay, if i were going to find you dead on the floor next to a bag of coke. and now you just show up?"

harry flinched at her words, at the coldness in her tone, though he couldn't blame her. he had done this. he had broken this.

“i messed up," he said, his voice thick with desperation. "i know i should've done more. i should've been better f’you, but i wasn't. i’m trying now. i’ve been trying every day, YN."

she stared at him, her eyes glossed with unshed tears, but her expression was hard, unreadable.

she wasn't going to make this easy for him, and he knew it. she shouldn't. "trying?" she repeated, her voice dangerously quiet. "you’re trying now? after everything? after the lies, the broken promises? after you begged me to stay, told me you'd quit, and then i found that–” her voice broke, "–that bag? that was it for me, harry. that was it.”

harry opened his mouth to speak, but YN’s soft, wavering sniffle filled the space between them. her pretty eyes fell shut, and she muttered, “you should go.” the words barely made it past her lips before she closed the door, shutting him out in one quiet, final motion. no glance back.

for a moment, he just stood there, arm hanging loosely at his side, the roses brushing against his knee. his shoulders sagged as the reality settled—he had expected this, even told himself it was inevitable. but still, some desperate part of him had clung to hope.

with a sigh that cut deep, he turned, trudging down the narrow stairwell outside her flat. his heart felt like dead weight in his chest, and each step echoed softly, swallowed by the damp, early evening air. at the last step, he sat, letting his jeans absorb the chill from the wet concrete. he laid the flowers beside him, petals dark against the fading light, and clasped his hands in front of him, jaw tight as he fought the burning in his eyes.

harry couldn’t bring himself to go back to his house. he knew what waited for him there: bits and pieces of her, scattered reminders he couldn’t bear to see right now. a sweater still draped over his armchair. little notes she’d left him during the tour, folded scraps of her handwriting. even the faint smell of her perfume clinging to the blankets. no, he couldn’t face that.

he tilted his head back, gazing into the overcast sky. gray clouds swirled above, blurring the line between evening and night. he sniffled, noticing a modest inn just down the street, its sign hanging askew, light dimly flickering. it wasn’t much—a little rundown, with the look of a place that had seen better days. perfectly unremarkable. and right now, all he needed was a bed.

inside the hotel room, he dropped his backpack onto the chair and stood there, staring at the neatly made bed, the cheap, plush white blankets tucked in tight. the silence pressed in on him, too thick and heavy. without much thought, he shrugged off his jacket, toed off his shoes, and sank into the mattress, the springs squeaking under his weight. sleep embraced him like a reluctant lover, drifting in after nearly an hour of restless thoughts. but it didn’t stay. he awoke after just four hours, staring up at the ceiling as moonlight spilled in through the thin curtains, casting faint shadows across the room.

he groaned, reaching under his pillow for his phone, squinting as the screen lit up his face. only the usual notifications—nothing out of the ordinary, but still, he’d hoped. he didn’t know why. YN had been clear. she’d left no room for misinterpretation.

his fingers hesitated, then he opened her contact anyway. the photo still there—the one he’d taken on the tour bus last summer. a blurred shot from above, a silly close-up she’d protested, but they’d both laughed at it, something shared just between the two of them.

he typed the words, fingers slow, deliberate.

i love you.

his heart twisted as he pressed send, watching the message linger for a second before the familiar rejection—not delivered.

still blocked. still gone.

harry let his phone fall onto the mattress, dragging a hand over his face, groaning into the empty room. his chest tightened with frustration, desperation edging close to something frantic. he didn’t want to seem like he was clinging, but this couldn’t be the end, could it?

would it be futile to try again? sure. definitely in vain. he just wanted to give it one more try.

he sat up, slipping his sambas back on, the leather scuffed and worn from tour, loose enough he didn’t bother with the laces. he left the jacket where it lay, grabbed his wallet, and in a few determined strides, pushed himself through the door into the night, unwilling to let go just yet.

the cold bit at harry’s skin the moment he stepped outside, the wind cutting through his thin sweater as he walked down the dimly lit street. he barely noticed the sting. his breath puffed in front of him in small clouds, quickly dissolving into the frosty air. snow had begun to fall again, light flakes swirling under the streetlamps, but he didn’t slow down. each step was deliberate, his sneakers scuffing against the half-melted snow on the pavement, but his mind raced with a dozen unfinished thoughts. he hadn’t even grabbed his coat. he hadn’t thought it through.

he just needed to be close to her again.

the city was quiet, the usual rush dulled by the late hour and the snowfall blanketing everything in a soft silence. as he turned the corner toward her flat, his heart picked up speed, thudding painfully in his chest. her building was just down the road, its familiar outline coming into view. every step toward it felt heavier, each one laced with the weight of the unsaid things between them.

when he reached her street, he stopped for a moment, breath clouding the air in front of him as he tried to steady himself. his eyes scanned the row of cars parked along the curb, and there it was—her car, parked in the same spot it always was, snow gathering over the windshield, the roof, coating it like a layer of frost. the sight of it hit him harder than he expected. It was the last tether to her, something still close, something that made her feel real, just beyond that door.

but he didn’t go to her flat. he didn’t knock on her door. his feet carried him to her car instead, the snow crunching softly under his shoes as he approached. harry paused, standing before the vehicle, his breath hitching in his throat. his fingers hovered at his sides, the air biting into the exposed skin, but he didn’t care. the snow covering the windshield was smooth, untouched, and he stalled for a moment, the night wrapping around him like a blanket of quiet.

this was weird. he knew it was. but he couldn’t stop himself.

slowly, almost hesitantly, harry reached out, his fingertips brushing against the icy layer of snow on the glass. it was cold, stinging his skin as he dragged his fingers across the surface, but he kept going, his touch leaving a thin, delicate trail through the frost. he could feel the slight resistance as he wrote, each stroke of his finger deliberate, like the weight of his feelings pressed into every curve of the letters.

we should talk

the words were simple, almost too simple for everything he wanted to say, but they were enough. enough for a desperate message left on a windshield, at least—all he could offer now, standing out against the stark whiteness of the snow like a whisper in the dark. his hand lingered for a moment, fingers resting against the cold glass as if he could reach through the car, through the frost, and touch her somehow.

he stepped back, breath shaky, eyes fixed on the message he had left behind. the snow continued to fall, light and steady, the flakes already beginning to gather in the grooves of his writing, slowly erasing it even as he stood there. his hands dropped to his sides, curling into fists, and he closed his eyes for a long moment, the cold finally seeping into his bones. he felt exposed out here, vulnerable, like every part of him was on display in the silence of the night.

he also felt like he was doing something illegal.

but still, he couldn’t bring himself to leave. he looked up at her flat, the windows dark and still, like nothing inside had changed. for all he knew, she was asleep, completely unaware that he was standing here, just feet away. or maybe she wasn’t. maybe she was lying awake, thinking about him too, wondering what could possibly come next after everything they had been through.

the snowflakes clung to his hair, his clothes, but he didn’t move. he stood there, staring at the message on her windshield, his heart caught between hope and fear.

the words seemed to echo in the quiet, fragile and fleeting, like the snow itself. he didn’t know if she’d see them, or if the snow would bury them by morning, but for now, it was all he had left to say. he turned to walk away, his heart heavy but his resolve set. it was up to her now.

inside her flat, YN lay in bed, the dim glow of her phone the only light cutting through the darkness. she had been tossing and turning for what felt like hours, trying to force herself to sleep, but her mind kept circling back to him—harry. the knock at her door earlier had left her rattled, emotions stirring like a storm inside her. she’d shut him out, forced the door between them because it was the only way she knew how to protect herself. but it hadn’t stopped the ache in her chest.

the soft chime of her phone interrupted the silence, a faint buzz. she frowned, lifting it off the pillow beside her. the notification made her heart stutter.

ring doorbell: movement detected.

her stomach dropped. for a moment, she just stared at the screen, unsure of whether to open the app, her fingers hesitating. maybe it was just a stray cat, or the wind shaking the snow loose from the trees. but deep down, she knew. she knew who it would be.

with trembling hands, she tapped the screen, and there he was—harry. standing in the cold by her car, his figure a shadowy outline under the soft glow of the streetlamp. his hands were stuffed into his pockets, his head bowed slightly, his breath visible in the cold air. she watched, her heart pounding in her chest as he lifted a finger to the snow-covered windshield, slowly writing something in the frost. the words began to take shape, and she felt her throat tighten, her pulse quickening.

we should talk.

her heart constricted, emotions warring inside her. he hadn’t disappeared. even after she’d shut the door in his face, he was still here. the sight of him standing there, exposed to the biting cold without even a coat, tugged at something deep inside her—something she had tried to bury the night she walked away.

she swallowed hard, sitting up in bed, her fingers hovering over the phone for a moment longer. she could ignore it, let the snow cover the words he’d written and pretend none of this was happening—a biased fate. but she couldn’t shake the image of him standing there, shoulders slumped, his vulnerability written in the frost as clearly as the message itself.

with a sigh, she swung her legs out of bed and pulled on a hoodie, her mind racing. what was she even going to say to him? she was angry, she was hurt, but she also couldn’t deny the pull he still had on her. the years of love and heartache had tangled them together in a way that was impossible to untangle in one night. and now, he was standing outside her flat, waiting in the cold.

YN slipped on her shoes and grabbed her phone, her heart pounding harder with each step as she made her way to the front door. her fingers shook as she unlocked it, pulling the door open just enough to peek outside, the cold air rushing in.

there he was, standing by her car, his back to her, staring down at the message he had written, threatening to step away. his breath puffed in front of him, his head hung low as if he wasn’t sure what to do next. the sight of him, so lost and alone, tugged at her heartstrings in a way that made her chest ache.

“harry,” she called softly, her voice carrying through the quiet night.

he turned slowly, his face pale in the moonlight, eyes wide with surprise. for a second, he just stared at her, as if unsure if she was real or some apparition conjured up by his restless mind.

maybe he got frostbite and this is the last thing he’d see before decaying into the snow, he thought.

but then his expression softened, his shoulders relaxing just slightly, though the tension in his eyes remained.

she stepped out onto the snowy path, the cold biting at her skin as she approached him. “what are you doing here?” her voice was steadier than she felt, but the cracks in her resolve showed through.

“i–” he faltered, glancing down at the words on the windshield, then back up at her. “i’m sorry. i’m not stalker. i just–” he paused, sighing exasperatedly. “m’blocked and had to try.”

her breath caught in her throat, the rawness in his voice unraveling her. she looked down at the words he’d written in the snow, her heart twisting painfully at the sight of them. he was trying, she knew that. but it didn’t make it any easier. her chest tightened, memories of him crashing over her in waves—good ones, bad ones, all tangled together in a mess of emotions she hadn’t quite sorted through. she opened her mouth to speak, but the words jumbled in her mouth, only letting out a delicate, fleeting stutter. she wanted to stay strong, to protect herself, but looking at him now, standing in the freezing night without so much as a coat, the walls she’d built began to crack. “you don’t even have a coat,” she whispered, her voice softer now, laced with concern.

he looked down at himself, almost sheepish, his lips curling into the faintest of smiles. “i didn’t really think.”

her heart ached at the sight of him, so lost, so vulnerable. for all the hurt, for all the walls she’d tried to put up, a part of her still missed him—missed this. missed the sound of his voice, the way he always found his way back to her, even when things seemed broken beyond repair.

before she could stop herself, the words slipped out. “come inside.”

harry blinked, surprised, and for a moment he didn’t move, as if he couldn’t believe what he’d heard. YN stepped aside, opening the door wider, the warmth from inside spilling out into the cold. “you’re freezing, and we need to talk,” she said, more firmly this time, gesturing to her snowy windshield he wrote upon.

he hesitated for a beat, then nodded, shuffling forward. she watched as he walked past her, his footsteps slow and unsure, like he was afraid the invitation might disappear if he moved too quickly. once he was inside, she closed the door behind them, the soft click of the lock somehow louder in the quiet that followed.

the contrast between the freezing air outside and the muted heat inside hit him all at once, his body tensing, unsure if he should relax. the space felt familiar, yet foreign—like stepping into a memory that had shifted in his absence. the soft hum of the radiator, the faint scent of her lavender diffuser, the quiet—all of it made his chest tighten.

he stood by the door, unsure of what to do with himself. his hands hovered at his sides before he stuffed them into his pockets, glancing around.

the apartment was exactly as he remembered, yet somehow smaller, more intimate. her big winter coat was draped over a chair, a half-finished cup of tea sat on the coffee table, and a pile of books lay stacked by the corner of the couch. there were still traces of their life together—small things, like the framed picture on the shelf they made together on a whim—glued seashells and colorful iridescent beads. the frame was still there, but the photo had been replaced, its new image hidden behind a layer of dust. he didn’t know what it was, all he knew is that he didn’t see the familiar photo of them at his mum’s house during christmas.

he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was erased, like a ghost she had swept away in her effort to move forward.

his throat tightened as he took in the subtle changes, the pieces of her life that had moved on without him.

she hadn't moved far from the door, standing with her arms wrapped around herself, her eyes flicking between him and the room, as if she, too, was seeing the space differently now that he was in it again. her silence isn't cold, but it wasn't inviting either. It was careful.

“you can sit." she murmured, nodding toward the couch, her voice steady but distant. "if you want."

harry hesitated, then nodded, slowly making his way to the couch. he moved carefully, as though the wrong movement might shatter the fragile understanding between them. he sat down, feeling the familiar creak of the old cushions beneath him. the last time he'd been here, he hadn't thought twice about dropping onto this couch, sprawled out with her beside him, both of them laughing at something ridiculous. now, every inch of space between them felt heavy.

she moved to the armchair across from him, settling into it with her legs tucked underneath her, but still keeping a distance. she watched him, her gaze cautious, as though waiting for him to explain himself. to fill the silence.

harry opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came at first. his mind was a blur, his heart pounding louder than the words he wanted to say.

he looked at her, really looked at her for the first time since he walked in. she seemed different, but not in a way he could pinpoint. her hair seemed softer, her glasses discarded, left upstairs on the nightstand. she had a new freckle he didn’t notice till now, and it immediately fell into the category of his favorite parts about her. “i don't even know where to start," he finally admitted, his voice low, breaking the stillness.

she didn't respond right away, just looked at him, her expression unreadable. "then why are you here?" she asked softly, her tone not accusing, but raw, like she was trying to understand. "you disappeared and now you’re back with no words.”

his breath caught, and he shook his head quickly, trying to explain. "no, i didn’t–” he paused, sighing, running a hand through his hair. "i didn't just leave like that. you left me, YN. that night, you walked out and–”

"–of course I did," she cut him off, her voice rising slightly. "you didn't give me a choice. i couldn’t recognize you. you relied on blow, harry. it wasn’t just for fun.”

harry flinched at the words, guilt settling like a heavy stone in his chest. he’d seen it happening, but at the time, he couldn't pull himself out of the spiral. "i know i fucked up. but leaving me? blocking me?—" his voice caught, raw emotion surfacing as he gestured helplessly. "y’just just cut me off. i had my slip ups, and i regret it immensely, y’didn’t deserve that. y’promised one more chance, and that i did. you found an old bag and didn’t even give me the benefit of the doubt.”

her face hardened, her arms tightening around herself as she shook her head. "i couldn't watch you destroy yourself anymore. that bag wasn't just an accident, h. it was a reminder of everything i’d been fighting to save you from. and you–you didn't see it. all you saw was me leaving, that’s it.”

his heart ached at the truth in her words, the weight of his failures crashing down on him. he ran a hand down his face, pinching his bottom lip, frustration and pain coursing through him. "i cared. god, i cared. but i didn't know how to pull myself out of it. i didn't know how t’fix what i was breaking. ‘nd then you were gone, and i didn't know how to–how t’do it without you."

the silence that followed was heavy, both of them sitting there, lost in the mess of emotions that had been left behind. YN looked away, her jaw clenched, her eyes misting over as she stared at the floor. the tension in the room was suffocating, the distance between them widening, and harry felt himself slipping, like everything he had come here to say was unraveling before he even had the chance.

