#harry styles x reader

[harryslittlefreakk]

off limits

summary: planning your brother’s birthday turns into crossing a line with his best friend. everyone say thank you @bethiegurl19 for the request!!!

wordcount: 4.5k

warnings: angst, smut (foreplay, protected sex)

a/n: back with a bang baby!!!!!

masterlist 😋🌷🫧🍒 taglist

“You’re not bringing him.”

“You can’t dictate that.”

“Yes I can.”

“No, Harry, you can’t. It’s my house, my brother, and my-.” Your voice trailed off, not knowing what you could actually call Matt. Harry knew as well as you did that he wasn’t your boyfriend, he was the man who bothered with you when his other options were busy.

“Jake doesn’t even like him,” Harry muttered, his jaw flexing as he spoke.

“Neither of you will ever like who I date while you still see me as a kid,” you shot back, standing up too fast, feeling the wine rush to your head as you turned your back on Harry. It was the fourth night you’ve gotten together to try and plan your brother‘s birthday, the fourth night Harry had fought you about Matt.

“It’s not about that. He’s an arse and everyone sees it except you.”

You rested your elbows on the counter, rubbing at your temples. “It’s not your place to see it. But fine. I won’t invite him,” you sighed, hating that you were giving in to Harry.

“Good,” Harry all but growled, downing the rest of his wine in one sip.

“And I don’t still see you as a kid,” he added, walking over to you, his hand brushing your side as he reached for a new bottle of wine. His touch was light, barely even there, but it sent a jolt of electricity through you, heat blossoming against your skin. You could feel his presence next to you, close enough that the scent of his cologne mixed with the dry oaky smell of the wine on his breath. He hesitated for the briefest second, his hand lingering near your side. But even if he had noticed the way you’d gone totally rigid, he didn’t say anything.

You moved away slightly, trying to focus on the wine splashing into the glasses in front of you, the walls of the glass stained pink from Harry’s sloppy pouring, ignoring the way your skin buzzed in the aftermath of his touch. The room felt smaller, the air thicker, your mood worse.

“You’re not even pouring it right,” you muttered, snapping at Harry before you could stop yourself.

His head turned, and you could feel his eyes on you as he straightened, the bottle still in his hand.

“Pouring it right?”, he laughed, that fucking smirk tugging at his lips. It boiled your blood.

You turned to lean your hip against the counter, grabbing the bottle from his grip.

Harry let out another low, frustrated laugh, raking a hand through his long curls as he turned towards you fully.

“Relax,” he said finally, pulling the bottle back slamming it back down on the counter. “You’ve been on my case all week. The decorations, the music – you fought me on every single thing. What, because I don’t like your little boyfriend?”

You froze as Harry stepped closer, his tense frame towering over you. His green eyes were locked on yours, sharp and darkened in his frustration.

“Tell me then. What the fuck are you even doing with a guy like Matt?” His voice was low and biting, but not teasing in the way you’d grown to expect.

Your jaw clenched, your throat dry as your hands reached behind you to grip onto the edge of the counter. “You don’t know him,” was all you managed to say.

“Yes I do, y/n. I went to school with him. Jake went to school with him. And I’ve seen enough of him to know he hasn’t changed at all,” Harry shot back, his voice rising.

“It’s none of your business! I’m old enough to make my own mistakes. I don’t need either of you to protect me anymore,” you shouted, glaring at Harry.

“You never needed our protection. But look at you! You’re trying to pick a fight because I don’t think your hook up should be at Jake’s party. Is he even worth it?”

Your stomach twisted at Harry’s words, heat flooding your cheeks. You knew what he was asking. He wanted to know if despite all of Matt’s other flaws, of which there were many, he was a good enough fuck for you to keep him around.

“It’s worth it just to piss you off,” you mumbled.

Harry ran a hand over his face, looking straight through you as he laughed. “You’ve wasted a year fucking him because it pisses me off?”

“I’m not discussing that with you.”

“Why not? Because you don’t want to admit that’s the entire reason you carried on seeing him? Or because you don’t want to admit that he isn’t even a good fuck?”

You opened your mouth to spit something back at Harry, but nothing came out. Harry clearly knew you better than you thought, and no matter how much you wanted to deny it, you couldn’t.

Your silence didn’t go unnoticed. That same irritating look of amusement was still on Harry’s face as he looked down at you.

“That’s what I thought,” he murmured, his voice low, his eyes flickering to your lips where they lingered for just a second before snapping back to your eyes.

You hated him in that moment. For being right, for knowing you so well, for backing you into a corner you couldn’t see a way out of. But more than anything you hated how your body was reacting to him, the way his closeness made your heart race.

You wanted to punch him, to shove him out of your house and never see him again. But when your hand reached out towards Harry, it betrayed you, gripping at his t-shirt and pulling him closer rather than pushing him away.

It was all the confirmation he needed. His lips were on yours, rough and urgent, like he’d been holding himself back for weeks and finally couldn’t anymore. For a split second, you froze, your mind struggling to catch up with what was happening. But then his hands were on your waist, pulling you even closer.

You kissed him back without thinking, your hands clutching at the cotton of his t-shirt as if you needed to hold on to something to keep from falling. His body pressed against yours, his warmth searing into you, that big wall of muscle pushing against your front.

Harry groaned against your lips, his hands tightening on your waist as he backed you up against the counter. The edge of it pressed into your lower back, but you didn’t care. All you could care about was him - the way his lips moved against yours, the way his fingers dug into your skin, the way he tasted like wine and heat and something unmistakably Harry.

He stepped back, running a hand through his curls, his breathing uneven as his eyes darted between your face and the floor. His lips were red and swollen, and you couldn’t look at him without feeling like the world had tilted sideways. He stared at you, his eyes dark and wild, his hands still gripping your waist like he was afraid you’d disappear if he let go.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

His lips twitched into a smirk, though his eyes were still dark and locked onto yours. “Yeah?” he asked, his voice rough. “Didn’t seem like you minded.”

“I should go,” he said quietly after a minute, his voice hoarse and full of something you couldn’t quite place.

Your chest tightened, but you nodded, your arms wrapping around yourself in a futile attempt to fill the sudden ache his words created. “Yeah,” you said softly, avoiding his eyes. “You should.”

For a moment, he hesitated, like he was waiting for you to stop him. But you didn’t. You just stood there, rooted in place as he turned toward the door. He didn’t look back as he left, and the soft click of the door shutting behind him felt deafening.

You let out a breath, leaning back against the counter as you tried to gather your thoughts. Your lips still tingled from his kiss, your skin still warm where his hands had held you, and you hated how empty the room felt without him. You hated that you even wanted him to stay and kiss you again.

The thought hit you like a wave, but you shook it off, forcing yourself to push away the longing that crept into your chest. He was gone, and it was already messy. It didn’t need to go deeper.

But when the knock at the door came, your heart leapt into your throat, and before you could even process what you were doing, you were pulling it open.

Harry stood there, his hand braced on the doorframe, his eyes dark as they met yours. He didn’t say anything at first, just stared at you like he was fighting an internal battle he’d already lost.

“I couldn’t go,” he said finally, his voice rough.

You didn’t respond, couldn’t respond, because he was stepping inside, kicking the door shut behind him as his hands found your waist. He pulled you to him, wrapping your legs around his hips as he pinned you against the wall, his lips finding yours with a desperate, hungry urgency that left you breathless.

“You’re impossible,” he muttered against your lips, his voice thick with frustration as his hands gripped your thighs. “You know that?”

“You’re the one who came back,” you shot back, your fingers tangling in his hair as he kissed you again, deeper this time.

“Yeah, because I couldn’t stop thinking about you,” he growled, his lips trailing down your neck, sending a shiver racing through you. “Couldn’t stop thinking about how I’m right. Matt isn’t enough for you, is he?”

Your breath hitched, your nails scraping lightly against his scalp. “Don’t—”

You hated how easily he got under your skin, how his words hit far too close to the truth. “You’re so full of yourself,” you snapped, though your voice lacked conviction, trembling under the weight of his presence.

Harry smirked, his hands tightening on your hips as he carried you toward your bedroom, not breaking eye contact. “Maybe,” he admitted, his voice dripping with confidence. “But I’m not wrong, am I?”

You didn’t answer, refusing to give him the satisfaction. But the heat in your cheeks and the way you clung to him told him everything he needed to know.

By the time he reached your bedroom, your resolve was gone, replaced by a desperate ache in your core that only he could seem to satisfy. He laid you down on the bed, his body hovering over yours as his lips brushed against your ear.

“Let me show you how it’s supposed to feel,” he murmured, his voice rough but steady.

And as his lips found yours again, his green eyes locked onto yours for just a split second, looking at you in a way that showed you both permission and forgiveness.

“Tell me if it’s too much,” Harry whispered, his words muffled against your mouth, the scent of the wine warm against your skin.

“I can handle it,” you replied, trying to convince yourself as much as him.

“Say you’ll tell me,” he repeated, firm and commanding.

“I’ll tell you,” you echoed, heat spreading through your body as he planted his hands either side of your head, caging you in.

The silver rings on his fingers caught the lone beam of moonlight streaming through the curtains, the chilled metal brushing against your skin as he moved closer still. Your gaze follow the lines of his tattoos, the dark ink curling up his forearm, disappearing under the pushed-up sleeve of his t-shirt.

Harry‘s mouth moved from yours to the curve of your neck, his lips brushing over your wild pulse with a deliberate slowness. His teeth grazed your skin, a contrast to the soft flex of his tongue as he kissed his way down, and you couldn’t stop the quiet whimper that slipped past your lips.

“Think you finally ran out of shit to say,“ he teased, his hand shifting to wrap your leg around his hip, his touch firm and possessive as he pressed himself against you.

The hardness of him against your inner thigh made your head spin, the friction of his jeans against the thin cotton of your leggings burning into you. You rolled your lower lip into your mouth, trying to suppress the moan threatening to escape as his hips rolled against yours, his cock pushing against you.

“These jeans,“ you whispered, your voice breathy as your hand slid between your bodies, tugging at their skin-tight waistband. “I hate them.”

“D’you really?” Harry asked, his voice laced with that same teasing amusement as he moved back off the bed. “‘Cause I’m pretty sure they’re driving you crazy right now.“

You glared up at him, your lips pulled into a reluctant smirk, waiting on your brain to form some sort of comeback. Instead, you pushed up onto your knees, grabbing at Harry‘s t-shirt until his lips crashed back onto yours in a kiss that was all teeth and heat and frustration.

Harry groaned into your mouth, the sound low and guttural as it echoed through you, his hands roaming over your body, sliding beneath your t-shirt. His touch left trails of fire and goosebumps in its wake, your back arching into him, your fingers curling into his hair.

“D’you want me to stop?“ he murmured against your lips.

“No,“ you breathed, your lips brushing against his before his mouth captured yours again. More insistent now, his fingers splayed across the curve of your waist. Your world was spinning with every touch, your every thought consumed by him – his taste, his scent, the way his lean frame press against yours like even an inch of empty space between you would be too much.

He let you part for just a second, just long enough to pull your shirt over your head, his eyes somehow darkening even further as they roamed the skin that had, until then, been off limits to him. His breath hitched, his fingers skimming along the soft lace of your bra. He took his time, like he wanted to memorise every inch of you.

“Even better than I imagined,” he murmured, his voice gravelly yet almost silent, as if he wasn’t saying that to you, but to himself.

Your eyebrows quirked in questioning as his eyes snapped back to yours, something dangerous in the depths of darkened greens. “More than I should’ve,” he confessed, leaning down to press his lips to the sharp angle of your collarbone. “Much more.“

His confession sent a fresh wave of heat coursing through you, your fingers finding their way back to his hair, tugging him closer as his mouth continued down your body.

When his fingers slipped into the waistband of your leggings, he paused, pushing you softly back down onto the bed, his eyes boring into you. “I need to hear you say you want this,“ he said, pushing his free hand through his curls.

“I want this,” you breathed without hesitation. “I want you.”

That was the final confirmation he needed, his hands never leaving your skin as he stripped away the barriers between you, first the remainder of your clothes, and then his.

When he finally pulled his shirt off, you let your eyes wander over his body, drinking in the sharp lines of his torso, the way his tattoos rose and fell with his breathing. You kept your gaze on his body as he kicked off those damn jeans and his underwear, Letting yourself appreciate the soft smack of his cock against his flesh as he freed it, something your teenage self was sure to thank you for.

You felt your eyes wide and slightly as you registered his size, your breath catching in your throat.

But Harry only smirked, leaning down to kiss you again, slower this time, his hand sliding under you to cut the back of your neck as his body settled over yours. His weight, his heat, the feel of his skin against yours – it was overwhelming.

“I told you he wasn’t enough for you.”

You opened your mouth to argue, to tell him once again that he was arrogant, but his hand slid between your thighs, and the words died on your tongue.

You let out a strangled gasp of his name, your head falling back into the pillows as the part of his thumb worked at your clit.

“Say it,” he whispered, his lips brushing against your jaw. “Say I’m better for you than he is.”

You wanted to fight him, to deny him and take him down a notch, but all you could do was whimper against his skin, your body arching into his touch as heat pooled in your core.

“That’s what I thought,” he murmured, his lips trailing across all the skin they could reach, his name falling from your lips like a prayer.

The roughness of his hands contrasted with the gentle touch of his movements, intoxicating and addictive as his hips ground against yours.

“You’re already so worked up for me,” he muttered, his voice almost a growl as he pushed two fingers into you. “All this time, y’just needed to be fucked right.”

“Shut up,” you managed to bite back, losing the edge to your voice as his fingers flexed against your sweet spot.

Harry chuckled, a deep, throaty laugh that sent shivers down your spine. “That’s why you get so riled up. Because every time I fight you about Matt, you’re thinking about this.”

You tried to glare at him, but the way his fingers fucked into you made it impossible to do anything but push your hips against his touch, your cheek turning to him as his lips grazed your ear.

“What do you think about, hmm? Me touching you like this?” he continued, taking your silence as confirmation.

“Harry,” you groaned, gathering a fistful of his hair as his hand stilled, his thumb pressed to your nerves.

“C’mon, kitten. Tell me,” he pressed, a commanding edge to his words that only deepened the ache in your core.

“What you’d feel like, how you’d sound. How you’d fuck m-“

You didn’t get to finish, Harry’s lips were on yours again, swallowing the rest of your words in a kiss so deep and consuming that it felt like he was pulling the life from your body. He pushed a third finger into you, his rings stone-cold against your folds, the silence punctured by breathy gasps and your wetness pushing in and out of you with his every movement.

Your breathing quickened, each stroke of Harry’s fingers building the pressure in your core. He worked at you expertly, his thumb circling your clit in a rhythm that had your skin overheating, your toes starting to curl, your hips bucking into his palm.

His name spilled from your lips like a mantra as your body tensed. Harry kept his eyes locked on you, his brows furrowed as he watched you unravel beneath him.

“Let go, love,” he murmured, his voice thick and coaxing, his fingers curling just right to hit the sweet spot that had you seeing stars.

He didn’t need to tell you twice. The tension that had built inside you snapped, a fresh wave of ecstasy crashing over you with such power that you couldn’t hold back from crying out. Your muscles tightened around his fingers as hot, pulsing waves of pleasure worked their way over your skin, leaving sharp tingles in their wake.

Harry didn’t let up, drawing out your high with slow, deliberate movements, his thumb back to pressing firmly at your clit as his fingers worked you through it.

When you finally went limp beneath him, your chest heaving, he slowly withdrew his hand, the sudden lack of touch drawing out a needy whine from your throat.

You watched through blurry eyes as he brought his fingers up to his mouth, his tongue darting out to taste you. A satisfied smirk tugged at his lips, an appreciative groan echoing from his throat.

You let out a shaky breath, your head spinning, your world now entirely tilted on its axis. But Harry didn’t give you much time to recover. He leaned back down, his lips brushing yours, letting you taste your sweetness on his tongue as his hand cupped your cheek.

“Not done with you yet,” he promised, his voice muffled against your lips.

“Then don’t stop,” you whispered, your mouth quirking into a smile, heart racing as he fished through his pockets for a condom.

“I’ve been patient with you,” he said, tearing the foil wrapper with his teeth as he knelt between your legs. “Not anymore.”

You swallowed hard as he rolled the condom over his cock, his length hard and heavy in his hand.

“I can handle you,” you retorted, heat flooding through you.

Harry let out a low chuckle, his nose brushing against yours as he lined himself up, his tip just barely pressing against your entrance. “Guess we’re about to find out.”

He pushed into you slowly, his hips rolling forward inch by inch. The stretch had you gasping, your hands flying to his shoulders. Harry groaned, the sound raw and guttural, his forehead falling to yours as he stilled, letting you adjust to him.

“Fuck,” he breathed, his voice strained. “Feel so good, princess.”

Your fingernails dug into his skin as your body arched into his, trying to adjust to the overwhelming fullness of him. “Move,” you whimpered, desperate for him to do something to help ease the ache building inside you.

Harry obeyed, his hips rolling back before snapping forward again, and again, the force of his thrusts sending a jolt of pleasure through you. He moved deliberately, his pace slow and calculated, his free hand grabbing needily at the flesh of your hip.

“Look at you,” he groaned, full of awe as he watched the way your body responded to him. “Taking me so well. You were made for this.”

Your head rolled back on the pillow, your nails raking down Harry’s back as he drove into you, his pace unrelenting. The sound of skin against skin filled the room, mingling with your breathless moans and Harry’s gravelly groans as he buried himself in you over and over again.

Every thrust brought you closer to the brink, the coil in your stomach tightening with every snap of his hips. Harry seemed to sense it, his hand sliding underneath his body, finding your clit and circling the nerves with practiced precision.

“You gonna come for me?” he asked, his teeth grazing the skin at your jaw. “Gonna let me feel you fall apart?”

Your entire body trembled as Harry’s words broke through the fog in your mind, his deep, commanding tone sending shockwaves through you. His fingers on your clit matched the rhythm of his thrusts, each movement calculated to push you further into a haze of pleasure.

“Please,” you whimpered, your hands clutching desperately at his curls.

“Wanna feel how good I make you feel,” he pressed, his lips brushing against your ear.

Your back arched off the bed as his hips slammed into yours, the angle perfect, his cock burying itself deep inside you. You howled out his name, your walls clenching and pulsing around him.

Harry groaned deeply, his head dropping into the crook of your neck as he fought to maintain control.

“That’s it,” he growled. “That’s my good girl.”

He didn’t stop, his hips continuing to drive into you, his fingers on your clit prolonging your orgasm until your body shuddered from the overstimulation. You writhed and whimpered, trying to ground yourself, but Harry wasn’t done with you yet.

“You’ve got another one in you,” he whispered against your ear, his voice rough and full of intent.

“I can’t,” you whined, completely sure that you couldn’t handle more, that another orgasm might break you, but the fire in his gaze told you it wasn’t a question.

He shifted, hooking one of your legs over his shoulder, the new angle allowing him to hit even deeper. The sensation was overwhelming, your body already sensitive, but the way his cock dragged against your sweet spot had you spiraling all over again.

His fingers left your clit only to grab your other thigh, pulling you flush against him, his pace growing rougher, more desperate. “You feel that?” he groaned, his voice thick with need. “Feel how good you’re taking me? Fuck, you’re perfect.”

You could barely think, your mind foggy with pleasure as the pressure built inside you again, faster and harder this time. Harry’s lips found yours, swallowing your moans, his movements growing erratic as he chased his own release.

“Come with me,” he urged, his forehead pressing against yours, his voice barely more than a breath. “Come with me, kitten. Let me feel you.”

And then you were falling again, your body clenching around him as another orgasm ripped through you, white-hot and all-consuming. Harry followed just a second later, his groan low and guttural as he buried himself deep, his body trembling as he spilled into you.

The room was filled with the sound of heavy breathing, your bodies tangled together as you both came down from the high. Harry’s weight pressed against you, grounding you, his lips ghosting over your temple in a surprisingly tender gesture.

“You okay?” he asked after a moment, his voice softer now, full of concern as he brushed your damp hair away from your face.

You nodded, still catching your breath, your lips curling into a small, satisfied smile. “More than okay.”

Harry chuckled, the sound warm and comforting as he leaned down to press a lingering kiss to your lips. “Good,” he murmured, his thumb tracing lazy circles over your cheek. “Still think I’m full of myself?”

You shook your head, “no. Just thinking about me being full of you,” you grinned, biting down on your lip.

He cupped the back of your head, rolling onto his back and bringing you with him, holding you flush to his body. “I think your brother might kill me,” he whispered, a nervous edge to his usually steady voice.

[sabsberries]

back to you - h.s.

summary - harry and y/n are forced into close quarters unexpectedly, but, despite the tension, it was the best thing that could've happened to them.

w.c. - 5.9k

warnings - swearing, use of Y/N, SMUT, fingering, p in v, oral (fem! receiving), pussy spitting, bondage, happy ending (sorry to my angst lovers)

part 1 can be found here - this also took me a week to write, and I think it's obvious where I finally got motivated...

Harry was fucked.

Completely and utterly fucked.

Despite both him and Y/N agreeing that their breakup was mutual, deep down, the pair knew she had been the one who insisted and fought for the breakup to take place, and he just went along with it to keep her happy. She broke up with him.

Harry also knew that he was too full of pride, and ego, to tell his friends that the relationship he claimed 'shaped him as a person', and 'gave him a reason to wake up every morning', had ended, and that it was partially (mainly) his fault. He stayed silent until it became impossible to ignore, and reluctantly made the phone call to his friends and family, trying his hardest to keep the embarrassing details to a minimum.

So when he got the panicked text from Sarah at seven o'clock at night, asking if he could come over and babysit because Mitch had managed to break his finger falling over in the shower, Harry was all in.

He jumped out of bed, pulled on the clothes he was wearing the day prior so that no one could tell he had spent his Friday laying in bed watching shitty movies, and rushed into his car.

However, the last thing Harry expected to see when he finally arrived was Sarah's car missing, and Y/N's car in its place. He paused in the driveway, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion. Had they forgotten that they called him? Was he taking too long so they called Y/N as a last resort instead?

He pulled up next to her car, paused, and turned down the radio. As much as he hated to admit it, even seeing her car was causing his chest to tighten and his throat to ache, and the nagging voice in the back of his mind was slowly getting louder, begging for him to put his seatbelt back on, turn around, and go home.

After taking a few minutes to compose himself, Harry hopped out of the car, slamming the door shut and reaching over to place his palm on the bonnet of Y/N's. "Oh, fuck," he mumbled. "Still warm."

He began making his way towards the front door, his brain spewing possible escape routes with every step he took. The door swung open before he was even arm length away.

"You're here! Did you find the house oka-- Harry." Y/N cut herself off, a half unscrewed bottle of wine in one hand, and the doorknob in the other.

"Me." He deadpanned, throwing her a tightlipped smile. "Expecting someone else?" He shimmied past her, ignoring the way she looked like a guilty teenager who just got caught replacing their parents vodka with water, and pulled off his coat.

"Uhm.. no. Not really. Just, y'know, pizza..." Her voice trailed off unconvincingly.

"Pizza?"

