#harryssyndrome

[harryssyndrome]

Hoax | h.s

summery: “don’t want no other shade blue but you. No other sadness in the world would do…”

based off this request. Thank you so much anon for this idea, this was so fun writing and I hope it’s something you were looking for. I tried to be as angsty as possible with a blend of cutesy sweet, hope it’s a perfect mix. Let me know in the comments? [thank you! mwah mwah mwah 💋]

Posted on: November 26th, 2024. I DO NOT GIVE PERMISSION TO COPY OR TRANSLATE MY WORK IN ANY PLATFORM. Like, comment & reblog are appreciated 💓Italics are past memories. Hope you lovelies enjoy this little big piece.

wc: 6.6k (oops🤭) || Masterlist 🤍

Tag-List: @fruity-harry @angeldavis777 @wheredidmyeyesgo @cherryloveshs | TAGLIST IS OPEN! || REQUESTS ARE OPEN!! 💌

The morning had started just like any other, the sun streaming in through the kitchen window, casting a warm glow over everything, but YN barely noticed. She sat at the counter, her hands curled around a coffee mug, its warmth barely a match for the cold ache building inside her. The apartment felt empty, despite the soft hum of the city just outside the window. She could feel the weight of the silence pressing down on her, a silence that had grown more oppressive over the past few weeks.

Harry had been on tour for what seemed like forever now, and their communication had dwindled. What had once been late-night calls and stolen moments between sound checks had turned into rushed, distracted conversations, where he was either too busy or too tired to give her his full attention. YN had always known the demands of his career, had always been willing to share him with the world, but it was starting to feel like he was slipping further away from her.

She had tried to be understanding, tried to remind herself that this was just a phase—that he was only gone for a while, and they would find their way back to each other. But today felt different. Something in the air was charged with tension, a sense of dread that hung around her like a cloud. Harry had promised to call her during his break between rehearsals, and as the minutes ticked by, that sense of unease only grew. She hadn’t heard from him, not even a text to explain why.

When the phone finally rang, she grabbed it with an anxious breath, hoping for the reassurance she so desperately needed.

“Hey, babe,” Harry’s voice crackled through the phone, distant and strained. There was a tiredness in his voice that made her heart ache even more.

“Hi,” she replied softly, trying to keep her tone light, but the worry slipped out anyway. “I was starting to wonder if you forgot about me.”

Harry didn’t immediately answer, and YN could feel him shifting on the other end, perhaps looking for the right words, or maybe just gathering the energy to engage with her. “I didn’t forget,” he said after a beat, his voice uncharacteristically flat. “It’s just… things are hectic right now. You know how it is.”

YN frowned, her fingers tightening around her mug. She knew how it was. She knew that Harry’s tour schedule was demanding, that he barely had time to breathe, let alone talk to her. But it was different now. It had been different for weeks, and she couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong.

“I get it, Harry,” she said softly, trying to keep the frustration from her voice. “But it feels like we haven’t really talked in days. I feel like I’m losing you.”

The words hung in the air between them, thick with unspoken emotions. She didn’t want to say it. She didn’t want to accuse him of pulling away, but she couldn’t ignore what was happening anymore. She missed him. She missed the way they used to connect, how they’d stay up all night talking about their dreams and fears, how they’d laugh until their stomachs ached. Now, it felt like all they did was talk about logistics and time zones. She wanted more than that.

Harry let out a heavy sigh, and for a moment, she thought he was going to apologize, that he would offer the comfort she so desperately needed. But instead, his voice grew colder, his words sharper. “You miss me? Maybe you miss the version of me that you had before all of this. But I’m not the same person anymore, YNN. I’m just tired. Tired of feeling like I’m constantly being pulled in a million directions.”

Her heart sank at his words, the finality in them hitting her harder than she had expected. “What does that mean?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Harry’s words came out in a rush, almost like he couldn’t stop them, as if they were coming from a place deeper than he intended. “It means that I don’t have the energy for this right now. I don’t have the energy to keep pretending that everything is fine when it’s not. And maybe I’m just tired of pretending that you’re not asking for more than I can give. Maybe I need space. Maybe we both need space.”

The words stabbed her. She felt them deep in her chest, each one like a dagger, twisting further with every breath. “Space?” she echoed, barely able to form the word, the hurt creeping into her voice despite her best efforts to hold it back. “I’m not asking for space, Harry. I’m just asking for you. For the person you promised me you’d always be.”

Harry didn’t respond right away, and when he did, his voice was tight, defensive. “Maybe that person isn’t here anymore, YNN. Maybe that’s what I’m trying to say.”

The silence that followed was suffocating. YN could hear the faint rustling of something on his end of the phone, the noise of people moving in the background, but it didn’t matter. The emptiness between them felt so loud, so unbearable. The connection that once held them together was fraying, thread by thread.

She swallowed hard, the tears welling in her eyes. “Fine,” she said, her voice breaking as she spoke. “If that’s how you feel, then I guess I’ll leave.”

The words came out before she could stop them, and she immediately regretted them. But the damage was done. The silence that followed was deafening, and the weight of Harry’s absence felt so heavy, so crushing, that she could barely breathe. The person she loved, the person she had given everything to, had just told her he was done. He was tired of her.

Before she could say another word, she ended the call. The click of the phone disconnecting felt like the final nail in the coffin, sealing whatever it was that they had left.

YN sat there for a long moment, staring at the phone in her hand as if it were some foreign object. She couldn’t move, couldn’t speak. Her mind was numb, her thoughts tangled in confusion and hurt. The apartment, their shared space, felt so small now. It felt suffocating. Every corner of the place was a reminder of everything that had once been good, everything that was now falling apart.

Tears blurred her vision as she stood up from the counter. She didn’t know what to do. She didn’t know where to go. But she couldn’t stay there. Not with him, not with the words he had just said. The love they had built felt like ashes, and she couldn’t breathe in the smoke any longer.

She started packing her things, her movements automatic, like she was on autopilot. Her hands shook as she threw clothes into a bag, not caring if they matched or if they were folded neatly. Nothing mattered in that moment except the urgent need to get away from the place that had once been home. She ignored the phone buzzing with messages, messages from Harry, apologizing, pleading with her to call him back. She couldn’t. Not yet. Not after the things he had said.

When she finished packing, she grabbed her bags and walked out the door. The apartment felt even emptier as she closed the door behind her. There were no more goodbyes, no more promises. Just the echo of his hurtful words ringing in her ears.

YN drove to her parents’ house in a daze, her eyes stinging with unshed tears. She couldn’t stop thinking about everything that had happened, about how quickly their love had unraveled. She needed space to think. To breathe. To figure out how to move on from this. But deep down, she knew it wasn’t that simple.

It wasn’t just a fight. It was something deeper. Something that couldn’t be fixed with apologies.

When she pulled into the driveway, she didn’t feel the relief she thought she would. Instead, the silence that had followed her from their apartment seemed to follow her here. Even the familiar sight of her childhood home didn’t offer the comfort it once had. It all felt distant. Empty. Just like her heart.

She stepped out of the car, closing the door behind her with a soft click. As she walked up to the front door, her phone buzzed again. She ignored it. She couldn’t bear to look at it. She couldn’t bear to see his name flashing on the screen. The man she loved had just shattered her heart into a million pieces, and she didn’t know how to pick them up.

The night had been a blur for Harry. The anger, the disappointment, the gnawing guilt in his chest from the argument with YN—it was all too much to bear. In the solitude of his hotel room, far from her, he drowned out the pain with alcohol. He knew he had messed up, knew he had hurt her with his words, but the overwhelming pressure of being on tour, the constant demand of being a public figure, and the exhaustion had driven him to the brink. He had never intended for it to escalate the way it did, but in his drunken haze, it all came crashing down.

Somewhere between the blurry shots and the endless stream of drinks, he found himself in a bar, surrounded by strangers, feeling more alone than he had in a long time. His phone was buzzing on the table, the screen lighting up with YN’s name flashing, but he didn’t pick it up. The coldness in his heart had become too unbearable, and he pushed her away instead of confronting the hurt he had caused. He just wanted the world to stop spinning for a moment. He wanted to forget everything that had gone wrong.

And that was when Emily Ratajkowski had walked in.

They had known each other for years, casually friendly in the way celebrities often are when their circles overlap. Emily, ever the charmer, had greeted Harry with a friendly smile. They sat and talked, their conversation casual at first, just the usual small talk about work and life. But Harry, caught in his haze of regret, had let his guard down. The more they talked, the more the words flowed. In some strange way, it felt easy to talk to her—like she was a stranger he could confide in, someone who didn’t carry the same weight of their past, the years of intimacy and history he shared with YN.

It didn’t take long before the alcohol took its toll. Emily’s laughter had filled the air, and Harry had found himself leaning closer, her presence soothing in a way that made him forget the ache in his chest. Before he knew it, they were kissing. His mind screamed for him to stop, to think about YN, to remember everything he stood to lose. But in that moment, he didn’t. The guilt had been smothered by the fleeting comfort of the kiss, the escape from his spiraling thoughts.

He didn’t remember much after that. The night blurred into incoherence, a jumble of laughter, flashes, and fleeting touches. Harry woke up the next morning, disoriented and groggy, the light filtering through the hotel room window far too bright. His phone was buzzing incessantly, and his stomach churned when he saw the series of missed calls and messages from YN. The weight of it all hit him like a wave, and for a moment, he just sat there, trying to piece together the fragments of his memories.

Then, his phone lit up with an alert—a notification from a gossip website, and his heart dropped into his stomach. There, in front of him, were pictures of him and Emily Ratajkowski, the kind of photos Harry had spent years avoiding. They were kissing, their lips pressed together, captured in a moment of reckless abandon that Harry didn’t even fully remember. The headline was cruel: Harry Styles and Emily Ratajkowski—A New Romance in the Making?

His throat tightened as he scrolled through the photos, his mind racing. He didn’t remember kissing her. He didn’t remember anything about that night except the overwhelming sense of regret that now gripped him. He had ruined everything. The fragile thread holding him together seemed to snap in that moment. He had lost YN, and now the media would make sure the world knew it. His personal life was on full display, and all he could think about was how much he had fucked it all up.

Desperation began to rise in his chest, and without thinking, he began sending text after text to YN, each one filled with apologies, regret, and pleas for her to talk to him. But she didn’t answer. The silence on the other end was deafening.

Meanwhile, YN was in her parents’ house, sitting in the living room with the muted glow of the television casting long shadows across the room. The house, once a place of comfort and warmth, now felt suffocating. Her mother had been quiet ever since YN arrived, sensing the heavy tension in the air. She tried to comfort her daughter, offering tea, but YN couldn’t bring herself to care. The weight of the argument, of the harsh words Harry had said, sat heavily in her chest, gnawing at her.

But when the photos surfaced—when she saw Harry with Emily, their lips locked, the headlines flashing across her phone—her world shattered all over again. The room spun around her, and she felt like she was suffocating. The love she had poured into her relationship with Harry now felt like a cruel joke. She had trusted him. She had believed in him. And now this—this betrayal was too much to bear.

Tears blurred her vision, and she quickly turned away from her phone. Her mother noticed the change in her expression and asked softly, “YN, what’s wrong, sweetheart?”

“I can’t do this,” YN whispered, choking on her tears. “I can’t keep doing this. I thought he loved me… but now… now I don’t know who he is anymore. It didn’t even take him a night to move on?”

Her mother hugged her tightly, murmuring comforting words, but YN couldn’t hear them. The pain of what she had seen—the public humiliation of it all—felt like a physical weight on her chest. She needed to get away. She needed to clear her head.

“I’m going for a walk,” she said, her voice distant, as if she were speaking to herself rather than her mother.

Her mother nodded, understanding the need for space, and watched as YN stepped outside, the cool evening air wrapping around her like a blanket.

The lake stretched out before her, calm and unbothered by the storm raging inside her. Its surface shimmered faintly under the overcast sky, the golden light of the fading afternoon barely breaking through the thick clouds. The familiar sight of it— the way the trees reflected on the water, the distant sound of birds, the rhythmic lapping of waves against the shore-should have brought YN the comfort she was seeking. But all it did was make her chest tighten with a suffocating ache.

She had always come to this place for solace, even as a child. The lake by her parents' house was her sanctuary, a space where the noise of the world couldn't touch her. But now, as she stood there, arms wrapped tightly around herself against the crisp autumn air, the silence was deafening. It wasn't peace she found here today. It was the echo of memories she had desperately tried to bury since she walked out of the home she had once shared with Harry.

Her boots crunched softly against the earth as she made her way closer to the water's edge, the damp grass soaking the hem of her dress. The wind whispered through the trees, carrying with it the faintest scent of pine and earth. But YN didn't notice. Her mind was far away, replaying a reel of memories she wished she could turn off. No matter how much she tried to focus on the present, her past with Harry came rushing back to her, vivid and bittersweet.

She crouched down near the shore, her fingertips brushing against the cool surface of the water. As ripples spread outward, her thoughts drifted to another time, another version of herself-a happier one. She closed her eyes, and it all came rushing back as if she were still there.

It had been a summer evening, the sun setting in brilliant hues of orange and pink.

Harry had been sitting on the dock, legs stretched out, his feet just barely skimming the water. YN had been lying beside him, her head resting on his thigh as they shared a bottle of wine they had stolen from her parents' pantry. The lake had been their escape that summer, a place where the chaos of Harry's career and the pressures of the world seemed to melt away.

"This place is magic," Harry had murmured, running his fingers absentmindedly through her hair. His voice had been low, almost reverent, as he looked out at the water.

YN had tilted her head to glance up at him, a smile tugging at her lips. "You always say that," she teased. "But you're not wrong."

He grinned, his dimple deepening as he looked down at her. "It's true, though. Don't you feel it? It's like... time stops here. Like nothing bad can touch us."

She had laughed softly, the sound blending with the gentle rustle of the trees.

"That's what l've always loved about this place. It's quiet. Peaceful. Away from everything."

Harry had hummed in agreement, his gaze softening as he studied her. "One day, YNN... one day l'd love to settle down somewhere like this. Away from the noise. Just us."

Her breath had caught at his words, her heart skipping a beat. "Just us?" she'd asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Well," he'd added, his lips twitching into a playful smile, "maybe not just us. I'm thinking a couple of little ones running around, maybe a dog... or two."

YN's heart skipped at his words, her stomach flipping in that way it always did when he hinted at their future. She laughed, nudging him playfully. "Little ones, huh? You planning on starting a family with me already, Styles?"

Harry grinned, his dimple showing as he leaned closer, the teasing glint in his eyes softening into something deeper. "Why not? I mean it, YNN. I'd love that. A house by the lake. Waking up every morning with you by my side. Teaching our kids how to fish or swim or whatever it is people do out here. It sounds perfect."

Her breath caught as she looked at him, the sincerity in his words tugging at something deep within her. "It does," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "It sounds perfect."

He reached out, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, his fingers lingering against her cheek. "You're perfect," he murmured, and before she could respond, he leaned in, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to her lips.

The world had faded away then, leaving only the two of them, wrapped in a bubble of love and possibility.

“I wouldn’t want anything less than forever when it comes to you.”

His words had settled into her heart like a warm glow, and she had leaned in to kiss him, the taste of wine still lingering on his lips. In that moment, with the sun setting and the world quiet around them, she had believed him. She had believed in forever.

YN blinked, the memory dissolving as the present came crashing back. The lake was still, the air cold, and Harry wasn't there. Her chest ached as she stared at the dock, the image of them sitting there overlaying the reality of its emptiness. She could almost hear his laughter, feel his hand in hers, but it was all in her mind.