"i didn't want to hurt you," he said softly, his voice barely a whisper. "i never wanted to be that person. i’m trying to be better, YN. i’m getting help. i’ve been sober since halloween. m’not perfect, but i’m getting better.”

her gaze flicked back to him, her expression softening just slightly, the anger fading into something quieter, something sadder. "you should have told me," she whispered. "i was supposed to be your person, harry. you shut me out, and I had to pick up your pieces on my own."

he swallowed hard, the knot in his throat tightening. "i know. and i’m so sorry. for everything. i’m here now because i don't want to lose you. not again."

she didn't respond right away, her eyes searching his face, as if looking for the man she had once loved—the man she wasn't sure still existed. but something in the way she looked at him, the way her guard wavered, told him that part of her still wanted to believe him. still wanted to believe in them. "you’re asking me to trust you again," she said finally, her voice small, barely above a whisper. “i don't know if i can."

“m’not asking for your trust.” his lip quivered, shaking his head as he slipped from the couch onto the carpet. he crawled over to her, sitting on his heels as he hesitantly raised his large, cold hands to her knees.

it felt like a shock, his touch in general and the temperature of his hands. his eyes burrowed into hers, as if silently gauging on whether he was crossing a line.

“i love you. even if y’never want to be my love again. i just want back in. i want to know you’re okay. i want to be able to send you a good morning text, or if you’d like to come to the studio like y’use to.” his voice almost sounded like that of a whimper, a stray tear falling from bloodshot eyes. “i can’t live without even a semblance of you in my life.”

she let out a choked sob, quickly wiping her fallen tears with the back of her hand. “don’t say that, harry.”

he ducked his head, leaning in to catch her averted gaze again. he rubbed small circles into her kneecap with his thumb, his voice cracking. “i don’t mean it a horrible way. yes, i can live.” he sadly chuckled, trying to backtrack how pathetic he must’ve sounded. “it just won’t feel like a life without you in it.”

her hand was hesitant, painfully hesitant as she stretched it out toward harry’s, softly lying it over his. she stared down at his hands, his skin warming just being against her, though his medal rings were still cool to the touch. she traced the veins with a shaky breath, shifting her eyes up his arm, past his shoulder, and finally onto his face. his cheeks were red, glistening in the warm glow of the lamp from his tears. his lips were swollen, hair disheveled and a bit damp from the melted snowflakes. “i want you in my life, too.”

his gaze was unwavering, all he could do was squeeze her knee gently, urging her to continue.

“slowly. friends, just friends. and we can see what happens from there.”

it felt like a weight lifted off his shoulders, a weight that only got heavier after five months.

he wanted to kiss her, tell her how in love with her he was. he wanted to hold her until the sun rose, he wanted to put their stupid christmas photo back into their diy picture frame. he wanted to kiss the ground she walked on and follow her around like a lost puppy. he wanted her to be his again.

but friends? it’s a start. it’s something he could live with. even if all she remained was his friend, he would still thank his lucky starts for her decision to come back.

he couldn’t control his tears at that point, moving his hands from her knees to loop his arms around in a makeshift hug around her legs.

it reminded him of the time he had begged her to stay.

but this time he wasn’t begging, he was thankful.

he nestled his head between her thighs as his shoulders shook from his sobs. she combed her fingers through his hair, softly shushing him and reminding him it’ll be okay.

her pink silk pajama bottoms dampened from his sorrow, a messy mixture of his tears, snot and saliva staining the fabric as he let out his loud whimpers, but she didn’t mind. her fingers fell from his curls onto his back, tracing soft circles into the trembling muscles.

his raw, unguarded grief tore her heart in two, each shuddering sob a reminder of the man she loved, a man who was struggling to rise from the ruin he’d left in his wake. and in the quiet of the room, as his sobs filled the space, she realized his tears, painful as they were—were stitching back together the shredded pieces of her heart.

he’s healing. he’s sober. he’s alive.

and that was enough.

[cupidsdolll]

The Feeling Came Late Masterlist

grumpy!college student!Harry x fem!sunshine!reader

Harry hates Y/N, it seems like it's been like that forever. He's quick to insult and correct her even when she's right, he's just always been the only one to pick on her no matter what she does. She doesn't understand why it's like this between them or what she did to make him dislike her so much, but what if it's all just a lie?

fluff, angst, smut, slow burn, enemies to lovers

the playlist ♡ pinterest ♡ teasers

Prologue

When You Are Young, They Assume You Know Nothing

Surprise, Surprise

The First Lesson

[writeoffside]

SILENCE HAS OVERTAKEN

♯ harry styles x fem!reader - angst / sad

summary: Harry doesn’t trust himself by talking to you , he wants to keep you safe but it really isn’t helping any of you.

warnings: arguing, swearing, nightmares, kissing

info: english isn't my first language, i apologize in advance for all the mistakes (if there are any!)

a/n: first post on here, enjoy !!

The days had gone by since the last ‘i love you’ has been spoken between the two so-called lovers. The silence has taken over the sweet and loving house they used to call a home. It has no longer been a home. For neither one of them.

The uncomfortable silence during the dinners everynight was heavy. The only sound during this time could only be the knives and forks sounds scraping over the plates. Neither one of them even bothered to start a talk, not even a small one.

Everytime he finished his food, he would drop his cutlery on the side and leave the table without a word. Not even bothering to say a little ‘thank you’ for preparing the table, making the food or anything.

All the nights were terrible. Terrible couldn’t even be the word to describe how unpleasant the nights were. 

When he would leave the dining room, he would mostly go to his room or his studio and lock himself there. After locking himself away from everything, the uncomfortable silence would take over the house again. 

It was all just silence.

“Harry! C'mon! Are you fucking mental?” The screams echoed around the house. There was no more of silence. Only the sounds of screaming, yelling, swearing and throwing words around.

“Me? Fucking me? Y/n, you’re the one who started this shit!” I screamed loudly, hitting the top of the counter with my palm. Hissing the moment my hand met with the cold surface of the countertop. 

I had enough of this shit and all this arguing.

“Y/n! For fuck’s sake! You've been saying all this shit for so damn long! Don't you think that you’re the main problem there?” I yelled back at her, my last sentence echoing around the house. My eyes burning into hers as my knuckles turn white from gripping the side of the counter. 

“Fuck you, Harry! You've been locking yourself away from me for weeks now and when I wanna talk to you for a damn minute, you start all this!” She throws her hands in the air, pointing at me and her. 

Between us. 

I see a tear slip down her cheek and she quickly wipes it off with end of her sleeves. Her eyes are fully watery and her hands are shaking as she stands there in front of me. 

“Screw you, Y/n! Fuck you seriously! This is all your fault. If you wouldn’t be there, everything would have been fucking fine! Don't you see that you're the problem between us? Hell... I don’t know what else to say! Fucking hell!” I yell out. My hands are now digging into sides of my head as i close my eyes, my teeth biting into my lower lips as I manage to draw out blood—

I suddenly jolt awake. A gasp coming out of me. My hands gripping the sheets as I sit up, eyes flying open. 

Shaky breaths coming out as I try to catch my breath from the dream… No, a nightmare I've just had. 

Sweat drips down my naked back, as I sit and breathe. Closing my eyes and digging the palms into my eyes as I take deep breaths and try to stbilize myself. My heart beats quickly.

This isn’t the first night I've had this exact same nightmare. It has been happening for weeks now. 

And it's all my fault.

I push the sheets off my legs and stand up. My whole legs feel like they are about to break down just there. I cannot even stand straight.

The world is spinning around me as I try to stand. I breathe out as I collapse back onto the bed.

I sit at the edge of the bed, hands holding the sides as I lean myself over and close my eyes. I suck in a breath and let my eyes close for a brief moment. 

I sit still. The only sound I can overhear is my breathing and quiet ringing in my ears. 

My head feels like it will explode anytime soon.

“Fuckin’ hell…” I mumble under my breath as I once again try to stand up. My body swaying a bit, my feet waddling over the cold floor. My head spins when I reach towards the handle and pull it to open. 

Then I'm suddenly met with a person standing right in front of me. 

Their eyes wide opened as they stare back at me in shock. Their mouth drops a little when their eyes make a full eye contact with mine. My hands start to sweat as I hold the handle of the door. 

“Harry…” She mumbles out into the darkness of our house. The voice coming out soft and calming to my ears. She stands still and she doesn’t reach her hand to brush my cheek like she usually does, or doesn’t lean in to plant a little kiss against my cheek or right on my lips. She just stands still, her eyes deeply looking into mine. 

It feels like I've been staring into them for hours, falling into them. 

“Hey...” I whisper out, my voice coming out raspy. I lean myself against the doorframe, hand leaving the door handle and I cross my arms over each other against my chest. My legs still feeling wobbly and I feel like i'm about to break down just there and fall down right in front of her. But i stay still. 

“What... What are you doing here? It's late…” I mumble out, my eyes holding the eye contact, deeply staring into her orbs. 

We haven’t spoken for days now. I haven’t talked to her in multiple days in a row. I haven’t looked into her eyes. I did nothing. 

Absolutely nothing for her.

She shifts from one leg to other, clearly uncomfortable. My stare stays put on her as I await for her to answer. My eyelids feel heavy but I keep them up just to see her beautiful face. I wouldn't want to miss a second. 

I haven’t appreciate her in days. I haven't seen her, haven’t complimented her, haven’t kissed her… 

I've done nothing. 

“You've… Um... You've been doing something in your sleep," she says, her stare shifting away from mine. Turning her head to look into the hallway, ignoring my hard stare. 

She sways a bit, back and forth slowly.

“What?” I question her and shift a bit on my legs. Already slowly growing anxious over this conversation... I haven't spoken to her in weeks and this must be our first conversation in such a long time.. In middle of a night, her standing in her night pajamas and me leaning onto a doorframe with just a pajama pants. Sweat still dripping down my back from the usual nightmare.

“You've been screaming a lot in your sleep lately... Especially my name, Harry," she answers quietly , her voice so small that you couldn't even properly hear her if I wasn't that close to her. 

My stomach turns as she answers.

“Oh…” This was the answer she probably wasn’t expecting to hear. 

“Oh?” She repeats my answer and turns her head back towards to me. Her eyes coming back to mine as we stare at each other.

I missed the nights we used to sleep next to each other, when I could hug you, kiss you, tell you how much I love you. I just couldn’t bring myself to hurt you in any possible way. I don’t want to continue our relationship like this. I want us back.

I wanted to say to her. Wanted her to hear how it’s tearing me by being like this. Away from everything. Away from her. 

“Harry," she whispers to me, tearing me away from my thoughts. She breathes out a small breath as I stare down at her. 

“I'm sorry..” My words come out in a broken whisper. A breeze runs down my back. The hairs on my neck and arms stand up. And then it comes.

I suddenly break down.

I take a step towards her smaller frame and push myself against her. My arms sneak around her body and pulling her against me. My face falls against her crook of her neck and I hunch myself, letting my body collapse. Taking her scent in. 

I tighten my hold against her body and hug her the way I never did. My face lays against her neck as I breathe out.

I feel her shoulders move and then i feel it. Her smaller hands on my back as she holds me back. Her head moves a bit and I can feel a small kiss being planted on top of my head. 

Tears run down my cheeks and sobs fill the silence in the house. My body aches and shakes against hers. My eyes are shut and tears run down like waterfalls. 

My legs feel like they’re about to break against the hard wooden floor and fall down with my whole body. Shaking as I stand against her and the silence is fully overtaken by my cries and sobs.

“Shhh... It's okay. Let it out," she mumbles against my hair. I start to shake my head, disagreeing quickly to her.

“No... No, Y/n. It's not okay.. I was, no, I am a fucking idiot! I'm- I'm sorry, okay? I wasn’t thinking. I don't know…” I stutter my words out, pulling my head away from the crook of her neck. My eyes running all over face.

“I was scared? I didn’t know what to do," I take a step away from her, my voice shaking as I spill my truth out to her, “I wasn’t thinking! I didn’t want to hurt you," i tell her with broken voice. 

“Hurt me? Harry, what do you mean?” She asks in her soft tone. Her sleepy but adorably beautiful and blown out eyes look straight into mine. Her eyes are searching for something in my eyes. She can see that I'm scared. 

She can see the fear in me.

“No, no, no…” I mumble out, my eyes shutting as I walk back into my room. My hands fly upwards to start gripping the side of my head, “You.. You don’t understand, Y/n. you won’t understand it," I cry out as I walk around my room stressfully.  

“Harry. I'll try to understand," she answers and walks towards me. Then she slowly and softly touches my cheek. Holding her palm against my cheek. Her eyes finding my teary ones.

“I just… Don't want you to get hurt because of me," I whisper to her, looking into her eyes. Finding the much needed comfort in them. My tears are stained on my cheeks and some are still trying to escape the hold of my eyes. 

“Harry... I want to help you. But, you need to explain to me what has been going on with you lately. You lock yourself away from everything and don’t even say a single word for days," she says, looking into my eyes and putting both of her palms against my cheeks. I lean into her touch, closing my eyes for few moments. 

I take a deep breathe and answer, “I know... I am just scared. I keep having this dream. Every damn night. And it scares me, fucking terrifies me," I open my eyes looking straight at her, “I don’t want to hurt you, or loose you. I don’t want anything bad to happen to you. I feel so fucking bad for ignoring you, it has been tearing me," I breathe out, putting my hand over her hand on my cheek. 

My voices shakes through my answer. My vision is blurry from all the crying and I cannot form my sentences without stuttering or sobbing in between the words. All the fear is going on me as I talk more and tell her all the truth what has been holding me for past few weeks. 

“I snap a lot... in the dream. And I don’t want it to happen in reality as well. I snap and I say something that I would never say, never," I say, my voice shaking and my hands trembling, “sometimes I don’t wake up and it end up worse. I snap at you and I end up doing something what I would never plan on doing to you,” I whisper the last part, my eyes closing as my voice tremble. I tremble uncontrollably as I tell her the truth. 

“Harry... is that why you’ve been ignoring me?” She whispers, her eyes searching in mine as we stare into each others eyes deeply, "why didn't you tell me? I would try everything I could to help you, or at least try to help you," she moves her hand to my hair, gently holding me. My lips are slightly parted and I take deep steady breaths. 

My eyes close for a moment and I put my forehead against hers. Our breaths matching each others.

“I love you so so much, sweetheart," i whisper into the silence, “so fucking much,” the words spill themselves into the darkness of the room we’re standing in. 

“I love you too, Harry… so much.” she whispers back, “but you don’t have to be scared. you won’t hurt me, i know you too well..."

Then I feel it.

I feel her soft lips against mine. She kisses me against my lips for the first time in the weeks. Slowly leaning in, I kiss her back deeply. Showing her all the love i’ve been holding back. Her lips are like made for me. Our lips collide together as we quietly kiss in the darkness of the night. Her hands slide from my cheek to the nape of my neck and she pulls me closer.

“You don’t have to hide now, Harry. You wouldn’t hurt me. I'm here and always will be," she whispers to me. Her voice soft and quiet, like a dream.

“I'm so fucking sorry for locking myself away. For not being there for you... I'm so sorry. I love you so fucking much," I pull away slowly, my eyes fluttering open.

“Just... If you’re going through something… anytime, please tell me," her words get to me. 

“I will, I will... My love," I whisper to her. Tears, once again, forming in my eyes. 

The two lovers found themselves slowly rebuilding the connection between each other, what they both have thought that they've lost. The silence has been finally broken by the lover's confessions of his unspoken fears. 

my first writing on here! (don't ask me why my first ever writing was a sad one hahaha) hopefully you enjoyed it as much as i did writing it! :)

give it some love if u liked it !! yayyy

[harrywavycurly]

Sarah I’m sad so can you make me even more sad? But with Harry plz🥺

Hiii babes!! I’m sorry you’re sad but I hope you enjoy this? Also remember you asked me for this so like I don’t wanna hear no complaining okay? I’m kidding you can yell at me if you want it’s fine😂💖

A/N: Harry is always there when you need him but this might be one of the hardest things he’s ever had to do, enjoy this super short but not very sweet Harry blurb✨

Harry smiles at a few people as he walks through the venue, giving a nod of acknowledgment at some familiar faces who shoot him a friendly wave from their seats when he walks by. He stops in front of a table that has a giant bouquet of flowers on it, but these aren’t just any flowers these are the flowers that you spent a good two weeks trying to find someone that could make an arrangement out of that didn’t look too tacky or boring because you had a vision in your head and refused to settle so Harry quickly pulls the crystal vase a little to the left so it’s perfectly center before he continues on his way. As he turns the corner so he’s facing a long hallway he suddenly gets hit with the memory of the two of you initially touring this venue, he didn’t think it was the one because to be honest it left a bit to be desired but he knew the moment he saw you standing in the middle of the empty space with that smile on your face, the one that makes the crinkles by your eyes appear that you loved it.