"Yeah? What's wrong with me ordering pizza?" She questioned, slamming the door shut and turning to look at him, an evident accusatory look on her face mirroring that in her voice.

"Nothing. What toppings? I'm starving. And finish opening that bottle." He grumbled. "Where's the little man?"

"Um, pizza is margarita, I can't finish opening the bottle because I can't find the corkscrew, and he is fast asleep upstairs with some white noise playing." 

Harry merely raised his eyebrows in what was either shock, surprise, or a mix of both, and made his way over to the kitchen. Y/N trailed after him, grumbling something about how he hadn't even said "Hello," to her yet.

"Corkscrew's in the drawer next to the fridge." Harry explained, pulling it out and showing it to her. "Pass me the bottle."

"So," Harry scrunched his face up slightly as he pulled out the cork, smirking at the satisfying 'Pop!' that followed suit, "Clearly it wasn't pizza that you were expecting at the door."

Y/N paused, and turned her head towards him ever so slightly. "What?" Her voice was slightly breathy as she forced the word out as quickly as possible, and her eyes were locked on Harry's smug face.

"Earlier at the door. You opened it, saw me, and started stuttering about pizza."

Y/N scoffed. "I didn't stutter. I don't stutter. You just caught me off guard. That's all."

"I caught you off guard?" Harry questioned, reaching to grab two wine glasses and pouring in a hefty amount. "Is that all?"

"I don't know what you-- thanks. I don't know what you want me to say!" Y/N defended, grabbing the wine glass he was offering to her and taking a gulp.

Harry stayed silent, and resorted to taking small sips from his glass. For the first time in almost a year, the silence between them wasn't hostile. There were no lingering glances, no scoffs when the other moved, and, the best in Harry's opinion, his brain wasn't fighting itself trying to think of things to get her to finally talk to him.

The noise of the doorbell rang throughout the house, contrasting the silence and causing Harry's head to rattle slightly.

"I'll grab that." Y/N smiled weakly, passing her glass to Harry for him to refill, and rushing over to the door.

Harry stayed behind in the kitchen, swirling the wine in his glass as he leaned against the counter. The sound of muffled voices at the door echoed faintly through the house, and he couldn’t help the way his ears pricked up, trying to catch pieces of the conversation. He knew it was just the pizza, but his stomach still did that irritating little flip it always seemed to do around her. Old habits die hard, apparently.

Y/N returned a moment later with a pizza box balanced in one hand and a slight smirk tugging at the corners of her lips. “Dinner is served,” she announced, setting the box down on the counter and reaching for her wine glass.

Harry arched a brow, eyeing the box. “Margarita, you said?”

“Yep. Nice and simple.” She opened the box and grabbed a slice, her movements relaxed. "Much better than your weird combinations."

Harry snorted, rolling his eyes as he reached for his own slice. “It’s not weird, it’s called flavour. But thanks for sparing me the judgement tonight.”

“Oh, I still judge you, don’t worry,” she teased, taking a bite.

That earned a laugh from him—an actual, genuine laugh that surprised them both. The awkward tension that had been hovering between them like a storm cloud seemed to crack, just a little. Harry glanced over at her, catching the faint flicker of amusement in her eyes as she chewed.

"How come you're here?" Harry asked, finally taking a bite from the pizza.

Y/N looked at him for a few seconds, almost as if she were coming up with an answer, before she finally spoke. "I had a date."

Harry stopped chewing. "A date?"

"Mhmm. I was getting ready when Sarah called me and told me what happened, and asked if I could come here and babysit. I told her I could, but I had to cancel my date, and she told me to just move it to here. She never mentioned you, though. That's why I didn't expect to see you."

"Ahh." Harry nodded his head, and continued eating his pizza, focusing on unclenching his jaw so that it wouldn't be so difficult to chew. "And, I've been here for, what, fifteen minutes now. Where's the lucky guy?"

"I cancelled." Y/N pursed her lips. "I actually used one of your excuses."

Harry scoffed, "When have I ever used an excuse with you?"

Y/N straightened up and looked at him. "Our second date! Last year you told me that you actually weren't sure about me because you thought I was an undercover fan lying about not listening to One Direction, so you texted me and said you had twisted your ankle and took some strong pain meds to make you pass out!"

Harry nearly choked on his pizza, his laugh bursting out before he could stop it. “I did not!” he exclaimed, though his face betrayed him as he tried to suppress a smirk.

Y/N raised a brow, crossing her arms over her chest. “Oh, you absolutely did. And do you know how ridiculous I felt when I saw paparazzi pictures of you the next morning walking out of the gym? With no ankle brace in sight, might I add.”

Harry let his head fall back against the kitchen cabinet, groaning in embarrassment. “Alright, alright, I’ll admit it. That was bad. But in my defence, you were way too cool about the whole ‘not a fan of the band’ thing. It threw me off!”

Y/N rolled her eyes, but there was a flicker of a smile playing on her lips. “Right, because I had to be a crazed fan to want to go out with you? Very logical.”

“Well,” Harry said, dragging out the word with a teasing lilt, “you have to admit, I’ve met my fair share of undercover Directioners.”

Y/N couldn’t help but laugh at that. “True, but I wasn’t one of them. I genuinely didn’t care about the band.” She paused, then added cheekily, “Still don’t, actually.”

“Harsh,” Harry muttered, clutching his chest dramatically as if she’d just wounded him.

The laughter between them came easier now, the pizza nearly forgotten as they both leaned against the counter, sipping wine and trading playful jabs.

“Okay, but seriously,” Harry said after a moment, his expression softening. “You cancelled your date. Was it really because of me?”

Y/N hesitated, her fingers tracing the rim of her wine glass. “Not entirely,” she admitted. “I mean, I wasn’t expecting to see you, but I guess… when I realised you’d be here, it didn’t feel right to have someone else show up, too.”

Harry swallowed hard, the weight of her words settling over him. “Why not?”

She met his gaze then, her voice quieter, more vulnerable. “Because I didn’t want to make things harder than they already are between us. We’re barely managing this, Harry. Adding someone else to the mix just felt… unnecessary.”

He nodded slowly, his grip tightening on his glass. “I get it,” he said, his voice just as soft.

For a moment, the air between them grew heavy again, but this time it wasn’t awkward. It felt like something was being acknowledged—something neither of them was ready to say out loud yet.

Harry cleared his throat, breaking the tension. “Well, thanks for sparing me the awkwardness of a third wheel situation, I guess.”

Y/N smiled faintly, lifting her glass in a mock toast. “Anytime.”

They clinked glasses again, and just like that, the conversation shifted back to lighter topics. By the time the pizza box was empty and the wine bottle drained, they were sprawled out on the sofa, laughing like they hadn’t in ages.

The laughter eventually died down, leaving a comfortable silence between them as the night settled in. The living room felt warmer somehow, though it could’ve just been the wine coursing through Harry’s veins—or maybe the way Y/N had let her guard down for the first time in what felt like forever.

Harry stretched his legs out in front of him, his socked feet brushing against hers where she had tucked herself into the corner of the sofa. He didn’t pull away, and neither did she.

“Remember how we used to do this?” Y/N said softly, her voice carrying a nostalgic edge.

Harry turned his head to look at her, his lips curving into a small smile. “Yeah. Except back then, I think we still liked each other.”

She laughed quietly, shaking her head. “We did. Most of the time.”

“Most of the time,” Harry agreed, his smile fading slightly. He let his gaze drop to the rim of his empty glass, his thumb tracing its edge. “I miss that, you know.”

Y/N stilled, her expression unreadable as she studied him. “What, the pizza?” she joked, trying to lighten the moment, though her voice wavered just enough to betray her.

Harry chuckled dryly, shaking his head. “No, not the pizza. I miss... us. Just being around you. Without all the... mess.”

The room seemed to grow quieter, the sound of the baby monitor’s faint white noise the only thing breaking the stillness. Y/N swallowed, setting her glass down on the coffee table. “It turned to shit pretty quick, didn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Harry admitted, leaning back into the sofa and running a hand through his hair. “But it wasn’t all bad. I mean, we had good bits too, right?”

Y/N smiled faintly, nodding. “We had a lot of good bits. You were... you are a big part of my life, Harry. That hasn’t changed.”

The way she said his name made his chest ache. It wasn’t angry or cold like it had been before. It was soft, almost hesitant, like she was letting herself feel something she wasn’t sure she should.

“You’re still a big part of mine, too,” Harry said quietly, his green eyes locking onto hers. “I know I never said it enough, but I’m sorry for... for everything. For how things ended.”

Y/N’s brows furrowed slightly, her lips parting as if to speak, but she didn’t. Instead, she leaned her head back against the sofa, her gaze fixed on the ceiling. “It wasn’t just you, Harry. I wasn’t perfect either. I didn’t know how to handle us falling apart, so I pushed you away.”

“Well, I didn’t exactly fight to stay, did I?” he countered, his voice tinged with regret.

The quiet stretched between them, thick with unspoken words. Harry shifted closer, his knee brushing against hers. He didn’t know if it was the wine or the way the room felt so heavy with memories, but he needed her to know he still cared.

“I miss you, Y/N,” he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper.

She turned her head to look at him, her eyes searching his. “I miss you too,” she admitted, the words slipping out before she could stop them.

Harry’s breath hitched, his heart pounding in his chest. For the first time in months, it felt like they weren’t running from the truth anymore.

Before either of them could say anything else, a soft cry came through the baby monitor, breaking the moment. Y/N sighed, pushing herself up from the sofa.

“I’ll check on him,” she said, her voice steady, though her cheeks were flushed.

Harry watched her leave the room, his heart still racing. Maybe they weren’t fixed yet—maybe they never would be—but god did it feel nice to sit with her and just talk. No fighting, no spewing insults about the other and the generations before them, just talking and laughing.

The soft cry over the monitor faded as Y/N disappeared upstairs, leaving Harry alone in the dimly lit living room. He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling deeply as he stared at the nearly empty wine bottle on the table. The weight of what they’d just admitted hung heavy in the air.

When Y/N returned a few minutes later, she looked slightly frazzled, her hair falling loose around her face. “He’s fine, just kicked his blanket off,” she murmured, brushing her hands down her thighs as she sat back down. This time, though, she didn’t tuck herself into the far corner of the sofa. She settled closer, close enough that Harry could feel the faint warmth radiating from her.

“You’re good with him,” Harry said, his voice low.

Y/N gave him a soft smile, brushing her hair behind her ear. “I’ve had enough practice babysitting for Sarah. Besides, he’s an angel compared to some of the kids I’ve looked after.”

Harry chuckled, his eyes lingering on her face. There was a glow to her in this light, something he hadn’t allowed himself to really notice in so long. “Still. It suits you.”

Y/N arched a brow, her lips twitching. “What does?”

“Taking care of someone,” Harry said simply, leaning slightly closer. “You’ve always had that in you.”

She looked at him, something flickering in her gaze that she quickly masked with a light laugh. “Well, I used to take care of you, didn’t I? Someone had to make sure you didn’t live off toast and pot noodles.”

“Oi,” Harry protested, though his grin gave him away. “You loved doing that.”

“Maybe I did,” she admitted, her voice quieter now. Her fingers played with the hem of her jumper, a nervous habit Harry recognised all too well.

The silence that followed wasn’t uncomfortable, but it was charged, the kind of quiet that demanded to be broken. Harry shifted slightly, his knee brushing against hers again—but this time, neither of them moved away.

“Y’know,” Harry said after a moment, his voice dropping, “you still do that. Get under my skin, I mean.”

Y/N blinked, her breath hitching as she met his gaze. “What do you mean?”

He leaned in just a fraction more, close enough that she could feel the heat of his body, smell the faint mix of his cologne and wine. “I mean,” he murmured, “you walk into a room, and I can’t think straight. Always been like that with you.”

Y/N’s lips parted, her pulse quickening at his words. She should’ve said something to deflect, to break the tension, but she couldn’t. Instead, her eyes dropped to his mouth, lingering there just a second too long before flicking back up to meet his gaze.

Harry noticed, of course he did. He tilted his head slightly, the corner of his mouth lifting in that infuriatingly confident way that made her stomach twist. “You’re doing it now,” he said, his voice softer, more intimate.

“Doing what?” she whispered, her voice betraying her as it wavered.

“Driving me mad.”

Her breath caught as his hand lifted, hesitating for just a moment before he reached out to tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear. His fingers grazed her cheek, the touch light but enough to send a shiver down her spine.

“Harry...” she started, though she wasn’t sure what she was going to say.

“Yeah?” he asked, his voice a low rumble.

She swallowed, her heart racing as she searched his face. “This... this is dangerous.”

“Maybe,” he agreed, his thumb brushing lightly against her jaw before he let his hand fall. “But it doesn’t mean it’s wrong.”

Y/N couldn’t help the way her eyes flicked to his mouth again, her resolve faltering. Harry noticed, of course he did, and when he leaned in just a little closer, she didn’t stop him.

“Tell me to stop,” he murmured, his lips hovering a breath away from hers.

But she didn’t. How could she?

Instead, her hand lifted, resting lightly against his chest. She could feel the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath her palm, matching the frantic rhythm of her own.

“Harry,” she said again, this time softer, almost pleading.

“Yeah?” he whispered, his voice rough around the edges, his green eyes locked on hers.

And just like that, the space between them disappeared.

The kiss started soft, hesitant, as if neither of them could quite believe it was happening. Harry’s lips brushed against hers, testing, waiting for her to pull away. But she didn’t. Instead, her fingers curled against his chest, clutching at the fabric of his jumper like he might disappear if she let go.

That was all the encouragement Harry needed. His hand slid to the back of her neck, his fingers threading through her hair as he deepened the kiss. It wasn’t rushed, but there was a hunger behind it, a need that had clearly been simmering beneath the surface for far too long.

Y/N sighed into his mouth, her free hand moving to his shoulder as she tilted her head to give him better access. She could feel the warmth of him, the way his body seemed to press closer to hers with every passing second. It was overwhelming and intoxicating all at once.

When they finally broke apart, both of them were breathing heavily, their foreheads resting together as they tried to catch their breath.

“This is a terrible idea,” Y/N murmured, though there was no conviction behind her words.

“Maybe,” Harry said, his voice rough and low, his thumb gently stroking the side of her neck. “But I don’t care.”

She opened her mouth to respond, but he didn’t give her the chance. His lips found hers again, more insistent this time, his hands settling on her waist as he pulled her closer. She went willingly, her own hands sliding up to cup his face, her thumbs brushing over the stubble on his jaw.

The kiss grew hotter, more desperate, as the tension that had been building between them finally began to unravel. Harry’s hands slipped beneath the hem of her jumper, his fingers grazing the soft skin of her waist, and she shivered at the contact.

“Y/N,” he murmured against her lips, his voice thick with desire.

She pulled back just enough to look at him, her chest heaving as she tried to steady her breathing. His green eyes were dark, pupils blown wide as he stared at her like she was the only thing in the world that mattered.

“We shouldn’t...” she started, her voice barely above a whisper.

“But do you want me to stop?” he asked, his hands still resting on her waist, his thumbs tracing slow circles against her skin.

She hesitated for only a moment before shaking her head. “No.”

That was all he needed to hear. He captured her lips in another searing kiss, and this time, there was no hesitation, no second-guessing. They gave in completely, their bodies moving instinctively as they closed the remaining distance between them.

Harry shifted, guiding her back against the sofa until she was lying beneath him, his weight pressing her into the cushions in the most delicious way. His lips trailed from her mouth to her jaw, then down to her neck, leaving a path of heat in their wake. Y/N’s hands tangled in his hair, tugging gently as she tilted her head to give him better access.

“God, I missed you,” he murmured against her skin, his voice raw and full of emotion.

She froze for a moment, her fingers stilling in his hair as his words sank in. He pulled back slightly, his eyes searching hers as if he’d just realised what he’d said.

“I mean it,” he said softly, his hand coming up to cradle her face. “I’ve missed you every single day.”

Her breath caught at the vulnerability in his voice, and she felt her resolve crumbling all over again. “I missed you too,” she admitted, her voice trembling. “More than I wanted to.”

Harry let out a shaky breath, his forehead dropping to hers as he closed his eyes. “Then maybe this isn’t such a bad idea,” he said, his lips brushing against hers as he spoke. “Maybe we just... don’t fight it this time.”

Y/N didn’t respond right away, her mind racing as she tried to process everything. But when he kissed her again—soft and slow, like he was trying to prove just how much he meant every word—she realised that maybe, just maybe, he was right.

She stayed quiet as he began trailing wet kisses down her neck, and instead focused on the warmth flowing through her body from the wine. "How mad do you think Sarah and Mitch would be if we had sex on their sofa?"

Harry laughed, and tucked his head into the crook of her neck, placing a final kiss before pulling away and scanning the room. "Blanket?" He asked, turning his head to look down at her.

He'd barely done more than a hickey or two and she already looked out of it. Her pupils were slightly blown, her lips puffy and pink, and her cheeks were flushed. She had never looked more beautiful.

“Blanket.” She reaffirmed, and moved out of the way so that he could lay it beneath her.

Harry smirked as he grabbed the throw blanket folded neatly on the armrest. “You’re really making this easier for me, aren’t you?” he teased, shaking the blanket out before draping it over the sofa.

Y/N rolled her eyes, though the soft smile tugging at her lips betrayed her amusement. “Just trying to be considerate. Sarah’s got that whole ‘no shoes in the house’ rule. I think ‘no bodily fluids on the furniture’ falls under the same category.”

He let out a low laugh as he smoothed the blanket into place. “Good point. But for the record,” he added, glancing over his shoulder at her, “this wasn’t exactly what I had in mind when I agreed to babysit tonight.”

“Oh? And what did you have in mind?” she asked, raising an eyebrow and crossing her arms.

“God knows, but definitely not this,” he said, turning to face her. His expression softened as his eyes met hers. “But I’m not complaining.”

Her cheeks flushed under his gaze, and for a moment, the teasing faded. The air between them felt charged, buzzing with an unspoken intensity. Harry took a step closer, his hands finding her hips as he guided her back against the sofa.

“Still sure about this?” he asked quietly, his voice low as his thumb brushed the hem of her jumper.

Y/N’s heart hammered against her ribs, but she nodded. She knew this was reckless and fraught with risks. Still, the way he was looking at her with such raw, unfiltered longing made her forget every reason to say no.

“Positive,” she murmured, her fingers gripping the fabric of his jumper to pull him closer.

That was all Harry needed to hear. He leaned down, kissing her with a slow, deliberate intensity that sent a wave of warmth cascading through her body. His hands slipped under her jumper, his fingertips grazing her skin and making her shiver.

She gasped softly, her back arching against him as he pressed her down onto the sofa. His weight over her was comforting and electrifying all at once, grounding her in the moment even as it made her pulse race.

“Y/N,” he groaned, resting his forehead against hers for a moment as he tried to catch his breath. “You’re going to be the death of me.”

She smiled, sliding her hands down to the hem of his jumper and tugging it upwards.

He helped her pull the jumper over his head before tossing it onto the floor. “You’re trouble,” he murmured, leaning back down to kiss her.

“And you love it,” she shot back, her fingers tracing along the lines of his chest.

“Yeah,” he said softly, pressing a kiss to her temple. “I really do.”

Before she could respond, his lips were on hers again, his hands exploring the soft curves of her body. She let out a shaky breath as his fingers brushed the edge of her bra, and she couldn’t stop herself from pressing her hips against his.

The moment seemed to stretch, the world outside fading into nothingness. Every kiss, every touch felt like a silent conversation, years of unspoken words expressed in the warmth between them. As her hands roamed and his lips pressed against her skin, the quiet sounds of their shared breaths and murmured names filled the room. Neither of them cared about the consequences; all that mattered was right now.

“Can I take your bra off?” Harry questioned.

“Well, yeah, obviously.” She laughed, reaching behind her back to unclip it and pulling it off.

Whatever snarky comment Harry had ready to shoot back melted on his tongue as looked down at her. “My gorgeous girl.” He mumbled, ducking his head to kiss along her right boob.

Y/N moaned as his tongue found her nipple, swirling around and biting it gently. “Harry, please.”

“Shh. I’m getting there. Be patient.” Harry muttered. reaching down to pull her thighs apart and pushing his hips against hers.

She arched her back into his chest at the friction, and lifted up her hips, chasing against his as he moved away.

“Turn around.” Harry pulled away, his hand gently rubbing against her hip bone.

“What?” She asked.

“Turn around.” He repeated, this time squeezing down ever so slightly on her hip.

She nodded her head and rolled onto her stomach. “But what if I wanted to see you?” She asked, feigning sadness in her voice.

Harry grabbed her arms and pulled them behind her back, holding them in place with one hand whilst the other worked on pulling off his belt. “What if you don’t deserve to see me?” He mocked, looping the belt around her hands and pulling tightly.

“Oh my.. fuck.” Y/N mumbled, dropping her head onto the sofa and arching her back slightly.

Harry’s hips met hers once again, but this time there was a sense of urgency behind. “You alright?”

“Oh my god, yes.” She practically moaned.

Harry smirked, and grabbed the edge of her leggings, pulling them, along with her panties; down her legs in one quick motion. “Good.”

He leaned down and began to pepper kisses down her lower back, kissing any freckle or small childhood scar he could find, before finally sinking his teeth into the meat of her right hip.

Y/N yelped, and Harry’s hand pulled her back in place before she could move away. “You’re fine.” He said, and dipped his head to lick a bold line straight up her slit.

Y/N moaned, her body jostling forwards as Harry wrapped his arms around her thighs and dove right in, not leaving a single spot neglected.

He began to nibble her clit, his thumb quickly moving to rub soothing circles soon after whilst he pulled back to admire what was below him.

“You have got the most gorgeous pussy.” He sighed, leaning his forehead against her right asscheek and lifting his hand to brush through her. He pushed in his fingers, scissoring them open and using the sound of her moans as motivation.

“Are you not going to thank me? Maybe I should just stop since clearly you’re not appreciating what I’m doing for you.” Harry sighed, pulling away completely and sitting up against her.

“No— no Harry please. I’m begging you- please. It feels so good I— Thank you! Thank you, thank you. Please, Harry, don’t stop.” Her words were blending into one, and Harry couldn’t help but feel proud of himself. He’d barely touched her like he used to, and this is how she was reacting?

“There’s my good girl.” He smirked, unbuttoning his jeans and shimmying them down his legs. His ground his clothed dick against her, hoping she didn’t notice the way he barely choked out a moan at such a simple touch.

His boxers were gone soon after, and finally, it felt like it was just them again. It felt like everything Harry had wished for had come true, and he was finally where he was supposed to be.

He reached down to grab her hands, bending over her to place a brief kiss against them, and pulled away once again. He rubbed the head of his dick through her slick, collecting as much as he could before hunching over and spitting directly above her clit, moving his dick to chase after it and distribute it.

“You ready?” He questioned.

“So fucking ready. Please, Harry-” Y/N cut herself off with a moan, her hands squeezing against nothing and her already overstimulated body was shaking as he pushed in.

Harry threw his head back as he groaned, his hands twitching with the need to grab something as the pleasure took over.