The betrayal burned anew, the image of him with Emily flashing behind her eyes.

How could he have said those things, painted that picture of their future, and then so carelessly let it all fall apart? How could he kiss someone else after everything they had shared?

How had they gone from that to this? How had the man who once promised her forever ended up kissing someone else? The image of Harry and Emily flashed in her mind again, sharper this time, and her stomach twisted. She wrapped her arms tighter around herself, trying to hold together the pieces of her heart that felt like they were falling apart.

The lake, once her sanctuary, now felt like a cruel reminder of everything she had lost. The life she had envisioned with Harry-the house by the lake, the little ones running around, the forever they had dreamed of-felt like a distant, unattainable dream. And yet, no matter how much she wanted to hate him, to shut him out completely, her heart wouldn't let her. She still loved him, even now, even after everything.

YN sank down onto the grass, her knees pulled to her chest, tears streaming freely now. She thought of the countless nights they had spent talking about their dreams, their plans. The way Harry had once made her feel so safe, so sure of their love. And now, it all felt like a cruel joke, a dream turned nightmare.

"Why, Harry?" she whispered into the stillness. "Why did you have to ruin everything?"

The question hung in the air, unanswered, as the sun dipped lower on the horizon.

She let herself cry then, the sobs wracking her body as she finally allowed herself to feel the full weight of her heartbreak. The lake bore silent witness to her pain, its surface rippling gently as if trying to offer her some semblance of comfort.

The lake, once her sanctuary, now felt like a graveyard for their love.

When she returned to the house, her heart felt heavy, each step laden with the weight of everything she was feeling. But it wasn't the emptiness of the house that grabbed her attention; it was the faint sound-the small, deliberate taps against the window. At first, she thought it was the rain playing tricks on her, the gentle taps against the glass. But when she heard it again-sharp and insistent-her breath caught in her throat.

Her mind didn't even have time to process it fully. She spun toward the window, her heart pounding in her chest. And there he was.

Harry.

He stood in the pouring rain, his face pale, his hair clinging to his skin. His clothes were soaked through, and his hands trembled slightly as he threw small pebbles at the window, as if trying to wake her from a nightmare she couldn't escape. She stood frozen for a moment, unsure of what to do. Was this real? Was this the same man who had hurt her so badly?

But then, she saw it in his eyes-the desperation. The raw vulnerability. The silent plea for forgiveness that spoke louder than words ever could. He was standing there, drenched, with nothing left to lose. He was a broken man, and in that moment, she could see that he knew he had ruined everything.

Before she could stop herself, she ran to the down to the front door, threw it open, and without thinking, rushed outside into the rain.

The rain fell in torrents, its relentless downpour drowning out all sound except for the beat of water against the ground. Harry stood before YN, drenched, his eyes wide with desperate urgency, a look of raw pain etched into every line of his face. His clothes clung to his body, soaked through, but it was nothing compared to the turmoil inside of him.

“YN…” His voice broke, as if the weight of her name was too much to bear. His hand reached out shakily, desperate to bridge the gap between them, but she pulled away slightly. He flinched, not from her rejection, but from the weight of his own guilt that seemed to pull him lower with every passing second.

“I—” He took a breath, trying to steady himself, but his words tumbled out in a frantic rush. “I never meant for it to be this way. I never meant to hurt you, YNN. I swear, I never thought—God, I was so drunk, so damn stupid. I don’t even remember what happened, but I know I messed up. I know I messed everything up.”

YN’s heart clenched painfully in her chest. She wanted to scream at him, to tell him how much he had hurt her, how much his words still stung like a constant ache in her soul. But instead, she stood there, her breath coming in ragged bursts, staring at him as he trembled in the rain. She wasn’t sure whether it was the cold of the storm or the pain inside him that made him shudder, but it was impossible to ignore the depth of his regret.

“You do remember, Harry,” she finally spoke, her voice shaking but strong. “You remember everything, even if you don’t remember that moment. You remember the things you said to me. You remember how you treated me. How you—” She stopped herself, not wanting to continue with the painful words. But the memory of his cutting tone, his dismissive words, echoed in her mind, taunting her, making her question everything they had ever shared. “I trusted you. I loved you. And you—you broke me.”

Harry’s eyes welled with unshed tears as he took a step toward her, this time not caring if she pulled away. He was beyond caring about the rain, beyond caring about anything except for the woman standing before him, the one person who had always been his everything.

“I know,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion, and she could see the raw vulnerability in his eyes. “I know I broke you. And that’s the worst part of it. I never wanted to hurt you. Not in a million years. I’ve never loved anyone the way I love you, YNN. You’re it for me, you always have been.” He reached for her again, but this time she didn’t pull away. His fingers brushed against hers, a tentative touch, as if he were afraid she might vanish the moment he let go.

“But I let my stupid insecurities, my stupid mistakes, cloud everything,” he continued, his voice cracking. “I’ve never been more scared of losing someone than I am of losing you, and I couldn’t see that until now. I couldn’t see that you are the one I need. That it’s not the fame, it’s not the tour, it’s not anyone or anything else—it’s you, YN. You’re the only thing that matters.”

The words hung in the air like fragile threads, each one trembling with a rawness that made Ashley’s heart ache in ways she didn’t think possible. The anger, the hurt—it was still there, simmering beneath the surface, but now there was something else too: hope. Hope that maybe, just maybe, this wasn’t all lost.

She swallowed hard, her throat dry. She wanted to push him away, wanted to shout at him for what he had done, but when she looked at him—really looked at him—there was something so devastatingly human about him, standing there, shaking in the rain. He was broken, but there was sincerity in his apology, a plea that reached her heart in ways his words never had before.

“You don’t even understand what you’ve done to me, Harry,” she said, her voice quivering as she took a step back. “You think it’s just about what happened with her, with Emily? It’s not. It’s about everything that led up to that moment. It’s about the words you said to me, the way you dismissed everything we had, everything I gave you. It’s about how you made me feel like I wasn’t enough.”

Harry closed his eyes, a silent tear slipping down his cheek. “I didn’t mean to make you feel that way, YNN. I never wanted you to feel like you weren’t enough. You’re everything to me. I’ve been an idiot, and I know I’ve hurt you, but please… don’t let this be the end for us. I can’t lose you. I just can’t… live without you. I can’t.”

The storm raged around them, but the silence between them felt deafening, thick with the weight of everything unsaid, everything unresolved. YN could feel the anger still bubbling inside her, but she also felt the pull of something deeper—the love she had for him, the love that she had thought was gone, but now seemed to flicker in her chest like a fragile flame.

She wanted to stay angry, to hold onto the hurt, but something inside her was giving way.

“Harry, I…” Her voice faltered, the words catching in her throat as her chest tightened painfully. “I don’t know if I can forgive you right now. I need time. I need space to figure this out.” She shook her head, unable to meet his eyes as the tears finally spilled over, mingling with the rain. “I don’t know if I can go back to who we were. You hurt me too much.”

He stepped forward again, his hand reaching for her, trembling with the force of his desperation. “Please, YN. I’ll do anything. I’ll give you all the space you need. I’ll be patient, I swear. I’ll wait as long as it takes. But don’t walk away from me. Please.”

She didn’t respond immediately. The storm had drowned out every thought, every hesitation in her mind, but there was still one thing she knew for certain: she couldn’t let him go. Not yet. She wasn’t ready. Not when her heart was still so tangled up in him, so unable to let go of the person he had once been to her.

“I need time,” she repeated softly, her voice barely audible against the pounding rain. “I need to think, Harry. Please, just… just go inside. I can’t—” She couldn’t finish the sentence, not without breaking apart completely.

Harry nodded, his face a picture of heartbreaking understanding. His heart was in pieces, but he was willing to wait, willing to do whatever it took to prove that he could make things right. Without another word, he turned toward the house, slowly, unwilling to leave her in the storm but knowing that he had to respect her need for space.

YN watched him go, her heart heavy in her chest, torn between love and hurt, between forgiveness and anger. The rain continued to pour, and as she stood there, feeling the cold seep into her bones, she wondered if they would ever find their way back to each other—or if this was the beginning of the end.

The night had felt like an eternity. Each minute stretched on, filled with haunting thoughts and the pounding rhythm of YNs heart. Her mind was tangled in knots, the anger still burning bright, but beneath it all, there was an undercurrent of something she couldn’t deny: the love she still had for Harry. It was the kind of love that had once felt so pure, so easy, but now felt fractured, jagged, like trying to hold onto a shattered glass piece that was bleeding into her heart.

She hadn’t been able to sleep. The past few days, the pain, the betrayal, the anger—it all swirled together in a mess that made her restless. Harry’s words from the night before—the desperate, raw apology—replayed over and over again in her mind, like a broken record. And yet, each time she thought of it, the hurt crept back in. She had tried to push it away, tried to convince herself that she could ignore it, but the reality was that she couldn’t. Not when the memories of their love, of their happy moments, still clung to her like the scent of his cologne.

But it wasn’t just the hurt she was feeling. There was something else, something deeper, something that felt too real to ignore. She couldn’t escape the way her heart still responded to Harry, no matter how hard she tried.

As the morning light began to filter through the windows, YN could no longer stay in the silence of her room. She had to see him. She had to confront everything that had happened and, maybe—just maybe—find a way to heal. But even as the desire to see him grew stronger, there was still that gnawing uncertainty. Could she really trust him again? Could she really forgive him for what had happened?

The house was quiet as she made her way down the stairs, the soft creak of the wooden steps echoing in the otherwise still air. The soft hum of the morning felt foreign against the heaviness that weighed on her shoulders, but she ignored it, pushing forward. When she stepped outside, the cold hit her like a rush, but it was nothing compared to the chill in her heart.

The lake was quiet, still as glass, the air thick with the faint scent of damp earth and fresh water. And there, sitting on the grass at the edge of the lake, was Harry. His posture was slumped, his shoulders drooped, as though the weight of the world was resting on him. The sight of him in this state, so broken and vulnerable, pulled at her heart in ways she couldn’t explain.

He looked so small, so lost.

For a moment, YN stood there, watching him. She wasn’t sure what to do, what to say. But as she watched him, she realized that she couldn’t stay away. Not anymore. She had to speak. She had to let him know how much he had hurt her, but also how much she still cared, despite everything.

Her footsteps were quiet on the soft earth as she made her way toward him. Harry didn’t look up immediately, but she could see the slight twitch of his head as if he felt her presence. His face was blank, his eyes staring out at the water, but there was something in the way he held himself that spoke volumes.

YN stopped just a few feet away, standing still as the silence stretched between them. For what felt like an eternity, neither of them spoke. The tension was thick, palpable, like a heavy fog.

Finally, she couldn’t stand it anymore. The silence, the uncertainty. She had to break it.

“I don’t even know where to start, Harry,” she said, her voice trembling just slightly as she crossed her arms over her chest, trying to protect herself from the rawness of the moment. “You hurt me. You really hurt me. And I don’t know if I can ever forget what you said to me. What you did to us.”

Harry flinched, as if each word she spoke cut through him. He finally lifted his head, his red-rimmed eyes meeting hers. There was guilt in those eyes, raw and undeniable. His voice came out barely above a whisper.

“I’m sorry, YNN. I’m so sorry. I can’t even begin to explain how much I regret everything. I was angry, and I was drunk, and I didn’t—” He cut himself off, his hands shaking as he clenched them into fists at his sides. “I never meant to hurt you. Not like that. You’re everything to me, YNN. You always have been.”

YN took a deep breath, her chest tight with the conflicting emotions. She wanted to stay angry, to protect herself from the pain he’d caused, but she couldn’t deny that his words, his remorse, were hitting something deep inside her. It wasn’t enough to erase the hurt, but it was a start. She looked at him, really looked at him, and saw how broken he was. He was a man who had made a mistake, but he was also a man who still cared for her.

“I don’t want to feel like this anymore,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “I don’t want to live in the hurt and the anger. I want to move past this, but I need to know that you’ll never do this again. I need to know that you’re willing to fight for us.”

Harry’s eyes welled up, the emotion overwhelming him. He reached out then, taking her hand gently, almost like he was afraid she might pull away. “I swear to you, YNN. I’ll fight for us. I’ll fight for you. I’ll do whatever it takes to make this right. I’ll spend every single day proving to you that you’re worth more than anything, more than the stupid mistakes I’ve made. You mean everything to me.”

YN’s breath caught in her throat. It was impossible to ignore the depth of his words, the rawness in his voice. But it wasn’t just the words that got to her; it was the sincerity in his eyes, the vulnerability that he rarely showed anyone, let alone her.

She stepped closer to him, her heart pounding as she tried to make sense of the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside her. She had been so angry, so broken, but looking at him now, she realized that she couldn’t just walk away.

“I want to believe you, Harry,” she whispered, her voice shaking. “I really do. But I need time. I need time to heal, to trust you again.”

Harry’s face softened, relief flooding through him. “I understand. Take all the time you need. I’ll be here, every step of the way. I’ll prove to you that I’m worth it. That we’re worth it.”

And in that moment, everything felt a little bit clearer. The storm inside her had not fully subsided, but the clouds were beginning to part, and the sun was starting to peek through. She stepped closer, closing the distance between them, and in one slow, careful motion, she placed her hand on his chest. The steady beat of his heart under her palm was a reminder of how much he still cared.

“I’m willing to try,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’m willing to try if you promise me that you’ll never let me go again.”

Harry’s eyes shone with tears, and he pulled her into his arms, his hands cupping her face gently as he kissed her forehead, his lips brushing softly over her skin. “I promise you, YNN. I’ll never let you go. You’re my everything. I love you.”

YN closed her eyes, letting his words wash over her. She hadn’t been sure if she could forgive him, if she could ever move past the hurt. But standing here in his arms, feeling his heart beat against hers, she realized that love wasn’t always easy. It wasn’t always simple. But it was worth fighting for.

“I love you too,” she whispered back, her voice trembling with emotion.

And as they stood there, wrapped in each other’s arms, the world around them felt a little less heavy, a little less uncertain. The future was still unclear, but for the first time in a long time, they both had hope.

They’ll be alright.

[hswriting]

Harry Styles Fic Recommendations

I made a blog (@hswritingficrec) for this list and all future recommendations. I’ll still update this list but I reblog all of these fics to the page.

@1d1195

- Two Negatives

- Protection

- Ding

- Honey

- Pleasing

- Neighbors

- Independent

- The Lottery

- The Balcony

@avatar-anna

- Champagne Problems

- It’s Hard When We Argue

- Bruises

- “I never knew how to put myself first until today.” (Reblogged to fic rec page because link wouldn’t work)

@freedomfireflies

- Teach Me

- Infinite You

- Counterpunch

@lukesaprince

- The Other Man

- “Aw, it hurts? Too bad…”

- “Would you s-spank me? Please.”

@harrysbabycherry

- Not Like a Friend

@hsunrry

- Pretty Boy

- Safe Word

@burningred1989

- The Interview

- She

@yellowbrokenblue

- Harry decides to join you in the hot tub

@harryssyndrome

- The Rain Girl

@finelinefae

- Bambi

@lemoncrushh

- Tattooed Heart

[harryssyndrome]

Best Brother Ever | h.s

Pairing: Husband!Dad!Harry x Wife!Mom!Reader

summary: a sweet Sunday afternoon with the styles family and Alex being the best big brother.

Word count: 2.6k || MASTERLIST 𓇼🌊⋆🐚🫧

Posted On: November 7th, 2024

I got really inspired by a cute reel I saw on Facebook and since then this sweet fluff has been sitting in my drafts for months and I’m really happy with how it turned out! I hope you enjoy it as much as I do ♡ let me know your thoughts in comments! Like & reblog are truly appreciated 🥰 REQUEST ARE OPEN.