You told him what you imagined the space to look like on the big day and while at the time he couldn’t really see it, now that he’s walking through it he can’t imagine this day taking place anywhere else. The lighting is warm but not too warm that everything looks yellow, it’s just the right amount of warmth that makes everything feel a bit cozier while the floor to ceiling windows allow the soft green of the hills of California to be the perfect backdrop to what’s about to happen in just a few minutes. Harry knows that you’ll be happy with how everything has turned out, that what you envisioned in your head all those months ago has come to life and he can’t wait to see your face when you get to see it all for the first time. He’s been with you every step of the way throughout this whole process but that’s to be expected given his role in your life, he wouldn’t have it any other way or well he would possibly change a thing or two if he could go back in time but sadly he can’t so he takes what he can get with a smile on his face.

He looks down at his watch on his right wrist and lets out a deep sigh as he runs a hand through his hair, careful not to be too rough since he did spend a good amount of time making sure it looked decent after putting on his suit an hour ago. He walks a little further down the hallway until he finds the door he’s looking for, Harry pauses for a moment and closes his eyes and takes a few calming breathes before opening his eyes then he lifts a hand up and knocks twice before putting his hand on the doorknob.

“Love?” He pokes his head in when he doesn’t get a response to his knocks after a few moments and when he doesn’t see you he raises an eyebrow as he fully enters the room, closing the door behind him. “Are you dress-”

“Oh thank god.” Harry feels the all too familiar tiny stabbing feeling in his heart the moment you walk out of the bathroom and into the dressing room that was clearly once just an office the venue has tried to turn into a bridal suite. “Can you zip me up please?” You ask with a slight look of panic making Harry snap out of his trance as you turn around giving him access to the zipper and it’s in this moment he is secretly happy this isn’t the first time he’s seeing you in your dress because if it was he feels like he wouldn’t be much use to anyone let alone trying to help you get zipped up.

“How’re the nerves?” You just shrug as Harry finishes zipping you up and gives you a once over in the mirror the two of you are standing in front of. “No cold feet or anything?” He asks and it’s not like he’s expecting you to say yes or anything because Harry knows for a fact you’ve been looking forward to this day for quite a while.

“Nope my feet are actually a bit too warm if I’m being honest.” Harry just smiles at your silly excuse of a joke while you turn around so you’re facing him and in true you fashion your hands instantly go up and start adjusting his suit collar and bow tie. “You won’t let me fall right? Won’t let me trip over my own two feet or anything?” You question and it’s in this very moment that the overwhelming reality of his current situation really sets in for Harry, he is about to walk his bestfriend who he’s been hopelessly in love with for as long as he can remember down the aisle to get married to someone that’s not him.

[whitemancumslut]

sad harry for ya

harry comes home with tears flooding his eyes. he knew you weren’t home before him so he didn’t even bother calling out for you.

he sadly made his way up the staircase and into the bedroom where he can finally strip out of his clothes of distress and into the bathroom.

harry gets in the shower and sobs. letting it all coming out. even though he was alone he still wouldn’t want to hear the emptiness of the home and his sobs together.

the water hit him as he cried and cried feeling his chest pain.

all of this work had finally got him to a breaking point. you couldn’t blame him. constantly in the studio, pushing dates back and forth… he was overwhelmed. all he needed was to be in his lover’s arms right now.

harry got out the shower after a good twenty minutes of drying his tears so when you came back their was no sign of tears.

when you entered the house and saw harry you knew something was off. you first called out his name, nothing. you called again, nothing. His car was in the driveway so he was definitely home. Maybe he was in the shower? You thought.

But you finally made your way up the stairs and into your shared bedroom, immediately meeting the figure of a sad harry. no, he wasn’t crying, but you could tell because he didn’t greet you with that heartwarming smile he does every single day.

you dropped your bag at the door and walked up in front of him. “baby? what’s wrong?” your hands softly found a whole on each of his cheeks which brings tears to his eyes.

he sighs as he leans into your touch. he doesn’t answer you, he just stays looking down at his fidgeting fingers.

the silence was killing you. “baby, look at me. what’s going on?” he finally looked up at you and your heart breaks. his eyes are going red like he’s been crying all day, your brows furrowed in concern as you softly caress his face.

he once again didn’t answer you but he shook his head and you figured he’ll tell you later. you weren’t going to force it out, when he was ready, he was ready.

you backed away from him, taking off your shoes, and work pants that were awfully uncomfortable and took off your jacket. leaving you in just a t shirt and underwear sitting across from him, laying again the headboard of your shared bed, calling his name softly.

harry sighed as he slowly made his way to lay his head right above your tummy. his legs wrapped around yours.

your fingers slide their way into his tight curls, massaging his scalp softly bringing comfort to him immediately. a hot tear drops down his face and hits your shirt, your heart breaks even more when you can feel the fabric against your skin.

you hear his sniffles, the way his fingers are fidgeting with the sides of your t-shirt, it was all a pain to witness.

you rub your hand other hand that’s not in his hair and rub it up and down his warm back. feeling his slow breaths as he lets out soft cries trying his best not to drench your shirt with tears but you being there just makes it known it’s okay.

[1d1195]

Zipper Extra VI

Read the rest of Zipper here

@jhughesangel for you :)

Some cavity inducing sweetness (hopefully)

P.S. Sorry I'm writing about the holiday season. Again. I'm sure that's tiring but fall/winter is my favorite time of year and it makes for the most romance in my brain.

~2.2k words

The moment she opened her eyes she was greeted with Harry’s gorgeous green eyes gazing at her. “God you’re pretty,” he murmured, and she felt a bit dizzy hearing it from his lips—Harry was pretty, too.

On the first of the month, she began baking. Harry had seen her in action at her place, but now it was their place and coming home some nights after she did to an apartment that smelled like cookies, cinnamon, and apples. It was heavenly and more than ever he wished with everything in him that he hadn’t waited so long to have this moment.

Every space of the apartment was decorated with red berries and greenery and other Christmas décor. The tree stood in the window of the living room overlooking the town. It was beautiful and magical. Harry didn’t even have a tree, the last few years which pained her to no end. He didn’t have the heart to tell her he didn’t have one prior to them dating either. The only Christmas tree he saw was the one at his mum’s house. Or at her place.

But they were living together, now. So, every holiday was warm and inviting. It felt like home when he was there. She made it make sense. “S’not our anniversary, right?” He asked, coming to stand behind her. His hands pressed onto the counter on either side of her as he pressed his lips to the curve of her neck as a gentle hello. The rest of his body was warm against her back, his body encasing her between the bowl of chocolate and Harry.

Turning her head as much as she could to get a peripheral look at him, she licked the excess frosting off her thumb, she shook her head. “No, baby. Wrong month,” she giggled.

Harry wrinkled his nose “M’sorry,” he murmured. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” he admitted.

“It’s okay. I’ve never really been one for anniversaries,” she shrugged. Yet she always has a present for me. He thought to himself with a frown. “I mean...” she noted the way his body deflated with a sigh. “I think I love you pretty well every day...I think there are worse things in life than forgetting a card or a day where you finally came to your senses,” she twisted in his embrace, and she brought the tip of her finger to his lips so he could have a tasted of the frosting. It was silly and romantic all at once. He gave her finger a gentle bite inciting the most beautiful, little giggle from her. “Does that make sense?” She asked.

“So I should be giving y’a gift every day because m’in love with you all the time,” he nodded with a half grin.

“No,” she laughed and rested her forehead on his chest. “No way. Your gifts? We’d be broke.”

“It would be worth it,” he murmured. “I’d spend every penny I had on you.”

“Absolutely not what I want.”

He chuckled rubbing his hand up and down her spine. “Did you have a good day?”

She nodded. “I won my case,” she murmured into his chest.

“Y’don’t sound very excited over the good news, kitten,” he kissed the top of her head.

“It didn’t feel like winning,” she mumbled. “Sometimes fighting for the top dog doesn’t feel very good.”

Her poor sweet soul. “S’never made any sense t’me that someone as sweet as you would be a corporate lawyer.”

“M’good at it,” she said defensively and pouted as she looked up at him.

“I know you’re good at it, angel,” he nodded. “S’not a question. But morally, your heart is jus’ so much nicer,” he kissed the top of her head. “M’surprised y’don’t cry in court sometimes.”

“S’really hard sometimes,” she admitted.

“Y’don’t have t’be a corporate lawyer if y’don’t want.”

“Yeah...but then I wouldn’t have an office next to yours. We wouldn’t have lunch together..." Harry felt a pang of adoration shoot through him. Like she had personally squeezed the veins of his heart just as a reminder that he adored her so much. "And you’d make way more money than me and I wouldn’t be able to afford living here.”

“Y’could live here for free,” he rolled his eyes--as if money would keep him from her. “Jus’ make y’pay me in kisses...and other things.”

She tilted her head up to look at his face while he gazed down at her. “I love you,” she smiled.

He grinned and shook his head. “Thank goodness,” he murmured and attached his lips to hers. They tasted of chocolate, love, sweetness, and happiness. Perfectly her.

*

She didn’t like having a blindfold on—especially in public and without a clue of where they were headed. It was chilly but her coat was warm, and Harry had his arm firmly around her waist. One thing she trusted was that Harry would never let her fall. “I am already surprised Harry. Please let me take it off. I must look insane, and people are probably thinking you’re going to kidnap me.”

“I would love t’see someone try and kidnap you,” he chuckled. “Watch y’step, kitten,” he hummed and squeezed her tighter as he brought her up two steps. She had no sense of where they were—not by sight of course—but he had taken her around three different blocks in order to disorient her. The smells didn’t help either because it was a Saturday night. It was Christmas time, and everywhere in the little city smelled and sounded the same. “Think y’would argue with them about how they didn’t tie the blindfold tight enough.”

“The same cannot be said for you,” she wrinkled her nose trying to get the fabric to move around her face. “Is it weird? You’re not going to embarrass me are you?” She asked.

“What on earth d’you think m’going t’do, kitten?” He laughed. “We’re almost there, just a few more steps.”

“I don’t know. Maybe me accidentally taking your towel every morning has finally done you in and you’re going to murder me and hide my body.”

“Kitten, we’re around other people. Please don’t give them ideas.”

“I don’t think you would murder me. But statistically, you’re the one most likely to.”

“M’ignoring you,” he murmured. The people around them gave sympathetic and awkward smiles. “Okay, two steps,” he pressed his hand on her lower back. The back of her calf touched something solid but she hadn’t a clue where she was. It could have been anywhere. But they were still outside. Maybe it was just a bench? Or a wall by the fountain? She had no way of knowing.

“Am I going to be in a blindfold the entire night?”

“No, m’love. M’gonna take it off as soon as y’sit,” he said gently touching her hips to guide her to sitting on the seat behind her. She was quiet as Harry reached behind her head, the palms of his hands sliding softly against her cheeks as he reached. Before he undid the knot, he gently massaged his fingertips into her hair and gave her a soft kiss on the forehead. It made her stomach flutter and she felt like she would explode from the way he made her feel.

The moment she opened her eyes she was greeted with Harry’s gorgeous green eyes gazing at her. “God you’re pretty,” he murmured, and she felt a bit dizzy hearing it from his lips—Harry was pretty, too. It took every bit of willpower to tear her eyes away from his gaze. His hand slid into her lap, and he twisted their fingers together while she took in the surroundings. There was a man directing a horse on a perched seat above them an older top hat on his head. The carriage they sat in was white, with red leather seats. Green garland with red berries and Christmas bows draped around them. A set of twinkly lights was hung around the little awning of the carriage as well. Her lips parted as the horse quietly pulled them around the park. There was a dusting of snow, Harry couldn’t have dreamed of a better day to do this. But it was perfect, exactly what he wanted.

Speechless. She was completely and totally speechless.

Harry watched her expression change about a thousand times in one minute trying to make sense of what was happening. “Y’okay, in there?” He asked cupping the side of her face and brushing his thumb on her cheek. “S’this...not what you wanted?” He asked feeling the nerves creep up.

Did she forget their anniversary? No... it wasn’t that. Did he do something wrong? Why was...how did he know?

Maybe this was just something she wanted to do with her ex-boyfriend and not Harry. Maybe this wasn’t something she wanted anymore. “Er...we can...stop, if y’want, kitten. I thought y’would want this...but...maybe I got it wrong, naturally. Thought y’would want to—”

She shook her head trying to shake some sense into her mind and get her brain cells to put together a coherent thought rather than just staring at the scene before her. “No...” she shook her head quickly. “No...this is...Harry this is perfect,” she whispered breathlessly.

He smiled and a relieved sigh left his lungs in the form of a nervous chuckle. “Oh...good,” he pressed his lips against her temple and watched her eyes scanning the park around her. They had been to the park about a thousand times on foot, but seated in a horse drawn carriage, it was as if she had never seen the trees and paths. The light displays and the children milling in front of their parents were completely new to her.

“How...how did you...did you ask my sister about this?” She asked.

He shook his head. “No...”

“Did I tell you about this?” But she was certain she didn’t. She hadn’t thought about a carriage ride in years.

“Uh...no,” he smiled awkwardly giving her hand a squeeze. “When we were studying one time...y’were all upset ‘bout your ex not planning dates or whatever. You were on the phone with your sister and y’said y’wanted a Christmas carriage ride.”

Her heart felt like it was melting. “You...heard that?” She sounded so stunned. Harry was a bit worried about her well-being. She seemed completely out of sorts. To him, this was the only thing that made sense. In fact, he should have planned this when they first started dating. In his mind, this was nearly three years too late. Lord, knew it was over a decade too late for her sweet self. “You...remember that?”

He smiled, squeezing her hand in her lap again. With his freehand he brought it to her face again and brushed his thumb across her face. “I know...I know y’have forgiven me for...how mean I was—”

“You weren’t mean.”

“Well, I wasn’t nice t’you, kitten. S’well as being mean. Y’deserve nothing but kindness. You’re the sweetest soul I know.” She wanted to respond but she felt like there was more he wanted to say, and her throat was closing around the warm emotion she felt the longer he spoke. “M’sorry, again. For all that I put you through.”

It wasn’t that bad. She couldn’t tell him enough. She knew it ate at him like nothing else, so she simply nodded. “I know you’re sorry. But really...it’s alright, baby. I know—”

“Shh,” he hushed pressing a finger to her lips. “M’not done.” She felt like the blindfold was placed around her lips at his words. It was so perfect. The right temperature, the right scene, the perfect guy.

“Okay,” she murmured.

“I don’t know if I’ll ever fully forgive myself,” he admitted. “But m’so glad I figured out how I felt. M’so sorry it took me s’long. More than being mean t’you...I don’t know if I’ll forgive myself for taking s’long. Wasting all that time we could have been together. But I don’t want t’waste time ever again,” he promised.

He kept hold of her hand as he shifted from the seat to the floor of the carriage balancing on one knee and digging into his coat pocket as if he did this all the time. He pinched the small box in his grip with his free hand. She couldn’t even see inside the box, but she knew that her heart was going to explode when she did. So, it was for the best that she didn’t get to see it. “Y’make me so happy. You’re m’favorite person t’wake up to. T’come home to. Before you, I never even thought ‘bout marriage. It only makes sense when I think ‘bout you,” he was rushing his words a bit. Like when he first told her how much he liked her and how he would be a shitty boyfriend.

He was anything but.

“I don’t know if I’ll get better at remembering anniversaries and birthdays but God, kitten. I want t’try with you. Because y’deserve the best and m’not sure if s’me that’s best for you but I want to be. I want t’take you on carriage rides and make sugar cookies with our little babies that will look jus’ like you and take them t’soccer practice on weekends. I know s’not anyone half s’beautiful as you, kitten. Inside or out,” he never made sense when he was spilling all the emotions directly from his heart, but she wouldn’t have it any other way. She thought she might cry if he spoke any longer.