He waited a couple of moments before pushing in the rest of the way, gradually speeding up until finally his hips were flush against her ass. He bent over her once again, his hands resting against her head.

“I love you, my gorgeous girl.” He whispered, kissing the back of her head.

“I love you more. I’m sorry.” She whispered back, her voice cracking with what was either pleasure or regret.

Harry shushed her gently, and straightened back up so he could hold her hands. He pulled out ever so slightly, and pushed back in, repeating until eventually his whole dick, bar the tip, was out. He waited another moment, and, despite it being extremely unnecessary, spat once again, this time onto his dick, and slammed his hips back against her.

Y/N practically screamed as the pleasure set in, moving her head to bite against the throw pillow as her hips moved against Harry’s, desperate to get him deeper into her.

“Fuck I’ve missed this.” Harry groaned, his eyes rolling back into his head.

Y/N was incoherent. Her moans were gradually getting louder, and she was starting to appreciate Harry making her turn around as she knew that her face would be covered in drool, as well as mascara and lipstick smeared all over.

“Can’t believe you tried to take this away from me. As if you’d ever find someone who could make you feel like this.” He pushed down on her back, forcing her to arch even further into him.

“Please, Harry.” She cried, her jaw aching from the excessive force she was using to bite down on the pillow as a muffler. “Please don’t stop, I'm so close.”

Harry slowed down, his hand dropping from her hip down to her clit and rubbing slow, small circles, whilst his other worked on unbuckling the belt from her hands. “Turn around. ‘Wanna see your pretty face.”

He pulled out of her gently, and watched as Y/N shakily rolled over, her face flushed and makeup ruined beyond repair. “Hi, baby.” Harry grinned, caressing her cheek gently.

“Hi.” She whispered, her voice raw and rasp. Once again, their hands connected, and Harry pushed back into her, their moans harmonising as Y/N clenched around him.

“I’m so fucking close.” Y/N whined, her nails digging into the backs of Harry’s hands whilst her pushing up her chest to rest against his.

“I know, baby. Hold it for me, alright? I’m almost there.” Harry muttered, resuming biting at the hickeys he had abandoned prior.

His hips began to match his harsh assaults on her neck, each thrust matching the way he nipped, licked, and suckled any bare spot from her jawline to her collarbone.

“Oh, fuck. I’m gonna cum. C’mon pretty girl, let go for me.” Harry whined, dropping her hand and moving to rub circles on her clit.

Y/N was incomprehensible. Her jaw was dropped, and her mouth open as she cried out a mixture of curses and praises as she came, Harry tailing along soon after, whimpers escaping the two of them. He slowed down, now ever so slightly moving inside of her as he watched a blend of their cum fall out of her with every movement.

“Well, shit.” He chuckled, brushing the sweat and hair off of her forehead gently.

Y/N nodded, a small giggle escaping her lips as she looked around the room. “How long do you think it’ll take Mitch and Sarah to figure out what he did?”

Harry smirked, and stared down at her with a look of admiration in his eye. “You open the windows and chuck the blanket in the wash, and I’ll run us a bath?”

“Deal.”

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

taglist - @empathyroad @harryshouseo1 @hannah9921 @hisparentsgallerryy @secretisme4 reply here or dm to be added!

[harrywavycurly]

Worth The Fight: Smells Good

Masterlist: Here

CW: pregnancy stuff/symptoms mentioned

A/N: I felt like we needed a little bit of semi fluffiness between these two so hope y’all enjoy✨

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

Summary: You have a new craving that leads to you being the one that texts Harry at one in the morning✨

Harry is nervous he hasn’t seen you in a week and now he’s sitting in the waiting room of Dr. Andrews’s office waiting for your appointment but there’s just one thing that’s missing, you. He knows better than to text you to ask where you’re at or if you’re going to be running late because according to what you’ve told him you don’t run late you just sometimes have to rush. He looks at the watch on his wrist and notices that there’s about ten minutes until your appointment time so he just reaches for the juice he got from a place near his house, trying not to think about the last time he was in this office. Thankfully the waiting room isn’t very crowded, he does notice a very pregnant woman sitting near the back of the room and he can’t help but want to smile when he watches her eyes close and her head rest on the shoulder of the person sitting next to her. As he takes another sip of his juice Harry finds himself wondering if he will ever get a moment like that with you, if you’ll ever see him as a someone that you feel comfortable enough with that resting your head on his shoulder or maybe even reaching for his hand when you just need to feel grounded would be acceptable.

“Oh thank god you’re still out here.” Harry nearly chokes on the juice in his mouth as you suddenly appear next to him, out of breath and of course with the strap to your giant unorganized purse draped over your shoulder. “I was afraid they might’ve already called you back there and I’d have to go knocking on doors to find you.” You explain as you practically fall into the empty seat next to him, all while he just stares at you with wide eyes and the straw to his juice in his mouth.

“Uh no-no they haven’t called for us yet.” He stutters after he swallows the sip he was in the middle of when you appeared out of thin air. You look at him with a quirked brow as he clears his throat. “I also don’t think they’d uhm make you knock on doors I think they’d just show you which room I was in.” He doesn’t say it as a way to correct you he says it more so to help calm your nerves, or at least that’s how he hopes it comes across because he really doesn’t want to start an argument with you five seconds after seeing you for the first time in a week.

“I smell apples.” You look around the room as the words leave your mouth, deciding to ignore Harry’s comment because you know he’s right but you don’t necessarily want to tell him that. Harry raises an eyebrow as he watches you hunt for the source of the smell. “And I think-oh is that pineapple? Do you smell that?” You ask as you look at him and he instantly looks down to the juice in his hands.

“Uh no I can’t smell that. But my juice-”

“Where did you get that?” Harry is taken aback by how quickly your words fall out of your mouth as you cut him off as your eyes become glued to the plastic cup in his hand.

“Oh uhm -”

“Styles?” Both you and Harry turn your heads towards the doorway a nurse is standing in with a smile on her face and a clipboard in her hands. “We’re ready for you.” She explains making Harry stand up and before he can think twice about it he’s offering you his free hand to help you up and while normally you’d make a small scene about not taking it you can’t be bothered because you’re still focusing on the juice in his other hand.

“Thank you.” You mumble once you’re up out of the chair and Harry just gives you a tight lipped smile as a response, still not fully convinced he’s not dreaming because this is only the third time you’ve allowed him to actually touch you since the night you two met.

“Dr. Andrews will be right in.” You just smile as the nurse shows the two of you to the exam room you’ll be in before closing the door. You rub your lips together as you place your bag in one of the chairs on the wall while Harry stands there not sure where he should sit, in the empty chair next to your bag or the chair next to the exam table where you’ll be at for the majority of the visit.

“I’m sorry by the way.” Your voice is soft and quiet as you take a step towards the exam table. Harry has to take a moment to think about all the possible reasons you could be apologizing to him but lucky for him you decide to explain yourself. “I shouldn’t have asked if you really wanted to be a dad because I know you do. I know you want to be in their lives and I’m sorry I upset you with that question it wasn’t-”

“You don’t have to apologize. You had every reason to ask me that and I’m sorry for how I handled it but you’re right.” He doesn’t have to look at you to know you have a small smile on your face at his admission of you being right, even if you don’t know what he’s admitting you’re right about you still just enjoy how the phrase sounds coming from him. “I do want to be their dad and be in their lives and that means I’ll be in yours as well.” You just nod as you try to get comfortable on the table and Harry can’t help the way his eyes travel from your face down to your bump that seems to be much more prominent today than it was the last time he saw you.

“That’s true. We are sort of stuck with each other.” You agree as Harry leans against the counter that has a little sink attached to it, your eyes automatically finding the plastic cup in his hand as he brings the straw up to his lips for a quick sip. “Did you make that?” Harry quirks a brow as he looks at you and then to the cup in his hand and then back at you and he swears he catches you licking your lips as you stare at the green liquid in his cup.

“The juice? No I got it from this little place near my-”

“It smells good.”

“Uh do you-you want to try it?”

“What’s in it?” You don’t know why you ask because he could say it’s made of dirt and salty lawn clippings and you’d still want to try it because the smell has your mouth watering, your appetite hasn’t been that great recently but something about the oddly colored juice in Harry’s hand has you suddenly craving something you’ve never had before.

“Green apples some spinach and some pineapple and I think-” You just begin nodding and reach a hand out in the middle of him listing what’s in the juice and without hesitation he hands you the cup making him chuckle when you instantly take a sip of it and let out a sigh and close your eyes as you take another sip.

“Is that cucumber?” Harry just nods as he runs a hand through his hair while you slowly swing your feet back and forth as they hang off the end of the exam table all while sucking down a few more sips of his juice and for a moment a comfortable silence takes over the room.

“I understand why you can’t forgive me yet for what I did.” You feel your heart do a little jump in your chest as Harry’s voice breaks the silence a few minutes later. “I know you don’t trust that I’ll stick around and I can’t say anything that will change how you feel so I just hope you’ll let me show you how much I really do want to be apart of this whole thing.” Harry is looking at his feet when you look over at him, knowing that if he said all that while looking at you he would probably be an emotional mess by the end of it and that’s not exactly what he wants while in an exam room waiting to see how his twins are doing.

“Thank-oh no.” Harry’s head snaps up at the sound of you making a soft huff but before he can ask what’s wrong you’re holding the now empty cup in your hands and looking at it with a pout. “I drank it all.” Your voice cracks a bit as you look at the empty cup and he feels his chest tighten as your eyes get glossy and your bottom lip starts to tremble and for a moment Harry refuses to believe you’re actually getting this upset over finishing off his juice. But then he realizes as you take the lid off and tip the cup back so you can try to get the last few drops at the bottom you’re not upset over the fact it was his, you’re just upset that it’s gone.

“It’s okay.” He tries his best to sound reassuring but he is also a tiny bit worried he’s just going to upset you as he takes a few steps towards you so he can grab the empty cup from out of your hands. “I’m glad you liked it.” You watch with sad eyes as he tosses the cup and lid into the trash.

“I’m so going to need more-” You turn your head as a knock interrupts you mid sentence, Harry quickly takes the sear near the exam table just as the door opens.

“Hello!” You smile as Dr. Andrews walks into the room with his clipboard in his hands and a bright smile on his face. “Mr. Styles it’s great to see you again how have you been?” Harry just offers him a casual shrug making the him laugh.

“I’ve been okay uh how about yourself?” You have to bite your lip to stop the giggles from escaping as you watch and listen to Harry struggle with small talk with the man that will eventually be delivering your twins.

“Oh I’ve been great now let’s ask the woman in charge how she’s doing huh? How’s the appetite and nausea? Better or the same since last week?” Harry’s eyes narrow as Dr. Andrews places his clipboard on the counter before turning and looking at you.

“Actually my appetite has come back a little bit and so far this week no nausea.” You answer as you feel Harry’s eyes glaring at you, so you just turn your head to look at him because you want to attempt to involve him in things but before you can open your mouth to explain yourself he is looking at Dr. Andrews and asking for himself.

“Last week? Did something happen? She didn’t have a scheduled appointment for last week.” You can tell he’s trying to hide his concern as he asks the doctor who is walking towards you so he can sit in the round wheeled stool that’s near the end of the table where your legs are hanging off.

“Nothing to worry about just some nausea that was making it a little hard to keep things down so she came in for a quick check up.” Dr. Andrews gives him a quick explanation making Harry just nod as he watches him look at you with a reassuring smile. “So it looks like you’ve lost a little weight since your last appointment but again that’s normal and since your appetite is coming back I’m not too concerned about it. Now is there anything new I should know about? Any pain or discomfort?” Harry’s attention moves from the doctor to you as you place your hands in your lap and mess with the ring you have on your index finger.

“I feel like my ankles are already starting to swell is that normal?”

“Yes that’s normal you can expect swelling in your feet and hands as well as some around your belly. Any breast tenderness or leg cramps?”

“Leg cramps sometimes but mainly when I’m laying down at the end of the day and uhm no-no breast tenderness.” You feel silly for being a little embarrassed at talking about if your breasts are tender or not while Harry is sitting in a chair next to you, but you can’t help it and when you subtly glance over at him and see his cheeks are slightly flushed you know he feels a bit awkward as well.

“I can give you some tips for how to help with the leg cramps but what about the fatigue? Is it the same or have you gotten some energy back?”

“I’ve gotten a little energy back.” Dr. Andrews gives you a little smile at this bit of information as he wheels himself around the table so he can grab some gloves and for some reason that makes you remember your last scheduled exam that Harry left in the middle of making him miss something important. “Uhm I was wondering if we could listen to the heartbeats today?”

“Of course yes we are going to check their heartbeats and do some bloodwork and we will check to see how they are doing with an ultrasound so you’ll get to see them today while we look over a few things but we will discuss all of that when we get to it.” Harry is just nervously chewing on his bottom lip as Dr. Andrews discusses everything that will happen during today’s appointment.

You scoot further back on the table and try to get comfortable as Dr. Andrews gets everything ready so the two of you can hear the twins heartbeats. Harry runs a hand through his hair and adjusts how he’s sitting in the chair, trying his best to cover up his anxiousness but clearly not doing a good job because just as you get comfortable and roll your shirt up so the doctor can use his Doppler monitor you look over at him and raise an eyebrow.

“You okay?” You whisper making Dr. Andrews lightly chuckle as he turns the machine on and wheels himself over to you on the opposite side of the exam table that Harry is sat on.

“Oh yeah-yeah I’m fine.” He knows that you know he’s lying but neither of you can say anything else because soon the room is full of a static like sound making Harry turn and look at the little device in the doctor’s hands that is pressed against your bump.

Then the static turned into the soft but steady sound of what you would describe as similar to a horse galloping down a street, letting you know Dr. Andrews had found a heartbeat making you feel a lump of emotions form in your throat. When you look over at Harry you can tell he is struggling to keep his emotions in check as his eyes go a bit glossy and his lips are rubbing together and you have to remind yourself that this is his first time hearing this sound.

So you do something for him that you wish someone was there to do for you when you first heard it, you reach your arm out and open your hand for him to take and without a word Harry grabs your hand slipping his fingers between the gaps of yours letting you give his hand a comforting squeeze. You smile as Harry returns your gesture with a soft squeeze of your hand while the two of you sit there and listen to your babies’ heartbeats. And for a moment you don’t feel like two people who oftentimes can barely hold a conversation without it turning into an argument, you almost feel like a normal couple.

You let out a groan as you lay in bed with Paris curled up in a peaceful ball near your feet. It’s been two days since your appointment, and it’s been two days that you’ve been craving the green juice Harry ended up letting you have before the exam started. While you’re used to having cravings, such as the jam and toast that you still have for breakfast most mornings but normally you can satiate your cravings rather quickly but this time you can’t because Harry never got to tell you where he got the juice or even finish telling you what was in it. But the main issue about the juice you’re craving so badly that your mouth is watering and you almost feel as if you could cry because it’s all you can think about, is that your fridge is pretty much empty minus some raspberry jam and milk.

“I could just find the place he got it from.” You mumble to yourself as you sit up and turn your bedside lamp on before you reach for your phone that’s plugged into the charger on your nightstand. “He said he got it from a place near his house.” You hold your phone in your hands and let out a huff as you just stare at the screen. “Which would be fine if I knew where he lived.” You bite your lip and debate on if you should text him and just ask him for the juice place seeing as he knows you liked it you asking him about it wouldn’t seem so odd.

“One text won’t be too bad.”

Harry has to laugh at the situation he’s found himself in as the elevator door opens to reveal your floor number because for once he’s not showing up here completely uninvited. While you didn’t exactly tell him not to come you also didn’t tell him it was okay for him to come over, but he can’t just let you suffer with not being able satiate your craving when he has all the ingredients to make it. So as he walks down your hallway he adjusts the bag on his shoulder that has all the produce in it and silently hopes you’re still awake so he’s not disturbing you when he knocks on your door.

“Harry?” Your voice is full of surprise as you open the door and see him standing there in a pair of black sweatpants and a hoodie with a bag over his shoulder. “What-what are you doing here?” You ask even though you know he said he’d be there in ten you didn’t actually expect him to show up at your door, he just slides the bag off his shoulder so he can reach out and hand it to you.

“It has all the things you need for your uhm juice.” He watches the way your face lights up as you take the bag from him and look inside of it. “You have a blender and a strainer right?” He asks to confirm that you’ll even be able to make the juice and when you just nod he smiles as he brings a hand up and rubs at the back of his neck.

“So I just put all this in the blender and strain it and that’s it?”

“Uh well you have to add water and cut the fruit up.”

“Okay how much water?”

“Have you ever made a smoothie or anything before?” He asks and when you shake your head no he lets out a sigh as he contemplates just taking the bag from you and making it himself but before he can even suggest it you’re biting your bottom lip and staring at him.

“Do you think or uh would you mind maybe-”

“I can make it for you.” He answers before you can even finish asking your question. The two of you stand there for a few moments just staring at each other before you finally move to the side leaving enough room for him to walk through the door.

“Are you sure it’s okay?” He asks before taking a step because he knows recently you haven’t wanted him to be inside your apartment, preferring him to just stay in the hallway.

“Oh uhm yeah it’s fine.” You answer and truthfully you don’t know if it’s just your overwhelming desire to finally get what you’ve been craving for the last two days or if you really don’t mind that Harry enters your apartment. Harry just nods as he takes the bag from your hands before taking a few steps into your apartment and heading towards the kitchen, he looks around as he crosses your living room and raises a brow as he notices the absence of a certain orange fur ball with a bell on his collar.

“Where’s-”

“Paris is asleep on my bed don’t worry.” You say with a laugh as you follow Harry into the kitchen. He sets the bag on your counter as you go for the cabinet you keep your blender in. Once you have it plugged in you just take a seat at your little table and watch as Harry stumbles his way around your kitchen at one in the morning just to make you a juice that you’ve been craving.

As you sit there while he begins to cut up the fruit from the bag you find yourself wondering if this is something you should get used to or if this is just a one time fluke and the two of you are just having a decent week. When he starts to hum to himself you place a hand on your bump giving it a soothing rub and when he looks over at you with a soft smile you decide that it doesn’t matter if this is a one time thing or the beginning of your new normal. You’ll take it because having Harry in your apartment isn’t that bad especially when it ends with him handing you a glass full of the green liquid you’ve been dreaming about for the last two days.

[gumballavocadoharry]

Q&A:

The studio lights hummed, a warm contrast to the crisp autumn air seeping in through the tall windows overlooking the bustling streets of London. Harry, with his characteristic dark brown hair endearingly tousled and his bright green eyes sparkling with anticipation, adjusted the microphone clipped to his black crewneck sweater. Beside him, Yn, her cheeks flushed a delicate rose, fiddled nervously with the hem of her knitted cardigan. The backdrop, adorned with tasteful fairy lights and a plush velvet couch, felt intimate despite the presence of a small camera crew hovering just beyond their eyeline.

“Ready, you two?” Tuck, Harry’s manager and a close friend, called out from behind the camera.

Harry grinned, squeezing Yn’s hand reassuringly. “Born ready, mate.” He turned to Yn, his expression softening. “You okay, love?”

Yn offered a shy but genuine smile. “A little nervous, I won’t lie.”

“That’s alright,” Harry said, his voice a low, soothing rumble. “Just be yourself. Everyone adores you.” He winked, and Yn’s blush deepened.

Tuck gave them the countdown. “Three… two… one…”

Harry leaned forward, his energy instantly shifting into performance mode, though it felt more like a warm welcome than a show. “Hello everyone, and welcome back to my channel! Today is a very special day because I’m not alone. Finally managed to drag this one in front of the camera.” He gestured to Yn, who waved tentatively, a sweet smile gracing her lips.

“Hi everyone,” she said softly, her British accent as gentle as a summer breeze.

“So, as you guys know, Yn and I got engaged a few months back,” Harry continued, his eyes never leaving her. “And we thought it would be fun to do a little Q&A, answer some of your burning questions. We’ve sifted through loads of your tweets and comments, so let’s get started, shall we?”

The first question flashed on the monitor beside the camera. Harry read it aloud, his voice filled with amusement. “‘What was your first impression of each other?’” He chuckled, glancing at Yn. “You go first, love.”

Yn took a deep breath, her shyness momentarily overshadowed by the warmth of Harry’s gaze. “Well,” she began, her voice gaining confidence, “I met Harry at a local bookstore. I was reaching for a book on the top shelf, and being rather vertically challenged…” She trailed off, a playful glint in her eyes.

Harry interjected, a fond smile playing on his lips. “And being the gentleman I am, I offered my assistance.”

Yn laughed softly. “He was so… unassuming. Despite being, you know, Harry Styles,” she emphasized his name playfully, “he was really just… kind. He helped me reach the book, smiled, and went on his way. I remember thinking he had really lovely eyes.”

“And what was your first impression of me, Haz?” Yn asked, turning to him.

Harry’s smile widened, a genuine, heartfelt expression. “My first thought was how beautiful she was. Truly stunning. But beyond that, there was this… quiet strength about her. A gentle aura. And she had this really concentrated look on her face as she was trying to reach that book, like it was the most important thing in the world. It was endearing.”

Another question popped up. “‘What’s your favorite thing about each other?’” Harry read.

“Oh, that’s a good one,” Yn said, leaning back against the cushions. She looked at Harry, her gaze filled with affection. “My favorite thing about Harry… there are so many, but I think it’s his warmth. He just radiates it. He makes everyone around him feel comfortable and loved. And he’s incredibly empathetic. He can always tell when I’m not quite myself, even when I try to hide it.”

Harry’s hand found hers, his thumb stroking her knuckles gently. “For me,” he said, his voice sincere, “it’s Yn’s compassion. She has the biggest heart of anyone I know. She cares so deeply about everyone, and she’s always the first person to offer help or support. And she’s incredibly generous, not just with things, but with her time and her love.”

The questions continued, each one offering a glimpse into their relationship. They talked about their favorite dates – a quiet picnic in Richmond Park was a highlight for both of them. They reminisced about funny moments, like the time Harry accidentally dyed his favorite white t-shirt pink trying to do laundry for Yn. They even addressed a few of the more lighthearted, silly questions.

“‘Who snores louder?’” Harry read, his eyes twinkling. He immediately pointed at Yn, who playfully shoved his shoulder.

“Hey! I do not snore!” she protested, laughing.

“Only when you’re really, really tired,” Harry conceded, winking at the camera. “It’s actually quite cute.”

Yn rolled her eyes, but her smile betrayed her amusement.

As the questions delved deeper, their personalities shone through. When asked about how they handle disagreements, Harry emphasized the importance of communication and understanding. “We try to really listen to each other, even when it’s difficult. And we never go to bed angry.”

Yn added, “And Harry is incredibly patient. He always tries to see things from my perspective, even if we disagree.”

When a question about their future plans appeared, Harry’s hand tightened around Yn’s. “We’re really excited for what’s to come,” he said, his voice filled with optimism. “Focusing on the wedding at the moment, but we definitely want to start a family someday. And just continue to support each other and grow together.”

Yn nodded, her eyes shining. “That sounds perfect.”

A particularly poignant question appeared on the screen: “‘How has being with Yn changed you, Harry?’”