It was a peaceful Sunday morning in the Styles household, and the cozy, familiar sounds of home filled the air. In the kitchen, YN moved around with practiced ease, stirring a pot, chopping vegetables, and tasting spices with a focused concentration. She’d been at it for a while now, determined to make Harry’s mom, Anne, feel right at home with her favorite dish. In the background, 18 by One Direction played softly, and YN found herself humming along, her voice a gentle echo to the lyrics.

Though the band had gone on indefinite hiatus years ago, and each of the boys had branched off into their own solo careers, YN hadn’t stopped listening. She was a Directioner through and through, and she knew in her heart she’d never let go of those songs—they were part of her story, her history with Harry, and her dreams.

Meanwhile, in the living room, their six-year-old son, Alex, was lying on the mat with Berry, their playful family dog, gently scratching behind Berry’s ears. Berry’s tail thumped in delight, and Alex giggled as the dog rolled over, waiting for belly rubs. The two were inseparable, each one the other’s partner in mischief.

After a few minutes, Alex felt a tickle of thirst, and with his usual burst of energy, Alex stopped scratching and said, “Oh Berry didn’t you get tired of all the scratching? I know, I know you were enjoying it but it’s time for a break, I’m thirsty. You don’t do anything stupid while I’m gone! Granny likes it when you’re a good boy.” He then sprang up and ran to the kitchen, tiny footsteps echoing across the hardwood floor.

“Alex, no running in the kitchen, remember?” YN gently reminded him, glancing over her shoulder with a smile.

Alex skidded to a stop, giving her an innocent look. “Sorry, Mama.” He then carefully walked to the fridge, his small hand reaching for a water bottle. After unscrewing the cap and taking a long sip, he paused, a thoughtful expression crossing his face.

Looking up at his mom, he noticed how she’d been working by the stove for a while. The warmth from the flames made the kitchen a bit stuffy, and in that moment, his little mind put two and two together. Carefully holding out the bottle to her, he asked, “Mama, do you want some water too?”

YN paused, touched by the thoughtful gesture. The little boy was caring just like his father. Her heart swelled with pride and warmth at her son’s understanding, and she leaned down to pull his cheeks before pressing a gentle kiss on his forehead. “Thank you, sweetheart. That’s very thoughtful of you.”

Alex beamed up at her, delighted by her kiss, and handed her the bottle with a shy smile. YN took a small sip, her heart feeling full in the best way possible. Moments like these, simple and unassuming, were what made her life feel so complete.

YN glanced around the kitchen, realizing she hadn’t seen Harry in a while. She turned to Alex, who was still grinning from her earlier kiss, and asked, “Where’s your daddy?”

Alex paused, looking thoughtful. “He’s giving Amelia a bath!” he replied brightly.

YN chuckled, wiping her hands on a towel. “Don’t you think he’s taking a little too long?”

Without another word, Alex took off down the hall, announcing over his shoulder, “I’m gonna check!”

YN shook her head, smiling to herself as she continued stirring the pot. But barely a minute later, she heard Alex’s laughter ring out, loud and delighted, carrying all the way back to the kitchen. Curious, she wiped her hands and followed the sound down the hallway, wondering what on earth could have him so amused.

When she reached the bathroom, she found Alex standing at the doorframe, giggling uncontrollably. YN peeked over his shoulder, and the sight before her was too good not to laugh herself.

Harry stood by the sink, almost drenched, his shirt soaked and clinging to him, while his hair, wet and messy, hung down in front of his eyes. Amelia, their 15-month-old daughter, squirmed in his arms, wrapped in a fluffy towel that he was struggling to keep around her tiny, wiggling frame. Amelia, completely entertained, let out a series of squeals and giggles, delighted by the whole chaotic scene.

Harry looked up, his eyes meeting YN’s as he tried—and failed—to blow a strand of wet hair out of his face. “She’s, uh… a slippery one,” he said with a helpless smile, shifting Amelia as she kicked her tiny feet, clearly thrilled by all the attention.

YN chuckled, stepping into the bathroom to take over. “I think you’ve gotten just as much of a bath as she has,” she teased, reaching for Amelia.

“Believe me, I know,” Harry replied, surrendering his squirming daughter into YN’s arms. As soon as she was safely in her mother’s embrace, Amelia nuzzled into YN, her little face lighting up with another round of happy giggles.

Alex, still laughing, tugged at Harry’s soaked shirt. “Daddy, you’re all wet!”

Harry ruffled Alex’s hair, a lopsided grin on his face. “Well, that’s what happens when you try to bathe a little mermaid,” he joked, winking at YN.

YN smiled, cradling Amelia close as the baby snuggled into her, finally calm. Glancing up at Harry, she added with a playful grin, “Maybe next time I’ll leave the bath duty to you again. You look like you’re having way too much fun.”

Harry raised his hands in surrender, laughing. “Only if I get a raincoat next time.”

With everyone still giggling, the air filled with warmth and laughter. For YN, it was yet another reminder of how these simple, unplanned moments held the truest joy.

After drying Amelia’s soft curls and dressing her in an adorable denim overall dress, YN gave her a little pat, sending her off with Alex, who eagerly took her tiny hand. “Come on, Amelia! Let’s play in the backyard!” he declared, guiding her to the door as she toddled along, wide-eyed and giggling.

Meanwhile, Harry changed out of his soaked clothes and slipped into a comfortable hoodie and shorts. Feeling refreshed, he wandered back to the kitchen to find YN putting the finishing touches on lunch. She was focused, stirring one last pot, her face glowing with that contented look he loved.

“Smells amazing,” he murmured, slipping his arms around her from behind, resting his chin on her shoulder. She relaxed into him, smiling as she gave the pot one final stir.

“Thank you,” she replied, turning her head slightly to meet his gaze. “I wanted everything to be perfect for your mom.”

Harry pressed a light kiss to her cheek. “It already is perfect. Besides, Mom’s really coming to see you and the kids. I’m just… here for decoration,” he joked, earning a laugh from YN.

She turned to face him, resting her hands on his chest. “Pretty good decoration, I’d say,” she teased back, her eyes sparkling. “Can’t say I mind having you around.”

He grinned, taking her hand in his. “And I can’t say I mind this whole thing… you, me, the kids, Sunday lunches. I think we’re doing alright, don’t you?”

YN’s smile softened, her heart warmed by his words. “I’d say we’re doing better than alright.”

When lunch was ready, they carried everything to the living room and settled comfortably on the sofa, filling their plates and savoring each other’s company in the cozy quiet. Berry, their loyal dog, lay stretched out on the floor nearby, watching them with sleepy eyes, as though content to be part of their little family moment. But the peace didn’t last long; as soon as Berry heard the sound of laughter from the backyard, he was on his feet and bounding toward the door, ready to join Alex and Amelia in whatever adventure they were up to.

Harry and YN shared a glance, amused, and Harry sighed with a laugh. “Should we go see what they’re getting into out there?”

YN nodded, grinning. “Definitely.”

Hand in hand, they headed toward the backyard porch deck, hearts full and laughter on their lips, ready to join in on the joy of the afternoon.

Harry and YN strolled out into the backyard, enjoying the sight of Alex and Berry playing an enthusiastic game of chase. Alex was giggling as he kicked the ball across the grass, Berry hot on his heels, barking and wagging his tail, clearly in his element.

But their attention quickly turned to little Amelia, who was standing by the swing set, her tiny fingers gripping the seat as she attempted to climb up. She’d tugged it down a few times, her determination evident in her scrunched-up face, but every time she tried to lift her legs, they just didn’t reach. She let out a tiny, frustrated squeal, her cheeks pink with effort.

Alex spotted her from across the yard and immediately abandoned his ball game, trotting over with Berry following close behind. “I’m coming, Amy! I’ll help you,” he declared, a serious expression crossing his little face. The way he spoke, it was as if he were preparing to climb a mountain, not help his baby sister onto a swing.

He placed a comforting hand on Amelia’s shoulder, patting her gently. “Don’t worry, Amy. I’ll get you up there,” he reassured her. Berry sat down nearby, tilting his head as if watching the scene unfold with keen interest.

Alex held the swing steady, lowering it slightly to make it easier for her to grab. Amelia gave it her best shot, tugging herself forward and then clinging to her brother’s back, her small legs kicking as she tried to hoist herself up. But she kept slipping back down with a tiny thud, her face scrunched in concentration.

Seeing her struggle, Alex crouched down thoughtfully, tapping his chin with one finger like he’d seen his dad do when he was deep in thought. “Okay, hm… maybe try to use my back like a lil’ stool?” he offered, glancing up at her with a hopeful smile. “I’ll be like a step!”

Amelia’s eyes lit up, and she gave him an excited nod, as if this was the most brilliant plan she’d ever heard. Alex crouched down in front of the swing, bracing himself. “Alright, Amy, climb on!” he called out, his voice full of determination.

With a delighted giggle, Amelia leaned onto her brother’s back and clutched his T-shirt with her chubby little hands. She climbed as best as she could, trying to pull herself up—but her grip on his shirt only tightened as she clambered, her arms slipping around his neck. Alex winced, his voice coming out in a slightly strained laugh. “Amy… you’re kinda… choking me,” he gasped, though he kept steady, determined to help her however he could.

Harry and YN watched from nearby, biting back their laughter as Alex tried to be the perfect big brother, his determination and care making them both melt a little inside. Berry, still sitting close by, tilted his head again, ears perked as he followed every bit of the action.

Eventually, Alex, catching his breath, stood up, looking down at his sister with a thoughtful frown. “Alright, Amy, let’s try it another way,” he said, more determined than ever to help her reach her goal.

He pointed at the swing seat with a very serious expression, bending down to her level. “Just try to sit on it. Right here,” he said, gesturing to the exact spot where she should aim. “Watch, I’ll show you.”

With exaggerated care, he climbed onto the swing himself, wiggling around on the seat to demonstrate how to sit properly. Then he hopped off and held the swing firmly in place again, giving her an encouraging nod. “Okay, now you try.”

Amelia looked at him, wide-eyed with admiration for her big brother, and then turned back to the swing. She grasped it carefully with both hands, her face full of concentration, and this time, after a few wobbly attempts, she managed to pull herself up, finally plopping down on the seat with a triumphant squeal.

Alex’s face broke into a huge grin. “You did it, Amy!” he cheered, clapping his hands. “You’re a big girl now!”

Amelia giggled, her cheeks flushed with excitement, and Alex gave the swing a gentle push, sending her gliding back and forth, her delighted squeals filling the backyard. Each time she swung forward, she let out a little giggle, her laughter filling the air.

Harry and YN stood side by side, their arms wrapped around each other as they watched Alex carefully push Amelia on the swing. Her joyful squeals mixed with the gentle creak of the swing, and Alex’s steady encouragement filled the air. Berry trotted nearby, tail wagging, occasionally glancing up as if to make sure everything was under control.

Harry tightened his arm around YN’s shoulders, pulling her close as he shook his head in admiration. “He’s… he’s really the best big brother, isn’t he?” he said, his voice soft with awe. “Look at him—so gentle with her, so patient. I can’t believe he’s only six.”

YN beamed, her eyes fixed on their son as she watched him push Amelia with such care, his face serious with concentration, as if he were on an important mission. “I know,” she replied, her voice warm with pride. “He’s amazing with her, isn’t he? Always looking out for her, always so sweet. I feel like we’re really… doing something right.”

Harry looked down at her, a playful glint in his eyes. “Well, I think you’re doing most of it right,” he teased, bumping her shoulder with his. “I’m just here to make sure they know how to make a mess and have fun.”

YN laughed, nudging him back. “Oh, please, Harry—you’re their hero. Every time you walk in, they light up. You’re like their personal superhero.”

Harry chuckled, scratching the back of his neck. “I don’t know about ‘superhero,’ but… seeing them like this, watching them take care of each other? That’s everything.” He paused, his gaze softening as he looked back at Alex and Amelia. “They’re so lucky to have each other. And I think… we’re pretty lucky to have them, too.”

YN nodded, her heart swelling as she took in the scene—their two little ones, working together, supporting each other in their own innocent, unfiltered way. “It’s moments like these that make it all worth it, don’t they?” she murmured, leaning her head against his shoulder. “All the late nights, all the messy meals and chaotic mornings… all of it. Seeing them happy, and kind, and just… them.”

Harry gave her a soft smile, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “We’ve got a good thing going, don’t we?” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “I couldn’t imagine a better team than this. You and me… and these two.” He gestured toward Alex and Amelia, his eyes crinkling with pride. “We’re doing something right, YNN. I know we are.”

Just then, Alex looked over his shoulder and spotted his parents watching. His face lit up with pride, and he called out, “Look, Mum! Dad! Amy’s swinging! I got her up here all by myself!”

YN and Harry exchanged a warm glance before waving back, beaming with pride. “You’re the best big brother, Alex!” YN called out, giving him a big thumbs-up. “Amy’s so lucky to have you.”

Alex’s cheeks flushed with pride, and he turned back to Amelia, giving her swing another gentle push. “Did you hear that, Amy? Mum and Dad said I’m the best big brother ever!” he whispered to her, smiling from ear to ear.

Watching him, Harry gave YN’s hand a gentle squeeze. “We’re raising some pretty great kids, aren’t we?” he murmured, his eyes sparkling with pride. “If nothing else, I’d say we’re getting that part just right.”

YN looked up at him, her eyes shining. “Couldn’t agree more.”

[harryssyndrome]

Snow on the Beach | h.s

summery: the day Harry found the inspiration for his debut album.

Word count: 1.1k || Masterlist 🌊❄️🩵

Posted on: November 16th, 2024

A small cutesy one-shot with pre-hs1 era from my draft🤭 so many more are coming out soon! REQUESTS ARE OPEN!

The beach stretched out before Harry Styles, quiet and blanketed in snow. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt this kind of stillness, this freedom. For years, his life had been a whirlwind of cities, stages, and sleepless nights. The demands of One Direction had consumed every moment, leaving little room for simple pleasures—like a walk on a winter beach.

But now, with the band on hiatus and the relentless pace of tours and interviews behind him, Harry had finally allowed himself to breathe. He had driven for hours, away from the chaos of the city, to find this hidden stretch of coastline. Snow on the beach was a rare sight, and something about it felt like poetry waiting to be written.

Clutching a cookie in one hand, Harry wandered along the shore, his boots crunching against the icy sand. He needed this—needed the quiet, the solitude, and maybe, just maybe, a spark of inspiration. His debut album was looming, the weight of it pressing on his chest. It was meant to set the tone for his solo career, the foundation for who he would become beyond the boy band. And yet, the words and melodies refused to come.

Harry trudged along the beach, his coat buttoned up tight, the cold biting at his cheeks. In his hand, he held a half-eaten cookie, savoring its sweetness as he gazed out at the frozen horizon.

He didn’t see the seagull coming.

With a flurry of wings and an indignant squawk, the bird swooped down, snatching the cookie right out of his hand. Harry jumped back with a startled yelp, the audacity of the bird leaving him wide-eyed and breathless.

“Oi!” he shouted, stepping back in surprise as the bird soared off with its prize. He stood there for a moment, wide-eyed and a little shaken, before a burst of laughter reached his ears.

Not far away, a girl sat on a rock, bundled in a scarf and hat. Her laughter rang out, light and melodic, the kind that warmed the coldest winter air. Harry turned to her, his initial indignation fading into something softer as he took her in. Her cheeks were flushed from the cold, her eyes sparkling with mirth, and he couldn’t help but feel a pull in his chest.