“Please, marry me,” he said finally, slowly at last.

They stared at each other silently for several moments.

“Yes,” she whispered.

“Thank you.”

--

general taglist: @justlemmeadoreyou @daydreamingofmatilda @sunshinemoonsposts @youdontcaredoyou @tiredinwinter @loving-hazz @likeapplejuicenpeach @straightontilmornin @freedomfireflies @littlenatilda @kathb59 @babegoals @angel-upon @lilfreakjez @mleestiles @ameliaalvarez06 @canyonmoondreams @summertime-pills @daphnesutton @l4rrysh0use @perfectywrong @foreverxholland @lolyouallsuck @buckybarnessimpp @stylesfever @st-ev-ie @lovrave @harrysxcarolina @pandeebearstyles

@sunshinextemptress94

I'm sorry if I missed anyone in the taglist. Please let me know if you'd like to join, if it didn't work, if you no longer want to be included, etc. :)

If you like this, check out my masterlist for more of my writing.

[missmielyhoran]

Second

in which you always stayed being second...

[Warning- ANGST, Unrequited love, unplanned pregnancy, cheating?, jealousy, death, accident, Harry giving his kid daddy issues, accident, heart attack]

Masterlist

*****

You were 19 when you met Harry.

He was bright, beautiful, and soft like a cloud. He was always high up in the air, so beautiful to see but soo far to touch.

Everyone wished to touch the clouds, and only some could do it.

You met her when you were 20.

At a college party, Harry introduced her to you. She was beautiful, smart, and elegant just like him.

People like her were meant to touch the cloud.

And she did. Much to your dismay, you watched them flirt, kiss, and do all those adorable bullshit rom coms show. While you watched, waiting for a drop of his attention.

Which he gave you but after she would leave.

They got together when you were 21.

You cried yourself sick for a week, but no one bothered to check cause the two people you had were loved up in their love cocoon.

It wasn't until she had to go back home for some family emergency that Harry realized he hadn't seen you for a week. When he asked, you just put on a smile and told him it was a flu, which he knew wasn't true, somewhere he knew why you were sick but didn't press on cause she was texting him.

But the honeymoon period came to an end soon after, and it followed fights, lots of fights, and arguments.

Every time they would break up, you would find him at your doorstep. It was wrong, so wrong, but you couldn't resist when his lips would find yours. When his hands would roam on your body, when he would whisper sweetly in your ears, when you would hear his soft snors beside you in bed as you would run your fingers through his hair.

As good it would feel in the night, mornings were just as hard cause every time one of them would apologize and they would get back together.

What could a bouquet of flowers and apologizes couldn't fix?

The cycle went on and on until you also found someone.

He was sweet, not him but sweet.

And he was only yours.

But fate was never in your favor. He wanted to study abroad, and long distance was not in books for either of you.

You were 24 when she got into accident.

It was a drunk driving case. The driver got off with a fine while she fought for her life for a whole 48 hours before losing.

It was hard for both of you. You were jealous of her, but you also loved her. She was your friend, but nothing could compare to Harry's devastation.

You were 25 when he finally came to you.

"After her, you are my only one. You are the only person I love after her," He said. It should have made you happy and some part of you was but the other sticked to the key word after her.

Even dead, she was first.

But you settled for being his even if it was secondary.

You were 26 when you got pregnant.

It was accidental. Both of you didn't plan it cause you didn't even know what your relationship with him was. He loved you but he wasn't your boyfriend or anything.

You were scared for yourself, yet you went to him asking if he wanted it or not. Some part of you hoped he didn't cause you wouldn't, but of course, he wanted it. It was so long after her that you saw him genuinely happy.

You were 27 when your baby girl arrived.

She was beautiful, with his green big eyes and blonde hair which neither of knew where it came from but he said it was from her. "She knew I was lonely, so she said an angel like her"

He named your daughter after her.

Every time you would call your daughter, there was a painful realization of him loving you second, which might have been third or forth after the kids.

You were 29 when he proposed.

With her ring.

It was supposed to be for her, but it ended on your finger, and every time you looked down at your hands, there would be that pain again of you being the second.

Was it wrong to be jealous of dead?

Was it wrong to hate someone who never meant to cause you pain, but was the reason for it always?

You were 31 when you got pregnant again.

He was happy but not much cause he had your daughter.

You had your baby boy, but in Harry's books, your daughter stayed first.

As he grew up, you could see how much it affected your son. How he would hesitate to ask Harry for anything or how he would be jealous of his sister or how he would avoid either of you all together.

You wanted to talk to him, tell him that you were there for him and you to some extent you did but you couldn't take a dad's place.

He would see how Harry wouldn't bat and eye if your daughter would do something, but he would get the punishment for being simply late from school.

Now your son and you both came after her.

You were 49 when your son stopped talking to both of you after moving out.

It hurt it shattered your soul, but you didn't do anything.

Like a coward, you were for the whole life. You just sat here mute and stayed second whole life, getting secondary gifts, kisses, love, and even wedding ring.

You could never be his first, and you lived with that.

You were 62 when you died.

It was abrupt, a heart attack paramedics said.

He begged you not to leave him, how he couldn't live if you also left him after her but it was too late.

He would get flowers every Wednesday and Saturday to the graveyard for you but not before leaving one on her.

Even cold in your grave, you were second to her.

*****

Taglist- @tenaciousperfectionunknown @that-daydream-look @harryspirate @tiaamberxx @jvsgnjrtpdar5stkd-tv-m @sunshinemoonsposts

I'm sorry for this, I'm just really sad today:(

[harrrystyles-writing]

Oi vidinha tudo bem??

Gostaria de um concept com os números 12 e 16 🥰❤️

frases: Então você não se importaria se eu ficasse com ele certo? /Eu desafio você a me dizer algo verdadeiro pelo menos uma vez.

NotaAutora: desculpe pela demora amore espero que goste 💗

Masterlist

Harry Concept #30

Você acordou com os primeiros raios de sol invadindo o quarto de Harry, ele ainda dormia profundamente ao seu lado, era quase impossível olhar para ele e não sentir algo se agitar dentro de você.

Vocês tinham uma relação complicada, um jogo constante de provocações que, de alguma forma, sempre acabava com você na cama dele tarde da noite e por mais que ambos fingissem que era apenas casual, lá, no fundo, havia algo que vocês teimavam em ignorar.

Com um suspiro, você pegou suas coisas e cruzou a porta, mais uma vez deixando-o para trás, no corredor, enquanto vasculhava sua bolsa para pegar as chaves do apartamento, elas escorregaram dos seus dedos e caíram no chão, quando você se abaixou para pegá-las, uma voz desconhecida soou atrás de você.

— Oi!

Você ergueu o olhar e encontrou um homem alto, com um sorriso simpático, ele segurava uma pequena caixa nas mãos com a palavra "cozinha" escrita nela.

— Oi, estranho. — Você respondeu, ligeiramente desconfiada.

— Eu sou o Pedro, acabei de me mudar para cá, desculpe incomodar.

— Seja bem-vindo, eu sou a S/n.

— Muito prazer, você sabe o que aconteceu com o elevador? Estou tentando fazer minha mudança, mas subir três lances de escada está complicado.

— Ah, esse elevador está quebrado desde que comecei a morar aqui, já reclamei, mas nunca arrumam, sinto muito.

— Tudo bem. — Pedro riu de leve, suspirando pelo cansaço. — Obrigado mesmo assim, é bom saber que vou ter vizinhos agradáveis.

— Nem todos são como eu, mas obrigada. — Sorriu gentilmente. — De onde você veio?

— De uma cidade pequena no Canadá, mas decidi tentar a sorte por aqui em New York e você? Mora aqui há muito tempo?

— Já faz alguns anos, é uma boa vizinhança, se você ignorar alguns tipos de lugares.

— Bom saber, adoraria algumas recomendações.

— Claro, tem muitos lugares legais por aqui, eu posso te indicar alguns.

— Eu sei que acabei de te conhecer, mas me culparia o dia todo se não perguntasse... Quer tomar um café um dia desses?

Antes que você pudesse responder, ouviu a porta do apartamento de Harry se abrir, ele apareceu no corredor, descalço e com o cabelo ainda bagunçado, seu olhar cruzou com o de Pedro e depois voltou para você.

— Bom dia. — ele murmurou, a voz rouca de sono. — Vizinho novo?

— Sim, sou Pedro. — Pedro sorriu.

— Harry. — Ele respondeu seco, sem entusiasmo.

Por alguns segundos, o silêncio ficou constrangedor, até Pedro pegar o celular do bolso e estender para você.

— Me passa seu número, assim podemos marcar.

— Claro. — Você hesitou, sentindo os olhos de Harry queimarem em você.

— Nos falamos então. — Pedro cantarolou antes de seguir para as escadas.

Assim que ele desapareceu, Harry aproximou-se da sua porta.

— Você mal saiu da minha cama e já está flertando com outro cara, rápida, hein?

— Eu não estava flertando.

— Estava, sim, eu te conheço. — Ele balançou a cabeça, a risada amargurada ainda nos lábios. — E aquele cara realmente te chamou para sair? Que patético...

— Patético? — Você cruzou os braços, encarando-o.

— É! Ele nem faz o seu tipo.

— E o que exatamente é meu tipo, Harry? — Sua voz estava carregada de ironia.

— Não aquele cara. — Ele revirou os olhos, bufando.

— Eu achei ele fofo.

— Você está brincando, né?

— Está muito interessado... Ficou com ciúmes, Harry? — Você o provocou, sentindo o próprio coração acelerar.

— Óbvio que não. — Riu. — Eu não sinto nada por você além do nosso combinado.

Essas palavras atingiram você como um soco no estômago, você tentou disfarçar o aperto no peito, com um sorriso.

— Então, você não se importaria se eu ficasse com ele, certo?

— Faz o que quiser. — Seu maxilar travou, apesar do tom calmo.

— Ótimo! Tenha um bom dia, Harry. — Você forçou um sorriso.

Com um movimento brusco, você abriu a porta do seu apartamento e a fechou com força, tentando sufocar as lágrimas que ameaçavam cair, por mais que odiasse admitir, aquelas palavras dele haviam machucado você e a pior parte era saber que, mesmo se quisesse, você não conseguiria simplesmente ignorá-lo.

...

Você estava colocando os brincos, observando seu reflexo no espelho, estava se preparando para o encontro com Pedro, mesmo ainda tendo sentimentos por Harry sabia que com ele nada tinha futuro, então porque não tentar com outra pessoa?

As batidas na porta de deram um susto, por um momento pensou que fosse Pedro chegando cedo, mas ao abrir, deu de cara com Harry, ele parou ali, encostado no batente, quando a porta se fechou, te observando.

— Você realmente vai fazer isso?

— Fazer o quê, exatamente? — Tentava não dar bola para ele, finalizando seu batom.

— Sair com ele. — ele disse, como se fosse óbvio.

— Sim, Harry, é exatamente o que eu estou prestes a fazer.

— Você se arrumou mesmo, hein? Tudo isso para o Pedro? Interessante... porque para mim, nunca fez tanto esforço. — Harry arqueou uma sobrancelha.

— Talvez porque você nunca me chamou para um encontro.

— Não sabia que precisava de formalidades com você. — Ele deu de ombros.

— Pois é, Harry, às vezes, as pessoas gostam de se sentir desejadas.

— Bom, espero que ele aprecie seu esforço. — Ele soltou uma risada curta.

— Com certeza ele vai! — Você suspirou, já cansada daquela conversa. — Agora, se me der licença, tenho um encontro para ir. — Apontou para a saída e ele foi sem hesitar.

Pedro havia escolhido um restaurante que você sugeriu, algo simples e aconchegante para um primeiro encontro, ele foi perfeito em cada detalhe: abriu a porta do carro para você, puxou sua cadeira no restaurante e garantiu que você estivesse confortável o tempo todo.

Durante o jantar, ele mostrou um interesse genuíno em seus gostos e histórias, contou sobre sua cidade natal com entusiasmo e fez você rir, por mais que ele fosse encantador, sua mente teimava em divagar, você se pegava imaginando como seria se estivesse jantando com Harry e esse pensamento era irritante.

Depois do jantar, ele a acompanhou enquanto caminhavam pelo corredor até seu apartamento, ele hesitou por um momento, parando em frente à sua porta.

— Foi uma noite incrível, espero que possamos fazer isso de novo.

— Também gostei, obrigada por hoje.

Ele se inclinou para beijá-la, assim que os lábios dele tocaram os seus, ficou claro que algo estava errado, não havia faísca, não havia aquele arrepio que você odiava admitir que sentia com Harry.

— Boa noite. — Sorriu, decepcionada por não sentir nada.

— Boa noite, durma bem.

Ele entrou em seu apartamento e você suspirou aliviada por estar sozinha, mas antes de conseguir destrancar a porta, ouviu a inconfundível voz de Harry.

— Então, como foi o encontro? — Ele estava encostado na porta do próprio apartamento, como se tivesse esperado por você a noite toda.

Você fechou os olhos por um instante antes de se virar.

— Nossa, você não tem mais o que fazer, não? Estava espionando?

— Não, mas as paredes são finas e a voz do Pedro é irritantemente clara, então, como foi?

— Foi ótimo. — Sua resposta saiu apressada e você viu o sorriso surgir no rosto dele.

— Ótimo? Tem certeza? — Ele riu baixo, cruzando os braços. — Não passa nem das 22h.

— Bem, ele não é como você, que só lembra de mim depois da uma da manhã.

— Pelo menos, nossas noites sempre terminam bem... Você sabe, divertidas. — Deu aquele sorriso malicioso.

— Qual o problema, Harry?

— Problema nenhum, só parece que você está se esforçando demais para me convencer de que foi incrível.

— Você está sendo ridículo.

— Ridículo? Ou apenas honesto? Você saiu com ele só para tentar me provocar, admita.

— Eu saí porque quis, Harry, não porque tudo na minha vida gira em torno de você.— Sua voz tremia, a frustração quase te engasgando.

— Ah, não? Então, por que está tão irritada agora?

— Porque eu estou cansada desses joguinhos, Harry, boa noite. — Sem esperar por uma resposta, entrou no apartamento e fechou a porta.

...

Você vem evitando Harry pelos últimos dias, depois de tudo o que aconteceu, parecia a única coisa sensata a fazer, o problema era que evitar Harry parecia impossível, ele estava em todo lugar, cruzando seu caminho como se fizesse de propósito e mesmo quando não estava por perto fisicamente, ele estava na sua mente, dominando cada pensamento.

Era sábado à noite, o dia que vocês costumavam passar juntos, mas desta vez, apenas o som de um seriado qualquer que você colocou preenchia o vazio, o som da porta interrompeu o silêncio do apartamento, seu coração apertou imediatamente, porque você sabia quem era antes mesmo de levantar e abrir.

— Oi, posso entrar?— Ele tinha um pequeno sorriso nos lábios.

— Oi... — Deu espaço para ele.

— Você não foi para meu apartamento hoje, por quê? — Suas mãos deslizaram pelos cabelos sem jeito. — Você ainda está irritada comigo por causa daquele encontro?

— Não é sobre o encontro, Harry. — Revirou os olhos.

Ele realmente não percebia?

— Então, o que é? — Ele se aproximou, seus dedos automaticamente prenderam uma mexa do seu cabelo atrás da orelha.— Me diz, vai.

Você se afastou dele, porque estar tão perto era perigoso.

— É sobre você! — As palavras saíram como uma confissão amarga. — O que nós temos... não está mais funcionando.

— Não está mais funcionando? — Levantou as sobrancelhas. — É por causa do Pedro? Você gosta dele?

— Não, seu idiota! É porque eu tenho sentimentos por você! — Sua voz ecoou pelo apartamento. — E você age como se nada disso importasse.

Harry recuou, seus olhos piscando algumas vezes e você se arrependeu por dizer aquilo.

— O que você quer de mim, S/n?

— Eu quero que você seja honesto. — Sua voz tremia.

— Eu desafio você a me dizer algo verdadeiro pelo menos uma vez.

— Eu não sei... — Harry não conseguia olhar para você.

— Eu acabei de dizer que sinto por você e é só isso que você tem a dizer? — Você avançou erguendo o queixo dele com indicador. — Por favor, diga alguma coisa.