Harry paused, a thoughtful expression on his face. He looked at Yn, his gaze filled with love and gratitude. “Yn has made me a better person, without a doubt. She’s grounded me. She’s taught me the importance of slowing down and appreciating the little things. She’s made me more patient, more understanding, and definitely more in touch with my emotions. Before Yn, my life was… a whirlwind. She’s brought a sense of peace and stability that I never knew I was missing.”

Yn’s eyes welled up slightly, and she squeezed his hand.

The questions started to wind down. The last one read: “‘What advice would you give to your fans who are looking for love?’”

Harry took a moment to consider his answer. “Be yourself, genuinely and unapologetically. Don’t try to be someone you’re not to impress someone else. And be open to the possibility of love finding you in unexpected places. And most importantly, be kind. Kindness goes a long way.”

Yn added, her voice soft but firm, “Don’t settle. Wait for someone who sees you for who you truly are, flaws and all, and loves you even more for it.”

Harry smiled at her, his eyes full of adoration. “Couldn’t have said it better myself.”

Tuck called out, “And that’s a wrap, folks!”

The studio lights dimmed slightly, and the camera crew started packing up. Harry turned to Yn, his smile gentle. “You were brilliant, love. See? Nothing to be nervous about.”

Yn leaned her head on his shoulder, a sigh of contentment escaping her lips. “It was actually quite fun, once I got over the initial nerves.”

“See? I told you,” Harry chuckled, wrapping his arm around her. “Now, how about we head home? I think someone deserves a cup of tea and a cuddle.”

As they walked out of the studio, hand in hand, the London skyline painted a beautiful backdrop against the twilight sky. Their laughter echoed softly in the cool evening air, a testament to the genuine connection they shared – a love story unfolding under the watchful eyes of the city they called home. Their vulnerability and warmth, so evident in the Q&A, would undoubtedly resonate with their fans, leaving a lasting impression of a love built on kindness, understanding, and a shared desire for a simple, happy life together.

[1d1195]

Here's a preview of my hockey story

just a quick sneak peek because I'm not sure if it'll be ready by tomorrow. so just something to keep you interested till then

---

No. She couldn’t think like that. She wasn’t going to fall for another hockey player ever.

“M’teaching m’niece t’skate. I can teach you,” he shrugged. It wasn’t arrogant the way he said it. She was sure anyone else that knew she was in their mid-twenties (especially someone with a famous hockey player for an ex-boyfriend of eight years, and famous major league hockey coach for an uncle) would expect her to be able to skate. Instead, one of the top players in the league was at her elbow barely acknowledging that it was weird. Perhaps the vulnerability she mentioned to him and Niall really meant something to him. Or maybe she was just reading into it—which she definitely shouldn’t have been reading into it.

“It’s a real shame you won’t have that hand to play with after all, Harry,” Uncle Charlie shook his head.

“Don’t worry, Uncle Charlie, I can handle a group of boys,” she rolled her eyes earning a bout of laughter from the group. But she knew that Uncle Charlie was worried about Harry specifically. He was a lot like Kael. In another life, Harry would have been a weakness for her. But not anymore. She was done with hockey guys.

“M’jus’ making sure she doesn’t fall. Sad y’couldn’t teach her t’skate. Some uncle you are,” he shrugged casually.

The group laughed again, and she smirked. Charlie rolled his eyes. “They’re all yours, Sweetheart. Just tell them where you want them. They’ve all been instructed to listen carefully unless they want to do suicides tomorrow at practice, so be honest if they don’t listen,” Uncle Charlie remarked making everyone groan. “Harry, go get your gear she needs individual pictures too.”

Harry released her elbow after several seconds. His eyes flickering to Niall before he skated off. In his place, Niall stood beside her and waited for direction. He didn’t hold her elbow like Harry did, but it was clear there was an unspoken message they shared telepathically.

No, she wasn’t going to fall for it.

She wasn’t going to fall for the hot left wing of her uncle’s team just because he offered to teach her to skate and didn’t make fun of her.

Nope. She wasn’t.

Not even a little.

Right?

[finelinevogue]

january fic rec

⭐️ = favs || * = +18 mature

this months fic rec list contains:

harry styles • aaron hotchner • azriel

harry styles

grapes - @harrysfolklore

harry won’t let his girlfriend break her new years tradition

aaron hotchner

unspoken, unheard - @writing-the-stars

In the midst of a high-stakes case, you face the terrifying task of being bait for a dangerous unsub. As the mission spirals out of control, the unacknowledged bond between you and Hotch is tested, forcing him to confront the risks of letting his heart lead in a world where vulnerability could mean losing everything

family first - @hoe4hotchner

reader, a BAU member, is on maternity leave after she and Aaron just had a baby? One day, she goes to the office to bring their daughter to visit Aaron, only to find him in the bullpen with the agent who replaced her while she’s been on leave. The replacement has a crush on Aaron and doesn’t know that he’s married to the reader. The replacement becomes jealous when she sees how much attention Aaron is giving their daughter and confronts the reader, but Aaron gets angry and ends up firing her.

safe and sound -

Hotch x wife!reader where jack is about 6 months old but she’s still constantly checking his breathing at naps and bedtime and waking up all the time she check him and is super conscious. Hotch thought at first it’s just a new mom thing but now you’re losing sleep and worried all the time so he brings it up one night and she just breaks down and says “I never know if you’re coming home to me so I need to make sure jack is ok so I always have a piece of you with me”

⭐️ the wedding photos - @luveline

Aaron sets the record straight when an overheard conversation convinces you that you’re not good enough for him

undercover - @luvvyouforever

in the middle of a case, your worst fear comes true. you have to go on an a date with aaron hotchner, the boss you've been crushing on for months.

⭐️ the hotchner’s - @ssahotchnerr

Aaron and reader who are married, react to both being called ‘Agent Hotchner’ and they both answer

sleepover - @moonlightspencie

Hotch wants the reader, but doesn’t know how to tell her. Maybe a night in will be of some assistance.

pb&j and hostage negotiation - @ssahotchnerr

you’re at a soccer game with aaron & jack and are slightly jealous of how the soccer moms are eyeing up aaron

⭐️ hunter, hunted - @ssahotchhner

you are arrested for a murder, but you didn’t do it. the team have to help you clear your name

dirty laundry - @hoe4hotchner

HotchxReader in a established relationship scenario with a healthy relationship after a toxic one

sweater thief - @lavenderspence

You’ve always loved wearing Aaron’s quarter zip, especially when he is away on a case. But he also loves coming home and seeing you in it

azriel

*slow burn - @assassinsblade

After a mission in Illyria, you find yourself drugged with some sort of aphrodisiacal breeding tonic. With Azriel seemingly interested in Elain, who can keep you from enduring a torturous night of pain?

*the hand that holds - @velarisdusk

You and Azriel visit a bakery in Velaris, but tension rises when your ex-boyfriend tries to provoke him

⭐️ in the face of your love - @azrielbrainrot

A love confession wasn't in Azriel's plans for the day

[28harryssunflower]

Gifts over gifts..

Harry Styles was known for being untouchable - cold, calculated, and always in control. To the rest of the world, he was the cold-hearted mafia boss who never let his emotions interfere with business. But with you? You saw a different side of him, one he kept hidden from everyone else.

That’s why, when you woke up to find a handwritten note on the pillow beside you, you were surprised.

Morning, love. Wear something nice today. Be ready by noon. Don’t ask questions.

You smiled to yourself, your mind racing with curiosity.

When noon came, a sleek black car was waiting outside your house, and a driver opened the door for you with a small smile. He didn’t say much, just handed you another note from Harry:

First stop: a little pampering. You deserve it.

The car took you to a luxury spa, where an appointment had already been made in your name. For hours, you were pampered with massages, facials, and manicures. By the time you left, you felt like royalty.

Another note was waiting in the car when you returned:

Second stop: your new favorite dress.

The car pulled up to a boutique you’d never been to before, and inside, a stylist greeted you with a smile. “Mr. Styles told us to make sure you found something perfect,” she said, leading you to a rack of stunning outfits.

After trying on a few, you settled on a dress that made you feel like the most beautiful person in the world.

The final note was waiting when you stepped back into the car, your heart pounding with excitement:

Last stop: me.

The car drove you to a private villa on the outskirts of the city, surrounded by sprawling gardens and glowing fairy lights. The sun was just beginning to set, casting the sky in shades of orange and pink.

Harry was waiting for you at the entrance, dressed in a tailored black suit that made him look like something out of a dream. For a moment, you almost couldn’t believe this was the same man who ruled over his world with an iron fist.

His usual cold expression softened the moment his eyes met yours. He stepped forward, reaching out to take your hand. “You look beautiful,” he said, his voice low and intimate.

“Harry, what’s all this?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

“You’ll see,” he said, a small smirk tugging at his lips.

He led you to a table set up in the garden, surrounded by candles and soft music playing in the background. The two of you ate dinner, and Harry surprised you by opening up more than he ever had before - talking about his dreams, his fears, and how much you meant to him.

By the time dessert was served, your heart felt so full you could barely breathe. And then Harry stood up, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a small black velvet box.

Your breath hitched as he dropped to one knee, his green eyes locking onto yours with a vulnerability you rarely saw from him.

“I never thought someone like me could have this,” he said quietly. “A chance at something real. You make me want to be better, to be more than the man I have to be. I love you. And I want you to be mine forever.”

He opened the box, revealing a stunning ring that glittered in the candlelight.

“Will you marry me?”

For a moment, you were too overwhelmed to speak. The man who was always so guarded, so stoic, had just laid his heart bare for you.

“Yes,” you whispered, tears streaming down your face. “Yes, Harry, of course.”

He stood, slipping the ring onto your finger before pulling you into a kiss that was full of passion and love. And in that moment, it didn’t matter who he was to the rest of the world. To you, Harry Styles was just the man who loved you more than anything.

[stylesonfilms]

Behind The Pew [h.s]

word count: 8.8k

warnings: mentions of emotional abuse, substance abuse, drug use, addiction, and a toxic relationship. + a good ending.

You never expected to find yourself in this position.

Seventeen-year-old you had been trembling in excitement when Harry first said he loved you. Seventeen-year-old you had been so sure you’d found your soulmate that the thought of a life without him felt unbearable. The memory of his voice, shaky yet certain, confessing his feelings under the pale glow of the streetlights outside the school gym still lingered in your mind like a cruel joke.

Now, at twenty-two, you could spit in disgust at that naive image of yourself. How could you have been such a blind fool? The words “I love you” that had once sent a thrill down your spine now felt like venom, dripping with hollow promises. There was nothing else in this world that could make you less happy than being with the same man who had once made your heart race.

How were you such a blind fucking fool.

Harry had been just a year older than you. He went to the same small high school on the edge of town, where the student body barely scraped a hundred per graduating class. You had taken the same classes, shared the same inside jokes about the ancient vending machines in the cafeteria, and even bonded over the mutual exhaustion of being two of the only students who cared about grades.

He’d been there during the whirlwind of your college years, offering words of encouragement as you juggled late-night assignments with the endless demands of being the head priest's daughter. He would show up unannounced at your dorm with takeout, a goofy grin on his face, pretending the world wasn’t falling apart for both of you in its own quiet way. He had supported you— or so you thought.

At twenty-three, when he gave you a key to his apartment in a red box tied with a ribbon, your heart had fluttered like it had back when you were seventeen. He’d even gotten down on one knee, a ridiculous smile plastered across his face.

You hadn’t realized it then that Harry never made grand gestures sober.

That thought gnawed at you now, sharp and unrelenting, as you pieced together the cracks in the foundation of your relationship.

When he first asked you out, it was during your senior class get-together the morning before the school year officially started. The whole grade, barely large enough to fill the school’s auditorium, had gathered in the parking lot on a warm spring early morning. You could still remember the smell of fresh grass wafting from the adjacent field, mingling with the acrid scent of burned coffee from the makeshift breakfast bar the school had set up. Someone had been playing music through a tiny portable speaker, and the sound of laughter and half-hearted chatter filled the air.

The memory was too clear. Too cruel.

He had asked you to take a walk with him on the track that looped around the grassy fields. His hand had been warm but clammy when he reached for yours, and though your heart had thudded in anticipation, there had been a flicker of hesitation that you’d ignored.

Looking back now, you wished you’d said no. You wished you’d stayed with your friends on the blacktop, scribbling meaningless designs with chalk that stained your fingers in vibrant shades of blue and pink. You wished you’d eaten the cold, rubbery pancakes the school had handed out with cheap syrup packets and laughed about it with people who weren’t him.

But you hadn’t. You’d let him guide you away, his voice soft and persuasive as he talked about the clouds overhead and how they seemed softer, more pure out there, away from the city. You’d taken his hand with a shy smile and agreed, thinking it was the beginning of something beautiful.

You’d been wrong. So, so wrong.

The gravel of the track crunched under the weight of your guys’ shoes. Harry’s hand was laced with yours as you both walked in silence for a few feet. It was quiet on the track, the sun barely coming up and the further you guys went, the more the chatter and laughs and screams died down into background noise. The soft breeze rustled the bushes alongside the track, blowing some of the gravel into the patch of grass.

Harry was the first to speak. 

“How are you enjoying this all?” He turned to glance at you. His five foot ten frame dominated your five foot four. You kept your shy gaze on the rocks beneath your feet.

“It’s… okay. Definitely not what I expected, the senior class last year hyped it up for sure.”

He gave a small courtesy laugh and nodded, agreeing. “Yeah, it’s not what I expected either. But it’s nice to be with everyone. Don’t think I would have missed out on much if I didn’t come. I only came, well, ‘cause of you.”

The blush on your cheeks ignited. “Oh, be quiet. Chris is here and so are your other pals.”

“But none of them are as stunning as you. It’s easy to talk to you.”

You scrunched your nose and shook your head. “Whatever you say, Styles.”

After a lap had passed, the sound of your peers coming into ear shot before dying out again, Harry stopped.

You halted, turning to look up at him. You tilted your head, furrowing your brows. “You okay? We don’t have to walk. We can go back.”

He shook his head, giving your hand a squeeze. 

“No, it’s not that. I just… You’re not seeing anyone, right?”

You laughed, rolling your eyes. 

“Harry, if I was, I wouldn't be here with you. Or holding your hand, at that.”

His lips twitched into a sheepish smile and he laughed himself, carrying a weight of nervousness.

“Sorry, stupid question.”

You gave his hand a reassuring squeeze. 

“I was wondering, you know, we’ve been talking since the end of last year and through the summer, so maybe you’d want to…,” his voice trailed off before he cleared it.

“If I want to, what?” Your heart picked up, your gaze avoiding his but you could feel his piercing stare. 

“If we could… Would you want to be my girlfriend?”

His other hand scratched his jaw nervously, the nervous laugh that came after made your heart swell. You finally looked up at him, your stomach flipping in all sorts of directions.

“I’d like that, actually.”

“Yeah?” Harry grinned.

“Yeah.”

Only to find out months later that he was high when he did it. It was funny to him, brushing it off as a ‘fun fact.’ You remembered how he’d laughed, throwing his head back like it was nothing more than an anecdote to tell at a party. The sharp sting of his nonchalance had left a bitter taste in your mouth. You’d always known Harry smoked, the earthy smell of marijuana often clinging faintly to his clothes or his breath, but this revelation hit differently. The idea of him being high so early in the morning, when the world was still fresh and untainted, gnawed at you.

He’d told you with a smirk that he only had the courage to ask you out because he’d smoked beforehand. The words had hung in the air, heavy and sour, even as he brushed them aside with a casual wave of his hand. It wasn’t the smoking that unsettled you—that was a habit you’d grown used to—but the thought that he hadn’t been able to face the moment sober. Something about that truth coiled tightly inside you, a quiet but insistent discomfort you couldn’t shake. Still, you nodded along, offering a small smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes, pretending it didn’t matter.

It didn’t matter. It shouldn’t have mattered. Or at least that’s what you told yourself. Because regardless of how it began, he was your boyfriend, and for a time, he was the best damn one you’d ever had.

But it only got worse as the years went by. What started as casual smoking turned into something darker, more insidious. By the time Harry was twenty, he’d moved on to Xanax, popping pills on weekends like it was a game. At twenty-one, he tried cocaine for the first time. You remembered how he’d joked about it, laughing as if it was just another notch on his belt of wild experiences. By twenty-three, things had spiraled so far out of control that you found yourself flushing fentanyl tabs down the toilet, your hands trembling as they dissolved into nothingness.

Cocaine, though, was always his vice. It lingered like an unwelcome guest in your home, its presence felt even when you couldn’t see it. You’d spot the faint traces it left behind: the dusty residue on the edge of his credit card, the faint chemical tang that clung to the air like a ghost. Every time you saw it, your stomach twisted into a knot so tight it felt like you might never breathe properly again.

He drank too—often and excessively. The combination was volatile, turning your home into a battleground. Harry would stumble through the door, crossed out of his mind, his apologies slurring together as he promised, over and over again, that this was the last time. You stopped believing him long before you stopped yelling. Eventually, you gave up on the fights altogether, silently helping him to bed while he muttered half-formed apologies.. 

The sex was all that bad. When it did happen, it got sloppy and rushed and he stopped caring about you. Other times, even when he was sober, when you’d be on his lap with your lips locked in what you believed was a great makeout session, he couldn’t even get hard. 

That was as far as you guys could go most times. Dealing with yourself once he was asleep got tiring after a few weeks and you just gave up.

When he turned twenty five, he shook most of his habits off. He got clean, he kept himself that way. Harry got a haircut and he shaved and he tossed out old clothes to buy new ones. He bought you guys a new house with a new bed and a new beginning. He was your six foot two teddy bear once again. Or so you thought.

That all came crashing down on his twenty sixth birthday. You made the mistake of letting him throw a small get together with his friends. You trusted him with alcohol and weed, that was his business that you knew he could handle. What you didn’t want to see, what he didn’t mean for you to see, was the lines of cocaine on the coffee table when you walked in with a custom cake and balloons. 

The fight that followed was inevitable but futile. Harry was high, too far gone to care, his eyes glazed and his words slurred. You yelled until your voice cracked, but all it did was ricochet off the walls of your shared misery.

The spiral back into the pits of hell was quicker this time, more merciless. You found solace in church, staying longer on Sundays and Wednesdays, the echoes of hymns filling the void Harry had left behind. At first, it hurt to avoid him, to find excuses not to come home. But the longer you stayed away, the more you realized he didn’t care. Harry didn’t think of you as home anymore.

When you did return, it was like stepping into a war zone. Empty bottles of hard liquor littered the counters and floors, little baggies of cocaine peeked out from under furniture, and strips of foil, tarnished and crinkled, hid in drawers like ugly secrets. Harry didn’t even try to hide it anymore. 

He had no fucking shame.

Harry had the nerve to show up at your father’s church one quiet afternoon, the air heavy with the faint scent of incense and wax from the candles burning in the sanctuary. He arrived holding a bouquet of flowers—vivid lilies and carnations that looked almost garishly out of place against the muted tones of the church. To anyone else, he seemed perfectly fine, even charming. Harry had shaved, his jawline clean and sharp, and his clothes were neatly pressed, a stark contrast to the disheveled image you had grown accustomed to. He carried himself with a practiced ease, engaging your father in polite conversation near the altar while you worked in the worship room, tucking hymn books into the pews.

The low hum of their voices caught your attention, and when you stepped out into the main hall, your breath hitched. There he was. You forced a smile, thanking your father quietly as you approached and took the flowers from Harry’s hand. They smelled fresh, their fragrance almost cloying in the stillness of the space.

“What’re you doing here?” you asked, your voice low and hesitant as you chewed on your bottom lip, a nervous habit you couldn’t quite shake.

“I came to see you, honeybee,” he murmured, his tone soft, almost tender. His thumb brushed over your bottom lip, coaxing it free from your teeth with a familiarity that sent an unwelcome shiver down your spine. The warmth of his touch was at odds with the cool emptiness lingering in his eyes. “Is that an issue?”

“No, no. I just… I hadn’t expected company, not until worship started, anyway,” you replied, your words faltering under his steady gaze.

He laughed softly, the sound low and rich, shaking his head as if you’d said something amusing. “Oh, no. I’m definitely not here for that. Just for you. My sweet angel,” Harry grinned, his eyes drifting around the room before settling back on you. “In her home sweet home.”

The blush that crept up your cheeks felt like a betrayal. He was still Harry, after all, the man who had once held your heart so completely. Memories of the boy he used to be flickered through your mind like an old film reel— Harry, who had gone out of his way to understand your faith, who had brought you a delicate cross necklace blessed by your father, where he had taken it to the church where your father was and asked him to bless it before he gave it to you. Harry, who had meticulously highlighted and annotated an entire Bible just for you, leaving little notes in the margins that were equal parts insightful and irreverent on certain verses that he said made him think of you. 

That was before. Before everything fell apart. Before sobriety became a fleeting memory.

“Well, thanks for the flowers, H, but we open the doors in a couple of minutes,” you said, your voice firmer now, though it trembled just slightly at the edges. “I’ll see you at home?”

Harry’s lips pulled into a pout, a performative gesture you’d once found endearing but now felt shallow. With an exaggerated sigh, he brought his hand to your jaw again, his thumb grazing your bottom lip as though he couldn’t bear to let the moment slip away.

“Can’t use those few minutes to do something?” he asked, his voice dipping lower, laced with a suggestive edge that sent your stomach churning.

The smirk on his lips was smug, predatory, and you didn’t need to ask what he meant. You recognized the look in his eyes, the subtle shift in his demeanor.

“Harry…”

“C’mon,” he coaxed, his voice honeyed and smooth, but the undertone was sharp, cutting. “I can make you feel good, baby. Don’t you wanna make me feel good, too? Or do you plan on leaving me to suffer?”

His words were laced with manipulation, the kind that once might have worked, but now only filled you with a cold, hollow ache. The pit of guilt you used to feel in moments like these was gone, replaced by a slow-burning anger that settled deep in your chest.

“Harry, we can’t. Not here, okay? Maybe tonight, once I’m home,” you said, trying to keep your tone calm, even as your pulse quickened.

He opened his mouth to plead again, his hand lingering too long on your face, but you caught his wrist, guiding it firmly down to his side.

“I said no, Harry. It’s best if you leave.”

His expression hardened, the softness he’d feigned cracking like brittle porcelain. With a scoff, he slid his sunglasses down over his eyes, the barrier only amplifying the distance between you.

“Fine, whatever,” he muttered before turning on his heel and heading for the door.

You stood frozen, your eyes following him as he stumbled slightly on the stone steps outside. The small misstep was all it took to confirm what you’d been suspecting, dreading. He was high. Again.

Your chest burned, the heat spreading like wildfire, but it wasn’t just hurt or disappointment anymore. It was anger— raw and searing, threatening to consume the last remnants of hope you’d held onto.

When you got home that night, the house felt colder than usual, a void that seemed to stretch out in every corner. The faint hum of the refrigerator was the only sound as you shut the door, its click too loud in the eerie silence. The flowers Harry had given you lay discarded on the counter where you’d left them, their petals already beginning to wilt. They felt like a cruel metaphor—beautiful on the outside but destined to wither without care.