She tried to stifle it, raising a gloved hand to her mouth. “I’m sorry,” she called out, her voice still tinged with amusement. “I know I shouldn’t laugh, but that was—” She broke off, laughing again.

Harry couldn’t help the grin that tugged at his lips. “Yeah, laugh it up,” he called back, brushing the crumbs off his hands. “Clearly, the seagulls here have impeccable taste.”

She tilted her head, feigning seriousness. “You think they prefer cookies to chips?”

“Apparently,” Harry said, walking toward her. “And they have no concept of personal boundaries.”

He reached the rock and hesitated for a moment before sitting down beside her. The cold surface seeped through his coat, but he didn’t mind. Up close, he noticed her cheeks were pink from the cold, her eyes bright and curious.

“I’m Harry,” he offered, holding out his hand.

“YN,” she replied, shaking it. Her gloves were thick, but her grip was firm.

“So, YN,” Harry began, tilting his head with a smirk. “Do you always make a habit of laughing at strangers, or was I just particularly entertaining today?”

She smiled, her eyes sparkling. “It’s not every day you see a man lose a cookie to a seagull. You’ve got to admit, it was kind of funny.”

Harry chuckled, leaning back on his hands. “I suppose it’s one of those ‘laugh so you don’t cry’ moments.”

For a while, they sat in companionable silence, the waves lapping softly against the shore. Harry glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, noting the way she seemed perfectly at ease, as if she belonged here.

“What brings you to a snowy beach?” she asked suddenly, her voice curious but gentle.

Harry hesitated, unsure how much to say. “I haven’t been to a beach like this in years,” he admitted. “Life’s been… busy. But now I’ve got some time off, and I figured I’d see what I’ve been missing.”

YN nodded, sensing there was more he wasn’t saying. “And? What do you think?”

“It’s beautiful,” he said simply, his gaze drifting to the horizon. “Kind of surreal, though. Snow on the beach—it’s not something you see every day.”

“No, it’s not,” she agreed, her voice soft. “It’s like the world is trying to remind us that even the unexpected can be beautiful.”

Her words struck a chord, and Harry found himself wondering if this moment, this chance encounter, was the kind of inspiration he’d been searching for.

“What about you?” he asked. “What brings you here?”

YN shrugged. “I come here when I need to think. Something about the snow and the sea—it clears my head.”

Harry nodded, understanding more than he could say.

They talked for hours, their conversation flowing effortlessly. They joked about seagulls, shared stories of places they’d been, and speculated on what kind of music snow would make if it could sing. By the time the sun dipped below the horizon, casting the beach in hues of gold and pink, Harry felt lighter, as if a weight he hadn’t realized he was carrying had lifted.

As the first stars blinked into the evening sky, YN pulled out her phone, glancing at the time. “I should probably head back,” she said reluctantly, standing and brushing the snow from her coat.

Harry stood too, not quite ready to let the moment end. “Wait—let’s exchange numbers,” he said, pulling out his own phone. “You still owe me a cookie, remember?”

YN grinned. “I did say I’d consider it, didn’t I?” But she handed him her number anyway.

He typed it in, then held his phone up. “I’ll text you, just to make sure you didn’t give me a fake one.”

She laughed. “And I’ll respond, just to make sure you’re not a seagull in disguise.”

As they said their goodbyes, Harry felt a warmth in his chest that had nothing to do with the weather.

“Promise me we’ll see each other again?” he asked, his voice softer now.

YN smiled, her gaze steady. “I promise.”

And as she walked away, her figure disappearing into the snowy twilight, Harry knew this wasn’t the last time their paths would cross.

Sometimes, inspiration came from the most unexpected places. And sometimes, it came with a seagull, a stolen cookie, and a girl named YN.

[harryssyndrome]

Kiwi baby! | h.s 🥝

Summery: Harry’s wife surprises him during Kiwi with the best news ever.

Word count: 3.2k || Masterlist 🍉🍓❤️

The gif and the ai image are both mine! Don’t you dare steal it! I DO NOT GIVE PERMISSION TO USE EITHER OF THEM OR STEAL MY WORK!!!

On a kind note, I hope you enjoy reading!!! I love this one-shot sm <333 I couldn’t wait to write it the whole night ever since I got the idea. This is probably my most favorite piece of work ever. I guess I’ll make this a part of ‘Our Little World: Documentary series’. REQUEST ARE OPEN! 🌊

Posted on: November 24th, 2024. (IST)

Tag-list: @angeldavis777 @fruity-harry || TAGLIST OPEN 💌

The evening sky above the stadium was painted in deep shades of purple, and the crowd beneath it surged with energy, every soul gathered to see him perform. Harry Styles was in his element, bathed in bright lights, his smile as wide as the stage itself, his voice carrying through the open air. The music was loud, vibrant, and electric—Kiwi blasting through the speakers as Harry moved across the stage, every step laced with the confidence and excitement that only live performances could stir.

His outfit tonight was nothing short of breathtaking—a red and black Gucci harlequin-patterned suit that shimmered under the lights, accentuating his every movement. The slickness of his hair, now a little longer than usual, fell just enough to brush his forehead as he swung his body to the rhythm of the song. Fans were ecstatic, their voices harmonizing with his in perfect unity, shouting the words to Kiwi as if their very existence depended on it.

The crowd threw water at him, a playful and typical reaction to the intense heat of the show. Harry, ever the entertainer, caught one of the bottles and used it to douse them back with a mischievous grin. The energy was alive in a way only concerts could make him feel. He laughed along with his fans, feeling that familiar thrill that had kept him addicted to this life—the adoration of strangers, the pulse of the music, and the sheer joy of performing.

But amidst the buzz of lights, the sweat dripping from his skin, and the joy in the air, there was a quiet thought that kept tugging at him. YN. His wife. She wasn’t in the VIP stand like usual. He could always rely on her to be there, her smile always radiating at him from the crowd, her presence a constant comfort. But tonight, the spot where she always stood was empty. The concern he tried to shake off kept creeping into his mind, distracting him in the back of his head, even as his heart continued to race with excitement from the show.

He couldn’t help but glance over to the section where she usually sat, hoping to catch a glimpse of her face, knowing it would soothe the small, gnawing worry he felt. But the space remained empty.

His foot tapped the beat of the song beneath him, trying to focus on the crowd once more. He tossed the water bottle at the fans, his fingers brushing the cold plastic. The adrenaline kept him high, kept him in the moment, but his gaze drifted again.

Where was she?

YN had been a little quieter than usual in the past few days. He hadn’t pushed for any answers, but now he found himself wondering if something was wrong. Maybe she was feeling unwell. Maybe she just wanted to have a quiet night in. Still, the thought of not seeing her there tonight gnawed at him.

His voice still rang out with the words of the song, but his mind was divided between the stage and the empty stand. He kept looking—one eye on the crowd, the other scanning for her. And just as his next verse was coming up, he saw it.

There she was.

Right in the front row—so close to the barricade, she was almost on the stage.

His breath caught in his throat.

She wasn’t in the VIP section. No, she was right there. In the heart of the crowd. The waves of people parted like the Red Sea for her, and there she stood—holding a sign. Her figure illuminated by the stage lights, her long hair falling in waves over her shoulders, a look of pure joy and love in her eyes.

For a moment, everything else fell away—the music, the fans, the lights—all of it was distant. Harry couldn’t tear his eyes away from the sight of her. The sign she held was simple, but to him, it was everything.

“I’m having your baby” it read, scrawled across a bright poster board in bold, handwritten letters.

He froze. His heart nearly stopped.

She’s pregnant.

He blinked, thinking he must be imagining it, but no—she was smiling at him now, holding up the sign for him to see, her eyes locked on his. There was no mistaking it. YN—his wife—was carrying their baby.

Harry’s pulse raced as the flood of emotions hit him. His heart thudded against his chest like it wanted to burst free. The happiness, the disbelief, the excitement—it all rushed through him like a tidal wave, and for a moment, the world seemed to tilt beneath his feet.

He had wanted this. He had dreamed of this. Of being a father. Of having a child with YN. They had talked about it before, casually, in quiet moments after dinner, while walking through the park, in bed at night. But it had never been a “right now” kind of conversation. They had agreed that when it happened, it happened. And now… it had happened.

Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes, and his throat tightened. The emotions, overwhelming and beautiful, blurred his vision, but all he could do was stand there on the stage, dumbstruck by the sight of his wife, her belly now holding the future they had always dreamed of.

In a rush of pure joy, Harry stumbled forward, intent on reaching her, to hold her, to kiss her, to tell her how much he loved her. But as he took a step toward her, he didn’t see the puddle of water gathering at the edge of the stage, a result of the fans tossing their bottles earlier.

And then, it happened.

His foot slipped.

There was a split second of disbelief before Harry lost his footing completely, crashing down to the stage in an ungraceful heap. The crowd gasped collectively, their moment of joy paused in shock. But Harry, ever the professional, couldn’t help but laugh at himself. His laughter echoed through the microphone as he quickly scrambled to his feet, dusting himself off.

“Bloody hell,” he muttered, still chuckling as he shook off the fall. The fans laughed along with him, the tension breaking as they cheered even louder, impressed by his quick recovery. Harry took a deep breath, regaining his balance and composure. He grabbed the microphone again, still laughing, and gave the crowd a playful wink.

“You okay, Harry?” someone from the crew called out, teasing him from the side.

“Yeah, I’m good! Just a little slippery, that’s all!” Harry replied, still grinning.

His gaze immediately returned to YN. She was still standing at the barricade, her sign still held high, her face alight with joy, her smile as radiant as the sun. It was in that moment that Harry realized he couldn’t wait any longer. The song was still playing behind him, the familiar rhythm pulsing through his body, but he couldn’t focus on the lyrics anymore. Not with the overwhelming emotions flooding his heart.

He took a step forward, slowly walking toward the edge of the stage, his eyes still locked on YN, who was holding his gaze with the same intensity. With each step, his heart pounded harder in his chest.

And before he even knew it, his knees buckled beneath him, and Harry collapsed to the stage once more, but this time, it was with pure emotion.

He covered his face with his hands, unable to contain the tears that had begun to fall freely down his cheeks. After a few moments, Harry wiped his eyes, clearing the tears away as he stood up once more. His voice was thick with emotion when he spoke into the mic, his words trembling with happiness:

“My wife is having my baby!” he shouted, his voice trembling. “It’s all my business!”

The crowd erupted in pure, ecstatic noise, the roar of the fans filling the stadium as Harry remained on his knees, the overwhelming weight of the moment too much to bear. His chest was heaving, his body shaking as the reality of the news consumed him.

“Is that real?” a fan shouted.

“Yes, it’s real!” Harry replied, laughing through his tears. “I’m going to be a dad! A dad!” He repeated the words as if he needed to hear them again, the joy overwhelming every part of him.

The fans roared in approval, the noise a chaotic symphony of celebration. But Harry didn’t care about any of that now. He didn’t care about the performance or the crowd or the cameras recording every moment. All he could think about was YN.

His mind was consumed by thoughts of the future—the life they would build together, the family they would raise. He quickly stood to his feet, wiping his eyes, and glanced once more at YN.

Without another moment’s hesitation, Harry dropped the mic to the stage and sprinted toward the barricade, his heart pounding with anticipation.

Harry could feel the heat of the stage lights burning against his skin, but they didn’t matter. The noise of the crowd was deafening, but it was like a distant hum. His heart was the loudest thing he could hear, thrumming in his chest, pumping through his veins with an almost frantic rhythm. His legs carried him toward YN like they had a mind of their own. He was driven by a force he couldn’t describe, propelled by the overwhelming joy of the moment.

Fans parted for him as he made his way to the front of the stage, their cheers rising to a fever pitch as they realized what was happening. Harry didn’t hear their excitement—he only heard the steady beat of his heart, louder now than the music, than anything else in the world.

YN. His wife. The love of his life. The mother of his child.

As he approached the barricades, YN’s smile never wavered. She was grinning from ear to ear, her eyes shining with excitement, her hand placed lovingly over her flat belly. As soon as Harry reached her, he lifted her into his arms, spinning her around in a joyous embrace, laughing like a child. The crowd cheered even louder, their love for Harry and YN growing with every passing second.

She had always known that he wanted this more than anything. They both had. But now it was real. She was carrying their baby, and everything about their lives was about to change.

“YNN…” Harry’s voice caught in his throat as he reached her. He placed her back on the ground, eyes never leaving hers. She was glowing—absolutely radiant in the soft light of the stage, and he couldn’t help but let out a soft laugh as his arms reached out to her, pulling her into a tight embrace. The crowd cheered louder, but Harry only had eyes for YN, holding her close, feeling the warmth of her body against his.

“I love you,” Harry whispered into her ear, his voice thick with emotion. “I love you so much. I can’t believe we’re going to be parents.”

YN pulled back slightly to look at him, her hand resting on his chest, feeling the erratic beat of his heart under her fingers. Her eyes glistened with unshed tears, her smile wide and full of joy, matching his own. “I know. I can’t believe it either,” she whispered, voice trembling just slightly. “I wanted to tell you in the cutest way possible, but you’ve already made it the most unforgettable moment of my life.”

Harry’s breath caught again, a lump forming in his throat as he looked down at her belly, still so small but already holding the life they had created together. His hands rested gently on her sides as he crouched down slightly, his eyes never leaving her. He placed his lips softly on her stomach, his kiss a promise—a vow. The fans around them cheered again, but this time, it was just background noise to Harry.

“I’m going to be the best dad for you,” Harry muttered against her belly, his voice filled with awe. “I promise.”

YN’s fingers threaded through his hair as she smiled down at him, her heart swelling with love. “I know you will be. I’ve always known,” she whispered, her voice full of faith and affection.

“You’re going to be the best dad our baby could ever ask for.”

As Harry pulled back from the kiss, he stood to his full height and stared at YN, his hands still resting on her waist, his expression filled with wonder. His lips curled into a grin, and he couldn’t resist pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead before meeting her eyes once more.

“I can’t believe I’m going to be a dad,” he repeated, his voice thick with emotion, as if the words didn’t fully make sense to him yet. But the more he said them, the more real it became. “You and me. We’re going to have a little baby.”

YN’s eyes sparkled, the tears now freely falling down her cheeks. She looked at him with a mix of love, gratitude, and joy. She reached up to touch his face, her thumb brushing gently against the stubble on his jaw. “It’s happening, Harry,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “It’s happening.”

Harry smiled wider, and without thinking, he reached down, cupping her face with both hands. He kissed her then—slow, gentle, tender—a kiss that held all of his joy, his love, his gratitude, his hope for their future. This was more than a kiss; it was a promise, a symbol of everything they were about to become. Harry pulled away slowly, his forehead resting against hers as they both tried to catch their breath.

“I can’t wait,” Harry murmured, his lips still grazing hers as he spoke. “I can’t wait to hold our baby. To be there for you. For everything.”

The love in his voice was enough to make YN’s heart swell to bursting. He kissed her again, softer this time, and then looked back at the crowd.

Harry wrapped her in a tight hug, lifting her off the ground and spinning her around again as he laughed.

“I love you,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion.

YN laughed, her fingers threading through his damp curls. “I love you too. Always.”

Harry set her down gently, his hands never leaving her as he looked into her eyes. “You’re my everything, YNN. You and this baby—you’re everything.”

Tears slid down YN’s cheeks, and she nodded, her heart full. “And you’re ours.”

Harry dropped to his knees once more, pressing his lips to her stomach in a gesture so tender it made YN’s breath catch.

“Thank you for making my life so much beautiful,” he murmured, his voice trembling. “I’ll love this baby with everything I’ve got. And I’ll love you even more.”

YN’s hands rested on his shoulders, her fingers squeezing gently. “You already are, Harry.”