— Eu me importo, é isso que você quer ouvir? — Harry segurou sua mão entre as dele. — Que eu me importo tanto que passo dias me remoendo por coisas que nunca tive coragem de dizer? Que eu fico pensando em você mais do que deveria, mais do que é saudável? Eu não sei o que fazer com isso S/n, eu não sei como lidar e é por isso que fico jogando esses 'joguinhos' que você tanto odeia, porque admitir que também tenho sentimentos é complicado demais. — Você sentiu o coração acelerar, ele estava ali, de pé, dizendo exatamente o que você sempre quis ouvir. — Eu sei que isso tudo é culpa minha, estabeleci essas regras idiotas porque achei que seria mais fácil, mas não é, não quando se trata de você.

Você ficou em silêncio por um momento, tentando entender o que acabara de ouvir.

— Você... Você também gosta de mim?

— Gosto? — Ele soltou uma risada. — Estou louco por você.

— E agora, o que acontece?

A mão dele subiu até o seu rosto, os dedos roçando de leve sua pele, um sorriso malicioso surgiu em seus lábios antes de se inclinar devagar e os lábios tocarem os seus.

— Sem mais joguinhos. — Se afastou, apenas o suficiente para encostar a testa na sua.

— É uma ótima ideia.

Obrigada por ler até aqui, se você gostou sinta-se a vontade para dar um feedback através de um comentário ❤️

[yellowbrokenblue]

SingleDad!Harry AU

Harry grieves the loss of his wife, while raising their daughter alone

———

It was the silence that hurt the most. The empty hallways, the second car in the driveway that hadn’t moved in nine months, the cold other side of the bed. Sometimes he still thought she was there, he’d expect her to walk through the door at 6pm and she just wouldn’t.

He couldn’t bring himself to get rid of her clothes. Her dresses still took up half of the wardrobe and her makeup still lay on the dresser the way she last left it.

The sound of the school bus in the afternoon was the only thing keeping him somewhat sane.

“Daddy!” He heard the door opening, slamming shut as his little girl ran towards him with a bright smile on her face. “Daddy, daddy! Guess what?”

Harry scooped his daughter into his arms, lifting her up.

“What is it, princess?”

He smiled at her as she waved a picture in front of his face.

“What’s this?” He asked her.

“A drawing a made at school! We had to draw our families!”

Harry held the picture in front of him. A number of wiggly lines made from crayons resembled a portrait of Harry holding his daughter’s hand, and next to them was her… with a halo above her head.

“I made her look like an angel because she’s in heaven now.” She said quietly to Harry.

A soft smile formed as he looked at the drawing, his eyes glassy with tears.

“I think it’s beautiful, honey.” He said, “Your mom would’ve loved it.”

“Yeah?”

“Of course, princess. My beautiful little artist.”

His daughter grinned. Harry grabbed a magnet and put the picture at pride of place on the fridge, before he watched as she slipped away to her bedroom, her cute little backpack still on her back.

Waking up without his wife next to him every day was the worst kind of pain. But he was forever thankful that he got to see her in their daughter every day, because he didn’t know what he would do without either of them.

[violetsandfluff]

She Can See We’re Lonely Down Here 🛰️

summary: maybe curiosity knows where y/n is

tw: loss and sadness??

a/n: i did sob while writing this…

wc: 938 🪐

•••

“Look up, Stomper,” Harry breathed wistfully. Even after months of coming out to the field, the sight of the stars illuminating the night sky took his breath away. He didn’t need to tell Stomper to look up. “She’s up there somewhere,” he continued. “She knows we’re lonely down here, but she’s watching over us from above.”

A soft breeze rustled the tall grasses the duo lay in, bringing Harry back to reality for a split second. “It’s pretty late,” he admitted reluctantly, “and I’m sure your battery is getting low. Let’s go home.”

Stomper revved his wheels defiantly, but Harry picked him up anyway, bringing him to his car and setting him down in the front seat. “You really like the stars, don’t you, buddy?”

The small robot nodded, unable to divert his gaze from the glistening pieces of art floating above the ground.

Harry’s night progressed as usual. He poured himself a glass of milk and downed it before plugging Stomper in, allowing him to take a few laps around the house to get out his last bits of energy. Then Harry brushed his teeth and turned on the living room television, to produce a little bit of noise in an otherwise silent house. He ducked into his bedroom just before midnight every night, only for another restless sleep to begin.

Since Y/N had vanished, Stomper had watched Harry fall into a pit. He found it hard to eat for weeks after the fact, and he still barely slept. The few grey hairs which Y/N so loved had multiplied exponentially. Every night as Stomper charged in the kitchen, he could hear Harry’s pleading, mournful, heaving breaths as he wished back the one thing he couldn’t have.

It broke Stomper’s heart to see Harry, his person, incessently distressed. He remembered a time when Harry spoke to him with a glimmer in his eye and a smirk on his dimpled cheeks. When Y/N vanished, she took the dimples from his cheeks and the glimmer from his eyes.

Stomper lowered his head in defeat, feeling helpless towards fixing Harry. Just as he was about to fall asleep, something on the television caught his attention. His head snapped up to see a video of the Curiosity Rover navigating an alien terrain. Stomper was instantly captivated as his mind began to whir with ideas. Could he escape to Harry’s meadow and ask the rover to bring Y/N home before dawn?

As soon as the charger beeped, signifying he was fully charged, Stomper set out. The first obstacle in his way was the charging cord, but that was easily conquered. After he broke free, he pushed his way out of the front door and began his journey. Feeling the pavement beneath his wheels wasn’t something he experienced often.

Even though it was night, the streets were riddled with cars. The small, naive robot navigated the danger-ridden streets tensely, only relaxing when he turned down the final side street. It was no problem for him to get to the meadow. The final part of his mission was to communicate with Curiosity and beg him to find Y/N.

The sky began to glow a dusky pink in the east as Stomper tried fruitlessly to communicate with Curiosity. The sun rose over the horizon before Curiosity responded.

Stomper spent the day rolling around in the grass as if pacing back and forth. His wheels left matted down tracks behind him. While he rolled, he brainstormed ways to communicate with Curiosity. He could make audible sounds such as beeps and whirs, or he could try telepathy. Either way, he had to get his signal to the rover.

That night, he was ready. As soon as the evening star rose and the sun sank back beneath the horizon, the robot’s about face was on. He stared up at the sky, spattered with stars galore and located Mars. Feeling a rush of adrenaline, he attempted to communicate with the rover with every ounce of his being. His concentration never broke for a second.

Harry never came to the meadow that night. When he woke up, there was no Stomper to greet him. Upon further examination, Stomper’s charging cord was wedged in the door that he had exited through.

By the end of the night, Stomper knew his battery was running dangerously low. He spent the day, cowering in the shade, using as little energy as possible. By the time the stars came out, he rolled slowly back into the open field and gazed up at the star he assumed to be Mars and attempted to connect with it one final time.

He didn’t notice Harry’s car pulling up in the distance. His battery was running too low for him to focus. He lowered his head to the ground in defeat until he sensed footsteps approaching through the long, wispy grass. Harry laid down on his back in the grass, feeling the familiar texture on the back of his neck. Stomper could hear the heartbroken sobs he wasn’t bothering to muffle anymore. He felt guilty because he had failed for three continuous nights to bring Y/N back where she belonged; with Harry.

Without lifting his head from the ground, Stomper spun his wheels once, hoping that the sound would startle Harry into recognizing his presence, but the sound was drowned out by a heaved breath. Using every last ounce of his being, Stomper whirred to life.

Harry looked over at the robot speechlessly.

Stomper tried to roll over to him, but he lowered his head one final time, sapped of all of his strength.

taglist: @madybeth21 @groovychaosavenue @fishingirl12 @sortingharryshairclip @mrspeacem1nusone @tenaciousperfectionunknown @cayleyhannha-blog @whitemancumslut @xxrosebunny @hsdaydreaminghaze @daisyharry @madeintheniamh

[heyangel28]

𝐈 𝐑𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐈𝐭 𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐓𝐨𝐨 𝐖𝐞𝐥𝐥 - 𝐇.𝐒 (𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟏)

singer!reader x exbf!harry

Based on the song by Taylor Swift:

(A/N: Not proof read, please ignore any spelling or grammer mistakes 🙈)

We had broken up. He had cheated, I had found out and we had broken up. Except that wasn’t true. I didn’t know it at the time but now, after being in the media and part of this scandal that was our breakup, I knew he had been telling the truth all along. A stunt. A stupid PR stunt between him and that model, it had been forced upon him against his own will by our management. He didn’t know what he was doing until it was too late. Paparazzi. He didn’t mean to hurt me and he tried to explain that to me, but at the time I was clouded by my own heartache and anger so I had to do what I needed. I had to get out.

A year later, and so many things had changed in just those 365 days, 52 weeks and 12 months. I had put out an album, started a tour, endured press conferences and interviews while still suffering under the guilt and regret of the one thing I hated myself for, not giving him a chance, not hearing him out. But it was too late for that now. I had moved on.

It was around midnight on 23rd day of December when my phone rang through my empty hotel room in downtown San Francisco. My first Christmas Eve without Harry in three years. I could remember it when we were together, watching stupid Christmas movies with our matching socks, making our under the mistletoe, ice skating at the Christmas markets, sitting under the Christmas tree and watching the lights as soft music played in the background. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t miss it. I didn’t hear the phone ring as I dry my hair but once I get into my pyjama’s and under the bed covers I look over to see the 3 missed calls from a number that made my heart sink to the bottom of my stomach.

‘Harry.’

I let out a deep breath and immediately reach for my phone and immediately dialling in his number. I didn’t care if he was drunk calling, I didn’t even care that this was a stupid idea if he was and would just make things worse. I just needed to hear his voice.

The phone rings through a couple times and for a moment I almost give up.

“Y/N?”

For the first in a year, Harry Styles voice sounds through my phone. I can’t help but smile, even though he couldn’t see it.

“Hi. You called?” I ask lightheartedly.

“Yeah…I guess I did. How are you?” His voice replies back from the other side.

“I’m…alright. You?” I play with the edge of the sheets between my fingers anxiously.

“I’m-I’m surviving.” He breathes out with a bitter laugh. “What are you up to anyway?”

“I’m just in my hotel room, in bed, alone.” I admit. As pathetic as it sounded.

“Alone?”

“Yeah, just me and the walls.” I laugh faintly, trying to keep the conversation confident.

“So no one’s going to come knocking on your door tonight?”

“Well, no one except room service.” I joke lightly.

*Harry smiles. Damn. He missed your jokes.*

"Ah, so that means I'm not in danger for calling you tonight?" He asks and I can almost hear the jokey smile on his face.

“I have…plenty of time.” I laugh lightly. “Is it snowing where you are?” I ask after a beat of silence, turning my gaze to the window where the night sky was dry and humid.

He chuckles. “Yeah, just a light snowfall this morning. But it’ll probably get stronger soon.”

“That sounds nice.”

“I guess it is, if you like the cold that is.”

“Well yeah. It’s boiling hot here in San Francisco. Even in the middle of the night. I kinda wish it would snow. Would remind me of home a bit more.”

Home. I swallowed hard. My mind flashing back to the snow days, when we would sit cuddled under some blankets, by the fireplace, sharing cups of tea, watching Christmas movies. I missed it so much that it was impossible to describe it with words.

"San Francisco... Isn't it sunny, all year long?" His voice interrupts my thoughts.

“Definitely feels like it.” I laugh lightly.

“How long are you staying there?”

“Just for two days, I just got back from a show tonight and then we have another show tomorrow before travelling to…New York.” I say, the timetable of my busy schedule flashed in my mind.

“Ah New York, and then where?”

“And then back to Doncaster. For the new year.”

“To spend time with your family I presume?”

“Yeah, I haven’t seen them in a while so it’ll be nice to spend some time with them again.” I pause. “What about you? I assume you’re spending Christmas and new years with your family too?”

“Yeah yeah, with my family yeah.” I can’t help but notice a hint of sadness in his voice but I’m probably just imagining it, I haven’t heard his voice in so long.

“That sounds nice.” I can’t help but smile in return.

“Yeah it is.”

There was a breath of silence that hung in the air over the phone as my gaze is turned back to the window, looking out over the stillness of the city. “Harry?” I breathe out, breaking the air.

“Yeah?”

“This is going to sound crazy but…” I begin, taking a deep breath in and preparing myself to ask this stupid question. What am I doing?

“I want to see you. Please fly out to New York so I can see you when I get there.“

He stays silent, obviously in shock at my request. For a moment I think he’s hung up on me until I hear him whisper.

“You-you want me to fly out to New York? To see you?”

“I’ll pay for everything, the flight, the hotel room, everything you need. I just can’t stand to be alone this Christmas.” I say quickly.

“Are you sure you want me there though?”

“Look Harry, I know it’s a stupid idea because of everything that happened between us but please…I just-I miss you.” I sigh as I feel my heart thump against my chest, I know the risk in taking by inviting him out here with me but I can’t take it any longer.

The feeling inside of me was so overwhelming right now, I didn’t know what to do or if it was even a good idea to accept it, but the idea of being alone for Christmas was almost unbearable it overpowered it.

"I miss you too." He murmured.

“So you’ll come? If I book you a flight you’ll come and see me?” I say with a false sense of hope. Who am I kidding of course he wasn’t going to come, not with our history. Not in such short notice.

I wait for his response. The quietness of the hotel room defying the ticking inside my head.

“Yeah. I’ll go. I’ll come.”

I let out a sigh of relief. Happiness was a strange feeling to feel in a situation like this but this was so complicated. God, love was so complicated.

"There’s just... There’s one thing, though."

I is hear his voice over the other end of the phone. A gut feeling runs through me.

“Anything.” I whisper in return, almost desperately, like he could change his mind at any point.

"We have to set some, uhm, ground rules."

“What kind of rules?” I ask quietly.

Harry took a deep breath, and started to explain.

"Ground rules for, y’know… For us. Seeing each other again after so long.” I could tell he was struggling to speak about it.

“Yeah, okay, that makes a lot of sense.” I agree as I shuffle around awkwardly in the bed.

"Yeah, so… I have three things. That I think we have to talk about before I come there.” He says softly and I pause, waiting for him to continue.

"First thing, we need to... We need to stay away from alcohol. Even if it’s only one drink. We both know that alcohol just makes us say and do things that we wouldn’t do if we were sober. So we should stay away from it when we’re… together."

“Okay.”

So he continued, with a soft tone.

"The second thing is; We can’t-We can’t do something stupid, if you know what I’m talking about…”

“Yeah, I know what you’re getting at. I guess that’s a given though.” I laugh lightly. It was stupid if me to think of him in that way but I couldn’t help it. My mind floods back to when it wasn’t ‘something stupid’, to when it was meaningful and full of love. Back to when sex was referred to as sex.

"Yeah. It is…a given. But I had to say it, just so we’re on the same page right now."

“We are, don’t worry.” I say with a faint smile. I agree 100%. Doing something like that is just a recipe for disaster in our case.

"Okay. Good." He murmured, running his hand through his hair again. “And the last thing."

Harry paused. The third rule was the most important.

"We can’t kiss. At all."

I stay silent for a moment, thinking over his words. We can’t kiss. It was obvious from the start that we couldn’t. So why am I so disappointed? I mentally scold myself. If I continue thinking this way I shouldn’t bring him out on the first place. “Okay.” I say after a second.

"Okay?" Harry repeated your words, a little in disbelief.

“Yeah. Just three simple rules:” I begin with a faint laugh. “no alcohol, no kissing, no sex. Keep it casual, you’re coming out here as no more than a friend.”

I was trying my best to control my own emotions. Hearing myself say that, no alcohol, no kissing, no sex. To remind myself that him and I used to be more than “friends”. More than “casual”, it hurt and u wasn’t going to lie to myself about that.

"Exactly." He responded after a moment, almost in a soft whisper, snapping me out of my thoughts. Silence fills the end of both lines.

I turn my head to look at the time on the clock. 12.03. “It’s um, actually already Christmas Eve here.” I say with a small smile, knowing that he was in a different time zone in London.

"Wow, you’re really in the future." He joked lightly, clearly trying to follow my tone and keep it lighthearted and casual, to not let his emotions show too much. That was if he was feeling the same as me.

“Yeah, I feel like a time traveler.” I laugh.