You sighed and stepped into the kitchen, immediately greeted by the sticky remnants of his presence. The counters were smeared with grease and liquor stains, a half-empty whiskey bottle sat crooked on the edge, and crumpled fast-food wrappers littered the floor. The faint, sickly-sweet smell of alcohol mixed with something sharper—sweat and stale smoke.

Your stomach twisted as you began cleaning, the rag in your hand scraping over the counter with force. Every motion felt like an indictment, every stain a reminder of how far he had fallen and how long you had been holding it together. The weight of your exhaustion pressed down harder with each plate you scrubbed, each bottle you threw into the trash.

By the time you finished, your arms ached, and your chest was heavier than ever. You grabbed your pillow from the shared bedroom, hesitating only a moment as your eyes swept over the messy bed—the sheets tangled, the faint imprint of his body still visible in the mattress. You used to love this space, love curling into him after long days and feeling like the world outside couldn’t touch you. Now it felt suffocating, tainted.

The guest room was plain and small, but at least it was untouched. Untainted. You dropped your pillow on the bed, letting out a shaky breath as you sat on its edge. The ache in your chest tightened, but no tears came. You had cried enough over him.

The hours dragged on, the silence only broken by the faint ticking of the clock and the occasional groan of the house settling. When the front door slammed, the sound shot through the quiet like a thunderclap, and your heart jumped in your chest.

Harry was home.

His footsteps were uneven, loud on the stairs. You tensed as they grew closer, each step bringing him nearer. When he finally appeared in the doorway, the smell hit you first— whiskey and something acrid, sharp enough to make your nose wrinkle.

“What the hell are you doing in here?” he slurred, leaning heavily against the frame, his glassy eyes struggling to focus.

“I couldn’t stay in our room anymore,” you said evenly, though your voice wavered.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” His tone was sharp, defensive, like you had just accused him of something.

“It means I’m done, Harry,” you said, the words tumbling out before you could stop them. “I can’t do this anymore.”

He barked out a bitter laugh, one that made your skin crawl. “You’re done? With what? Cleaning up after me? Being a fucking saint while I’m out living my life?”

Your chest tightened, the words hitting you like a slap. You rose to your feet, your fists clenched at your sides. “Living your life? Harry, this isn’t living. This is destroying yourself, and I’m not going to stand by and watch anymore.”

“Don’t act like you’re so fucking perfect!” he yelled, his voice rising to a pitch that made your ears ring. “You think you’re better than me just because you go to church and play the good little girl? You’re just as messed up as I am— you just hide it better!”

The venom in his words was sharp enough to draw blood. You stared at him, your heart pounding as the man you once loved stared back at you like a stranger.

“I don’t even know who you are anymore,” you whispered, your voice trembling but steady. “And I can’t love someone I don’t know.”

For a moment, his face faltered. His mouth opened, but no words came out. His fingers twitched by his side like he wanted to reach for you, but the anger in his eyes quickly flared again, and he curled his hands into fists beside him.

“All you ever fucking do is yell at me and blame me for stupid ass shit,” he snapped, his words slurred but cutting. “I can never catch a fucking break dealing with this shit show to come home to!”

His words felt like a punch to the gut, and you took a step back, your heart cracking open in ways you hadn’t thought possible. “A shit show?” you repeated, your voice rising. “Is that what you think this is? Me, trying to hold us together while you destroy everything we built?”

“Don’t twist my words,” he snapped. “You think you’re some fucking martyr or something, but you’re not! You’re just…”

“Just what, Harry?” you demanded, stepping closer now, your hands trembling with rage. “Say it. Tell me what you really think of me.”

He opened his mouth, but no words came out.

“I’ve given you everything,” you said, your voice breaking. “I’ve stood by you, loved you, forgiven you for things I never thought I could forgive. But you— you’ve become someone I can’t even recognize.”

“You’ve changed,” you continued, your voice growing stronger. “The man I fell in love with would never speak to me like this. He would never make me feel this small, this worthless. I’ve given you chance after chance, Harry, and all you’ve done is throw them away.”

His jaw clenched, his fists curling at his sides. “So that’s it? You’re just going to walk away?”

“Walk away?” You let out a bitter laugh, the sound hollow. “You already pushed me out, Harry. I’ve been trying to hold onto what we had, but it’s gone. You threw it away the moment you chose this life over us.”

Your hands trembled as you reached for the necklace around your neck, the one he had given you back when things were good, back when he was still the boy you loved. The clasp felt like it burned your skin as you tore it off, the chain tangling in your fingers before you threw it at his chest.

“You don’t deserve this,” you said, your voice cold and final. “And you don’t deserve me. And I just… I don’t love you, not anymore, Harry.”

The necklace hit him and fell to the floor, the soft clink echoing in the silence that followed.

Harry’s face crumbled for a moment, the anger draining as he stared at the necklace, his chest heaving. But it wasn’t enough. Nothing he could do would ever be enough now.

“I hope one day you realize what you’ve lost,” you said, your voice trembling but resolute. “But by then, I won’t be here to see it.”

You stormed past him, empty-handed, your breath shallow and your vision blurred with tears you refused to let fall. The ache in your chest felt like it might swallow you whole, but the thought of staying, of enduring one more second in his presence, was unbearable.

As you reached the door and yanked it open, Harry’s voice thundered behind you, thick with anger. “Where the hell are you gonna go? You live here! This is your home!”

You froze in the doorway, your hand tightening on the handle as his words hung in the air, sharp and cutting. Slowly, you turned to face him, your eyes blazing with bitterness and pure, unfiltered hurt.

“Keep the damn house, Harry,” you spat, your voice trembling but fierce. “It stopped being home a long time ago.”

Without waiting for a response, you slammed the door behind you, the sound reverberating like a final nail in the coffin. The cold night air hit your skin like a slap, but it felt cleaner than anything you had breathed inside that house. You walked away, the sting of his words still clinging to you, but the weight of years of hurt beginning, finally, to lift.

The echo of the slammed door reverberated through the house, rattling picture frames on the walls and leaving a silence so stark it felt deafening. Harry stood there, still and unmoving, his chest heaving with the remnants of his anger. Your words echoed in his ears, sharp and relentless: “It stopped being home a long time ago.”

For a fleeting moment, Harry didn’t care. His high still hummed through his veins, numbing the edges of the storm brewing inside him. He scoffed, running a hand through his disheveled hair, muttering to himself, “Good riddance. She always has something to say.” His lips twitched into a sneer, but the bitterness didn’t hold—it faltered, slipping into a frown as his gaze flicked to the door.

The house felt emptier already, the lingering sound of your voice replaced by the oppressive quiet.

He staggered upstairs, his feet dragging with a mix of exhaustion and defiance. Once in the bedroom, he kicked off his shoes, leaving them carelessly in the middle of the floor. The bed was disheveled, one side still made while his side looked like it had been caught in a hurricane. He climbed in, his movements clumsy and uncoordinated, throwing himself onto the mattress with a groan.

“She’ll be back,” he muttered to no one, rolling onto his side and pulling the blanket up to his chin. “She always comes back.”

But as the minutes turned into hours, and the haze of his high began to fade, the reality of your absence started to creep in. The silence in the room felt unnatural, as if the walls themselves were mourning. He tossed and turned, his mind replaying the fight in brutal detail.

The venom in your voice. In his voice.

The pain in your eyes.

The way you said “home” like it was something foreign, something lost.

Harry stared at the ceiling, his heart pounding despite the stillness around him. His throat felt tight, his chest heavy with something he refused to name. He’d never heard you speak like that before, with such finality.

When sleep finally came, it was fitful and shallow, and he woke the next morning with a dull ache in his head and an emptiness in his chest.

His hand reached instinctively for your side of the bed, fingers brushing the cool, untouched sheets. His stomach dropped, a sinking realization hitting him like a punch to the gut. The bed was empty.

You were gone.

For the first time, it truly sank in. He sat up slowly, his head cradled in his hands as the events of the night before played out in vivid, painful clarity. The bedroom felt like a void— your clothes were still hanging in the closet, your perfume lingered faintly in the air, but you weren’t there.

Dragging himself out of bed, Harry wandered through the house. In the kitchen, he saw the evidence of your quiet care. The counters were wiped clean, the trash taken out, the sink empty of dishes. It hit him that you’d cleaned up after him, even after the endless nights of the same fight, even after everything.

The guilt clawed at his throat, but he pushed it down, focusing instead on the mundane task of making tea. He reached for the kettle, his movements mechanical, the sound of water filling the pot breaking the heavy silence. The tea was bitter when he took the first sip, but he drank it anyway, needing something to ground him.

He carried the mug to the living room, sinking onto the couch. His heart twisted as he noticed the faint indent on the cushion where you always sat, curled up with a book or your favorite blanket.

Harry leaned forward, elbows on his knees, staring into the tea as if it might hold the answers. He replayed the fight again, his own words stabbing at him now with brutal clarity: “All you ever fucking do is yell at me… this shit show to come home to.”

He exhaled shakily, gripping the mug tighter as the weight of what he’d said, what he’d done, settled over him like a suffocating blanket.

It wasn’t just a fight. It wasn’t just words.

You were gone, and for the first time in a long time, Harry wasn’t sure if you were ever coming back.

What a valiant roar, what a bland goodbye.

You spent that night, and the following nights for the next three months with your sister. Staying with your dad would be unfathomable. You didn’t want to listen to his harsh criticisms of how he knew Harry had been trouble from the start.

One thing about your father was that he was unaccepting of the idea of who Harry was, but if he kept you happy, then he could settle.

How were you supposed to tell him about the last seven years?

Harry was the loss of your life.

You hadn’t been to church since that night with Harry, but you continued to pray alongside your sister every night. You told your dad, who then told the choir and regular attendees that you had come down with a nasty flu and were swarmed with paperwork to find a new job at a law firm outside of town. Your phone pinged with many congratulatory messages, people who passed their best wishes and ‘get well soon’ messages.

If only they knew.

The dull ache of not being around Harry was quick to pass. It didn’t matter much anymore. You felt as though you were living without him for the longest time, anyways. The photos on your phone were quickly discarded with your sister's help, deleting threads that had dated back to your junior year of high school between you and Harry. The key to that house had been long discarded, tossed into a random field you passed on the way to her house.

You felt clean. It felt refreshing to not smell liquor and to not see the remnants of cocaine on the counters. You felt more alive, not having to waste your energy on cleaning up after a grown man or arguing with one, at that.

Tonight was the first time you’d be going back to the church. You agreed to help your father set up for awana, a youth ministry program that taught children about the Bible. Many families you had grown to know showed up every Wednesday night for the three hours of engaging fun, which you usually led. But, you convinced your father that tonight was just for you to set up and pay respects, not wanting to risk contaminating any children with whatever was left of your flu.

Awana didn’t start until five that night, so you headed in a couple of hours early at three to get whatever you needed done.

The heavy wooden doors of the church creaked softly as you pushed them open, their weight familiar under your palms. The air inside was still, carrying the faint scent of aged wood and candle wax. The silence was almost sacred, broken only by the soft echo of your footsteps against the stone floor as you entered. You hesitated for a moment, calling out, “Dad?”

No reply.

You glanced around, the emptiness of the space making it feel larger than usual. It wasn’t unusual for your father to run late—he had a tendency to take his time, knowing you’d always arrive early to handle preparations.

It’s fine, you thought, letting the stillness settle over you like a comforting cloak. The familiar rhythm of setting up for Awana would help distract your thoughts, keep your hands and mind busy.

You moved through the quiet halls, your fingers brushing against the cool stone walls for balance as you made your way toward the worship room. The double doors loomed ahead, slightly ajar, leaving just a sliver of space to peek inside. You frowned, thinking your father might’ve arrived without you noticing.

“Dad?” you called again, softer this time, your voice barely above a whisper.

No answer.

You approached the doors, your heart skipping a beat with an inexplicable unease. Slowly, you pushed one door open, its hinges groaning in protest. The familiar sight of the worship room unfolded before you: rows of polished pews stretching toward the altar, the high ceilings casting shadows in the dim afternoon light.

But it wasn’t your father inside.

It was Harry.

He was seated in the middle of the room, his broad shoulders slightly hunched as he leaned forward, his clasped hands resting on the back of the pew in front of him. His curls, wild and unruly as always, were a stark contrast against the calm, ordered lines of the worship room. He didn’t notice you; his head turned slightly, his gaze wandering aimlessly around the space.

Your breath hitched, shock rooting you to the spot. You’d know those curls anywhere, that familiar slope of his shoulders, the way he sat as if the weight of the world bore down on him.

You felt a cold rush of emotions flood through you—anger, sadness, confusion, and something you couldn’t quite name. You hadn’t seen Harry in months, hadn’t allowed yourself to think of him in anything more than fleeting moments. Yet here he was, in the last place you’d ever expect him to be, looking so out of place and yet so painfully familiar.

Your heart hammered in your chest as you stared, unable to move. You wanted to say something, anything, but the words caught in your throat, choked by the raw ache of seeing him again.

The quiet was oppressive, broken only by the soft creak of the door as it settled back into place behind you.

You stayed frozen, unsure whether to leave or step forward, unsure if you even wanted him to know you were there. But as you stood in that doorway, watching Harry sit in silence, you couldn’t help but wonder why he was here, in this room full of pews and memories, looking like he was searching for something he’d lost.

The air in the worship room was heavy with stillness, the faint aroma of wood polish and old hymnals lingering like a quiet echo of devotion. You stood frozen in the shadows near the back, the dim light filtering through stained-glass windows casting fractured patterns on the floor. Harry hadn’t noticed you, and you couldn’t bring yourself to announce your presence.

It was the way he sat— head slightly bowed, hands clasped, his broad shoulders sagging as though he were carrying something unbearable— that rooted you in place. Then he spoke, his voice low and rough, wavering like a fragile thread.

“God…” he began, pausing almost immediately. He let out a small, humorless laugh, shaking his head. “If you’re real or out there— sorry, I guess it’s kind of rude to doubt You in Your own house, huh?”

The words came out clumsy, hesitant, as if he wasn’t used to addressing anyone but himself. You couldn’t see his face, but you could hear the vulnerability in his voice, raw and unguarded, each syllable a crack in the carefully constructed walls he’d built around himself.

“I don’t even know if I’m doing this right,she was so good at this” he muttered, his tone quieter now, almost as if he were afraid of being overheard. “I’m not… I’m not good at this, clearly. But I just—” He exhaled sharply, his breath shuddering.

“I don’t know if You can hear me. I don’t even know if anyone can hear me anymore.” His voice faltered, and the sound of it broke something inside you, like the crack of a distant thunderstorm.

He was quiet for a long moment, the silence stretching between you like a fragile thread. Then he spoke again, his words softer, trembling with something you couldn’t quite name.

“I need her,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I need her back in my life. I know I don’t deserve to ask for anything. I’ve screwed up so many times, made promises I didn’t keep, hurt her in ways I can’t even forgive myself for. But if You could just…” He trailed off, his fingers gripping the edge of the pew in front of him as if it were the only thing grounding him.

“If You could just look into the future or something,” he continued, his tone desperate now, “if You could see how hard I’m trying—how hard I will try—then maybe You could give me another chance. I’ll do anything, God. I swear.”

His words hung in the air, heavy with desperation, and you found yourself holding your breath, your heart aching in a way you hadn’t expected.

“I miss her,” Harry admitted, his voice breaking on the last word. He let out a shaky laugh, running a hand through his curls. “I miss the way she always left little notes in my lunch when we were younger, even when we were fighting. Just… because she wanted me to smile.”

You could hear him swallow. “I miss how she could never cook pancakes without burning at least one side, and I’d eat the worst ones on purpose just so she didn’t have to, but the way she laughed about it… was sweet. I miss the way she hums when she’s nervous, like she’s trying to calm herself down without even realizing it.”

Each word was a wound, cutting deeper into the fragile space where your heart still clung to the love you once shared.

“I miss loving her with my whole damn heart,” he confessed, his voice cracking. “I miss feeling like I was… like I was worthy of her. And I know I didn’t show it. I know I let her down. But God or Jesus or whoever, if You’re listening, if You’re out there, please, just give me one more chance. I’ll be better. I’ll be someone she can be proud of. I just…”

His words faltered, and he fell silent, his hands trembling where they gripped the pew. The room was so quiet you could hear the faint rustle of his shirt as he moved, the distant hum of the air conditioning, and the uneven rhythm of his breathing.

You felt tears sting your eyes, but you didn’t move. You couldn’t. His words echoed in your mind, raw and aching and filled with a regret so palpable it was suffocating.

For a moment, you wanted to step forward, to close the distance between you and the man you’d loved for so long. But you stayed rooted to the spot, hidden in the shadows, your heart breaking all over again as you listened to the man you barely recognized pour his soul out to a God he wasn’t even sure was listening.

That’s when you noticed it. In his clasped hands, dangled your gold cross chain. The exact one he had got for you. 

He kept it this whole time?

You took a shaky breath, slowly stepping forward. Harry glanced back his head back, scurrying up to his feet at the sound of someone else being inside.

“Sorry,” He fumbled with his words, sniffing as he wiped his eyes. “I didn’t realize there was someone he–, Y/N?”

The silence stretched on for what felt like an eternity, broken only by the faint, uneven rhythm of his breathing. Your heart pounded in your chest, the ache of seeing him again, of hearing his desperate pleas, gnawing at you with each passing second.

And then, that small detail— the gold cross chain— caught your eye once more. It hung loosely from his fingers, the chain catching the dim light, the delicate cross swaying slightly with the tremor of his hands. .

The thought was almost too much to bear. The small, sacred piece of your past, something that had always symbolized the love you thought you had, now twisted into something that stung with regret and longing. A part of you had wondered if it had just been tossed aside, forgotten, a casualty of the wreckage that was your relationship. But here it was, hanging from his fingers, as if he hadn’t let go of you in the slightest.

Your hands shook, the air feeling thinner as the weight of the moment crashed down on you. Slowly, tentatively, you took a step forward, unable to tear your eyes away from the cross that still belonged to you in some twisted way. The sound of your footsteps on the creaky floor was soft, but in the silence, it seemed to echo, growing louder with each passing second.

The way he said your name, like he wasn’t sure if it was even real anymore, made your stomach twist. The sound of it, laced with disbelief and confusion, made the raw ache inside of you flare up again.

Your breath caught in your throat as you stood three pews away from him, your legs suddenly feeling weak beneath you. You hadn't expected him to turn around and see you. You hadn’t planned on confronting him like this, not after everything that had happened. But here you were, facing him again, and the sight of him— disheveled, eyes red, the same haunted expression you hadn’t seen in months— brought a wave of emotions crashing down on you.

The way his eyes searched yours, almost pleading, as if trying to make sense of why you were standing there, made everything inside you tremble. And yet, despite the desperation in his eyes, you felt a distance, an insurmountable gap between the man he was now and the man you once knew so well.

It felt like there were a million things you wanted to say, but the words refused to come. Instead, you stood there in the quiet, feeling the weight of the past pressing down on you with every breath you took.

Harry swallowed hard, his fingers gripping the chain as if it were the only thing tethering him to some semblance of reality. “Y/N,” he said again, his voice rough, breaking. “I didn’t mean what I said that night. I didn’t mean any of it. Please know that..”

His words, those desperate, pleading words, tore through the silence like a knife, and for a moment, the church around you seemed to close in, suffocating you with the weight of everything that had been left unsaid. The hurt, the anger, the love that had been twisted and broken by everything he had done— it all came flooding back, suffocating you in the space between your heart and your mind.

You didn’t move. You couldn’t.

His eyes softened for a moment, searching your face, as if looking for a sign that you were still the person he used to know. But you couldn’t give him that. Not anymore.

“Y/N, I— I just want to fix this. I want you back. I miss you so much. I don’t know how to—” His voice cracked, the rest of the sentence trailing off, and he stood there, helpless, caught between his past actions and the broken pieces of his own regret.

But you couldn’t look at him the way you used to anymore. Not after everything he had put you through, not after everything you had lost.

The silence stretched on, suffocating and thick, and you finally spoke, your voice barely above a whisper. “You can’t just... take it all back, Harry. You can’t just walk in here like nothing ever happened and expect everything to be okay.”

The words were raw, laced with the pain that had been building up for so long. You didn’t know if they were meant for him or for you, but they felt like they were the only thing you could say to make sense of the jumble of emotions inside you.

You wanted to run. You wanted to scream. You wanted to do anything to make the hurt stop.

But you didn’t. You stood there, watching him with a heart full of broken pieces, and waited for him to finally understand the depth of the damage he had caused.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered, his voice hoarse. “I didn’t realize... I didn’t realize what I was doing, what I was saying. I thought I could fix it. Thought I could... I don’t know. But I didn’t— I didn’t fix anything. I made it worse. I got so frustrated that I couldn’t just listen to you, and I took my anger out into something you told me to avoid. I fucked everything up. I was so selfish. I was scared, and I didn’t even know how to handle it, so I just pushed you away instead of fighting for you. Fighting for us.”

His words seemed to pierce the silence, each one a sharp confession, and you felt your heart crack just a little bit more. It was hard to hear him say it out loud, to hear him admit the mistakes that had cost you both so much. But it was also the first time you’d heard him speak so honestly about what he had done.

You took a deep breath, eyes flickering between his face and the cross chain still held in his hands. There was something raw and vulnerable in his gaze, something you hadn’t seen in months. Something that made your chest ache with an old kind of longing.

“You hurt me, Harry,” you said quietly, the words slipping from your mouth before you could stop them. “I don’t think you understand just how much you hurt me. I wasn’t just angry. I felt... betrayed. Like you never really cared. And I— I didn’t know how to live with that. I didn’t know how to be in a relationship where I wasn’t even sure if you cared, or if you were ever going to care again.”

There was a long pause, the only sound between you two being the faint hum of the church’s old air conditioning system. You could feel his eyes on you, and though you didn’t want to, you forced yourself to meet his gaze.

“I wasn’t thinking, okay?” Harry finally spoke, voice cracking, his eyes bloodshot and swollen from everything he’d gone through, swelling over once more with fresh ones. 

“I was just... I was stuck. And I didn’t know how to fix it. I just wanted to be good enough for you, but I felt like I kept failing. I did keep failing. Not only myself, but you. And every time I tried to stop, I only made it worse by going back.”

You felt a lump form in your throat, emotions threatening to overtake you. “You didn’t have to do it alone, Harry. We could’ve figured it out. I told you that we could do it. I didn’t need you to be perfect. I just needed you to... be there. To care. But you shut me out. You shut me out for so long, and I couldn’t... I couldn’t keep chasing you. That’s why I just gave up, I had to. I couldn’t tread along a path where I wasn’t welcomed in the first place.”

The words hung in the air between you, the realization of how much hurt had built up over time. But as you stood there, facing him, you saw it. The change in his eyes. The recognition of the damage, yes— but also something else. Something more. A flicker of hope. A small, almost imperceptible spark that told you he wasn’t giving up. Not now. Not after everything.