The evening continued around them, but for Harry and YN, time seemed to slow. The music had become a distant hum, the chatter of the fans a soft murmur in the background. All that mattered was each other.

As they stood at the barricades, Harry reached up to take YN’s hand in his, squeezing it gently. He leaned in once more, pressing a kiss to her lips, soft and slow, as if savoring every moment, every sensation. His heart felt full to bursting. He had everything he had ever wanted—YN, their love, and now, the promise of their baby.

He felt as if his entire life had led up to this point—this single, beautiful moment. The rush of emotions from earlier hadn’t yet subsided, but now there was a calmness in him, a peace. He smiled as he looked down at YN’s hand in his, then back into her eyes.

“I know we’ve been through so much already,” Harry said quietly, his voice full of emotion. “But I feel like the best part of our journey is just beginning.”

YN nodded, her smile soft and full of love. “I feel the same way.”

Harry squeezed her hand once more, then stepped back slightly, turning his attention back to the crowd. “I’m going to be a dad,” he said out loud, his voice full of awe and happiness. He turned to face the audience, the microphone still lying on the stage. “Everyone, this is the best moment of my life,” he said, his voice carrying the emotion of the words. “My wife, YN, is having my baby.”

The moment was surreal. The fans were still screaming, the cameras still rolling, but none of it mattered. For Harry, nothing would ever top this moment. It wasn’t just another performance or another stage—it was the night his greatest dream began to come true.

As they stood there together, the crowd began to chant, “Baby Styles! Baby Styles!”

Harry threw his head back in laughter, turning to wave at the audience. “You lot are mad!” he called out, but his face said it all—he was over the moon.

The crowd continued on cheering wildly, but Harry’s focus was on the woman in front of him. She was glowing, every inch of her radiating love and joy, and he couldn’t help but feel like the luckiest man alive.

He leaned in to kiss her once more, this time a gentle, loving kiss on her lips. He felt everything he had ever hoped for in that kiss—his future, his family, and the love of his life, all wrapped up in one perfect moment.

As the kiss ended, he pulled back, his forehead resting against hers. “I love you,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion.

“I love you too,” YN whispered back.

They stood there for a moment longer, the world around them continuing on, but nothing mattered now but each other, and the new life they were about to bring into the world. Together.

The fans’ cheers faded into the background as Harry held YN’s hand tightly, the two of them standing side by side, facing the future with all the love and hope that their hearts could hold.

Harry stood up and kissed her again, his heart still racing, his mind still in a daze, but in the best way possible. His dream of being a dad was coming true, and no matter what came next, he knew he had everything he ever needed right here, in this moment. He knew one thing for sure: their love was only just beginning

And with that, Harry Styles was no longer just a rock star on stage—he was going to be a dad, and that was the greatest role he’d ever play.

[harryssyndrome]

The Rain Girl | h.s

based on this request! Thx anon for sending your request [mwah mwah!] This is my all time favorite fairytale idea.

Posted on: December 9th, 2024 (IST). by the way I cried sm, can’t believe The Eras Tour is over😭 I need my swifties rn for comfort, fr. Omg I just noticed I’m posting after 13 DAYS, oh my swiftie heart rn. Like, comment and reblog are appreciated! I was so stuck with a long request that I exhausted my creative cells but I’m back now! and will complete all the small requests first 😌 DO NOT STEAL MY WORK, TRANSLATE OR PUBLISH TO ANY OTHER PLATFORM.

Tag-list: @wheredidmyeyesgo @fruity-harry @angeldavis777 @cherryloveshs @harryyloverrr | Tag-list is OPEN || Request are OPEN

word count: 1.9k || Masterlistt☔️

summery: Harry meets a carefree girl in a London rain and then in that moment he knows those romcom feelings.

The rain had always been Harry’s companion, a quiet backdrop to the chaos of his life. He loved the way it muted the world, the way its steady rhythm provided a semblance of order amidst his own disarray. But today, the rain had taken him by surprise. He’d barely managed to duck under the awning of a small bookstore when the sky opened up, releasing a torrent that drenched the cobblestone streets in seconds.

Leaning against the wall, Harry adjusted his jacket, flicking water off the lapels and running a hand through his damp curls. The exhaustion from a long day at the studio weighed heavily on him. His debut album was supposed to be a labor of love, but lately, it felt more like a battle against his own insecurities. Each note, each lyric, each chord had to be perfect, and the pressure to live up to everyone’s expectations was relentless.

He pulled out his phone to check if it had survived the sudden downpour, his mind already on the warm haven of his apartment. He could picture it now—dim lighting, a soft blanket, and the vinyl player spinning one of his favorite records. But then he heard it.

A laugh.

Not just any laugh, but a sound so pure and unrestrained that it sliced through the rain like a melody. It wasn’t the kind of laugh that came from a joke or a conversation. It was a laugh born of joy, spontaneous and infectious.

His head turned toward the sound, his brows furrowing in curiosity. A few steps away, illuminated by the warm glow of a streetlamp, was a girl. No, not just a girl—a force of nature.

She was dancing in the rain.

Her arms were outstretched, her head thrown back as the rain cascaded over her. She spun in circles, her navy-blue skirt flaring around her legs, her white shirt plastered to her skin and revealing the faint outline of a black bra underneath. Long strands of hair clung to her back and face, but she didn’t seem to care. She stomped in puddles with bare feet, her movements wild and uncoordinated, and yet, there was a grace to her, a rhythm that made it impossible to look away.

Harry felt rooted to the spot, his fatigue momentarily forgotten. It wasn’t just her appearance that caught his attention—though she was undoubtedly striking—it was the way she seemed to exist outside of time. In a city that never stopped moving, she had created a world of her own, a pocket of joy amidst the gray monotony.

He leaned against the wall, a faint smile tugging at his lips as he watched her. She was oblivious to him, too consumed by the moment to notice the figure standing in the shadows. For a fleeting second, Harry felt envious. When was the last time he had let go like that? When was the last time he’d allowed himself to simply be?

Then, as if sensing his gaze, she stopped. Her laughter faded, and she turned to look at him. Their eyes met, and Harry felt a strange jolt in his chest.

“Enjoying the show?” she called out, her voice warm and teasing, carrying easily over the sound of the rain.

Harry blinked, caught off guard. He pushed himself off the wall, shoving his hands into his pockets in an attempt to appear nonchalant. “Hard not to,” he replied, a faint smirk playing on his lips.

She tilted her head, studying him. “And why are you just standing there? Afraid of a little rain?”

He chuckled, glancing down at his soaked boots. “Not exactly dressed for it,” he said, motioning to his leather boots and jacket.

“Boots can be replaced. Moments like this?” She spread her arms again, gesturing to the rain-soaked street. “Rare.”

Her words hung in the air, challenging him. Harry hesitated, torn between the logical part of his mind that told him to stay dry and the inexplicable urge to join her. “I’d ruin my boots,” he countered, though his tone lacked conviction.

She laughed again, the sound light and carefree. “Ruin them, then. It’s worth it.”

Harry opened his mouth to respond, but then an idea struck him. He glanced toward the small café just a few doors down, its warm lights spilling onto the street. Without a word, he darted toward it, ignoring the rain soaking through his jacket as he crossed the short distance.

Inside, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee and pastries greeted him. He approached the counter and ordered two takeaway cups of tea, the warmth seeping into his hands as he carried them back outside.

When he returned, she had stopped dancing, standing under the streetlamp with her head tilted back, letting the rain kiss her face. Her eyes flicked toward him as he approached, her curiosity evident.

“Thought you might need this,” he said, holding out one of the cups.

She blinked in surprise, then smiled as she accepted it. “Tea in the rain? How very British of you.”

He shrugged, a faint grin tugging at his lips. “Call it a peace offering. Or maybe an excuse to stand here and talk to you.”

She raised an eyebrow, her smile turning mischievous. “You didn’t need to buy me tea for that.”

Harry chuckled, taking a sip of his own tea. “Maybe not, but I thought it might earn me a few points.”

Her laughter returned, softer this time. She wrapped her hands around the cup, letting the steam rise toward her face. “Well, you’re off to a good start,” she admitted.

They stood in silence for a moment, the rain continuing to fall around them. Harry felt an unexpected sense of calm, the kind that had eluded him for weeks. She was magnetic in a way that wasn’t forced or deliberate.

“So,” he said finally, breaking the silence. “Do you always dance in the rain, or was I just lucky enough to catch a rare performance?”

She laughed, glancing down at her feet. “It’s not a regular thing,” she admitted. “But sometimes, you just… feel it, you know? Like the world is giving you permission to forget everything and just exist.”

Harry nodded slowly, her words resonating with him. “I think I needed to see that,” he said, his voice quiet but sincere.

Her expression softened, her gaze lingering on him. “Tough day?”

“Something like that,” he replied. He hesitated, unsure how much to share. “Long hours in the studio. Trying to get everything perfect.”

She tilted her head, her curiosity piqued. “You’re a musician?”

He smiled faintly. “Something like that.”

“Well,” she said, her voice thoughtful, “perfection is overrated. Look at me—spinning around like a lunatic, completely soaked, and probably scaring off anyone sane enough to be walking these streets. But I feel perfect right now.”

Harry couldn’t help but smile. “You make a convincing argument.”

Her gaze lingered on him, her eyes warm and inviting. “You should try it,” she said suddenly, setting her tea cup down on the railing of a nearby staircase.

“Try what?”

“Dancing,” she said simply. “You’ve got the boots for it.”

He laughed, shaking his head. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Oh, come on,” she urged, stepping closer. “You’re already wet. What’s the harm?”

Before he could protest, she grabbed his hand, her fingers warm despite the rain. She pulled him into the middle of the street, her laughter spilling over as he stumbled slightly, caught off guard.

“This is ridiculous,” he said, though he couldn’t stop smiling.

“Ridiculous is underrated,” she countered, spinning him in a clumsy circle.

Harry let out a genuine laugh, the sound surprising even himself. He let go of his inhibitions, stomping in puddles and spinning her around as the rain continued to pour. For the first time in what felt like forever, he wasn’t thinking about deadlines or expectations. He was just… living.

When they finally stopped, both breathless and soaked to the bone, she looked at him with a grin that was equal parts teasing and genuine. “See? Not so bad, is it?”

He shook his head, his curls plastered to his forehead. “Not bad at all.”

As the rain began to ease, she picked up her tea and took another sip, her eyes flicking toward the horizon. “Well, Harry Styles,” she said, her tone playful, “thanks for the tea and the company. I think you just made my day.”

He blinked, surprised. “You know who I am?”

She smirked, her gaze mischievous. “Who doesn’t?”

As she turned to leave, Harry couldn’t help but call out after her. “Hey! Rain girl!”

She paused mid-step, glancing over her shoulder with an amused smile. “Rain girl?”

He shrugged, a playful grin spreading across his face. “Well, I don’t know your name, and it fits. You did kind of make an impression tonight.”

Her smile widened, and she took a step closer, tilting her head. “Does that mean I’ll have to keep dancing in the rain just so you’ll remember me?”

Harry laughed, shaking his head. “You’ve already made yourself pretty unforgettable,” he said, his voice softer, more sincere. “But… how do I find you again? Do I have to wait for the next downpour and hope you’ll be out here?”

She tapped her chin thoughtfully, her expression teasing. “Well, I do love dancing in the rain. Maybe you’ll just have to keep an eye out.”

Harry groaned dramatically, though his grin never faltered. “That’s a bit risky, don’t you think? What if the rain doesn’t come for weeks?”

She laughed, the sound light and melodic. “Then you’ll learn some patience.”

“Or,” he countered, pulling his phone from his pocket and holding it out to her, “you could just give me your number and save me the suspense.”

She raised an eyebrow, clearly amused by his persistence. After a moment, she took the phone from his hand, her fingers brushing against his as she typed. Harry watched her with a mixture of curiosity and anticipation, and when she handed the phone back, he glanced at the screen.

The number was there, but instead of a name, she had saved it under the nickname he’d given her earlier: Rain Girl.

He chuckled, his eyes flicking back to her. “Seriously? No name? Just Rain Girl?”

She shrugged, her smile playful. “I like the nickname. Besides, it’ll make sure you remember me.”

Harry smiled, his heart feeling inexplicably lighter. “I don’t think I could forget you even if I tried,” he admitted, his tone sincere. “And now I know what I’ll be dreaming about tonight.”

Her cheeks turned a faint shade of pink, and she dipped into a playful bow, holding the edges of her skirt like it was a ballroom gown. “In that case, let me properly introduce myself. This Rain Girl’s name is YN.”

Harry’s grin widened as he repeated her name softly, as though testing how it felt on his tongue. “YN.”

She straightened, her smile bright despite the rain-soaked strands of hair clinging to her face. “Now you’ve got a name to go with the number,” she said.

“Perfect,” Harry said, slipping his phone back into his pocket. “But I still think Rain Girl suits you better.”

YN laughed, a sound that seemed to linger in the air even as she turned and began walking away. Harry watched her go, a strange warmth settling in his chest.

As the rain tapered off, leaving the streets glistening under the dim streetlights, Harry couldn’t stop smiling. He hadn’t just found shelter from the storm—he’d found something unexpected, something he couldn’t quite put into words yet.

And he knew one thing for sure: the next time it rained, he’d be looking for her.

[harryssyndrome]

Darkness and You | h.s

summery: a late night drive takes an unexpected turn when an handsome stranger takes his place in your passenger seat.

wc: 5.3k || 🌕🌖🌗🌘 Masterlist 🌒🌓🌔🌕

WARNING ⚠️ sexual references, mention of unprotected sex. MINORS DNI! you’re responsible for your own consumption, don’t blame me later. It’s your own choice.

Posted on: November 25th, 2024

Tag-List: @fruity-harry @angeldavis777 || TAGLIST IS OPEN!

Surprise lovelies! The first part from serial-killer!Harry series is here and I really hope you enjoy it. 😌 let me know how was it and if you have any ideas for other parts, I just might post some more this week itself. this is my first ever try at writing 18+ stuff tho it’s not really much so I hope it didn’t suck🤭😳 REQUESTS ARE OPEN!

You don’t do this. Any of this. You don’t pick up hitchhikers in the middle of the night. Especially men.

You’ve seen a lot of horror movies and you’ve heard a ton of news stories.

You’re not five. You know what you should and what you shouldn’t do. But you’ve made an array of bad choices tonight so why not continue it?

You don’t know what it was but something compelled you to pull over.

The boy with the curls and those deep green eyes, gets into the passenger seat, a grateful smile on his face. He looks sweet, to be honest.

“Oh, thank you so so much. I’ve been out here for so long. My car just gave out on me and there’s no signal in this shithole.” He says, his English accent very evident as he adjusts his seatbelt. “May I know my saviour’s name?” He asks with a smiles that shows a pair of dimples.

The air is thick with the quiet hum of the engine, and your fingers clench the steering wheel a little tighter than usual. You’re not sure if it’s the cold seeping into the car or the nervous energy building in your chest. Something about this feels surreal, like stepping into a scene you’d only watch from the safety of your couch. Yet, here you are, with a stranger in the passenger seat and an unspoken weight hanging between you.

“Uh, YN,” you reply, your voice more hesitant than you’d like. His accent catches you off guard again, so polished and charming it almost makes you forget the unease simmering below the surface. Almost.

“YN,” he repeats, letting your name roll off his tongue like he’s testing its sound. “That’s a lovely name. I’m Harry.”

Harry. It suits him somehow. Still, you can’t help but glance at him out of the corner of your eye. His curls are messy, probably from standing in the cold too long, and his coat looks worn, but there’s a warmth to him. Those green eyes, so striking, carry a sense of ease—like he’s the last person in the world you should be afraid of.