Harry chuckled lightly over the phone. I missed this. Talking with him, making jokes, hearing him laugh. Even though the idea of staying away from alcohol, from kissing and from having sex hurt me to the core, it was nice to be able to talk to him again in a calm, friendly way like that. Wasn’t that all that mattered?

"You’re like Doctor Who." He joked, and I could practically hear the smile.

“To be fair, I’ve always wanted to travel in a Tardis.”

A memory flashed through my mind. Years ago, the two of us used to watch Doctor Who and talk about how cool it would be to travel in a Tardis, to see the universe.

"Me too." He says in softly.

“I should uh…probably let you go about your morning now huh?” I say after a moment of silence.

"Right. Yeah. You should get some sleep, it’s late there."

“I’ll see you soon?” I say with a small smile, almost as a question more than a statement.

"Yeah. I’ll see you soon."

“Goodnight. Or…well good morning for you.” I laugh lightly, the timezones messing me up. It was so easy to talk to him, sometimes I forgot he wasn’t just in the next room over.

"Yeah, good morning. Goodnight." He replied, with a quiet laugh still in his voice. “Get some rest. I’ll text you later, when I land in New York."

And with that said and done he hangs up, I stare at my blank phone screen for a moment. None of it felt real. This was all a dream…it had to have been. I put my phone back over to my bedside table before flicking off the lamp and rolling over to try and get some sleep.

But the conversation over the phone kept flashing in my mind. Talking to him, joking with him, hearing him laugh again. I still couldn’t believe that I actually invited him to spend Christmas with me. What was I even thinking. I was sure that he thought I hated him, after what had happened between the two of us last time we spoke.

I sighed, staring up at the blank ceiling in the dark hotel room. How was I going to survive Christmas with him, and with all these rules in place. One of them was bound to get broken. Right…?

[jezebelblues]

saturn bound | h.s

summary: in which the world ends in your point of view, alongside your husband.

cw: death, angsty-ish i guess? unedited, grammatically correct in upper case if that tickles ur fancy.

word count: approx 1.4k. she’s a shortie

| this is in first person! (perspective of you, as reader) i was iffy about a 1st perspective so i edited in both 2nd and 3rd, but 1st person felt right. sorry if u hate, ladies.

masterlist

No one would remember me as YN, no one would remember my husband as Harry.

As the world crumbled into its final moments, you’d think that chaos would envelope everyone whole. That people would be running, screaming, fighting, as if they could somehow wrestle with the jaws of fate. Mothers clutching their children, fathers desperately barking orders to no one, families collapsing under the weight of hopelessness. Dogs howling into the wind after their selfish owners sped off, children sobbing as the air itself seemed to shudder with terror. A cacophony of fear.

You’d imagine fear cause these people knew their life was going to end.

And it was there undeniably, fear. Not the frantic kind, though. A different one—a quiet terror that settled deep in the bones, cold and ancient, like the Earth itself had finally whispered its last breath into our ears. It didn’t matter what was ending us—whether the dead were clawing from their graves, or if the sky had split apart and let loose the fires of heaven, or some disease had snatched us, unseen, from within. It didn’t matter. Not really. Because the truth was simple, inevitable: today, all life on Earth would be snuffed out, and we would become nothing—a floating spec of a forgotten afterthought.

There would be no future, no one left to carry the stories of humankind forward. No history books filled with our triumphs and tragedies. There would be no mourning of our extinction, the things we took for granted. Earth would be a blank—unknown, just one of countless casualties of time. If there was anyone out there in the universe with us, the children of this planet, would be memories swept away like dust, if even that. There would be no tears shed for us. The universe, so vast, would hardly notice our passing.

Some prayed. Desperation forced them down to their knees, begging for salvation, for some kind of afterlife, something more beautiful than their end. The thought of death so terrifying that they’d hope and pray they’ll end up in heaven—hell, even. Anything other than nothing, than eternal darkness. I understood, in a way, because nothing is scary—we’re alive, we’ve never experienced it—it’s impossible to wrap your mind around nothing.

Others drank. I joined them, a bottle of tequila in hand, the burn numbing me just enough to make peace with the fact that I would die today. And my Harry, the man that gave me his last name, would die beside me.

Harry Styles, the man the world adored, the man I called my husband—sat next to me, his head resting softly against my shoulder. We watched as Saturn, impossibly close now, loomed over us, over our home, like an executioner asking for our final words. Its rings shimmered, casting a glow that drowned out the stars. The air was thick with sobs, with whispered prayers. People clung to each other like lifelines, as if the touch of another human might hold them here, in this world that was no longer theirs. Some screamed, but most just stood and stared, watching death arrive with a strange, defeated calm—a cobra swaying in dance before striking its prey.

Harry’s hand found mine, gripping it tightly as if to stay grounded. He tried to pray, the fingers on his left hand trembling with the grasp of his cross pendant, but his voice cracked, breaking on the words. Tears ran down his face, but I couldn’t cry. There was nothing left in me to give to hope or fear. Once, faith could’ve been my anchor, but now it felt like a lie I might tell myself to feel safe. There was no safety here. There was no escaping this.

And so I watched, as those I had once called neighbors, friends, fought against the inevitable. They ran, though there was nowhere to go. They screamed, though no one could hear. They prayed, though no god would answer. It was almost pathetic, the way they clung to the last shreds of life. But maybe it gave them some comfort. Maybe that was all anyone wanted in the end—their last conjured thought to be at least I tried.

"You know-” he trailed off softly, his voice breaking the stillness between us, "I always thought we'd have more time. That mayb-” He sighed. “Maybe we'd get old together."

His words struck me like a blow. "I thought so too." I whispered, feeling the ache in my chest grow heavier. It felt so cruel, to have found this love, this overwhelming, all-consuming love, only to have it ripped away after two years of marriage. "We deserved more, H.”

My husband’s thumbs ran circles upon the back of my hand, his tears glistening in the glow of Saturn. His lip quivered, voice shaky. “We can be old now.” He sent me a sad smile, pressing a kiss into my temple. “Happy fiftieth anniversary.” He murmured, playing with the ring on my finger.

I couldn’t stifle the whimper that fell from my grin, nodding to his words. I stared at his wedding band that shimmered in the light before passing the bottle of tequila between us—a toast. To fifty years of marriage. That would’ve something to drink to.

One swig turned into three, three turned into five. It had helped stopped the tears eventually.

Harry turned to me, his face inches from mine, and I could see the weight of the world in his eyes—a humorous irony, really, now that we really are practically weightless as we pull into Saturn’s gravity. He raised a hand, cupping my face so gently, as though I were something precious that he didn't want to break.

"If I could choose how it all ends," he whispered, his breath warm against my lips, "I'd choose this—here with you. If this is the last thing I feel, the last thing I see, then maybe it's not so bad."

Alcohol couldn't stop the tears then. They spilled over, warm and unrelenting, because what else could I do? I pressed my forehead against his, our breaths mingling as the world began to fall apart around us. The rumble of the Earth cracking, the low roar of Saturn's tug—it all seemed so distant, so unimportant.

"I don't want to lose you." I choked out, my voice barely a whisper.

"You won't, YN." His voice was unwavering, as if he had the book of answers hidden in his pocket. His thumb brushed over my cheek while his lips parted once more. "You'll always have me. Always."

And then he kissed me. It wasn't desperate or rushed. It wasn't the kiss of two people saying goodbye, just an I’ll see you later. It was slow, soft, full of everything we had been to each other. His lips were warm, delicate, and for a moment I could pretend the world wasn't ending. I could pretend that all we had was time.

Saturn’s light bathed the earth in colors that had never seemed so tragically gorgeous—deep purples, blues, and grays, all spinning around the our dying planet. The rings twisted and churned in the sky, pulling our world apart piece by piece, and the wind howled as if it cried for us. The stars dimmed, one by one, turning away from the spectacle of our destruction, unable to bear witness. Maybe they chose to die along side us, not letting Earth go through it alone.—like they were the only ones who’d mourn our death. I silently thanked them, though inanimate, I swear I could feel their empathy.

Harry gripped my hand tighter, his skin warm against the cold air. I brought his hand to my lips and kissed his knuckles. Our foreheads met again, a united front. His green eyes met mine, full of sorrow, of love, of things unsaid. I wanted every one of the five senses to envelope only him. Our last moment to be together, not watching the world collapse, but here, in this space we had carved out between us.

I kissed him. One last time. The taste of salt from his tears mingled with the liquor on my lips. “I love you.” We whispered together, our voices lost in the roar of the sky falling apart.

And then it was gone.

The cold sank into my bones, but it no longer mattered. My heart slowed, and the world around me faded. No more breath in my lungs, no more blood in my veins. Just the void. And as we drifted into that nothingness, I held onto one final hope—that there is some sort of afterlife, so I could find my Harry again.

Yet, the Earth was gone. It dissolved into the void like dust. The stars, too, blinked out one by one, and the universe spun on, indifferent. We were forgotten, nothing left to even decompose in our boundless grave. Perhaps the dead stars that’ll become something more will be our headstones—an indication we were once here.

But for now, it was as if we never existed in the first place.

btw if you feel like you’ve seen this before, i originally wrote this on wattpad in 2017. it was horrible :D but i liked the concept, so this is it readjusted. hope u enjoyed even just a lil <3

[cupidsdolll]

word count: 1.1k

summary: harry’s angry at the world, himself included and he makes it everyone’s problem but there might be a light coming in the middle of his storm

notes: this is part two of this fic so it is still considered a dark fic. it contains mentions of drinking to cope with his grief, violence inflicted onto others and a brief scene of it as well.

masterlist

- - - -

To say that Harry’s been miserable lately would be a huge understatement. He’s been absolutely insufferable in the past two weeks. He spends all day drinking and holed up inside his office, he’s grumpy and snappy with everybody and he’s even more mean whenever he has to take care of someone. It’s his release in a way, the one safe space he can let out his anger at the world, at the Gallegos for taking away his love, at himself for not doing more.

“Goddamn! Fuck!” He screams in the confines of his office. He down a shot of whiskey and quickly pours himself another one, the burn going down his throat is welcoming — encouraged is the better word for it. His chest rises and falls harshly as he stares at the picture of her. One he had taken a couple of months into knowing each other, a bright smile on her lips and her hair and dress flowing in the wind behind her as they walked through a park. She had wanted a picnic and he was a sucker for her smile, so of course he’d do it for her. It was all worth it in the end, to see the smile plastered on her face and the excitement in her eyes

He misses her terribly, the past week has been the hardest week ever and he doesn’t know if it’ll get any better. He allows the tears to fall freely, to stain his cheeks and the mahogany oak of his desk. It seems as if his tears are never ending, just becoming a permanent addition to his appearance. He can’t bring himself to care, too busy wallowing in his guilt and pain. He guesses he deserves it in a way, none of this would’ve happened if he’d been paying more attention, if they would’ve stayed home or better yet if he’d never given her his number.

He huffs sadly as he wipes his tears away the best he can, he can’t do anything about the stains left on his cheeks. He takes another shot of whiskey and heads towards his office door, he figures now is as good of a time as any, and really he just can’t wait to let out some tension. He walks out the room and down the hall, ignoring the eyes of the few employees gathered around the desk before rolling his eyes as they start whispering.

“Don’t you all have a fucking job to do? This isn’t Barbie’s show where we all sit around and look pretty.” He huffs before mumbling under his breath, watching them with crossed arms as they scramble to find something to do.

He continues walking then, taking deep breaths to try to hold back the tears threatening to fall. He can’t look weak in front of them. He walks past the framed pictures on the wall, past the rooms where clicking and the occasional scream filters through the closed doors until he gets to the last door in the hall. The dark wooden door detailed with swirls and large black handles is heavy as he pushes it open, but he enjoys the pain. His own form of punishment he guesses.

The room is filled with different tools and weapons, lights scattered all over the ceiling but still keeps the room dark enough. He prefers this environment to feel more like a horror movie than just a simple killing room, and wants it to feel eerie and depressing. He wants the room to inflict absolute sheer terror and feet into anyone who just so happens to end up strapped to the chair. His dress shoes click against the concrete floor, echoing around the room and he watches happily as the man strapped to the chair begins to squirm and try to break free. It’s no use though, he’s mastered the best knot to tie around the body and the chair tightly to keep them from moving but also to inflict pain when they try to escape.

“Well, well, well. Not happy to see me?” He asks in a sickly sweet voice, too sweet to be used in such a setting. The man shakes his head violently as he tries rocking the chair side to side, his screams are muffled behind the tape. Harry simply chuckles, he’s always amused at their useless attempts.

“Now, I just have a couple of questions for you. I just need some information and I believe you should be able to help with this.” He says as he leans down so his face is right in front of the man with tears filling his eyes. The man shakes his head and Harry grabs a handful of his hair, firmly holding him in place.

“So you don’t want to leave? I was gonna let you leave if you answer… but since you don’t think that’s fair.. you’ll be stuck here.” He says and he watches as more tears fall from the man’s eyes and Harry just laughs, everyone wants to be all big and bad until they have to confront their behaviors. They think that no one will be able to catch them, they always underestimate his dedication. He’ll search every corner of the internet and the world just to find someone, and he’s been doing that lately. Searching for hours and hours on the internet to find someone.

He pulls himself back as he smiles, he’s gonna enjoy himself through all this. He starts off small, a few punches and rough tugs of the hair, and he relishes in the muffled cries of the man in front. He rips off the tape and the man screams.

“Who wanted my girl dead and why?” He asks and the man shakes his head.

“I don’t know man!” He says through his tears and shakes his head as if he’s disappointed.

“Such a shame.” He says as he walks to a table full of various weapons and tools of all sizes, he grabs a pair of pliers and walks back to the man, hitting the pliers against his palm.

“Maybe this will ring some answers for you, for every question you don’t answer and I’m not satisfied with the answer I’ll pull one of your teeth out. How does that sound?” The man cries and shakes his head.

“Please man, I’m serious! I don’t know anything!” He cries out and Harry sighs.

“Already onto a bad start, my friend.” He says as he yanks the man’s jaw open as he decides which teeth to pull. As soon as he picks one, the door opens and EJ’s voice rings out.

“Hey boss, sorry to bother you but you have a phone call, it’s important.” Harry shakes his head. He should know better than to interrupt him. He’d hate to have to fire him.

“Uh, I’m busy. Tell them I’ll call back later.” Harry replies back, sarcasm and annoyance dripping from his voiceand the door still stays open.

“It’s the hospital, Y/N. She’s alive.”

[kwritingbooks]

C H A P T E R • 3 1 • T E A S E R

“We were a perfect match to completely fuck with each other’s emotions, and it was turning out to become just that.”

plot: Apocalyptic, dystopian world ran by creatures called “Crawlers” where a girl name Brinley and a guy named Harry find eachother in an odd way—a way neither of them planned anyway.

+ wattpad

+ tumblr masterpost

+ twitter

** OUT 02/20/23 **

[boofeine]

complicated freak – lsk

pairing: dk x fem reader

genre: smut one shot

synopsis: you feel horrible for pretending to pay attention at anything he might be rambling in front of you right now; your thoughts wherelse, at the image of his thick cock.

warnings: mdni, fingering, dirty talk, roleplay (kinda), one single spank, cum, riding, mention of face riding, fighting dominance, descriptive, protected penetrative sex

song: baby said by maneskin / complicated freak by harry styles / ironically shhh! by viviz also came out :)

tags: @huen1ngk4i @aaniag @svteensworld @unlikelysublimekryptonite

Seokmin is a lot of things, but what he's most known for is his sweetness and kindness. That's what draws you in on first place. He's so welcoming, makes your heart flutter just from receiving his attention. You were done for, when you got yourself just a little bit way too into it, into him, the way butterflies come to your stomach when he gets shy on your presence.

It came as a surprise for you too, when he turned a completely different person between sheets. You have no idea in which point you got yourself in here, but it's definitely not your last. You got your body against his more times than you could admit, and crave it more than you think you should. The problem is that he's so soft, it makes you feel dirty for having this thoughts when he's not burried on your pussy.

You feel horrible for pretending to pay attention at anything he might be rambling in front of you right now. Your thoughts wherelse, at the image of his thick dick. He rests his back on the sofa, his spread legs on the floor not doing any good either as you stare at his side profile while he talks.