“I know I fucked up,” Harry said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. “But I swear to God, this is the last chance. The very last one, please. I’ll do anything. Anything to make this right. I’ll fight for you. I’ll fight for us. I can’t lose you again. I won’t. I don’t know how to, but I want to learn to live in a world where we’re partners again. I pull my weight just as much as you do yours. I want you to rely on me, not the other way around.”

Your heart pounded in your chest, his words like a weight pressing down on you. You could feel the sincerity in his voice, could see the vulnerability in his eyes. It was the truth. It was raw, painful, but it was the truth.

You took a step forward, your hands trembling as you reached out, your fingers brushing against the chain in his grasp. For a long moment, you just stood there, looking at him, allowing yourself to finally feel the relief of someone who had been waiting for the truth, waiting for him to finally open up, to finally show you that he was willing to try.

And then, in a moment of raw, unspoken need, Harry closed the distance between you. He stepped forward, his hands reaching for you, cupping your face gently, like he was afraid you might disappear if he wasn’t careful. Without a word, he kissed you.

It was soft at first, a tentative, almost hesitant touch, as if he was testing the waters, unsure if you’d pull away or if you’d kiss him back. But then, just as quickly, the kiss deepened, becoming desperate, as if both of you had been starved for this moment for far too long. The world around you disappeared. There was no past, no pain, no mistakes. There was only the present— the electricity between you two, the familiar warmth that radiated through your veins, and the overwhelming feeling that, for the first time in a long time, everything felt right again.

His lips were warm against yours, his fingers threading through your hair as he pulled you closer, his touch frantic and tender all at once. You could feel his heart beating in his chest, the rhythm matching your own. There was no hesitation now, no doubt. Just two people, tangled up in each other, hoping that maybe, just maybe, they could find their way back to something real.

When you finally pulled away, breathless and shaky, you rested your forehead against his, eyes closed. “I still love you, Harry,” you whispered, the words slipping out without thought, but they were the truth, and they felt like a weight lifting off your chest.

“I love you too,” he murmured back, his voice rough, but steady. “And I’m not going anywhere. I’ll make it right. I swear. I promise you, I don’t want to be that person ever again.”

For the first time in a long time, you believed him. You believed that maybe, just maybe, this could be the start of something new. Something better.

And as you stood there, in the stillness of the church, in each other’s arms, you knew that, despite everything, you had found your way back to each other.

It took a lot of work through the years. Lots of AA meetings, where you helped Harry confide in those around him about his struggles of alcohol and drugs. There were nights where it seemed like time had slowed down when he’d try to go to bed, waking up every two hours with a certain itch to scratch. But you woke up every time with him, holding his hand and turning on a film to watch over a cup of tea, and then you held him close as he fell back asleep.

Four years later, you proudly wore a ring on your finger as you lifted the test from the bathroom counter, showing it to your Harry. A Harry who was finally away from the drugs and the alcohol, even socially refused a drink, whether he had been with you or not. 

“We’re having a baby?” Harry looked down at the test, then back at you with wide eyes fired with excitement. Something that said he was nervous yet excited yet scared yet so ready.

“We are,” you breathed out through shaky tears, a huge smile growing on both of your faces.

That night, he held you extra tight, his hands sprawled on your belly. 

It felt so good to have him back, and that feeling never went away since that night at the church. It felt so good for Harry to keep his promise.

[maudie-duan]

Summary: Marlowe had never attached too much feeling to sex, other than it being a duty she played out, the "act" to keep the guy that everyone wanted, playing out a role she thought she had to abide by, always keeping up appearances. Not just in her love life but for those around her.

When you're a people-pleaser, how else will you find praise?

And here comes Harry, dredging up the past, stirring old feelings that Marlowe hasn't felt for him since Jr. High, yet Harry knows she has a boyfriend. Will Harry act on feelings that Marlowe never knew existed, or will Harry let old dogs lie after they randomly hook up one night after five years of not talking?

Pairing: Frat!Harry x Fem/Character

Trope: Lovers to Enemies

Tag list: Always Open!

Warnings: (Warnings posted with every chapter)

Story Type: Mini Series (6 Parts)

A/N: Nothing says drama like High School love->This will be a Six-Part Series told from the POV of Harry and Marlowe—Yes, this story is based on two High School lovers, but all the characters are of age.

Prologue

Part One

Part Two

My Tiny Masterlist<-

[helloeverybodyhere]

Melody in the Afternoon

Summary: Harry is stuck on a song, but his girlfriend Y/N, who also writes music, comes over to help. A cozy afternoon turns into a heartfelt moment of connection.

The autumn sunlight filtered through the curtains of Harry’s cozy London flat, casting warm golden light over the living room. Papers were scattered across the floor—pages filled with half-written lyrics and scratched-out ideas. Harry sat in the middle of the chaos, his guitar balanced on his knee and a frustrated crease between his brows.

He strummed the same chord progression over and over, muttering under his breath. “What are the bloody words?”

The front door clicked open, and Harry looked up, his frustration melting into a smile as Y/N walked in. She was carrying a bag of groceries in one hand and a familiar tote bag slung over her shoulder.

“Hey, love,” she called out, kicking off her shoes by the door. “Still stuck?”

Harry set his guitar aside and got up to meet her, pressing a kiss to her temple. “You have no idea. I’ve written five different verses, and none of them are right.”

Y/N smiled as she put the groceries on the kitchen counter. “Good thing I’m here, then.” She reached into her tote bag and pulled out a small box. “Brought you something to fuel your creativity.”

“What’s this?” Harry asked, peering into the box to find pastries from his favorite bakery.

“Your favorite almond croissant,” she said with a grin, “and a latte. Thought you might need it.”

Harry pulled her into a hug, pressing his lips to the top of her head. “You’re a lifesaver.”

They settled on the floor together, surrounded by his scattered papers. Y/N sat cross-legged beside him, picking up one of the discarded pages and scanning the lines. “You’ve got some good stuff here,” she said, pointing to a verse. “But this part doesn’t flow with the melody.”

“I know,” Harry groaned, running a hand through his curls. “It’s driving me mad.”

Y/N picked up a pen and started scribbling on a fresh sheet of paper. “Okay, let’s start fresh. What are you trying to say with this song?”

Harry leaned back against the sofa, his gaze softening as he looked at her. “It’s about moments slipping away. You know, time moving too fast, not being able to hold on to everything.”

Y/N nodded, her lips curving into a thoughtful smile. “That’s beautiful. So maybe focus on a specific memory—something personal.”

“Like…” Harry hesitated. “Like us?”

She looked up at him, her expression warm. “Yeah. Like us.”

For the next hour, they worked together, their heads close as they traded ideas. Harry strummed the melody on his guitar while Y/N jotted down lyrics, occasionally breaking into laughter when one of them came up with something ridiculous.

“‘Time is a thief, stealing moments from me’?” Y/N teased, giggling. “You’re getting a bit dramatic there, Shakespeare.”

“Oi, it’s a work in progress,” Harry said, feigning offense as he leaned over to nudge her shoulder. “You’re the one who told me to get personal.”

Eventually, the song started to take shape, the lyrics weaving together effortlessly with the melody. Harry played the completed verse, his deep, velvety voice filling the room. Y/N leaned her head against his shoulder, her fingers absentmindedly tracing patterns on his knee.

When he finished, Harry set his guitar down and looked at her. “That’s it. That’s the one.”

Y/N smiled up at him, her eyes sparkling. “It’s perfect.”

Harry cupped her face in his hands, his thumbs brushing over her cheeks. “You’re perfect.”

She blushed, leaning into his touch. “It’s your song, H. I just helped a little.”

“No,” he said softly, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “You make everything better.”

The two of them stayed like that, wrapped in each other’s warmth as the autumn sun began to set outside the window. The room was quiet except for the faint strumming of Harry’s guitar and the soft sound of their laughter, their love woven into every note.

[somuchw1ne]

he wants me so bad

[austinstyles]

Could Harry be the new music professor at the local university? Y/N is a bartender at the Vandals' bar, but longs for more.

I hope you enjoy how I tried and write this. Thanks for the request.

Journey

Harry Styles x reader.

Warning: kissing and brife mention of drinking. Also some mention of smoking.little fluff. And spelling mistakes let me know if I missed anything.

Y/n pov

It a Friday night in London, I am behind the bar working. Mostly the nights shift is when I work, this job helps me pay the bills that is about it. As I was wiping the bar down, soon a 60’s man comes in and I can spell cigarettes smoke of him. He sits at the bar as I go to serve him. So I pure his whisky and hand it to him. My eyes soon land on the door again, this time I can’t get my eyes of this gorgeous man coming in. My stomach feels like it’s filled with butterflies. Let just say that the older man that is also her is far from my mind. His eyes are so magnificent I can’t stop falling for them more and more. Falling for the man that looks close to my age is a under statement, because I am soning over him at the moment. And he is walking to the where I am cleaning a glass.

Some time after this young man sit down I take is drink order and make it for him. We start talking and I fell myself falling more by the minute. We just meet and can’t get my mind off his handsome face and gorgeous eyes.

Harry pov

This bartender girl I am talking to is so sweet and kind also she looks really cute. She tells me that she really is passionate about doing something different that being a bartender. So I encourage her to follow the dreams that she has for life. We talk more and then it was getting late so I gave her my number to call and continue this conversation and getting to know each other. After paying for the drink I got I left on my way back to the apartment I live in.

It was time to go and get my well rested for tomorrow as a professor at a local university.

Time skip 5 months after meeting.

Y/n pov

It is like Heaven when I am kissing Harry. We’re in his car after a date and we have been dating for 2 months. Yes after 3 months of knowing each other we started dating it is magical. Love the passion he has for me and his work. He supported me following my dream to be a newscaster so I am working towards my dream but still working at a bar because I still need money to my my rent for a very small one bedroom apartment to that was all I could afford.

The kiss is now making out and our thoughts are playing and dancing intertwined in the mouths of each other. I meet my dream man in a bar were I work what were the odds. And he is so passionate and generous, most magnificent green eyes I have ever seen. Our date was wonderful , then now we’re making out in front of the apartment building in Harry’s parked car. His lips are amazing to kiss, the passion is burning and we are so intertwined with each other’s hearts and lips. The love I have for Harry is just getting stronger and stronger every passing moment together. 

2 years in the future.

Y/n pov still

Me and Harry have been married for one year yes we got engaged after 6 months of dating then got married on our one year anniversary and today is your anniversary of marriage and dating. I am now in my life leaving my best life with an magnificent husband for me also having my dream occupation. It actually happened last year. Hard work and dedication for me a job as a news anchor.

My life is all want I want at moment. Me and Harry are also expecting a new member to our family it will soon be three of us. Actually in 5 months time because I have just gotten to my 4 months mark on the pregnancy.

So exciting that this is my life and can’t wait to live it with Harry and our baby.

Thanks for reading and hope your happy with this Harry Styles fanfic and it tok some time because I was dealing with writing block. And also tok a break over new year and Christmas. Enjoy this fanfic and hope everyone is staying safe.

🌸🩷🖤😊👍🏻

Grace

[harrywavycurly]

Worth the Fight Extra: The Rundown

Masterlist: here

CW: Language, mentions of Harry’s asshole behavior

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

A/N: I thought this would be interesting to see how Niall handles hearing just how his bestfriend treated you in the beginning of your pregnancy, enjoy✨

Summary: Harry tells Niall everything and Niall has to fight the urge to kick Harry’s ass✨

“Wait you left her where?” Harry lets out a sigh as he looks at his hands in his lap instead of the slightly irritated Irishman standing in front of where he’s sitting on his couch in his living room. Niall places a hand on his hip as he cocks an eyebrow at his bestfriend who has a look of pure guilt and regret on his face. “Tell me where you left her because I must’ve not heard you properly the first time.” Harry wants to roll his eyes because he knows Niall heard him just fine.

“I left her at the doctor’s office after we found out she was having twins.” The calm and collected tone of his voice almost makes Niall want to walk over and smack him but he doesn’t, he just rubs his lips together and nods.

“Keep going.” At Niall’s harsh tone Harry chances a quick glance at his friend who is now running a hand through his hair as he glares at Harry. “Don’t pause too much or it’ll give me time to punch you in that pretty face of yours so keep fucking going.” With that Harry just swallows his emotions as he thinks back to the events that happened next and continues on with his story.

“So uh I left and then a few hours later I realized how big of a mistake that was so I went to her apartment and she wasn’t home so I sat there and waited for her.” Niall just nods and motions for Harry to keep going while he begins to slowly pace the length of Harry’s living room. “Uhm and she didn’t let me in and called me an asshole so-”

“Good for her.”

“Anyway that’s uhm when she decided we shouldn’t speak until I found out the twins were actually mine and I thought it was a good idea because maybe that would give me time to get my shit together and figure out why I’m being such an asshole so I uh well that’s when I called my mom.”

“And had that breakdown with the crying and stuff?”

“It wasn’t a breakdown you twat it was just an emotional phone call I mean you try to tell your mom you’re going to have twins with someone who just kicked you out of her apartment after telling you that you ruined an extremely important day for her without a few tears.”

“Anne told me you cried for over an hour and told her you needed her to come help you so yeah Harry you fuckin’ jackass it was a breakdown.”

“Whatever so a day or two after my breakdown to my mom I texted her.” Niall stops his pacing and turns to look at Harry with a raised brow.

“Before you had the results?”

“Uhm pos-possibly. Yes.”

“So you said fuck her boundaries and the one set of rules she gave you and texted her before you were supposed to? God Harry you really are such a narcissist.”

“Like I was saying.” Niall just glares at his bestfriend as he looks down at his lap and lets out a deep sigh because he’s getting close to the part of the story that he knows is going to send Niall into a full on rage. “I texted her and she stuck to her rules and didn’t engage in a real conversation with me but she did finally tell me she worked at the library so on Friday when I was allowed to speak to her because I got the results and of course the twins are mine.” A small smile crosses Harry’s face as he mentions finding out the twins were his and Niall finds himself feeling glad that out of all of this at least Harry is happy about being a dad.

“I went to her work-or well technically I went to her apartment and that’s when I met Ethan her overly fucking friendly neighbor who told me she was at work but I didn’t know where she worked I just knew it was a library so uhm I had to make a few calls-”

“Make a few calls? What you have connections in the library system now Mr. Big Shot?”

“No you wank I had to actually call several libraries looking for the one she worked at.”

“How many?”

“Uhm twelve.” Harry’s cheeks get warm as he remembers calling around looking for you as if it was the most important thing in the world to him, to see you and be able to talk to you. But of course it didn’t go the way he planned but it also wasn’t the worst conversation the two of you have had, the bickering was just normal teasing and no one left in tears.

“Jesus you called twelve libraries looking for her and you still don’t think you have any feelings for her? That’s not normal you know that right? Most people would give up after the third one and just call her instead.” Niall explains making Harry just roll his eyes as he looks up and send Niall a glare.

“She’s the mother of my children Niall so I think calling around looking for her work is completely normal. When I finally found where she worked I went there to see her and she was a little upset or maybe just shocked I’m not sure but then I think uh I think it went well actually? We didn’t fight like we normally do we bickered and stuff but it felt-felt normal? She gave me a picture from the ultrasound that I uhm left in the middle of and I tried to say sorry but she wasn’t in the mood to hear it and I told her about how my mom wanted to have her for lunch and that made her a little upset but she agreed.” Harry messes with the rings on his fingers as he talks, needing a slight distraction so he doesn’t get too caught up in thinking about how the way you looked at your desk surrounded by books made his heart practically melt because you looked as if that’s where you belonged, surrounded by pages filled with romance and adventure and all the things he imagines you want out of life.

“And then the next time you spoke was at Anne’s?” Niall asks and Harry just nods and lets out a deep sigh before he runs a hand through his hair. “Well come on then tell me what you said because I know that didn’t end very well.”

“Part of that is your fault-”

“I beg your fuckin’ pardon? My fault?”

“Oh come off it Niall you saw her go all wide eyed and star struck when she met you.” Harry snaps and Niall can’t help but laugh as he shakes his head is disbelief at what he’s hearing.

“I’m honestly flattered that seeing her get star stuck over me made you get good and proper jealous” Niall teases making Harry just let out a scoff at the idea he was ever jealous of Niall even though he knows he was, he didn’t like how you got all smiley and blushy over him at all.

“I wasn’t jealous I was just annoyed that she got all-all drooly over you right in front of me but her and my mom got on well uhm I let them have a moment while I just stayed inside and then uh I made her some of her disgusting tea that she doesn’t even like by the way. She just drinks it because it helps her nausea but she doesn’t like peppermint tea that’s why she adds all the honey.” Harry lets out an annoyed laugh as he mentions your tea of choice for dealing with your nausea.

“That’s when things took a turn and it’s all because she just asked me about how I felt about announcing the pregnancy to the world and-and I just lost it? I went on a rant about not wanting people to know her and I arent dating and she was just a one night stand and that I just never saw myself having kids with someone I wasn’t in love with-”

“You didn’t.”

“I did. I told her I never imagined being a dad with someone I just got too drunk with. And she uhm she left.”

“Crying?”

“Yes Niall she left crying.” Harry looks down at his lap as the memory of that afternoon plays in his mind, the way he didn’t even notice you had left the table because he was so caught up in his emotions and the way his mom looked at him before she got up to go after you. “And then I waited almost two weeks before seeing her again.”

“That’s the day you called me right? When we went to the pub?” Niall asks as he takes a seat in the loveseat next to Harry’s couch.

“Yes and that’s the day I saw her and Ethan in a shop near her work looking at baby things-things for my kids Niall he was helping her look for things to buy the kids she’s having with me.” Niall watches Harry struggle to get control of his emotions as he suddenly stands up and begins pacing the length of the couch with a hand on his hip and the other roughly tugging at the roots of his hair.

“Do you know how that feels? Standing outside a window watching someone else help the mother of your children buy outfits for them and look so happy while doing it? She was smiling and laughing and he was holding her bag and-and he kissed the top of her head as if it was the most normal thing to do like he’s done it hundreds of times and they looked-looked happy.” He lets out a heavy sigh as he pauses and looks down at his feet, Niall hears him sniffle and sees him rub at his nose with the knuckle of his index finger and while he wants to help and comfort him Niall knows he’s not done with his story just yet.

“She looked so happy.” He whispers before he clears his throat so he can continue. “I went to her apartment that night after we went to the pub and I apologized to her and she opened the door-I didn’t expect her to do that but she did and Paris-”

“Her cat that hates you? That’s his name right?”

“Yes that’s Paris he uh-he bit me and then Ethan showed up but before that I told her how I’m in this. I’m ready to be a part of this because I know she doesn’t need me but uhm-uh I need her because I need them. You know? I need my twins. I need to be their dad.” Niall nods as Harry begins pacing again as the words flow out of his mouth.

“I mean that doesn’t sound bad? Minus the whole showin’ up to her place drunk. It doesn’t sound like it ended horribly?”

“It went bad when Ethan showed up because he said I only get drunk with you because I was jealous and then he made a comment about how he’s been there for her while I’ve been an asshole and he’s the one who picked her up from my mom’s house after lunch went totally wrong. And I left when he made it seem like they’re kinda more-more than just friendly neighbors and I didn’t let her explain herself I just left.”

“I’m sure they aren’t doin anything he probably said that to make you mad because he’s tired of you pissin’ off his friend.”

“I don’t know Niall you didn’t see them in that store they looked like they belong together. But it doesn’t matter because she’s not mine so she’s allowed to date whoever she wants. Ethan included.”

“Harry let’s just cut the bullshit here okay? Do you want to be in her life just as her baby daddy or do you want to be more than that?” Harry lets out a groan as he runs a hand over his face.

“At this point I just don’t want her to hate me.”

“She doesn’t hate you. She told you that today didn’t she? That she’s not angry at you she just doesn’t trust you.”

“And whats a relationship or even a friendship without trust Niall? I don’t-I don’t know what to do.” Harry’s frustration is clear by the way his hands fall to his hips as he closes his eyes and looks up towards his ceiling.

“You have to rebuild the trust. Just keep your word when you say you’re going to do something or be somewhere and help her see that you’re serious about wanting to be apart of this whole thing.” Niall advises as he stands up and takes a few steps towards Harry so he can place a hand on his shoulder making Harry open his eyes and look at his bestfriend who is offering him a small but reassuring smile.

“And for the love of god man stop just showin’ up at her work or her house. You’re gonna get a restraining order placed on you before she’s even half way through the pregnancy.” Harry lets out a quiet chuckle as Niall gives his shoulder a little squeeze before letting it go.

“Yeah that was another rule she put in place. M’not allowed to show up places just because I want to talk or see her when it’s clear she doesn’t want to talk to me.”

“Gotta respect her boundaries. They may upset you but they aren’t for you they are for her so if she says stand in the hallway for the rest of your life then that’s what you’re gonna do. Understand?”

“Yes. I understand.”

“Good because honestly I’m still debating if I wanna kick your ass or not so if I hear one more thing you’ve gone and done to make that girl upset while she’s doin all the hard work of carrying your babies-I really might punch you in the fuckin’ face.” Harry just rolls his eyes as Niall heads to go take a seat on the couch.

“Noted.” Niall nods as Harry goes and sits in the loveseat, feeling a little bit lighter now that he’s told Niall everything because if anyone is going to help Harry get to a place of possible friendship with you it’s going to be his bestfriend who isn’t afraid to call him an asshole or smack him upside the head when necessary.

[gumballavocadoharry]

Secret songs, unspoken verses:

Harry adjusted his tie, the silk feeling smooth against his skin. Even after years in the spotlight, the pre-show jitters still fluttered in his stomach like trapped butterflies. From the window of his dressing room, the sprawling cityscape of London glittered, a familiar and beloved sight. Tonight was the Brit Awards, a pinnacle in the UK music scene, and he was nominated for Song of the Year. He took a deep breath, the crisp air doing little to calm the nervous energy thrumming through him.

He was Harry, the singer everyone knew for his upbeat melodies and heartfelt lyrics. Kind, sweet, gentle – the media often used these words to describe him, and he hoped they were true. He tried to be all those things, to radiate the warmth and understanding he genuinely felt for the fans who made his dreams possible. Beneath the charming exterior, though, beat a protective heart, fiercely guarding the most precious parts of his life.

He glanced at the lyrics scribbled on the notepad beside him. The words were raw, vulnerable, a stark contrast to the polished pop he was known for. These were the lyrics he wrote with ‘Skylark’, his mysterious songwriting partner. Skylark, whose words resonated with his on a level no one else’s ever had. Skylark, whose kindness mirrored his own, whose gentle spirit soothed his restless soul.

A soft knock on the door pulled him from his thoughts. “Come in,” he called out, his voice warm.

His manager, James, entered, his usual brisk energy filling the room. “Ready, Harry? They’re about to start the red carpet.”

Harry nodded, forcing a smile. He was ready for the cameras, the flashing lights, the endless questions about his latest album and upcoming tour. But under his carefully constructed persona, a secret pulsed, a truth he held close, guarded as fiercely as a lion protected its cubs.

Across town, in a similarly opulent dressing room, Yn smoothed down the shimmering fabric of her gown. The dress, the makeup, the whirlwind of stylists – it was all part of the performance, the carefully curated image expected of a pop star. Inside, Yn felt a familiar shyness prickle her skin. She was known for her powerful vocals and emotionally charged ballads, songs that resonated with millions. Kind, sweet, compassionate – these were the words often used to describe her, labels she sometimes felt fell short of capturing the complexities within.