Still, you’re not stupid. Sweet smiles and dimples don’t guarantee safety.

“So… where are you headed?” you ask, trying to keep your tone neutral while silently calculating how far you are from the nearest gas station or town. Somewhere with people. Witnesses.

He exhales, the sound almost a laugh. “Honestly? Just anywhere away from here.” He runs a hand through his curls, shaking his head. “My car decided to betray me in the middle of nowhere. Tried to call for help, but of course, there’s no signal. Classic, right?”

You manage a small laugh, though it feels forced. Your instincts are at war—one side whispering that this guy is harmless, the other screaming at you for stopping in the first place.

“Well,” you say, trying to sound composed, “you got lucky I came by. Not a lot of cars out tonight.”

“Not a lot of kind people either,” Harry adds, his voice softer now. “I was starting to think I’d be out there all night.”

His words linger in the air, and for a moment, you feel a pang of guilt. Maybe he’s just another unlucky soul, stranded and hoping for a break. Maybe you’re overthinking this. Or maybe this is exactly how every cautionary tale starts.

“So, YN,” Harry says, breaking the silence again. His tone is light, conversational, as if this is the most normal thing in the world. “What’s a girl like you doing out here at this hour? Don’t tell me you’re running away from something, too.”

The question catches you off guard, and your grip on the wheel tightens. “No,” you reply quickly, a little too defensively. “Just… a long drive. Needed to clear my head.”

He hums in acknowledgment, not pushing further, and you feel a flicker of relief. He leans back in his seat, letting his head rest against the window. For a moment, you think he’s going to drift off, but then he glances at you again, his eyes almost piercing in their intensity.

“You’ve got this look,” he says, his voice quieter now. “Like you’re carrying the weight of the world.”

You don’t respond right away, unsure how to take that. “You’ve known me for all of five minutes,” you finally say, trying to deflect with a weak smile. “Bit of a bold assumption, don’t you think?”

He chuckles softly. “Maybe. But I’m pretty good at reading people.”

The car falls into a strange silence again, and you can feel his gaze shift back to the window. There’s something about him—something you can’t quite put your finger on. It’s not just the way he talks or the way he looks at you. It’s the way he feels out of place, like he belongs in a story that hasn’t been written yet.

And for reasons you can’t explain, you let yourself keep driving.

There was some reason he can’t take his eyes off of you, almost as if you’re a rare piece of art he couldn’t help but admire.

“You always pick up handsome strangers in the middle of the night?” He teases with a cheeky smirk on his features.

You glance over at him, briefly, before focusing back on the road. The way his smirk lingers, paired with those dimples, feels both disarming and maddeningly charming. “Not usually,” you reply, your tone even, though you’re acutely aware of his gaze on you. “Just the ones who look like they’ve had a rough night.”

He laughs at that, the sound soft and warm, filling the small space of the car. “Lucky me, then,” he says, his accent turning the words into something smoother, like they carry more weight than they should. “Although, I think the luck might be yours. How often do you get to share a car with a proper English gentleman?”

You roll your eyes but can’t help the small smile tugging at your lips. “English gentleman, huh? You sound like a guy who gives himself that title. Let me guess, you also drink tea at every opportunity and say ‘cheerio’ unironically?”

His hand flies to his chest in mock offense, and he lets out a dramatic gasp. “Cheerio? Absolutely not. What do you take me for, a walking British stereotype?”

“Maybe,” you shoot back, your tone playful now. “I mean, you did say your car ‘gave out,’ and who even says that anymore?”

He chuckles again, his head tilting slightly as he studies you. “Fair enough. But for the record, I’m more of a coffee guy. And I don’t say ‘cheerio.’” His smirk returns, softer this time, as he adds, “I think you might be the first person to question my gentleman status, though. Most people just take one look at me and assume I’m… irresistible.”

You snort, trying to stifle your laugh. “Irresistible? You really do think highly of yourself, don’t you?”

“Can you blame me?” he quips, his voice teasing but not cocky. His gaze lingers again, softer now, almost contemplative. “But I’m serious. You’ve got this… way about you. Like you’re completely unimpressed by people like me, and I can’t decide if it’s refreshing or terrifying.”

That catches you off guard, and you shift in your seat, the smile slipping from your face just a little. “People like you?”

He shrugs, the smirk still lingering but now tinged with something deeper. “You know, the ones who talk too much, crack jokes, try to charm their way through life. The ones who should be lucky just to share the same space as someone like you.”

Your stomach flips at his words, a mix of unease and flattery you’re not quite sure how to handle. You keep your eyes on the road, focusing on the distant glow of headlights in the distance. “You’ve got a lot of opinions for someone who just met me.”

“Maybe,” he admits, leaning back in his seat and letting his gaze wander out the window. “But you can tell a lot about someone in five minutes. Like how you’ve got this look in your eyes, like you’re constantly bracing for something to go wrong.”

You freeze for just a moment, his words hitting closer to home than you’d like. “You’re imagining things,” you say quickly, brushing it off with a casualness you don’t really feel.

“Maybe I am,” he replies, his voice low and calm, like he doesn’t quite believe you but won’t push. After a moment, he adds, almost to himself, “But for some reason, I can’t stop looking at you. It’s like… you’re a puzzle, and I can’t figure out the edges.”

You don’t know what to say to that, so you settle for silence, the tension in the car shifting to something strange and unspoken. Outside, the road stretches endlessly ahead, the darkness pressing in on both sides. And for the first time since picking him up, you wonder if you’re the one being read, the layers of your carefully built armor peeling away under the weight of those deep green eyes.

Harry leans back in his seat, one hand resting casually on his knee as he studies you. His gaze, though soft, feels weighted—like he’s trying to peel back layers you didn’t even know you were wearing. After a beat of silence, he speaks, his voice low and curious.

“Can I ask you something, YN?” he says, his tone gentle, almost disarming.

You glance at him briefly before focusing back on the road. “Sure,” you reply, though the way he says your name sends a faint chill up your spine.

“Aren’t you scared?” he asks, tilting his head slightly. “Picking up a male stranger in the middle of the night? Alone? I mean, you said it yourself—this isn’t exactly normal behavior.”

You bite the inside of your cheek, his words triggering the voice of reason that’s been screaming at you ever since you stopped the car. Your fingers tighten on the steering wheel, and you force a small laugh. “A little,” you admit, though your voice wavers slightly. “But you don’t seem like the scary type.”

Harry’s lips curl into a smile, one that’s almost too perfect—dimples and all. “Well, I promise you, I’m not some sort of serial killer,” he says lightly, his tone almost playful. “Scout’s honor.”

Something about his phrasing makes you laugh, and the tension in your chest eases—if only slightly. “Isn’t that exactly what all serial killers say in the movies?” you tease, glancing at him briefly with a raised brow.

Harry’s smile widens, but there’s a flicker of something behind his eyes—a shadow of a thought you can’t quite catch. “Touché,” he says, leaning forward slightly, resting his elbows on his knees. His gaze never leaves you, as though he’s memorizing every detail of your face. “I suppose it would be the perfect cover, wouldn’t it? A smile, a little charm… make yourself seem harmless enough, and no one suspects a thing.”

The way he says it sends a ripple of unease through you, and the playful smirk he wears only deepens the strange knot in your stomach. You force yourself to stay calm, trying to brush it off. “That’s… a little creepy, don’t you think?” you reply, half-joking.

Harry chuckles softly, the sound low and almost hypnotic. “Maybe. But if I were a killer, wouldn’t I have already done something by now? You’ve got me here, alone, no witnesses. Seems like the perfect opportunity, doesn’t it?”

Your heart skips a beat, and your hands grip the wheel tighter, your knuckles whitening. His voice is still light, teasing, but there’s an undercurrent to his words that you can’t quite place. You glance at him out of the corner of your eye, trying to gauge whether he’s just messing with you or if there’s something darker lurking beneath the surface.

“And yet,” he continues, his tone softening again, “here I am, just a guy stranded on the side of the road, grateful for the kindness of a beautiful stranger.”

Your throat feels dry as you swallow hard, forcing yourself to respond. “Well, for your sake—and mine—I hope you’re telling the truth.”

He lets out another soft laugh, leaning back against the seat again. “Of course I am,” he says smoothly. But there’s something about the way he says it—like he knows more than he’s letting on. Like he’s enjoying this moment a little too much.

The road stretches on in front of you, the darkness pressing in from all sides, and for the first time, you start to wonder if stopping for Harry was the worst decision you’ve ever made. Because while his smile is charming and his voice is calm, there’s something about him that feels off. Like the quiet before a storm.

Harry shifts in his seat, his gaze flicking to you every so often, like he’s studying the curve of your profile, the way your fingers tap the wheel, the faint crease in your brow as you concentrate on the dark road ahead. The hum of the engine and the soft patter of the tires on asphalt are the only sounds filling the car now, a strange kind of peace settling between you two.

“How far’s the city?” he asks casually, breaking the quiet, his voice smooth and easy, though there’s a strange undertone to it—like he already knows the answer but wants to hear you say it.

You glance at the dashboard clock before replying, “Probably around three hours. Give or take.”

Harry lets out a soft hum, leaning back in his seat, his head tilting toward you as though drawn by some invisible force. Three hours. Three uninterrupted hours with you. It’s enough to make his heart race.

He lets the silence return, but his thoughts are anything but quiet. His mind is a storm of emotions and desires—chaotic, consuming, and entirely focused on you. There’s something about you that’s different. It’s not just the way you look, though your beauty feels like something out of a dream. It’s the way you hold yourself, the sharpness in your wit, the vulnerability you try to mask but can’t fully hide. You’re magnetic in a way he can’t explain, and the more he sits beside you, the deeper his obsession grows.

He watches the soft glow of the dashboard lights reflect off your face, highlighting your cheekbones and the curve of your jaw. He wonders what it would feel like to trace that line with his fingers. To know the softness of your skin. To see you look at him not with the occasional suspicion that flashes in your eyes but with trust. Admiration. Love.

His thoughts spiral, wild and untamed, as his gaze lingers on you. What would it take for you to see him the way he already sees you? Would you ever understand how special you are? How perfect this moment is? You were meant to find him tonight—he’s sure of it. The universe wouldn’t have aligned so perfectly otherwise.

His fingers twitch, his desire to reach out, to touch you, almost overwhelming. But no, not yet. He has time. Three hours to savor this moment, to bask in the glow of your presence, to solidify the bond he’s convinced you’re destined to share.

You’re unaware of the storm raging in his mind, the way his chest tightens with every glance at you. You think the silence is peaceful, and in a way, it is—for you. For Harry, it’s intoxicating. Maddening.

He forces himself to take a steady breath, his fingers curling into his palms as he tries to calm the fire within him. He doesn’t want to scare you, not yet. You’re like a delicate thread, and if he pulls too hard, you might snap.

So, he keeps his voice soft, his demeanor calm, though his thoughts are anything but. He smiles to himself, a small, secret smile, as he stares out the window at the endless darkness. You have no idea, he thinks, how utterly and completely you’ve captured him.

And he plans to make sure you never get away.

As the silence stretches between you, Harry's mind spirals further into chaos. He shifts again in his seat, the seatbelt digging into his chest as his thoughts race uncontrollably. His green eyes flicker to the rearview mirror and then to the empty backseat, a dark thought taking hold of him. It's ridiculous, he knows, but the image is vivid, almost too vivid to push away-the two of you tangled together in the small space, your back arching against the leather as his hands grip your hips, holding you in place.

The idea sends a heat rushing through him, and he clenches his jaw, forcing his gaze back to the road ahead. But it's no use. His thoughts keep circling back, no matter how hard he tries to distract himself. The way your lips curve as you speak, the soft rise and fall of your chest as you breathe, the faint scent of your perfume that fills the car—it's driving him mad. You're so close, yet just out of reach, and it's enough to make him want to explode.

He imagines it so clearly: the way you'd look beneath him, your head thrown back, your lips parted in a gasp as he claims you. The sound of his name spilling from your mouth, a mix of moans and screams that would echo in his ears forever. The thought of marking you, leaving his fingerprints, his bruises, his everything on you-it consumes him. He wants you to be his, entirely his, in every possible way. To make sure no one else could ever have you, touch you, or even think of you the way he does.

His breathing becomes shallow as the lust builds inside him, threatening to take over. His hands clench into fists in his lap, his nails digging into his palms as he fights to regain control. Not yet, he tells himself. Not yet. You're driving, unaware of the wildfire burning inside him, and the last thing he wants is to ruin this perfect moment.

But his eyes betray him, flicking back to the rearview mirror, imagining again how easy it would be. The backseat seems like it was made for this-for you. He could pull you back there, coax you into his arms, and let his hands explore every inch of you. He'd take his time, memorizing the feel of your skin, the way your body reacts to his touch. You'd look so beautiful, so utterly perfect, with your cheeks flushed and your voice breaking as you beg for more.

Harry exhales sharply, trying to shake the thoughts from his mind. He turns his head slightly, stealing another glance at you, and it only makes things worse. The way your lips press together in concentration as you drive, the way your fingers drum softly against the steering wheel-it's enough to make him want to lose control.

He shifts again, trying to adjust himself discreetly, the tension in his body almost unbearable now. His lustful thoughts are a storm, loud and demanding, drowning out every ounce of reason he has left. He's trying to distract himself, to think of anything else, but it's no use. Every thought keeps looping back to you-your voice, your scent, your body, your everything.

You glance at him briefly, catching the flicker of something dark and unspoken in his eyes, but you brush it off as nothing. To you, he's still the stranded, grateful stranger, polite and charming, sitting quietly beside you.

But Harry's chest tightens as he fights the urge to act on the consuming need inside him. His teeth graze his bottom lip, his mind racing. He's never felt like this before— this overwhelming obsession, this uncontrollable desire. And it terrifies him. But it also excites him, in a way he can't even begin to describe.

For now, he forces himself to stay still, to keep his hands in his lap and his voice calm. But his thoughts? His thoughts are far from calm. They're filled with you, with every possible way he wants to have you. And the longer he sits beside you, the harder it becomes to stop himself from making you his. Completely, utterly, and irrevocably his.

Harry’s voice cuts through the silence, a casual curiosity in his tone that makes you glance at him briefly. “You don’t have a boyfriend yet, do you?”

You raise an eyebrow, momentarily taken aback by the unexpected question. You keep your eyes on the road, trying to process his words. “How did you know?” you ask, voice light, though you can’t quite place the reason why it feels like an oddly personal question.

Harry shrugs slightly, a devil-may-care smile curling on his lips. “Just a guess,” he says nonchalantly. “No man in his right mind would let a gorgeous girl like you be alone at night for this long. Either that or you’ve got a terrible taste in men.”

His words hit you with an unexpected warmth. You laugh, a soft chuckle escaping your lips, trying to hide the flutter of something that rises in your chest. It feels like he’s teasing you, and yet there’s a charm in his tone, something alluring and carefree that makes it hard not to feel a little… flattered.

“Terrible taste, huh?” you reply, half-joking, your eyes flickering back to him. “Well, maybe I’ve just been too picky.”

Harry’s smirk deepens, a glint of mischief dancing in his green eyes. He leans forward slightly, his voice low, as if sharing a secret. “Maybe I can be your new boyfriend,” he suggests, his tone playful but with a teasing undertone that makes your pulse quicken. “Save you from your bad taste?”

You laugh again, this time more freely, the sound light and natural. “Oh really?” you reply, shaking your head with a mock skeptical smile. “You think you could do a better job?”