The outline of his nose making you remember how deliciously it pokes at your clit while he tongue fucks you, a rush of heat spreading on your body up to your cheeks as your core suddenly feel needy for his attention. Every time he looks up to the ceiling like he's thinking what he will say next, gathering his thoughts, your mind is wilding in how you want to climb up that couch and sit on his pretty face.

"What do you think?" Seokmin's voices echoes, making you blink at him, having not a clue what he's talking about as he stares back at you, waiting for some type of response.

"Hm? Sorry?" You tilt your head, not going unnoticed that you weren't paying attention, your heart dropping to a whole, feeling guilty.

"The movies on saturday? That is this one new movie I was talking about..." He starts again but the ache on your pussy is getting unbearable.

"Hum... Hum... Sounds good" You let out. Your hand shamelessly caressing his biceps, going down his arms as you slightly pull it to you. It's not innocently that the motion makes his soft fingers grease against your exposed thighs. You suppress a gasp, your mouth agape, his hands close enough to where you need him the most.

"Oh, sorry" He says, resting his hand on the side of your body instead, as you tug to his arm. Fuck! Why is he so sweet?

He starts talking about something else again. The same guilty creeping through you as you don't pay a single attention, your body going further as if he will be able to read the signs.

"Seokmin, baby..." You interrupt him mid word, his face moving to look at you, the pet name coming out as a surprise to him "I know you want to talk but my pussy is so fucking wet right now" You shamelessly confess as his eyes bulge.

"Oh-" It's all he's able to reply. Your hands that haven't left his arms, pulling it to your legs. His eyes following your motions and back to your face "You know I'm a little sad you weren't listening to me" He says, not true to his words.

"Seokmin... I-" You try.

"No, No" He cuts off immediately "I was saying something that I really wanted you to know but all you can think of it's my cock on your pussy" He mocks, his big hands gripping a hand full of your thighs this time.

"I'm sorry" You pouts and he giggles a little.

"You should be" He says, restraining his hands from your skin as he takes this to where you left it "So, as I was saying, there's this restaurant..."

You groan, your head going back as you get tired of waiting and being nice "Fuck, Seokmin! Shut up" You let out, your hands grabbing and guiding his hand to your pussy. He laughs, he fucking laughs at how desesparate you are. Pushing the skirt of your dress up to expose your clothed core, his fingers greasing over the material as you relax at his touch, your head going back, eyes shut at finally feeling something.

"They do have really good food" He says back about the damn restaurant to provoke you as you grunt, frustrated. He leans a little closer to your face, cupping your cunt through the thong "But don't worry, the only thing I can think of eating is you right now" He lowers his tone to whisper it to you.

"Good" You answer "Thought you'd never shut up" Your smart mouth takes over as he smirks.

His hand pulls your thong to the side, taking a long stroke at your folds as you mewl, a heavy breath getting out like it needed to. Your hips bulking to his hand and legs spreading almost instinctively.

"Shit, you really are wet" he responds. Seokmin gathers the slick up to your clit, massaging the muscle in small circles. the grip you have on his arm getting stronger each motion of his fingers. You're wet enough to hear the sounds of it as he goes down to enter you with his digits. Your nails dig to his skin, your head lowering as your forehead rests where his shoulders and arms meet. The gasps turning into moans as he fucks you. He moves slowly, watching you break.

"Seokmin, baby..." You say gripping his wrist this time. That fucking pet name again, he wont ever get used to it, his cock tightening on his pants. "Wait" you push him out, your cunt pulsating with the loss but just enough to get up and take your thong out and sit on his lap. He welcomes you like he always does, watching you undo his jeans to be met at the sight of his hardening length pressing on his boxers. But before you can even drink in the sight, he's back at pushing two fingers inside you. Your back arch when he curls them inside, getting on your sweet spot.

You moan out his name as he presses the spot continuously with the tip of his fingers. You can't help but roll your eyes, the knot forming on your stomach as an unimaginable amount of arousal slip out of your entrance. "Fuu- ah! Minnie... Not yet, please!" You beg as you feel your legs shake.

Like he's so obedient to you, he stops, restraining his hands as you squirm over him. "You made a show to have it, and now you're going back?" he spits out as you still try to calm down your breathing, eyes slowly opening.

"I want..." You try.

"What? Say it" he demands as his wet hands from your slick goes under his boxers, taking his cock out with a gasp of relieve. You stare at it, the way he spreads the wetness on his cockhead making you whine at the view.

"I want your cock... inside me" You plea as he starts to bump himself, letting out a groan.

"Of course you do" He says smartly with a smirk "Go get a condom on my wallet" He says. You reach for his pocket, knowing he came with anything else, his wallet soon found as you open it, the package on one of his spaces as you take it from it. You throw it somewhere beside you as you immediately start to open the condom. He hands his base, aligning it for you as his other hand digs to your hips, pulling you to him, watching you take over, pressing up on the plastic before sliding it down his length.

He holds you firmly as you take his base instead, guiding his head to your entrance when you get your body up to receive him. You press him inside, feeling the delicious stretch, your body threatening to give up while you slowly sit down on him. You can see his breathing pace fastening, his chest rising and falling, but you're no different, your head going down, your foreheads getting together as you can feel each others breath. You finally bottoms out, your body relaxing while he takes your mouth on his for the first time today. It's all too much, a whine coming out on his lips when his tongue asks for space. The kiss airy and needy as you make out.

When you feel the neediness again, already adjusted to his size, you start rolling your hips, low moans coming from him as he guides you with his hands on your waist. "Fuck!" he swears under his breath, feeling your walls pulsating around his cock. "Was this what you needed, hm? Was that all running on that head while I was talking?" He says, and you just moan, picking up your pace as if it was going to answer him. "The pretty heads, always the nastiest thoughts, isn't it?" But he isn't any different, he thinks. Those thoughts run just the same for him, too.

You are not answering in words but going faster on him. Until even this, It's not enough. Your hips going up just to sit back in. His head going back with a roll of his eyes as you start to bounce on his cock. His hands going back to your ass cheeks, spreading them apart. "Stopped me just to use my cock as your little fuck toy... so unpolite" He speaks again and you groans.

Your palms fastening to press against his lips as he yelps, but you can see the smirk from his eyes. "You don't ever shut up, do you?" You spit out, your thrusts going faster, the skin slapping sounds starting to fill the room "I guess next time I should take my first plan of sitting on your face. At least then you can talk between my legs if that's something you want so much. How does that sound?" You get closer to say those words, your hand prettily silencing him as you stare at his watery glistening eyes. You can feel the way he twitches inside you and the muffled moans coming out. You know he loves it.

You suddenly calm down your pace, turning it into firm deep, slow thrusts. The heat and pleasure building up as you push yourself to the edge. Your walls hugging him tightly as he starts to feel his balls tightening too. "Cum for me, baby. Come on... make it worth it" You talk him through it, his knuckles white from gripping your ass so hard, leaving red marks of his big hands on it.

It comes at a surprise when he bites the skin of your palm, your hands jumping out of him as you yelp "Fuck, Seokmin! Are you crazy!?" You scream, your cheeks turning red. He hands you in place, starting to fuck you instead, thrusts meeting up your hips. You moan, your hands driving its way to his hair so you can tug on something.

"You should learn to behave and talk nicely" He grunts out, the throaty voice and drool over his lips doesn't go unnoticed. Heat collecting around your bodies, both of you getting close to cumming. "Someone has to teach you a really good lesson" He says lastly, his palm arriving to your skin with one loud hard slap on your ass cheek. The skin tingles, your body going stiff and mouth agape, like you stopped breathing for a second, before you finally let it go. Your body shaking as you cum with a breathy moan. Your pussy clenching nonstop as he cums with a loud gasp right after you. His load emptying on the condom.

Both of you rolling your hips messily trying to ride off your highs, until you're tired and giving up. The wetness is thick enough to make him slide out unintentionally as you both whine from the loss.

You sit back on his thighs, staring while he takes off the condom from his flacid length, tying it up with a knot. His balls and inner thighs glistening with your own juices as you hince at the sight, "I'm sorry..." You say it smally, but he smiles.

"It's ok... I love it" He replies, pulling you to him. And for a moment, you two just stay there, tangled up on each other before gathering corage to get up and clean up the mess.

[1d1195]

Tulips

This is the story I dubbed as therapeutic for myself. I've been struggling a lot lately (I apologize for the delay in posting). I actually wanted this to be more but I wanted to post very badly. Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoy a lot of fluff and bit of angst.

Harry was convinced that even if they did end their relationship (and he was certain that would never happen) he would thank her for the heartbreak.

Harry was at the grocery store, passing the florist department when he realized his mistake. He had been dating her for nearly two months when he came to the realization that he hadn’t gotten her a bouquet of flowers yet. He felt horrible immediately and wanted to remedy the situation as quickly as he possibly could.

But he wanted her to like the flowers he got, and he wanted it to be a surprise. Neither of which he was sure he could pull off when he hadn’t asked her once what her favorite flower.

Like an absolute creep, he messaged her youngest sister on Instagram; he had at least met her in passing on one of their dates when they stopped for a coffee while she was working. Harry hadn’t met the other two just yet so messaging them would have seemed insane.

Hiiii. Uh...sorry to message you like this...any chance you know your sister’s favorite flowers?

Oh, my goodness, that’s too sweet! Umm...now that I think about it, I’m not sure. Let me ask.

Er...I was hoping it could be a surprise.

Aww...Don’t worry I have just the idea, wait one minute.

Harry waited patiently for her response thinking about how smitten he was with the beautiful girl. Just the mere thought of her brought a smile to his face, making him nearly giggle with how much he liked her. Flowers didn’t seem like enough. She deserved a whole garden.

Here’s what I got. She’s so sad sometimes *eyeroll*

Harry frowned and clicked on the screenshot titled Will Recipients. He chuckled at the name. He knew it was between the four girls and Harry was looking for his lovely lady’s response in the many messages they managed to send. He was slightly amazed they had time to send all of them in a matter of five minutes that he texted her sister.

Her sister started: I’m doing a project for school. What’s your favorite flower?

Harry didn’t know which middle sister was which, but he thought their responses were funny, nonetheless. What kind of project asks about your favorite flower?

I like daisies.

That’s the most boring answer I’ve ever heard. Harry knew the youngest was brutal sometimes and he thought of messaging with Gemma, and it was nothing in comparison to four girls ranging from their late teens to their mid-twenties. It’s for my stats class.

I took that class, we never did a flower thing.

Can you just tell me?

Finally, the oldest answered and Harry examined her little gray message for entirely too long. Like the one I actually like? or the one I tell everyone I like? That was her response.

What kind of lunatic lies about their favorite flower?

The kind that gets told their favorite is old-ladyish all the time. Or laughed at because it’s a stupid flower. Forget it, I like sunflowers.

Harry frowned and responded to her sister once more. Any chance you could find out the real one?

Sure!

Within moments Harry had another screenshot.

Hey drama queen, I won’t tell the others, what’s your real favorite flower. I’ll even keep my comments to myself.

Tulips.

Nothing else. That was the only thing she wrote. Harry didn’t really know what to expect but it wasn’t tulips.

Thank you, love. I appreciate it.

Any time Harry! Let me know how she likes them!!!

Harry was planning when he’d see her next and looked into all types of tulips and how to care for them as well. He wanted her to like them and didn’t want her to feel bad about liking them. Making her happy was his goal. He didn’t really feel any particular way about tulips at all. He didn’t really think they were old-ladyish so he wondered where that came from. He felt bad the poor thing had to hide her real feelings. He never wanted her to feel that way around him.

Harry thought it would seem too obvious if he brought flowers right away. So he had to wait for just right the time which gave him plenty of time to research the perfect color and care needed for the pretty girl that deserved pretty flowers.

*

Harry knocked on her door holding the bouquet in his hand. They were going to dinner and a movie that evening and Harry came prepared—especially since it was now approaching nearly three months since they began dating. After a quick greeting she seemed to finally notice all at once the flowers in his hand. “Kitten?” He asked gently as she stared at the flowers. Her eyes sort of glazed over.

“Are you the reason my sister was asking us our favorite flower?” She wondered.

Harry frowned a little. First, she was too smart. He was sad she knew so quickly the motives of her sister asking the question were tied to him. Maybe he was wrong. Maybe she still lied to her sister, and these weren’t her favorite flowers. Harry bit his lip and sighed. “Er...yeah,” he sounded so shy. “M’sorry, kitten...I thought I got the right—” She shook her head and stayed silent as Harry stopped speaking. It was so silent. Nearly uncomfortable with how silent it was. Why would her sister lie to him?

God, he really liked her, and he thought he ruined everything just by getting her flowers. His frown deepened and he sighed as he went to the kitchen to find a vase. She stayed by the door almost in a trance, and Harry felt a little awkward trying to figure out what her reaction meant.

“Harry?” She said softly and suddenly hurried to the kitchen. He was filling the vase with water, and he looked at her entering the kitchen a tad nervously.

“Yeah, angel?” He asked.

“Thank you,” the thankfulness, the kindness, the overwhelming amount of gratitude in her voice almost shattered Harry. She was so grateful for the flowers.

He sighed with relief and smiled at her as he put the stems into the vase. Setting it on the counter he came to her side and slid his hands up her neck and gently rubbed his thumb across her cheek. “’Course, beautiful,” he hummed and pressed his lips against hers. Kissing was still kind of new—and he loved the way she nearly sighed each time their mouths connected. He smiled as he pulled away. “Sorry it took me s’long t’get y’some.”

 She bit her lip. “What do you mean?” She asked.

“Should have gotten y’flowers every time I saw you,” he smiled and rubbed his thumb on her lips. He kissed her forehead and then the tip of her nose before he turned his attention back to the vase and settled it in the middle of her coffee table. “Y’ready t’go?” He asked.

Since she seemed speechless, she nodded. Harry gave her a reassuring smile, took her hand, and left happy the bouquet seemed to be a hit.

*

They were flowers. Flowers. Just flowers. She wasn’t going to lose her mind over a bouquet.

But she kind of was.

Fortunately, Harry was giving her a hilarious recap of the movie that she was hardly able to stay focused on while it played. His summary allowed her to make believe she had watched the whole movie. While instead, for the better part of the last two hours, she really thought only about the tulips that Harry had placed so effortlessly in the middle of her apartment. As if the flowers didn’t mean everything in the world. Like it wasn’t earthshattering that he got her flowers.

“Are you okay, love?” He hummed and gave her hand a squeeze as they made it to the restaurant. He put his hand on her lower back as he held the door open for her and ushered her inside. His eyebrows pinched together. “Did y’like the movie?” He wondered nervously as she walked inside. Maybe his recap was overdone. But Harry enjoyed the movie and the way she seemed so engrossed and how captive she was through his summary he assumed she did. Maybe he was wrong this time about her—like he thought she didn’t like the flowers. She grabbed the next door and held it open for him but he placed his hand above her to hold it open so she could walk through first once more.

She would have enjoyed the movie if she paid any attention to it. But she didn’t. So, she fibbed a little. “I did, yeah. M’just a little tired... movies make me tired,” she explained with a breath of exhaled laughter. That wasn’t a lie. They were lucky they were in a theater because if they were at one of their apartments—and she wasn’t having a meltdown over a bouquet—then she would have fallen asleep for sure.

He frowned. “Oh, m’sorry, kitten. D’you want me t’take you home instead?”

She shook her head quickly. “No, I’ll perk up. I’ll get a coffee,” she said and reached for his hand as they stepped to the hostess stand. She squeezed it reassuringly. “I...I like our date nights,” she smiled sweetly.

Harry seemed to sigh with relief. He liked her so much. Lately, more and more, he didn’t want their date nights to end either. Of course, he would have taken her home if that was what she wanted. He would do anything for her. But he was so glad he didn’t have to. He wanted to spend forever with her. “Okay,” he said with a happy grin. Turning his attention to the host, “I have a reservation for two under Styles?” The host nodded and brought them to their table. “I know it’s not your job, but could you get us a cup of coffee, please? Cream and sugar,” he asked as he held her chair out for her. The amount of chivalry and manners in Harry made her melt every moment they were together. No one ever held a door open for. Certainly, never pulled a chair out for her. He always asked so politely for anything she wanted. It made her fall so effortlessly and heavily in love with him at every moment.