She glanced at the screen of her phone, a message from ‘Phoenix’: Nervous?

A small smile touched her lips as she replied: Terrified. You?

The response came back almost instantly: Immensely. But seeing you later will make it all worthwhile.

Phoenix. The pen name Harry used. The man who saw past the carefully constructed image, who understood the quiet whispers of her heart. Their connection was their sanctuary, a hidden garden where they could shed the weight of fame and simply be themselves. Their shared love for music had drawn them together, their shared vulnerability had forged an unbreakable bond. Their writing sessions, conducted in secret, late-night calls and encrypted messages, were the highlight of her often-chaotic life. His words were warm, loving, just like the man she knew him to be.

The secrecy was a burden, a constant tightrope walk. Every whispered conversation in a crowded room, every coded message, every carefully worded interview was a reminder of the world outside their bubble, a world that might not understand. But it was also a testament to their love, a testament to their desire to protect something so precious.

Later, backstage at the awards show, the air buzzed with anticipation. Harry navigated the crowded corridors, exchanging greetings with fellow artists, his smile never faltering. He caught a glimpse of Yn across the room, her emerald eyes sparkling under the bright lights. Their eyes met for a fleeting second, a silent acknowledgment, a shared breath in the chaotic symphony of the evening.

He felt a pang of longing, a yearning to reach out, to take her hand, to share the moment with her openly. But the cameras were everywhere, the watchful eyes of the media relentless. He forced himself to focus on the conversation with the artist beside him, the secret burning a little brighter within him.

Yn felt his gaze and a shiver ran down her spine. He looked dashing in his tailored suit, his dark brown hair styled perfectly, his green eyes holding a familiar warmth that calmed her anxieties. She offered a polite smile to the presenter interviewing her, her mind racing. Tonight was the night. The night they had planned, rehearsed, and agonized over.

The awards ceremony began, a blur of dazzling performances and heartfelt speeches. Harry’s heart pounded as his category was announced. He walked to the stage, a practiced smile on his face, and accepted the award for Song of the Year. His speech was graceful, humble, thanking his collaborators, his fans, his family. But he deliberately avoided mentioning ‘Skylark’, a silence that felt heavy, pregnant with unspoken words.

Yn watched from the audience, her palms damp. Her own nomination for Artist of the Year felt insignificant compared to the momentous decision they were about to make. When her name was called, she walked to the stage, her heart a frantic drum against her ribs. Her speech was short, her voice a little shaky with nerves.

As she walked backstage, Harry was waiting for her, his eyes filled with a mixture of excitement and apprehension. He took her hand, his touch sending a jolt of electricity through her.

“Ready?” he whispered, his voice low and intimate.

Yn squeezed his hand, a surge of boldness coursing through her. “More than ready.”

They walked hand-in-hand towards the main stage, a decision that sent a ripple of surprise through the backstage crew. The presenter looked at them, a question in his eyes.

Harry took the microphone, his voice clear and confident. “Thank you all for this incredible honor. There’s something I’ve wanted to share for a long time.” He glanced at Yn, his eyes filled with love. “Many of you know me as a solo artist, but I’ve had an incredible partner in my songwriting journey, someone whose words have inspired and challenged me.”

He paused, letting the anticipation build. “That person is the incredibly talented Yn, who many of you know for her own amazing work. But what you might not know is that Yn is also the writer behind the pen name ‘Skylark’.”

A collective gasp rippled through the audience. Cameras flashed, capturing the stunned expressions on the faces of the celebrities and industry executives.

Yn stepped forward, her voice clear and strong. “And Harry, the man I’m so proud to stand beside, is the writer behind ‘Phoenix’.”

Harry smiled, his eyes shining with happiness. “We’ve kept this part of our lives private for a long time, nurturing our connection away from the spotlight.” He took Yn’s hand again, his thumb gently stroking her knuckles. “And that connection,” he continued, his voice filled with warmth and love, “goes beyond songwriting. Yn and I are in love.”

The silence that followed was deafening, broken only by the frantic clicking of cameras. Then, a wave of applause erupted, starting tentatively, then growing in volume, fueled by surprise, excitement, and genuine warmth.

Yn leaned into Harry, her heart overflowing. He squeezed her hand, his gaze filled with adoration. The relief of finally sharing their truth washed over them, a sweet release after months of careful concealment.

Later, as they left the awards show, a sea of flashing lights and cheering fans greeted them. They walked hand-in-hand, no longer hiding, no longer whispering in the shadows. The world was watching, and for the first time, they were sharing their whole selves, their music, their love, their truth. Under the glittering lights of London, Harry and Yn, the singers who had found solace and strength in each other’s words, stepped into their future, together. The journey wouldn't be without challenges, but they faced it with open hearts, their love a melody finally sung for all the world to hear.

[colmiillo]

me acting like I just didn't read the most filthy nasty hot smut fic of my life

[finelinefae]

bambi [ceo!h x shy!reader]

synopsis: y/n tries a dating app and meets the CEO of Pleasing

word count: 8.6k

contains: ceo!harry x assitant!y/n, deer!reader vibes, dating app, online dating, deer!reader, first date, first kiss, fluff, age gap (9 years)

a/n: this is the first part of a new series. as usual the first part is a lil slow to set things up but I'm excited for what's to come of this one. there's going to be a lot of cuteness and all the things i love writing about in this one so i can't wait to share more !

this is part 1 of Bambi, read part 2 here

. . .

Most of the time Y/N didn’t want to be in control of things. 

From a young age, she had to be in charge of everything. She had three younger brothers and was born to a single mother who worked hard to keep everything afloat in their tiny, townhouse. So inevitably she became an adult before she could even buy a lottery ticket. 

Her life wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t easy. With the constant nagging from her much younger siblings and the dampened sleeve of her t-shirt—evidence of the hours she spent comforting her mother through tears—Y/N had just had enough.

Her life had become an abundance of things she was struggling to keep up with. She had no reprieve throughout her daily life, no way of stopping or just letting go. 

She worked six-hour shifts at the supermarket, studied marketing at university, did the school run in the mornings, and often in the evenings too, if her mother was too tired to get off the couch. She tutored her youngest brother, who was falling behind in math, and kept the house in order while all three of them stayed glued to the television.

Even worse, her social life was practically nonexistent.. She was twenty-one and spent her Friday nights making dino nuggets and catching up on an incessant amount of laundry from the past week. 

Y/N wasn’t sure where her life was heading. The loneliness and stress was so overwhelming she could barely breathe. 

One night, the weight of it all brought her to tears as she thought about her future after graduation. Most of the girls she knew were planning gap years, travelling to places like Brazil or Italy. She tried to picture herself boarding a plane, but the only thing she could imagine was her mother calling mid-flight, asking her to pick up one of the boys from school.

She pulled open her phone eyes blotchy and nose stuffy from crying. Her loneliness was hitting her hard and she was desperate to feel some kind of connection, even if it was five minutes of conversation. So, she opened the only dating app she had on her phone, one that she’d installed many moons ago when she wanted to open herself up to meeting new people. 

She barely used it after realising she wasn’t the best at small talk and whenever a guy would ask for a date, her introverted self would refuse to step foot out of the house. But on occasion she’d find herself wondering, searching for someone to take her mind off of everything. 

Y/N swiped past copious images of men, seemingly unphased by all of them. She swiped through so many, that they almost began to look the same - 5’9, tanned, shirtless or lifting weights trying to show some kind of strength that proved to women they were most definitely ‘manly’. 

When she started to believe all hope was lost, she paused when her eyes settled on a man who didn’t look much like the others. He was tall, with brunette curls and green eyes that crinkled when he smiled. He wore rings on his hands in every single picture and in one of them he wore a shirt with the sleeves rolled up to reveal a sleeve of tattoos. In most of his pictures he wore comfy sweaters and knitted cardigans with grey or black trousers. In one of them he wore a pair of blue jeans and had a small, battered copy of The Catcher in the Rye in his back pocket. 

She read his bio beneath. 

‘Harry, 30

Likes: scrabble, food, cats, books, cardigans

Dislikes: loud chewing, music played too low, emails, wearing sunglasses indoors at dinner is absolutely criminal’

She clicked the heart on his profile, eyes widening when the words ‘MATCH’ appeared on the screen in big bubble writing. He hadn’t sent her a message but clearly he had liked her own profile which was surprising considering she had barely anything on it. 

As she was mulling over what to say to start the conversation, three bubbles quickly appeared then disappeared, replaced by a message. She held her breath, reading the words. 

Harry: Hey, pretty dress

She frowned, wondering what he meant by that but then remembered she had a picture of her on her profile, showcasing one of her favourite dresses. It was a baby pink slip dress she had made out of silk fabric. 

Y/N: Thank you, I made it! :) 

Harry: You did? Wow! Looks better than most of the ones I’ve seen in my own store.

Y/N: Do you own a clothing store?

Harry: Something along those lines

Harry: Although they don’t sell pretty dresses like yours 

Y/N: They’re probably a lot better, I use cheap materials 

She cringed at her message, hoping she didn’t sound broke or not put together by saying she used something cheap.

Harry: I’m even more impressed

She smiled, watching him type a new message. 

Harry: What brings you here?

She tried to sum up how she was feeling without making herself seem like a weirdo. She didn’t want to sound like a recluse looking for human interaction no matter how much she felt like it. 

Y/N: I’m tired of everything, just want someone to keep me company 

Harry: I get that. Should I be worried? Are you okay? 

Her heart warmed, she couldn’t remember the last time someone asked her if she was okay. 

Y/N: I’m okay now, thank you for asking !! it’s just everyday life stuff.

Harry: Of course. Just let me know if there’s anything you want to talk about. I’m right here to listen… or read 

Y/N: thank you, that truly means a lot!! xx

Harry: No problem, love x

Y/N’s heart flickered at the name he had placed on the end. 

They texted for hours, well into the middle of the night. Y/N was giddy, rolling around on her bed, smiling so hard her cheeks ached. They had so much in common—both preferred quiet nights in, were family-oriented, loved literature and art and even fashion. He was funny and sweet, always checking in to make sure she was comfortable and that he wasn’t overstepping with his questions. Despite how much they had in common, they had a lot of differences too.

Y/N: Is it raining where you are? Xx

Harry: Hm, just checked outside and I think the clouds are coming over. I don’t mind though autumn happens to be my favourite season.

Y/N: omg really? 

Harry: What? You don’t agree?

Y/N: No omg are you kidding? I’m much more into spring. I like that it’s sunny with a slight breeze so it’s warm but not too warm so you can still wear a sweater

Harry: Ahhh I see, you do give spring I must say

Y/N: You think so?

Harry: Even from looking at your pictures, you look like a tulip or something. 

Harry: Or the little deer from that movie

Harry: What was it?

Harry: Bambi!

Harry: Maybe that should be your name - Bambi 

Y/N: That’s one of my favourite movies !! 

Y/N: I happened to think Bambi is a very pretty name 

Harry: Then I’ll call you Bambi 

Y/N: Well what should I call you?

Harry: Anything you like, Bambi 

. . . 

Y/N was working her shift at the supermarket. She was already entering her final hour, her stomach rumbling as she packed frozen pizzas onto the shelves. Although she had been working hard to get things done so she could go home on time, her mind was constantly wandering. 

It had been a full week of talking to Harry. They had converted to messaging on WhatsApp after exchanging numbers and every day Y/N would wake up to a morning text message from him telling her to have a good day and that he would be right there in her pocket if she ever needed anything. In the evenings, he would make sure she wasn’t going to sleep with anything heavy on her mind. He’d ask her questions about what she ate and if she had any time to herself in the day. For the first time in a long time, Y/N felt a little less lonely. She went about her day with a little pep in her step feeling the excitement of texting the man she had only just met. She didn’t know what it was about him but a part of her felt safe with him. Maybe it was the fact he was nine years older than her and knew what it was like to be under stress with so many things but he understood her in a way no one else did. 

And Bambi.

Every day, it was Bambi this and Bambi that, and every time, she’d swoon or smile at the nickname he had given her. It was silly, maybe even a little ridiculous, how much it affected her. But she couldn’t help it—every time he said it, a bubble of excitement grew inside her. She liked someone for the first time in a long time, and it brought something new, something light, into her overwhelming life.

After days of just simply texting, Y/N had asked him if he wanted to video call tonight. It would be her first time hearing what he sounded like and part of her was nervous. What if he came across differently from how he was over text? What if he didn’t look the way he did in the numerous pictures he had sent her? What if after calling tonight, he didn’t like her anymore?

Hours later, Y/N was tucked up in bed readying herself to call him. She had showered and blow-dried her hair, wearing her comfiest pink pyjamas with her body wrapped up in her duvet. Her thumb hovered over the call button, gnawing on her bottom lip as thoughts raced through her mind.

She gasped when Harry’s face appeared on her screen just seconds after she pressed call. It was their first time ever talking like this, and her heart raced as she took in the sight of him. He was sitting in a desk chair, a large framed artwork hanging on the wall behind him. His shirt was slightly rumpled, his tie loosened around the collar, and his curls fell lazily across his forehead. He looked so effortlessly handsome, it almost didn’t seem real.

“Hey,” he murmured, his voice breaking the stillness of her bedroom. It carried a warmth, soft and steady, like the glow of a campfire, and she felt herself melt under its gentle heat.

“H-Hi,” she squeaked, her cheeks immediately flushing with warmth. Her nerves bubbled up as she realized she was staring at him, trying to comprehend that this was actually happening. Surely she was dreaming, she pinched herself to make sure. 

Harry’s eyes softened when he heard her shaky greeting. “You alright?” he asked, the corner of his mouth lifting in a small, amused smile. His tone was gentle, almost teasing, but there was something deeper there—like he was studying her reaction and enjoying every second of it.

She nodded quickly, fumbling with the hem of her pyjama shirt. “I’m good! Just… surprised you answered so fast.” She giggled nervously, her voice high-pitched and sweet, like she couldn’t quite believe this was happening. “I thought it’d take a few rings at least.” Her blush deepened as she tucked her knees up to her chest.

He chuckled softly, the sound rich and warm, making her heart flutter. “I was waiting for you to call,” he admitted, a soft smirk tugging at his lips. 

Her heart skipped a beat, and she shyly glanced up at him through her lashes. “Really?” she asked, her voice soft and a little disbelieving. 

He smiled, a slow, adoring smile that made her stomach flip. “Yeah, really. I’ve been thinking about it all day.” His voice had that low, confident tone, but his gaze was gentle, like he wanted to make sure she knew he meant it. “The only thing getting me through work.”

“You’re still at work? It’s nine-thirty!” she exclaimed, glancing at the clock in disbelief.

Harry’s lips curled into a playful smirk. “Is it past your bedtime, Bambi?” he teased, leaning back in his chair as he glanced at her through the screen.

Her heart stuttered hearing that nickname come from his own mouth. She felt like if the camera wasn’t on, she’d be floating around her room like a bright pink orb of light, “N-No,” she stammered, her cheeks flushing a soft pink. “But shouldn’t you be going home by now? You’ve been working all day.”

He let out a small chuckle, shrugging as he glanced down at the papers scattered across his desk. “Got a lot to catch up on. Too many late nights spent talking to you.” His voice was warm, laced with affection despite his teasing.

Her heart sank for a moment, guilt creeping in. They’d been texting non-stop for weeks, and she hadn’t once thought about how it might be affecting his workload. He’d told her before that he worked for a clothing company, and it suddenly hit her how busy he must be.

Noticing the shift in her expression, Harry’s voice softened. “Y’thinking too much in that little head of yours?” he asked, cutting through her thoughts.

“Maybe a little,” she admitted quietly, biting her lip.

He shook his head, eyes never leaving hers. “You know I didn’t mean it as a bad thing, right? I love talking to you, Y/N. I think... I might even be a little obsessed with you,” he confessed, his smirk turning into a softer smile.

Her breath caught in her throat, and for a second, all she could do was stare at him, her heart thudding in her chest. “I-I think I’m obsessed with you too,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. 

“Yeah?” His voice was full of warmth, a hint of disbelief in it, like he hadn’t expected her to say it back. She nodded shyly, clutching her pillow tighter against her chest, her heart racing.

Harry huffed out a breath, rubbing a hand over his face to hide the wide grin that had taken over. “God, you’re even cuter than I imagined,” he murmured, his words full of adoration.

They talked for hours, diving into everything and anything that crossed their minds. It was the longest conversation they’d had since they started talking, and Y/N found herself more captivated by Harry than she thought was possible. The way he laughed, the way he listened—it all just pulled her in deeper.

In the middle of her sentence, she noticed Harry looking at her with an unusually soft expression, his eyes filled with something she couldn’t quite place. He suddenly spoke, cutting her off mid-thought. “Can I take you on a date?” His voice was gentle but firm, catching her completely off guard.

“O-Oh,” she stammered, blinking in surprise. She hadn’t expected him to want to meet her so soon, but her heart leapt at the thought. “I’d like that,” she replied, a soft smile spreading across her face. “Very much.”

His own smile widened, a mix of relief and excitement in his eyes. “How about Saturday evening? I could pick you up.”

“But wouldn’t that be too long of a drive?” she asked, biting her lip. She knew he lived in the city, about forty minutes away without traffic, and she didn’t want to inconvenience him.

Harry’s expression didn’t falter. “It’s not too far at all. Trust me, I don’t mind,” he said confidently. “I’ll pick you up at 8, sound good?”

Y/N’s heart fluttered, the idea of seeing him in person making her pulse race. She nodded shyly, her voice barely above a whisper. “Mhm, that sounds perfect.”

Harry’s grin grew, his eyes twinkling, “Can you wear the pretty dress you made?”

Y/N blushed, “You don’t want me to wear something a little more sophisticated?” 

“Y’ can wear whatever makes you comfortable, I don’t mind but I think I’d like to see that little dress y’ made.” 

She nodded, stifling a yawn as it slipped out. It was getting late, and Harry was still at his office, working. “Y’tired, lovie?” His voice softened.

“A little,” she lied, knowing full well she was more than exhausted. But the thought of ending the call made her chest tighten—she wanted to keep him on the line, even just for a few more minutes.

Harry chuckled softly as if he could see right through her. “Why don’t you rest those pretty eyes for me, yeah?” he murmured, his voice low and soothing, the gentle authority in his words making her entire body relax. She practically melted at the sound, her heart skipping a beat.

“M’kay,” she whispered, her eyelids already heavy as she let herself sink deeper into the comfort of his voice.

“I’ll be right here, alright?” he reassured her, his tone gentle and full of warmth.

She managed a soft smile, her words barely audible as her exhaustion overtook her. “Promise?”

“Promise Bambi,” he whispered, his voice the last thing she heard before sleep pulled her under.

. . .

“Mr. Styles?”

Harry looked up from his computer, peering over the rims of his glasses. His receptionist, Lindsey, stood in the doorway. “The samples for the newest collection have arrived. Would you like me to bring them in?” she asked, her voice polite but efficient, as always.

“Yes, please, Lindsey,” he replied with a sigh, signing off another email before hitting send. The endless stream of tasks had him feeling drained.

Though Harry wasn’t usually the type to show much warmth towards his employees, Lindsey was different. She’d been with him for years—long enough to earn not just his respect, but his trust. She was one of the very few people he relied on within his company. 

Harry was the CEO of Pleasing, a major fashion company he had built from the ground up. His first line had been designed in a small studio, crafted with his own hands and the help of a few close friends who still worked by his side. Now, it was a global brand. He was on Forbes 30 under 30 and had features in magazines like GQ. He was even in Time magazine for most influential people. 

Despite all the success, his day-to-day life had become an endless loop of emails, business meetings, and deadlines. Time for anything outside of work was a luxury he couldn’t afford. Lately, though, something, or rather someone, had started to make him reconsider how he spent his time.

He checked his phone once more having only picked it up a minute ago for the same reason. He hoped to see a message from Y/N, in fact he was eager to. Ever since he had messaged her on the only dating app he used, he hadn’t thought of anyone else but her. 

It had been a spur-of-the-moment decision, one born out of the loneliness that weighed heavier than ever that night. Harry sat in his dimly lit office, the silence around him almost suffocating. He hadn’t dated in over a year, not since his last relationship, which had ended on a bitter note. That girl had taken advantage of him, using his desire of the relationship he wanted to manipulate him. She had drained his bank accounts, maxed out his credit cards on shopping sprees and lavish holidays with her friends, leaving him both financially and emotionally exhausted. After that, he’d grown wary of trusting anyone.

When he joined the website, he wasn’t exactly hopeful. The chance of finding someone who truly understood his career and mirrored his desires in a relationship seemed slim.

But then he met his Bambi. 

He hadn’t been searching for anything specific that day, just scrolling aimlessly, but something about Y/N’s profile made him pause. There was a warmth to her, a genuine spark that went beyond her pictures. She didn’t seem to realise just how captivating she was, and that drew him in even more. It wasn’t just her beauty—though she was stunning—it was the way she spoke about the things she loved. Her messages were full of passion, filled with rambles about her favourite books, little moments in her day, or random thoughts that popped into her head. 

Y/N had ignited something within him. He was excited for this newfound thing they had going on, a spark he hadn’t felt in years. Every message from her left him smiling at his phone, wondering what she’d say next. It was the kind of excitement that made the day feel a little brighter, knowing she was just a text away. He found himself looking forward to the simplest things—her daily updates, the way she’d ramble about something she’d seen or read, and even the photo updates she’d send him of things she was doing.

For the first time in a long time, he found himself imagining what it would be like to share his life with someone, instead of the quiet solitude he’d grown so used to. He couldn’t shake the thought of Y/N being that person—the one to bring warmth into the corners of his once-lonely home. He pictured what it would be like to have someone in his space, their presence adding a new kind of lightness. Someone to be there in the small, everyday moments and to keep him company after a long day at the office. 

He couldn’t wait to meet her in real life, hold her in his hands and kiss the lips he spent nights dreaming about. 

Harry snapped out of his daze when Lindsey opened the door and the manufacturers entered the room behind her, holding the fabric samples in their hands. They greeted him timidly, laying the samples on the table by the large floor-to-ceiling windows. 

He walked over, black polished shoes clicking against the mahogany wood floor. He sighed when he took in the samples, he didn’t need to feel them to know they weren’t good enough. Uncapping the red pen, he drew a cross beside each sample, the men behind him releasing a shaky breath. 

“Come back when you have what I want,” He murmured, dismissing them with a wave of his hand. 

He checked the time on his watch and cursed. Today was his niece’s birthday and he promised his sister he’d visit in time for her birthday party this afternoon. “Lindsey,” He called, hearing her shoes against the floor before she opened the door to his office. 

He pulled on his blazer, “I’ve got to leave, did you wrap that gift I gave you the other day?” 

Lindsey frowned, “It’s under my desk but what about your meetings this afternoon?” 

“Cancel them.” He shrugged.

His Porsche was parked out front by the time he stepped out of the building. He put the gift into the passenger seat and made a mental note to stop somewhere to buy a birthday card. 