Harry’s gaze flickers to you, a knowing glint in his eyes, as if he’s sure he’s exactly what you need, even though you’re not quite sure how to respond. “I mean,” he says, his smile widening, “you wouldn’t know until you tried, would you?”

The playful banter between the two of you continues, the tension that had briefly been present starting to dissipate, replaced by a light-hearted connection that feels easy and natural. But beneath the surface of the conversation, Harry’s thoughts still swirl with that same obsessive desire. He’s enjoying the game, enjoying the way you laugh, the way your eyes twinkle when you tease him back. But deep down, he’s already picturing what it would look like if he were your boyfriend. How it would feel to have you close, to make you his—completely, entirely, and without question.

For now, though, he lets the teasing continue, enjoying the playfulness between you, and the undeniable pull he feels toward you. But he knows, deep down, that this is only the beginning. This is just the start of what’s to come. And he’s more than willing to wait for the moment when you’ll be his.

Harry’s smirk widens as you teasingly reply, “Maybe.” He can’t help it; his pulse quickens at your words. He’s always been good at reading people, but with you, everything feels like an exciting game—one he’s eager to win.

He leans in a little, his arm stretching out to rest on the console between you, positioning himself closer. His breath hitches slightly as he catches the scent of your perfume again, the warmth of your presence filling the car. He’s trying to remain casual, but he can’t help it; his thoughts are moving too fast, pulling him deeper into the haze of attraction.

“Give me some hope at least, moon flower,” he says, his voice softer now, almost intimate. “Let me know I’ve got a shot.”

His eyes never leave you as he waits for your response, and when you tease him back, saying, “Okay, you do. You have a shot at it,” Harry’s grin stretches across his face, almost too excited for his own good. It’s as if he’s won something. Something he can’t quite put into words yet, but it feels like a step toward getting closer to you.

He sits up straighter, a surge of confidence overtaking him. His gaze moves over your figure with a deliberation that makes your stomach flutter. The way his eyes drink in the details of your face, your body, makes you feel… noticed. Seen.

“That’s one hell of a boost for my ego,” Harry says, his voice dripping with a mix of playful arrogance and genuine admiration. “I’ve got a chance with the most beautiful girl I’ve ever laid my eyes on.”

The words hang in the air for a moment, and you can feel the intensity of his gaze. It’s flattering, but there’s something else in his look—something deeper, something more consuming than mere compliments. It’s as if he’s claiming you in some unspoken way. His eyes linger a little too long, and though he’s trying to be playful, there’s a certain hunger there that catches you off guard.

A part of you wants to laugh it off, but another part of you… well, another part of you can’t quite deny the effect his words have on you. The way his confidence oozes, the way he seems to have you completely captivated even when he’s just speaking casually.

You force your gaze back to the road, but the tension between you both feels different now. It’s charged, electric—filled with unspoken possibilities. Harry, however, doesn’t let up. His eyes keep studying you, as if trying to decipher every little detail about you. His lips curl into a smile that’s both triumphant and knowing.

The atmosphere in the car shifts. The lightness of the teasing still hangs in the air, but there’s a deeper layer now—one that feels almost like a promise. Harry’s made it clear: he’s not here for just a simple ride. He’s here to win your attention, your affection, to make sure you know exactly how much he wants you. And as he watches you, he knows he’s already made his mark on you in some way, whether you realize it yet or not.

The air between you thickens, charged with the energy of his words. Harry's voice lowers, almost like a secret. "This might sound crazy since I hardly know you," he says, his gaze flickering from your face to your lips, then back to your eyes. "But I really, really want to kiss you."

The intensity of his gaze, the weight of his words, sends a rush of heat to your chest.

Your heart skips a beat, then races faster than before. You know it's reckless, impulsive, but it's as if something deep inside you is responding to him, telling you to act, to do something. But before you can process the surge of emotions, your foot slams down on the brake pedal without warning.

Harry's eyes widen, his body thrown forward by the sudden stop. His hands instinctively grip the console as he stumbles against the force of the car halting.

"Jesus!" he exclaims, his voice laced with shock, his pulse spiking.

You breathe shakily, your hands still gripping the steering wheel as the car finally comes to a stop. The silence in the car is thick with anticipation. Harry's heart is racing, not just from the sudden stop, but from the way you're looking at him now-there's something different in your eyes. Something that mirrors the craving he's been feeling.

When the shock of the stop wears off, Harry turns to you, his breath coming in quick bursts. His chest rises and falls rapidly as he stares at you.

"Why the hell did you stop the car like that, love?" he asks, his voice rough, his brows furrowed in both confusion and curiosity.

Your eyes lock with his, and something shifts. The walls you'd both been playing behind-teasing, joking-begin to crumble. His question hangs in the air between you like a challenge. But then, without saying another word, you lean toward him. A glint of something darker passes over your face.

"Because I wanted to do this," you whisper, and without waiting for any further hesitation, your lips crash into his.

The kiss is immediate and intense, born out of the tension that's been building ever since he first got into the car. His lips are soft but urgent, pulling you closer. There's no room for uncertainty anymore; only the heat of the moment, the heat of his body pressing against yours, the heat of desire crackling between you both.

Harry responds eagerly, his hand reaching to cup your jaw, fingers threading into your hair as he deepens the kiss, his lips moving hungrily against yours. The taste of him is intoxicating, sending a pulse of warmth straight to your core. His kiss is fierce, as if he's been waiting for this moment just as much as you. His tongue brushes against yours, a soft, tantalizing pressure that makes you lose yourself in the sensation.

For a brief moment, nothing else matters-the world outside the car, the consequences, the lingering doubt. All of it fades away as you both succumb to the pull of each other, driven by something stronger than logic or reason. The kiss feels like a release, the pent-up tension from the entire ride coming to fruition in one passionate, desperate embrace.

When you finally break away, your breaths are ragged, both of you still close, your foreheads resting against each other. Your pulse is wild, your heart pounding in your chest, and you can't help but smile at the way he looks at you now-his eyes dark with desire, filled with a hunger that matches your own.

Harry grins, a satisfied, almost predatory look crossing his face. "Well... I guess I got what I wanted," he murmurs, his lips barely brushing against yours as he speaks.

But you know this isn't over. The tension between you both is only just beginning, and neither of you can walk away from it now.

“God, you’re so hot,” Harry mutters against your lips, the hand not on your face sneaking down to your thigh, his fingers gently squeezing the flesh through your jeans. He’s getting drunk on you, addicted to the feeling of your lips on his. He’s never before felt this way, it’s like something in him has snapped in half, the primal and possessive side of him awakening. He doesn’t want to let you go.

The kiss gets more heated, the sweet gestures replaced by desperate and hungry ones. Harry’s fingers dig into your thigh almost possessively, his head tilting to deepen the kiss even more.

His tongue runs over your lower lip, begging for entrance.

As soon as you grant him access his tongue immediately pushes inside your mouth, exploring every inch of your wet cavern hungrily. It’s as if he wants to devour you. His hand moves up from your thigh to your waist, pulling you closer, trying to get the most possible body contact.

“You’re driving me insane, princess…” Harry mumbles against your lips, one hand now gently gripping your chin, holding you in place. He’s practically addicted to the way your mouth feels on his, you’ve unleashed something primal in him, something he has trouble controlling.

“Your car is like.. a perfect spot for this, love,” Harry comments, his lips moving off of yours, down to your jawline. He begins kissing the skin there as he speaks, “Plenty of space… dark, private… you should park somewhere. I bet your backseats are really comfortable.”

There was no denying that he get want he wants and you’re now his… and this is just the beginning

[harryssyndrome]

Manic | h.s

summery: he may be a popstar but he’s also a manic the world doesn’t know.

word count: 2.6k || Masterlist

Posted on: November 18th, 2024

This is going to be a short series if you guys like it! Here’s the prologue and chapter 1.

The darkened room was quiet, save for the soft hum of a playlist that had been playing for hours. It was a familiar sound, one that Harry Styles had heard countless times before. The music, meant to soothe and distract, did neither. It never did anymore.

Fame had always come easily to Harry. It had been handed to him on a silver platter after years of hard work, but after so long, he was tired. Not physically, not yet, but mentally. The adoration, the constant need to be the center of attention, it had become exhausting. He didn’t need the spotlight anymore. It was empty. Unfulfilling. All he really craved was something real. Something that felt tangible. But everything felt like a performance, every encounter, every interaction, a scripted scene in a play that had gone on too long.

He should’ve been happy. His name was on the lips of millions, his face splashed across billboards, and his albums charted at number one. And yet, Harry felt hollow inside.

His gaze wandered aimlessly over his phone screen. Another night of scrolling through social media, his thumb moving slowly, mechanically, as he half-heartedly browsed the posts. Then it caught his eye.

A video.

Not just any video—this one was different. A fan edit, yes, but it wasn’t the usual over-enthusiastic nonsense. This one felt… raw. Real. The video was of him, sure, but the energy was unique. The girl in the video was singing along, dancing in her room, her energy infectious. Her eyes sparkled with an unrestrained joy, her movements filled with an innocence he hadn’t seen in a long time.

She wasn’t pretending. She wasn’t trying to be cool or act like she wasn’t completely immersed in the moment.

No, this girl—YN—was different.

The video switched to another post: a selfie of her holding a cardboard cutout of him, beaming at the camera with a grin that was all enthusiasm and giddiness. The caption read: “Just me and my favorite person in the world ❤️ #harrystylesforever.”

Harry watched, transfixed, as if he couldn’t look away. There was something magnetic about her. Something about the way she adored him, but not in the way others did. There was no ulterior motive in her eyes, no agenda beyond the sheer love of his music.

For the first time in a long time, Harry felt… noticed. But not for his fame, or his status. No, this girl—YN—saw him for what he truly was. And in a way, that felt like a breath of fresh air. She wasn’t enamored with the star. She was enamored with the man.

Harry scrolled further through her feed. She had an entire shrine dedicated to him. Posters, merchandise, photos of places he had filmed music videos, concerts she’d attended. The more he scrolled, the more he realized that Kate’s world was revolving around him in a way he couldn’t quite comprehend.

It wasn’t just admiration. It was obsession. Pure and unfiltered.

And he couldn’t stop watching.

Her life was laid out in front of him, piece by piece. She posted about everything. Her favorite coffee shop. The books she read. Her friends. Her artistic creations. His song covers. Every little moment of her life was shared with a world that admired her for the very same reason she adored him.

And Harry couldn’t get enough of it.

There was a pull in his chest as he clicked on her live video, her face lighting up the screen as she spoke, her joy so pure and unguarded it felt like a drug. She laughed, her voice a melodic sound that made his heart beat faster.

“I can’t believe it,” she said, practically giddy. “Harry Styles liked my post! Do you know what that means to me? It’s like… it’s like he knows I exist.” Her voice wavered with emotion. “Like, I don’t even know how to explain it, but it’s like all of my dreams are finally coming true.”

Harry’s lips curled into a slow smile. He wasn’t used to feeling this way—this sense of control. This… pull. There was something about YN, something about the way she expressed her adoration for him, that was different from all the others. She wasn’t just a fan. She was everything he had been looking for.

And the best part? She had no idea he was watching.

He rewound the livestream, watching her over and over again, each time growing more captivated. And then, he noticed something.

In the background, through her window, the faint outline of streetlights and buildings could be seen.

It was just a glimpse. But it was enough.

The thought was sudden, almost like a seed planted in his mind. She was close. So close. It wouldn’t be hard to find her.

And that thought… that thought lingered.

YN woke up the next morning to an onslaught of notifications. Her phone buzzed incessantly, each new one making her stomach flip with excitement. She rubbed her eyes, still groggy from sleep, and grabbed her phone.

A notification from Instagram.

@harrystyles liked your post.

She blinked, staring at the words. Her heart raced. Was she dreaming? She clicked on the notification, her pulse quickening when the page loaded.

It was real.

Harry Styles, the Harry Styles, had liked her post.

Her hands trembled as she swiped through her feed. Was this really happening? The man she had adored for years—the man she had spent countless hours watching, listening to, obsessing over—had noticed her. And not just in passing. He had liked her post.

“I can’t believe it,” she whispered to herself, her voice barely audible as she scrolled through the comments.

Her followers were going wild.

“Oh my God, YN, he liked your post!”

“What? Harry Styles actually noticed you?!”

“You’re a legend, girl! This is everything!”

YN’s breath came in shallow gasps. This was bigger than anything that had happened to her before. She had posted countless videos, countless photos, all for this moment. And now, it had happened.

Her heart was still racing when she opened Instagram live. Her fingers hovered over the button. What should she say? How could she even begin to express how overwhelmed she felt?

She hit record.

“Guys,” she said, her voice trembling with excitement. “I don’t even know what to say right now. Harry Styles liked my post. Harry Styles.” She laughed, shaking her head as if she couldn’t believe the words that were coming out of her mouth. “This is insane. I feel like I’m dreaming.”

She paused, looking directly into the camera. “Do you guys have any idea what this means to me? Like, this is—this is everything. This is all I’ve wanted for so long. I can’t even—”

Her words trailed off as she swiped through the screen, her eyes wide. She had just noticed the comment. A single heart emoji.

From Harry.

“I—” YN’s voice faltered. “Oh my God. He commented. Harry Styles just commented on my livestream!.”

She stared at her screen in disbelief. There was no way this was real. But it was. And it felt like the world was shifting under her feet.

Harry Styles had noticed her.

The next few days passed in a blur. YN couldn’t focus on anything other than the fact that Harry Styles had seen her. He had liked her posts, commented on her videos. He had made her feel seen. Not like a fan, but like someone special.

And Harry—Harry couldn’t get her out of his head.

Every notification, every new video she posted, he consumed it with an intensity that bordered on obsession. He started following her more closely, paying attention to the smallest details in her posts. Her likes. Her comments. Where she went. What she did. Everything she shared, Harry took in like a starving man at a feast.

It didn’t take long before he started devising a plan. He could feel the pull, the magnetic attraction that drew him to her. He could feel her energy from miles away, even through a screen.

But that wasn’t enough. He needed more.

He watched her live videos, listened to the way her voice wavered with excitement when she spoke of him. He watched her laugh, heard the way her voice carried when she spoke of her love for him. And in that moment, Harry knew he had to make her feel something deeper.

Something darker.

He began to calculate. Every post she made, every comment, every moment of her life was a clue. Her routines. The coffee shops she frequented. Her favorite spots in the city.

She wasn’t just a fan.

She was a piece of a puzzle.

And Harry was going to put it together.

YN felt like she was floating in a dream, a haze of disbelief. Every time she checked her phone, she saw the same thing. Harry Styles. His name was there in her notifications, like a light guiding her through the madness of her obsession. He had liked her posts. Commented on her videos. Even sent her a heart emoji—his emoji.

She was on cloud nine, and she couldn’t help but smile whenever she thought about it. Her followers were ecstatic. Everyone knew. Everyone was talking about her. YN, the girl Harry Styles noticed.

It wasn’t just the likes and comments. It was the way he watched her. She could feel it, like a weight on her chest. When she posted something new, she checked her notifications more than she should. And there it was—always there. Harry’s eyes on her.

Her room, the one she’d carefully decorated with Harry memorabilia, felt like a shrine, but not just to him. It felt like it was for him, a window into her life. A way for him to see her.

Harry had stopped just liking her posts. He had begun watching her live streams, something YN had been dreaming of but never truly expected. His presence was palpable. She could almost feel his gaze through the screen, like he was right there with her. The thought sent shivers down her spine.

But what did it mean? Was this just a phase? Was Harry really paying attention, or was it just a fleeting moment for him? She wondered if she would wake up one day and realize it was all a dream. No. No, this was real. He had to care.