Harry sat down and placed his napkin in his lap. She kind of wished she told him she would like to go home. She would much rather enjoy the bouquet and sit with Harry on her couch until she did fall asleep. The restaurant seemed too public, even though no one was paying any mind to them. They were just a young couple on a date and there wasn’t anything to really witness.

But she was in love.

And Harry was perfect.

She wanted him all to herself. “Have y’ever eaten here?” Harry asked.

“Umm,” she looked at the name on the menu as she did wonder if she had been there before when he broached the date idea earlier in the week. As she scanned the titles of the dishes, she responded to him. “I think so—but it was a while ago.”

Smiling, he nodded. “M’a huge fan of the cauliflower.”

“We should get it then,” she answered. “If you’re willing to share,” she winked at him.

He chuckled. “Only with you, kitten.”

*

When they headed back to her apartment, he rubbed his thumb on the outside of her hand. He loved touching her—even just holding her hand made him feel like he was floating. “D’you have any plans for tomorrow, love?” He asked.

“Probably just clean and read some. Maybe go for a walk or something,” she shrugged.

“That sounds nice.”

“How about you?”

Just think about you all day. He thought to himself. “Hmm...nothing comes t’mind. Probably just lounge around.”

She nodded. “Well...you should come lounge around with me then,” she said sweetly. He turned to look at her with a grin.

“Yeah?”

A beat of silence, her lips pursed together, and she glanced up to meet his gaze briefly as she spoke finally. Harry thought she was nervous again. He didn’t like that she was nervous—he wanted her to feel utterly comfortable around him. “I really like spending time with you, Harry.”

Harry leaned against the wall beside her door and smiled at her. He couldn’t see his own face of course, but he hoped his expression was as loving as he felt. “I love spending time with you, angel,” his voice was filled with infatuation, she felt her face warm under his gaze. Gently, he reached for her and brought his hand to cup her face so he could kiss her once more. He let his lips linger against hers for a few moments and peppered a few extra kisses along her jawline. “Goodnight, kitten. Send me a text when y’want me over,” he nearly hummed as he left her standing in front of her door.

He heard her sigh near dreamily and he smirked to himself as he headed off to his car. As he turned his car over, her message popped up on his screen. Thank you again for the flowers, Harry. It was so so sweet &lt;3

Of course, kitten. Glad you like them :) See you tomorrow, sleep well. Xx Alone with his thoughts Harry left feeling excited that she liked the tulips so much but was suddenly overcome with disappointment—but not disappointment of her. Merely because her reaction made him a bit sad.

He messaged her sister before pulling away from his parking spot. She LOVED the flowers. Thank you for the help, love! Xx

Woooo! Yay! I’m so glad I could help!

Harry was sincere in his thankfulness—she did love them. But she loved them so much for so much more than they were... and Harry felt...devastated by that fact. He wanted to know why. Wanted to know why she was so quiet when he entered the apartment. She was rendered speechless. So much so that it seemed she didn’t pay any mind to the movie. He didn’t harp on it of course, but now alone he couldn’t help but think about it. He supposed he would see her the before he knew it the very next day maybe he could figure a way to ask then.

*

It was early afternoon when she finally messaged him. Harry was waiting anxiously by his phone with nervous energy worried that she wouldn’t ask him over. Hiii I’d love to have you over if you’re not busy.

Harry thought that maybe he should have waited longer than thirty seconds to respond. It seemed desperate. I’ll be there soon, love :)

He arrived nearly fifteen minutes later, knocking on her door and smiling at her as she answered. He leaned against the wall beside the door frame just as he did the night before. Pushing off he smiled at her and wrapped his arms around her and squeezed tightly. Kissing the top of her head, he sighed. “Mmm,” he hummed. “Hey, angel.”

“Hi Harry,” she murmured into his chest.

They were quiet for a moment before he released all but her hand and gently nudged her inside. “Didn’t know there was anything t’clean in here,” he smirked as he inspected how spotless it was (as it always was). He enjoyed the scent of the candle she lit that seemed to mix so effortlessly and perfectly with the smell of the dryer running from another room.

She giggled cutely. “It’s not...bad, y’know...I just am a bit particular. And I like to make things look nice.”

“It’s lovely, kitten,” he chuckled. “Do y’want to watch a movie? Or read...?”

“Are you...sure?” She asked.

“Well yeah. Y’said we were lounging. I’ll do whatever y’want, love,” he made himself at home on the couch and he set the book he had in his bag on the coffee table beside her bouquet of tulips that still (thankfully on Harry’s part) looked beautiful. He patted the seat beside him. After a second of uncertain hesitation, she situated herself beside him. “Jus’ glad t’be spending time with you,” he said and dropped another kiss to her temple. Turning to face her she smiled at him. Harry thought he would melt just from the warmth of her pretty lips curving up in his direction. He cupped her face delicately between his hands. He brushed his lips over hers causing that beautiful, wonderful sigh to escape her lips. Harry rested his forehead against hers. “M’in love with you,” he told her.

She all but gasped as her lips parted ever so slightly as she looked at him mere millimeters away from her face. “Really?” She whispered.

That crushed him. “Very much, beautiful,” he murmured even though he was heartbroken by how...confused she looked. Of course, Harry loved her. She was perfect. “Been loving y’more every day.” She blushed between his hands, and he kissed her nose. “Y’don’t have t’say it back,” he said softly. His heart broke a bit at the idea. “I know m’probably a bit early, but...I jus’ wanted you t’know tha—”

“I love you,” she said simply, not quickly like she was rushing to say it. It was definitive. She didn’t have to follow up with her next words, but he was so lucky and grateful she did. “So much.” Harry felt breathless and he leaned forward and kissed her so deeply he thought he might never breathe again.

*

Harry was helping her with the dishes after they had eaten at his place. He was tired of having her overnight bag sitting on his bed and just a drawer of her things being the only part of her around when she wasn’t. But that wasn’t true. She was constantly in his thoughts. Even in the brief seconds he wasn’t thinking about her, the notes she left behind for him to find made his attention turn right back to her. “You okay?” She asked kindly. “You seem a little quiet and out of sorts.”

He shrugged. “Mmm,” he sighed. “Jus’...thinking.”

“Sounds scary,” she smirked after a moment.

He rolled his eyes. “Baby, I would handcuff you t’myself.” She giggled and turned her attention to making sure the dishes didn’t shatter as she put them back. “D’you ever wish we lived together?” He asked.

She paused. Harry thought that maybe as good as things were going after a year, it was still too soon. Sure, they spend nearly every weekend together. They talked every day and saw each other every other day. But maybe that was enough for her. Maybe it was easier to just have a Harry-weekend and live her life during the week. Harry pursed his lips about to take back his offer—or make some excuse that it it didn’t need to be a right now thing. “You want to live with me?” She wondered.

He turned to lean against the counter, and he watched as she put the dishes away as if she did in fact live there. “Well, yeah,” he said. “I’d see you a lot more,” he reminded her. “Wouldn’t be sick missing you s’much,” he brought his hand to his mouth, pinching his bottom lip between his fingers and pulled nervously at her response. “If y’don’t—”

“No, I...I really want to live with you,” she nodded. “If you want to live with me,” she reaffirmed quietly.

Harry dropped his hand from his mouth and grabbed her hand. “Yeah?” The smile on his lips grew by the second. “Of course, I do, angel. You’re the best part of m’day—I want it every day.” She looked down slightly and smiled. Harry didn’t miss the blush that painted her cheeks and he squeezed her hand. “I love you,” he reminded her.

“God, I love you, too.”

*

It was Saturday. The first one they were living together. Harry moved into her place, and she was so utterly accommodating. There was so much room for all his stuff. She made it effortless. They went through everything logistically—her bed was bigger, but Harry had a better couch. Harry wanted to hire a mover, but she was insistent that she and their friends could do it. And they did.

It was embarrassing how long Harry lay in bed. He scrolled through social media, answered a few work emails, and read some of the books he started before he went to bed last night. He would have gotten up sooner if he noticed the sound of her wandering about the apartment. It wasn’t until he heard a few dishes clink together that he realized she was home. He assumed she may have been running a few errands—she mentioned them before—things she wanted to move in for herself.

After the dish clinking, he paid closer attention to her movements and that was when he heard the distinct sound of a cleaning spray bottle and the sound of the washing machine going. Shit. He thought to himself, threw the covers back, and marched out to the kitchen.

He realized he should have started with a good morning, but it was too late. “What are y’doing?” He asked.

“Oh! Hi Harry,” she jumped at his question. She must have only half heard him through the music playing in her ears. She turned to him with a hand over her heart. She wasn’t used to Harry being around so casually. She was used to him shirtless and only in boxers, but it was the first time seeing it in their own place. He didn’t seem amused as he waited for her to answer his question. Which she nearly managed to forget while she waited for her heart to simmer down. “Uh...cleaning?”

Harry looked...annoyed? That couldn’t be right. She didn’t do anything to cause him to feel annoyed. She was quiet and cleaning all morning. It couldn’t have been an issue. Harry was just hanging out in their room and—

“You’ve been cleaning all morning, yeah?” He said already knowing the answer. She felt like she was suddenly in trouble. She nodded solemnly.

“Uh...yes,” she said quietly.

Harry ran his hand through his hair and sighed. Pursing his lips he glanced around at the near spotless place—their place. Their. Place. “Can y’go sit down for me, then?” He asked gently.

“I’m sorry?”

“Jus’...don’t want y’doing t’much. I wish I was paying attention more—I thought y’were...well I don’t know what I thought y’were doing. M’sorry. I’d like t’take it from here and do the rest of the cleaning so y’can lounge around.”

She swallowed and the uneasiness in her stomach transformed a bit into something less of feeling like she was about to get into trouble and more into a worry of not...being enough. “Oh, Harry. I don’t mind,” she whispered looking at her feet. “I...I’m really used to cleaning...I kind of like it and...I don’t know. I didn’t mean to bother you. I thought I was being pretty quiet, so I’m sorry if I woke you,” she spoke to his feet the whole time and she couldn’t shake the idea that he was mad. It made her so nervous that she had already ruined their first couple of weeks of living together.

He didn’t respond but he kept his eyes glued to her face—or where her face would be if she was looking up. “Kitten,” he said so quietly, almost sadly. “Can y’look at me please?” He asked. Tears were in her eyes, and it felt more like she was in trouble once more. She took a deep breath and looked up at him. Harry looked as sad as he sounded. He reached out and grabbed her hand. “M’not mad at you, m’love,” he whispered.

Harry was crushed by the relief that exhaled from her body. “No?” She whispered.

He squeezed her hand. “Angel, why would I be mad?”

“Um...” she swallowed again and smirked but there was no humor. It was just sadness. “Uh...I don’t know,” again, no humor, but a laugh escaped her lips.

“Kitten,” he hummed gently. Tears started to overwhelm her vision and she swallowed nervously against the emotion. When she sniffled, Harry finally lost the stand he was taking. The one where he was going to make her say it, because he wanted her to, and he didn’t think it was right. He pulled her forward and pressed her against his chest, her head beneath his chin and he sighed softly. “Tell me, baby,” he said rubbing his hand up and down her back. He kissed the top of her head and hated the way her shoulders shook from the tears that fell from her eyes.

She hated that he was so handsome—especially almost entirely naked because there wasn’t even the layer of a thin t-shirt to hide the tears that she was shedding. “He was,” she sniffled like it hurt to say.

“I know,” he sighed. “But m’not him,” he reminded her. “I don’t want you t’do it all, kitten. I don’t expect you to,” he slid his hands to her face, and he crouched just a little as he peered down into her eyes. “I love you,” he promised. “You’ve done so much for so long... for so many people.” Biting her lip, she turned her head from him. He wasted not even a second tilting her chin back, so her eyes were back to him. “Y’don’t have t’do anything for me,” his voice was so gentle it hurt. It made her feel sick and undeserving.

“If I don’t...then...” she sighed and closed her eyes.

“Kitten, please look at me,” he begged so quietly, she hardly heard him, but she didn’t open her eyes.

“Then...you’ll...not...want...me,” the pauses between each word hurt more than all of them said together. It meant she was thinking about every single syllable. Each word that was going to break her heart...and Harry’s.

It wasn’t the time to do it, but he couldn’t stop himself. Harry thought of the tulips. He thought of the times she thanked him for putting the laundry—the laundry that she washed and folded—away. The way she said “Really?” when he told her he loved her for the first time. There were all the times she never asked for anything from Harry but he could sense she wanted to but was...scared to do so. It made sense now. She was scared. For no reason. But still scared. Harry felt so angry toward every person that ever broke her heart and made her feel less than perfect. He hated when she hurt. “M’beautiful angel,” he sighed softly stroking his thumb over her face.

She sniveled and brought a hand to her face. “Harry,” she whimpered.

“I know, love,” he cooed softly and brought her back to his body. He let her cry for a few moments. He listened to the way she sounded like she was in pain as she let the tears fall freely and it made him so sad and upset, he could have cried himself. “Baby,” he hummed to the top of her head. “Y’don’t have t’do anything for me, m’love.” She nodded against him and he sighed. “Y’don’t, kitten. Y’really don’t need t’do anything,” he promised. He hoped if he repeated it enough she would believe him.

“But—”

“No,” he shook his head. He didn’t say anything else. It wasn’t final or demanding the way he spoke. It was just a simple no. There wasn’t anything else to be said. Harry let her tears subside before he settled her on the couch and finished her cleaning. For the first time since she moved in, she relaxed on a Saturday while someone else cleaned for her.

The love she felt for Harry was overwhelming.

*

They were lounging on the couch. The TV was on, but she was turned away from it, facing Harry’s chest. With one arm looped behind his head he could see the show and with his other hand he rubbed it up and down her back. It was so peaceful and gentle. It was everything he ever wanted in a relationship. It was everything he wanted with her. “Y’okay, love?” He hummed dropping a kiss to the top of her head. She nodded wordlessly and he smiled and continued watching his show.

“Wanna stay here forever,” she mumbled. He smirked, placing another kiss on the top of her head. He sensed there was more, but he hated pressuring her into saying more than she may have wanted to—after that first weekend she cried to him, he let her feel exactly what she wanted and how she wanted. Harry knew most of her thoughts. He of course wanted to know all of them, but he knew that she always told him anything she wanted to tell him.

“Is there more, kitten?” He asked quietly. She nodded. “Y’can tell me if y’want,” he reminded her gently.

“It’s stupid.”

He shook his head and glanced down at her perfect face and her fingers fidgeting with the cross and chain around his neck. “You’re anything but stupid, angel,” he felt her feet wiggle uncomfortably. He wanted to beg and pull the words from her lips, but he waited patiently.

“How do you know when I want to say more?” She asked instead.

“Because I adore you,” he responded instantly. She snorted a short laugh but didn’t seem to have an answer to that. “Jus’ know you so well, love. Been trying t’read your mind for the two and a half years...think m’getting pretty good at it. Now jus’ have t’make sense of what y’don’t say,” he smirked and kissed the top of her head.

“Are you frustrated that I don’t tell you things?”

He pursed his lips and shook his head.  “No, course not.”

She was silent. “I think about marrying you every day,” she whispered so quietly Harry almost missed her words.

“Oh?”

“I never thought about a wedding with anyone I’ve ever dated in the past. It seemed like so much work because I would do all the planning and the everything...” she explained. “Now...God...I just...I want to show you off to everyone I know and show how wonderful you are because I know you would make the wedding of my dreams come true...because you make all my dreams come true.”

Harry was so quiet thinking about how that may not have seemed like much but to her it was—it was letting herself be vulnerable about wanting to spend her life with Harry. Without knowing how he felt—which was silly since he wanted to spend every second with her in his arms, reading her mind, or listening to her every thought. He wanted to cheer her every win and console her every loss. She was all his and he adored her so completely. He tipped her chin back. “I can’t wait to marry you,” he promised. He saw the way her face seemed to sink with relief which broke his heart, but he couldn’t get over how beautiful she looked even when she did—it left him breathless, wordless, soundless. Harry was convinced that even if they did end their relationship (and he was certain that would never happen) he would thank her for the heartbreak. As he always did when she left him speechless, he kissed her so deeply he thought he might never breathe again.

But it would have been the best way to go.