He glanced at his phone when a text came through.

Bambi: Half way through my shift. It’s been pretty rough, sorry for the late reply xx

His heart leapt when Y/N’s name appeared. He took his phone when he reached a red light and typed in a reply.

Harry: it’s okay lovie, call me when you finish yeah? x

He was desperate to speak to her even if it were just for a mere few seconds. 

Making a left turn, he pulled into the parking lot of a small supermarket on the highway. It looked run down and old but there wasn’t anywhere else he could go to before he reached his sister's house.

People sat outside, smoking cigarettes and drinking out of beer cans. He ignored the glances they made towards him and his car. 

He stepped inside and walked along the aisles, pausing when he noticed someone stacking things onto a shelf. His heart skipped a beat when he saw her. She was wearing blue jeans and a fuzzy white sweater, her hair was braided and fastened with pink, silk bows. She wore wired earbuds, her pink ballerina flats tapping against the laminate flooring. 

She must have felt his gaze because her head lifted, eyes widening as they met his. Her soft, pink lips parted slightly, and in that instant, it was as if the world shifted—everything falling perfectly into place between them, as though they were always meant to find each other naturally. 

Harry hadn’t noticed the sugar spilling from the bag she was holding until the store manager stormed over. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” The sharp tone made Y/N jump, her body snapping upright as she stood frozen in front of her manager, fear flashing across her face.

“I-I’m s-sorry, I—” Y/N stammered, her voice trembling.

“How many times do I have to hear the same excuse from you?” her manager snapped. “Stupid, useless girl, costing me the whole damn shop.”

Y/N’s bottom lip quivered, her eyes welling up with unshed tears. “I-I know... I promised it wouldn’t happen again. It was an accident, really,” she whispered, her voice barely holding steady.

Harry’s frown deepened. Again? This had happened before?

From the way Y/N stood there, trying so hard not to cry, it was painfully clear—this wasn’t the first time her boss had spoken to her like this.

Harry’s jaw tightened as he watched the exchange, a surge of protectiveness rising in him. He had only known Y/N recently, but seeing her like this—small, vulnerable, and clearly hurt—stirred something deep within him. He couldn’t just stand there and let it happen.

“Excuse me,” Harry spoke up, his voice calm but firm, stepping closer. The store manager turned to him, annoyance flashing across his face.

“This doesn’t concern you,” the manager spat, his glare shifting to Harry.

“Actually, I think it does,” Harry replied, his eyes steady on the man. “You don’t need to speak to her like that.”

The manager scoffed. “And who the hell are you?”

Harry didn’t blink, his voice lowering. “Someone who knows when respect is lacking.”

Y/N looked up at Harry, wide-eyed, as if she couldn’t believe he was stepping in. Her heart raced, a mix of relief and anxiety bubbling inside her. She wasn’t used to anyone standing up for her like this.

“Y/N, why don’t you take a minute?” Harry said softly, glancing over at her, his voice now gentle and reassuring. The tears in her eyes made his chest physically hurt. He’d be quick with this useless piece of shit so he could give her all his attention.

She hesitated but then nodded, her gaze flicking between Harry and her boss. She quickly turned, slipping away from the confrontation, her hands shaking as she tried to compose herself.

Harry turned back to the manager, his calm exterior masking the frustration brewing underneath. “Speak to her like that again, and I won’t hesitate to have this place torn down, brick by brick, and replaced with a building I own. Then you’ll know firsthand what it’s like to deal with a real fucking manager.” 

With that, he turned on his heel, already making a mental note to have his team look into this place. It was clearly lacking in more ways than one—enough to warrant being shut down for good he hoped. 

Y/N stood behind the building, her back to him, shoulders trembling as she cried into her sleeve. Harry’s heart clenched at the sight. “Hey, hey, hey,” he murmured softly, stepping forward and gently pulling her into his chest. “Tha’s enough now, Bambi. Don’t waste your tears on him,” he whispered, his large hand rubbing soothing circles on her back. Holding her close felt unexpectedly right, as if this was exactly where she belonged, even if the circumstances weren’t ideal.

“I’m so embarrassed,” she sniffled, her voice small. “This isn’t how I wanted you to see me for the first time.”

His eyes softened with affection as he reached into his pocket, pulling out a handkerchief. Carefully, he wiped her tear-stained, blotchy cheeks, his touch tender. “You’ve got nothing to be embarrassed about, sweetheart,” he whispered, “S’alright now, y’ don’t have to go back in there.” He cupped the back of her head, feeling how soft and silky her hair was. He couldn’t seem to fathom that he was actually holding her after days of imagining what she would feel like.

She pulled away and for the first time Harry could get a proper look at her. He didn’t think it possible for her to be even more beautiful than the pictures he had of her on her phone but she was. Her features were soft, cheeks permanently pink like the colour of tulips on a spring day, her lips were the perfect shape, so delicate like two petals pressed together. She was a walking angel. 

“Hey stranger,” He grinned, those perfect cheeks turning pink. If Harry had one goal in his life it was to make her all flustery and blushy. 

“Hi,” She peeped, hands fiddling in front of her.

Her eyes widened when she saw the tear stains on his shirt, the damp spots revealing the tiniest hint of the tattoos on his torso. “I-I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to ruin your shirt,” She cringed.

“Hey no need to apologise, ‘s not even ruined and I’d rather you were okay than some easily replaceable shirt.” He assured her. “Are y’ sure you’re okay? Don’t need to go in there and beat him up or anything,”

She smiled at that and the sight made his heart sing, “No it’s okay. I-I’m okay, thank you for looking out for me. I don’t normally have people doing that very often.”

He frowned. He didn’t like how often she spoke about how little help she got from other people. If anything, it made him want to take care of her even more than he already did. 

“I should probably head back in. I still have three more hours of my shift,” she huffed, clearly reluctant. It was the last thing she wanted to do.

Harry’s expression softened, but his tone remained firm. “You don’t have to,” he said, his gaze holding hers, protective and unwavering.

Y/N frowned, uncertainty flickering in her eyes. “But I need the job, Harry,” she whispered, her voice shaky. “I can’t just leave.”

His jaw tightened at her words. He hated seeing her stuck in a place that didn’t value her, where she wasn’t respected. “I know you need the job,” he replied, gentler now, trying to ease her worry. “But no job is worth being treated like that. Not by him.”

She bit her lip, glancing back at the store, anxiety clearly weighing on her. “What am I supposed to do, then? I can’t afford to lose it.”

Harry stepped closer, his hand finding its way to her cheek, thumb brushing away a stray tear. “You’re not going to lose anything,” he said softly. “Let me take care of it. Of you.”

Y/N blinked up at him, her heart pounding. “Take care of me?”

“Come work with me,” He offered. 

There weren’t many positions available at Pleasing, but Harry didn’t care. He’d make something work—anything to keep her from going back into that place and dealing with the jerk inside.

“In the city? I... I can’t do that, Harry. I still have school, and my brothers...”

“You can work around it,” he said quickly, eager to find a solution. “I’ll pay for your gas to and from the city, or I’ll have someone drive you. Hell, I’ll drive you myself if it makes you feel better. Whatever you need. Just don’t stay here.”

He sighed softly, taking her small hand in his larger one, her warmth a comfort even as doubt flickered between them. “Just... think about it, yeah?” His thumb traced gentle circles on the back of her hand, trying to ease the tension.

Y/N hesitated but nodded slowly. “Okay,” she whispered, her voice barely above a murmur.

A grin spread across Harry’s face, his relief palpable. “Thank you Bambi.” He swore he saw her pupils carve into love hearts at his words. 

. . . 

Y/N hadn’t returned to her job at the store just as she promised Harry. It wasn’t only because Harry was insistent she didn’t go back but her manager had been pretty verbally abusive for quite some time now and she thought better than to go back and work for someone who was just plain mean. 

A few days had passed and Saturday rolled around quickly. Y/N was giddy with excitement, preparing everything in time for Harry to pick her up to take her on their very first date this evening. She had arranged a babysitter to look after her brothers since her mother wouldn’t be home until late. It wasn’t often they splurged cash on hiring a babysitter but Y/N wasn’t going to rearrange her date with Harry for anything.

She’d made a list of everything she needed to do: wash and blow dry her hair, shave every inch of her body, and paint her nails with the glazed pink polish she’d ordered online. Her hair was in curlers as she carefully laid out her outfit for the evening—a pink satin slip dress she’d made herself, paired with white kitten heels that matched perfectly. With the season shifting into autumn, she added a thin white cardigan to keep her warm in case the night turned chilly on the way home.

She wanted to look perfect. Especially after the fiasco the other day when he had rescued her from her mean manager. 

Everything seemed to move in slow motion the moment she laid eyes on the man from her phone. He was even more perfect than she had imagined—taller too. It still hadn’t sunk in that she was about to go on a date with this man—the one who wore a black suit to work and had saved her from cruel, terrifying managers.

And the way he spoke to her afterwards, comforting her with his big, heavy hands around her. She wanted him to pick her up and take her wherever he went. 

Y/N sighed blissfully in front of her vanity. As Y/N finished her makeup, her phone buzzed with a message from Harry. 

Harry: Just outside x

She peeked through the window, catching sight of him standing by a sleek black car, leaning casually against the door. He looked breathtaking in a fitted black suit, hands in his pockets as he scanned the street. Her nerves fluttered, a mixture of excitement and anticipation bubbling up. She took a deep breath, smoothed down her dress, and grabbed her cardigan before heading out the door. 

The moment she stepped outside, Harry’s gaze snapped to her, dark and intense. He straightened up, eyes travelling over her form, taking in every detail of her appearance. The way he looked at her sent a shiver down her spine.

“Y’ look stunning, Bambi,” he murmured, his deep voice sending shivers down her spine. He took a step closer, his large hand cupping her cheek, thumb grazing her soft skin. “All this f’ me?”

Y/N blushed, biting her bottom lip nervously. “I-I wore the dress you wanted,” she mumbled shyly, looking up at him through her lashes, “Do you like it?” 

“‘S perfect,” He murmured lowly. 

“Ready to go, sweetheart?” He opened the car door for her, watching as she slid into the passenger seat, her delicate form contrasting with the dark interior of his Porshe. Harry’s eyes lingered on her legs for a moment before he shut the door and walked around to his side.

Once inside, he reached over, resting his hand on her thigh, the warmth of his touch comforting her immediately. “You nervous?” he asked, glancing at her with a small smile, though the look in his eyes held a trace of dominance.

“A little,” Y/N admitted, her voice soft and shy.

Harry gave her thigh a gentle squeeze. “Y’ don’t have to be nervous around me, love, promise ‘m not scary. Least of all t’ you.” 

Y/N smiled, loving how he made it clear she was different, that he treated her in a way no one else could. It warmed her to feel special, especially when that feeling was rare for her.

As they drove, their conversation flowed easily. Y/N found herself opening up more and more, rambling about anything that came to mind. Harry listened intently, his smile soft as he asked questions, showing genuine interest in everything she said. Her eyes sparkled in the dim light of the car, and each time she answered bashfully, his lips curved. 

Y/N’s eyebrows furrowed as they drove deeper into the city. The lights grew brighter, illuminating a part of town she rarely found herself in—where the wealthy lived, with towering apartment complexes and upscale restaurants lining the streets. Harry pulled over in front of a sleek Italian restaurant, where a man stood waiting by the curb.

“Are we allowed to park here?” Y/N asked, her face bathed in the glow of the restaurant’s lights.

Harry suppressed a grin at her confusion. “What do you mean?”

“Well… I just assumed we weren’t eating here, which is totally fine! You don’t need to impress me with a fancy restaurant.” Her cheeks flushed pink as she tried to clarify.

Harry’s lips curled into a teasing smirk. “What if I told you we are eating here?”

Y/N’s eyes widened in disbelief. “A-are we?”

Without answering, Harry reached for her hand, brushing his lips over the back of it. “Y’ too cute,” he murmured. “Come on, they’re waiting for us.” He stepped out of the car, passing his keys to the valet standing nearby, before adjusting his blazer and moving to open the door for her, his hand stretched out toward her for her to grab onto. 

Y/N hesitated, her mind reeling. There was no way they were eating at this restaurant—the kind with a year-long reservation list and three Michelin stars. She’d heard rumours that a single course here could cost more than her entire paycheck for the week. But as she took his hand and stepped out, it felt impossible to believe this was really happening.

Harry intertwined their fingers, offering a brief nod to the waiter who opened the door for them. “Harry… are you sure? They probably don’t have any tables for people just walking in,” she whispered.

He chuckled softly. “Don’t worry, love. I made some arrangements.”

Her brows furrowed in surprise. “Arrangements? How?”

Stopping at the ‘Please Wait to Be Seated’ sign, Harry finally turned to her with a playful twinkle in his eye. “I own the restaurant.”

Y/N’s mouth fell open as a waiter approached, menus tucked neatly under his arm. “Good evening, Mr. Styles. Your table is ready.”

Feeling like she was in a dream, Y/N walked hand-in-hand with Harry to a private table near the large glass windows at the back. The breathtaking view of the city’s skyline stretched out before them, and the table, set for two, was tucked away to offer them some privacy. 

As they were seated, Y/N couldn’t help but notice the quiet stares and murmurs from other guests. She knew Harry owned a clothing business, but… just how successful was he?

The waiter laid the menus out in front of them and left them to decide what they wanted to order. Y/N hadn’t even noticed as her wide eyes gazed around the room at the glowing chandeliers. 

Harry reached for her hand beneath the table, “Are y’ okay love?” He asked. Y/N’s gaze snapped towards him, “I hope ‘s not too much.”

“H-Harry, I really appreciate you bringing me here, I mean even stepping inside is a dream come true, but… I c-can’t afford this.” She felt awful saying it but it was true and it was better to tell him now than when she’d finished her meal, she wouldn’t want him thinking she was out for his money.

Harry frowned, “Bambi, this is a date. Y’ don’t have to pay for anything.”

“B-but I can’t use your money.” She told him. 

She couldn’t hear it but Harry’s heart was singing in his chest. She was exactly what he was looking for someone totally opposite to all the women he had dated in his past. 

He cupped her cheek in his hand, “Look at me Y/N,” Big, doe eyes gazed into his, “Please stop worrying and let me take care of you. I know y’ haven’t been given that in the past but ‘m here now and I want this. I wanted to bring y’ here and I want y’ to be spoiled and I want to treat you in the way you deserve. So can you pick something from the menu and let me look after you Bambi baby, please? Think you can do that?”

Her lips parted, slowly nodding her head but she quickly said one last thing, “You don’t have to take me to fancy places to make me feel spoiled Harry. I already feel spoiled enough just getting to be with you.”

He smiled, eyes glistening under the low light of the chandelier. He placed a hand on her thigh and squeezed as a small thank you. “Have you decided what you’re going to eat?”

"Hmmm," Harry grinned, watching Y/N's pouted lips as she studied the menu with intense concentration. "I can't decide between the truffle pasta or the smoked salmon!" she huffed, clearly torn.

"How about this," he offered with a shrug, "I’ll get the smoked salmon, you get the truffle pasta, and we can share? That way you can try both."

She glanced up at him, her brow furrowing slightly. “You don’t want something else?”

He had been planning on ordering the steak and potatoes, but seeing how much this small decision seemed to weigh on her, he didn’t mind changing his mind. The smoked salmon was one of his favourite dishes anyway.

When the waiter came over, Harry confidently placed the order for both of them, which made Y/N visibly relax. She hated the pressure of ordering her own food, so the simple act of him taking charge made her feel instantly at ease.

“We’ll make sure to have your order as a priority, Mr. Styles,” the waiter nodded respectfully before walking away.

Y/N’s eyes widened in surprise. “Wow. They must really like you here.”

Harry chuckled softly, leaning back in his chair. “Didn’t I mention I owned a clothing business?”

“Mhm,” she nodded, “But I thought it was just a boutique or something.” She shrugged, clearly unaware of the scale.

Harry laughed a warm, deep sound that made her stomach flip. “Bambi,” he said, pulling her gently into his side until their cheeks were almost touching, “See that guy’s sweater? That woman’s hat? And that lady’s dress over there?” She nodded everytime he pointed towards them, her heart skipping a beat at their closeness. “We made all of those.”

Her eyes widened in shock. “W-wait, you own Pleasing?”

Harry nodded, a small, proud smile tugging at the corner of his lips. Y/N couldn’t even count how many times she had opened the Pleasing website, scrolling through pages of clothes she desperately wanted but couldn’t afford. And now, she was sitting across from its owner—no, she was on a date with him.

“Mhm,” he hummed, pulling away slightly to gauge her reaction. "Which reminds me, have you given any more thought to the job?"

She had, actually. The idea had been rolling around in her mind ever since he’d mentioned it. "What's the role again?" she asked, trying to sound casual.

"My assistant," Harry replied smoothly. "You’d help with emails, scheduling meetings, running errands—nothing too complicated. Just being my right hand.”

“Wouldn’t that be awkward, though? Since we’re, y’know... dating?”

Harry smirked, catching the implication. "So, there’s going to be a second date?" His teasing tone made her blush. “And if anything, it makes it better. I’d get to see you every day instead of just texting."

“But what about school?” Y/N asked, trying to think practically.

“We’ll figure it out,” he said easily. “Whatever you need. We can make it work.”

“Shouldn’t there be an interview or something?” she quipped, trying to lighten the moment, though her heart was racing.

Harry sighed dramatically, playing along. “Alright. Hello, Miss Y/L/N. Welcome to your official interview for the position of Mr. Styles’ personal assistant.”

Y/N giggled, her nerves easing as she followed his lead. “Well, hello Mr. Styles. Thank you for having me.”

Harry’s lips curled into a smile, his eyes twinkling as he played along. “First question,” he said, leaning closer, their faces now just inches apart. “How do you feel about spending every day with me? Answer carefully—it’s a tough one.”

Y/N couldn’t help but giggle, her cheeks flushing a soft pink. “Well, Mr. Styles, I think I could manage that.”

“Good answer,” he praised, his voice a low rumble that sent a shiver down her spine. “Next question: Can you handle a man who’s very particular about his coffee?”

She tilted her head, raising an eyebrow in playful suspicion. “Are we talking normal particular, or... like, twelve-steps-to-make-a-single-cup particular?”

Harry chuckled, his dimples deepening. “Maybe somewhere in between. But don’t worry, I can teach you.”

Y/N laughed softly, her nerves easing even more. Being around him was easy, natural—like slipping into something familiar and warm. “I think I could handle that.”

"One last question," Harry murmured, leaning in even closer. His gaze flickered to her lips for a brief second before locking back onto her eyes. "How do you feel about sneaking around with your boss?"

Her laughter died down, a trace of seriousness replacing it. She knew the risks—things had to stay professional, no hint of their relationship could slip through especially since Harry would not only be her boss but was the Senior Director and had to have the respect of everyone.  But still, she couldn’t resist.

“I think it could be fun,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

“Good,” He murmured, “I think you’ve passed the test, Bambi,” Y/N noticed how close his lips were to hers, if she moved her face forward they’d be touching, “Any questions?”

. . . 

Harry pulled the car up to the curb just outside Y/N’s house, the gentle hum of the engine fading as he switched it off. The street was quiet, the only light coming from the street lamps casting long shadows on the pavement. Inside her house, the windows were dark, and she silently hoped her brothers were already asleep, sparing her the awkwardness of explaining why she wasn’t rushing inside.

The silence between them felt comfortable yet charged, neither making a move to leave. It was as if both of them knew the night shouldn’t end yet, even though it had to at some point. Y/N looked down at her hands, nervously tracing the edge of her coat, stealing glances at Harry every few moments. He seemed deep in thought, his fingers drumming lightly on the steering wheel, but the same hesitation hung in the air between them.

“Thanks for dinner,” she said softly, her voice breaking the silence.

He turned to her, his expression soft but intent, as if weighing every word. “Don’t need t’ thank me Bambi,” he replied, his eyes lingering on her face a moment longer than necessary. 

“I wish I didn’t have to go home,” She huffed, looking down at her fingers on her lap.

Harry’s lips curved into a small smile, but there was a seriousness in his eyes. He leaned back in his seat, turning his body slightly toward her. “Y’ want to go back to mine?”

She wanted nothing more, the pain of saying no physically paining her, “M-my brothers... they have school,” she murmured.

“S okay,” He smiled. 

The air between them felt thick with unspoken feelings, and she could feel her heart race as the weight of his gaze settled on her. He reached over, gently tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear, his touch soft.

“Bambi,” he said quietly, his voice suddenly more intimate, like he was laying something important on the table.

She turned to face him fully, her breath catching as his fingers brushed against her cheek, lingering just long enough to make her pulse race. The space between them seemed to vanish, and suddenly, all she could think about was the way his lips would feel against hers.

Neither of them spoke. The tension that had been simmering all evening finally boiled over. Harry’s hand cupped her cheek, and in that quiet moment under the dim streetlights, he leaned in.

The kiss was gentle at first, tentative, like they were both testing the waters. But as soon as their lips touched, a wave of emotion flooded over her, and she couldn’t help but respond. Her hand found its way to the back of his neck, pulling him closer as the kiss deepened, slow and lingering. It wasn’t rushed or hurried—just soft, warm, and full of everything Y/N had been dreaming about for longer than she cared to admit. 

When they finally pulled apart, Harry rested his forehead against hers, both of them catching their breath, their lips still tingling from the kiss. His hand lingered on her cheek, as though neither of them was ready to let the moment slip away just yet.

Y/N opened her mouth to say something, maybe to break the silence or make a joke about how long they’d waited for this. But before she could speak, a loud thud startled her. She turned her head, eyes widening as the lights in her house flickered on. And there they were—her brothers, pressed against the living room window, grinning like fools and making exaggerated kissy faces at them.

“Oh my God,” Y/N groaned, mortified. Her face flushed a deep shade of red as she fumbled with her seatbelt. "This is so embarrassing."

She pushed the door open and scrambled out of her seat, grabbing her purse in a flurry of panic. “I am so sorry, Harry. I-I have to go,” she stammered, her words tumbling out in a rush as she awkwardly tried to regain her composure. “Thank you for dinner, a-and the kiss! Oh, and the job too!”

In her haste, her heel caught on a paving stone, and she stumbled slightly, her purse nearly slipping from her hand as she made her way toward the front door.

Harry watched her, his mouth half open, caught between amusement and disbelief. She was flustered, rambling, and absolutely adorable. He couldn't stop the soft chuckle that escaped him as he leaned back in his seat, shaking his head.

"Bambi!" he called out the car window, grinning. “I'll take that as a yes on the job?”

Y/N turned back briefly, her face flushed but her smile shy and genuine. “Yes! Definitely yes!” she called over her shoulder, before hurrying inside, her brothers still laughing from the window.

As she disappeared through the door, Harry chuckled to himself, the warmth from their kiss still lingering. He turned the ignition on, shaking his head in disbelief at how the night had unfolded. It was far from the graceful goodbye he had imagined, but somehow, it felt perfect. He couldn’t stop smiling as he pulled away from the curb. 

Yeah, he thought to himself, that definitely meant she was taking the job.