In the dark of his bedroom, Harry sat back in his chair, phone in hand. His eyes flicked over the screen, watching YN’s every move. Her excitement, her vulnerability, her eagerness to please him. Every post, every comment, was a step deeper into the labyrinth he was creating.

He had started by watching her like any other fan. But something about her had drawn him in. The way she spoke. The way she laughed. The way she seemed real. Not a pretend version of a fan, not just someone fawning over his fame, but someone who truly adored him. No one had adored him like that in a long time.

She was his escape, his secret obsession. Her life was a mosaic of small moments that, when pieced together, painted a clear picture. He could see it all now—the places she went, the routines she followed. She was so predictable, so easily found. And that’s when the dark thoughts started creeping in.

He wasn’t just content with being a distant figure in her life. He needed to be closer. He needed to own her adoration, to control it.

The first step was simple.

Harry sent her a message.

A direct message.

He’d done it casually, almost nonchalantly. He commented on her latest post, then slid into her DMs under the guise of admiration, complimenting her style, her energy. It was a gentle nudge. But the more he messaged, the more it became clear. She wanted him. She needed him. Her responses were quick, eager, every message dripping with excitement. It fed him, fueled the fire inside of him.

They exchanged pleasantries at first. She gushed over how much his music meant to her, how he had been a source of inspiration. Harry watched it all, reading between the lines. She was enamored, yes, but there was something more. She was a fan, but she wanted more. She needed to be noticed.

And he could give that to her. But first, he had to make her feel something else. Something darker.

One night, when the world outside was still and quiet, Harry did something that would push his obsession further into a twisted reality.

He didn’t tell YN. He didn’t send a message. There was no warning.

He simply showed up.

YN’s apartment building wasn’t far from where he was staying. It took him only a few hours to figure out where she lived. It wasn’t hard. The clues were always in plain sight.

When he arrived, he parked his car a few blocks away and walked quietly to her building, his heart hammering in his chest. He wasn’t nervous. He wasn’t scared. But there was something thrilling about being so close to her.

Standing outside her window, he could see her inside, oblivious to the fact that he was watching. She was sitting at her desk, the soft glow of her computer screen illuminating her face as she scrolled through her phone.

Harry stayed hidden, just out of sight. His breath quickened as he watched her. She’s mine, he thought. She just doesn’t know it yet.

He waited until the apartment was dark, until the only light that remained was the dim glow of her bedside lamp. She was ready to sleep.

When she finally stood and moved toward her bed, Harry crept up to her window. He didn’t knock. He didn’t need to.

His fingers wrapped around the ledge of the window, and with a single, practiced motion, he slid it open.

The soft creak of the window didn’t alert her. YN was too lost in her thoughts to notice anything. She was just getting ready for bed, unaware that the man she idolized, the man she felt was just a part of her dreams, was standing in the darkness outside her window, staring at her.

Harry’s breath caught in his throat. The view of her room, her soft silhouette against the dim light, her hair falling over her shoulders, her delicate features bathed in the soft glow—it was like a dream. But it was real. He was here. Watching.

He reached into his coat pocket, pulling out a small vial, the smell of her perfume still lingering on it. He pressed it to his nose, inhaling deeply. Her scent filled his lungs, and for a moment, he felt closer to her than he ever had.

He watched her move to her bed, getting under the covers. His body tensed, heart racing as he took a few steps forward.

The feeling was intoxicating. This was no longer about admiration. This was about ownership. Control. Harry had to make her see him. He had to make her crave him the way he craved her.

He stayed for hours, watching, as YN shifted in her sleep, her body curled under the blankets. He wanted to touch her—just one touch—but he couldn’t. Not yet.

He caressed the glass, the smooth surface cold under his fingertips.

“I’ll be back, and then we’ll be together..” he whispered softly, barely audible.

And then he left.

As Harry retreated into the shadows of the night, his mind raced. He had tasted it now. The power. The control. He had planted a seed, and it would grow.

The game had just begun.

[harryssyndrome]

𝑴𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 𝒕𝒐 𝒎𝒚 𝒔𝒚𝒏𝒅𝒓𝒐𝒎𝒆!

Here’s my revised version of my older one. ˚˖𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒✧˚.🎀༘⋆。

Everything on this list belongs to me so don’t you dare copy! Thx for stopping by!

Link here, is my wattpad account.

I take requests.

Last updated on 09/12/2024

Taglist is OPEN || Requests are OPEN

Currently looking for a co-writer for new story. Dm if interested!

Works with mature theme will be listed in red.

Treat People With Kindness!

SERIES 🐬°˖𓍢ִ໋ 🐋✧°

❀ 𝐁𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐓𝐨 𝐌𝐲 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭

ᯓ ✈︎ Story Masterlist (On-Going)

𝐃𝐎𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐃

ᯓ ✈︎ Dystopian series coming soon!

ᴏʙsɪᴅɪᴀɴ

ᯓ ✈︎ coming soon!

ONE SHOT ˚🦋༘⋆🐬🧊

✈︎ Kinda Crazy

A crazy night adventure with Harry.

✈︎ Snow On The Beach

in which, Harry found his inspiration for his debut album.

✈︎ Hoax [requested]

“don’t want any other shade blue only you. No other sadness in the world would do…”

✈︎ The Rain Girl

Harry meets a carefree girl in a London rain and then in that moment he knows those romcom feelings.

Summer feeling (coming soon)

Guilty As Sin? (coming soon)

One shot Series 🖌️💎🧢

Manic (Pt.2)

He may be a popstar but he’s also a manic the world doesn’t know.

✈︎ Darkness and You [au]

a late night drive takes an unexpected turn when an handsome stranger takes his place in your passenger seat.

Dadrry 🎐☁️❄️

✈︎ Best Brother Ever

In which, Alex Styles proves he is the best brother for his baby sister.

✈︎ Kiwi baby! 🥝

In which, Harry’s wife surprises him during ‘Kiwi’ with the best news ever.

✈︎ Free Hugs (coming soon)

✈︎ But Daddy I Love Him! (young!dad!harry one-shot coming soon)

✈︎ Our Little World (A documentary series coming soon!)

MORE COMING SOON!

Social media AUs 🫐🪁💙

✈︎ Night Changes

Childhood best friends to lovers.

Part 1

Alternate Universe 🐳🌀🩵

Someday (Coming Soon)

Red Key (coming soon)

Thank you so much for sticking around! ༝༚༝༚ྀིྀིྀིྀིྀི 💋

[harryssyndrome]

Would you ever consider an angst one-shot where Harry and Y/N have been together for a long time but while on tour, they get into a huge argument while she’s home and he gets too drunk and the next day there are photos of him and Emily Ratajkowski the way there was irl and harry’s life turns upside down and he has to gravel for his lovie. ANGST ANGST ANGST but with a happy ending 🥺

Thank you so much for this request anon! This is my first ever angst request so hopefully I’ll be able to do some justice to it. This one-shot will posted with 48 hours 😌 Hope you enjoy it and let me know how was it in the comments.

Thx again my sweet anon! Have a great day 💓

p.s. I would’ve given it a happy ending anyway even if you wouldn’t have asked bc im sucker for happy endings🤭

Edited: Hoax is OUT NOW! 🌲❤️‍🩹

[harryssyndrome]

Manic (pt.2) | h.s

ᯓ ✈︎ part one || Masterlist

Sorry it’s short but i was busy being lazy lol and well I’m planning something bigger so bare with me.

Posted on: November 19th, 2024

YN’s days began to blur into one another, each moment consumed by her obsession with Harry. Every notification, every message from him felt like another piece of a dream she never wanted to wake up from. Her friends commented on how lucky she was, how surreal her life had become, but none of them truly understood. They didn’t know how much this connection meant to her.

It was no longer about being a fan. This was personal.

Harry’s messages grew more frequent, more intense. His compliments became laced with something deeper, something that felt like longing. YN found herself replaying every word in her mind, dissecting the meaning, trying to understand him. She didn’t dare question why he had noticed her out of all the fans in the world. It didn’t matter. He had chosen her, and that was enough.

But even in her bliss, there was a shadow.

Harry sat in the dim light of his living room, his phone in hand, the screen glowing faintly in the dark. He scrolled through YN’s social media again, his eyes scanning every photo, every caption, every detail. He had memorized her routines, her likes, her quirks. He knew what she ordered at her favorite café, the books she loved to read, the way she smiled when she thought no one was watching.

But Harry was watching.

Every word he sent her was carefully crafted, calculated to pull her deeper into his world. He knew exactly how to compliment her, how to make her feel seen. He played the part of the dream, the fantasy she had built in her mind. But beneath the surface, his thoughts were anything but kind.

She was his now.

It wasn’t enough to be admired. He needed more. He needed control.

He leaned back, a sinister smile playing on his lips as he typed his next message.

YN’s phone buzzed, pulling her attention from the book she was pretending to read. Her heart leapt when she saw his name.

“I can’t stop thinking about your voice. Sing for me again, YN.”

She blinked, her fingers tightening around the phone. He wanted her to sing. For him.

Her hands trembled as she opened her camera app, her heart pounding in her chest. She set up her phone, angling it just right before taking a deep breath. She picked one of his songs, one she knew by heart, and began to sing.

Her voice was shaky at first, but as the melody carried her, she poured everything she had into the performance. She closed her eyes, imagining him on the other side of the screen, watching her, listening to her.

When she finished, she uploaded the video and sent it to him, her stomach flipping with nerves.

The response came almost immediately.

“Perfect. You’re perfect, YN.”

She let out a shaky laugh, her face flushing with warmth.

But as she stared at his words, that lingering unease crept back in. Something about the way he said it—it was too intense, too certain. She shook her head, dismissing the thought. This was Harry Styles. He wasn’t like anyone else.

Harry watched the video again, his jaw tightening as a dark satisfaction settled over him. She was performing for him now. Every note, every glance, every movement was for him.

He leaned forward, his mind racing. This wasn’t enough. He needed to take the next step.

He knew where she lived. He had already been inside her space, breathed her air, felt her presence. But it wasn’t enough to just watch her.

He wanted to shape her.

That night, YN fell asleep with her phone by her side, Harry’s messages still glowing on the screen. Her dreams were filled with him, his voice, his touch. She imagined what it would be like to meet him, to feel his hands on hers, to hear him whisper her name.

But in the shadows of her room, something stirred.

Harry was back.

The window he had left unlocked during his last visit slid open with ease. He moved silently, his footsteps light as he entered her sanctuary once more.

Her scent hit him immediately, intoxicating and familiar. He stood by her bedside, his eyes trailing over her sleeping form. Her chest rose and fell with each breath, her face peaceful in the dim light.

He reached out, his fingers hovering just above her cheek. He wanted to touch her, to feel her warmth. But he hesitated. Not yet. He couldn’t risk waking her.

Instead, he leaned closer, his lips inches from her ear.

“Soon, YN,” he whispered, his voice barely audible.

He stepped back, his gaze lingering on her for a moment longer before retreating into the night.

When YN woke the next morning, she felt it again—that strange heaviness, the sense that something was wrong. She glanced at her window and frowned. It was slightly ajar.

Her heart skipped a beat as she sat up, staring at it. Had she left it open? She didn’t think so.

Shaking her head, she climbed out of bed and shut it firmly, her hands trembling.

It was just a coincidence, she told herself. Nothing more.

But as she turned back to her room, her eyes caught something on her desk that made her freeze.

It was her perfume bottle, placed neatly in the center of the desk.

She hadn’t used it in weeks.

Her pulse quickened as she stared at it, her mind racing. Had she moved it? Was this another coincidence?

She grabbed her phone, desperate for a distraction. There was a new message from Harry.

“Good morning, beautiful. Did you sleep well?”

Her heart fluttered, the unease fading as quickly as it had come.

“Yes,” she typed back. “I dreamed of you.”

The response came instantly.

“Good. Soon, we won’t need dreams.”

YN smiled, her fingers brushing over the screen.

She didn’t notice the faint indentation on the edge of her bed, the subtle sign that someone had been sitting there. Watching. Waiting.

The game was only the beginning.

[harryssyndrome]

Backstage To My Heart

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟔 | 𝐒𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐇𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐬 𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐲 𝐅𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐎𝐮𝐭

Headline: “Harry Styles Seen Singing with Mystery Girl in Secluded Celebrity Spot – New Romance or Superfan?”

Late last night, Harry was spotted in a quiet, secluded area frequented by stars, outside a music studio. In a candid moment, he was seen serenading a mystery girl, with one photo capturing him wrapping his arm around her. Sources suggest she might be a devoted fan, but the cozy vibe between them is raising eyebrows. Is it just a fan encounter, or is there more behind this late-night rendezvous?

Ashley’s phone continued buzzing relentlessly, the screen lighting up with every notification, pulling her further into a waking state. She could barely keep up with the flood of messages and mentions. Her feed was full of posts from Harry’s fan accounts, their reactions an emotional whirlwind that mirrored her own confusion. The more she scrolled, the more her heart raced.

Some comments were filled with curiosity:

“Wait, who’s the girl? Is she in the industry?”

“Does anyone know her? Have we seen her before?!”

“She looks cute… maybe she’s just a friend?

“Who is she?? Why is she with Harry?!”

“Wait… was she wearing his jacket?!?!”

“Are we shipping them or nah?”

“I’ve never seen her before, maybe she’s just a fan?”

Others were filled with excitement and warmth:

“They look so cozy together! Is this a new couple alert?”

“Harry deserves someone nice. Hope she’s good to him.”

“I’m shipping them already! They’re adorable.”

“Look at how Harry is with her! He looks happy!”

“I follow her account, she’s a fan-fluencer! She’s really sweet, fr”

“They actually look cute together, don’t hate guys!”

“She’s living the dream we all wanted! Lucky girl.”

“OMG, they look so cute together!”

“I knew Harry was seeing someone! I’m so happy for him.”

“Look at how he’s holding her. If she’s the one, we better treat her right!”

But then there were the harsher, colder remarks that made her stomach churn:

“This better just be a fan. Harry wouldn’t date someone like her, right?”

“She’s not even that pretty. Harry can do better.”

“Why is he always with random girls? Another PR stunt?”

“If this is real, I’m DONE supporting him.”

“No way Harry is dating her. No. Way.”

“Can’t believe Harry’s dating some random girl, she’s probably just a fan.”

“She better treat him right, or we’ll come for her!”

“This better not be serious… Harry belongs to us!”

“Harry doesn’t usually get cozy with fans though… this could be something more!”

“This girl looks like just another clout-chaser, watch her use him for fame.”

“I’m sorry, but she doesn’t seem like Harry’s type at all. Can’t believe this is real.”

“There’s no way Harry’s into her, she’s probably just trying to get his attention.”

Ashley’s heart sank further with every swipe. It was all too much. How did it come to this? How did a simple night out with Harry, something that was meant to be private and comforting, become public fodder?

Just then, her phone pinged again, this time a direct message from Rave, brimming with excitement:

Rave:

ASHLEY!!! Are you seeing this?! You and HARRY?! Are you kidding me right now?? How did you NOT tell me?? Call me, call me, CALL ME!!

Before Ashley could even process a response, more messages flooded in:

Lila:

Babe, what is happening? Is that you with HARRY?! Are you guys together?? I’m dying right now!

Sasha:

Holy crap, I KNEW it. I knew there was something going on between you two! Spill the details!

It felt like everyone around her was spinning the narrative faster than she could catch her breath. Friends? Dating? Just a fan? Her head buzzed with the mounting pressure, her anxiety rising with each new comment.

And then, her heart skipped as she saw a text from Harry. She stared at his name on the screen for a long moment before opening the message:

Harry:

Hey, I’m guessing you’re still asleep but… call me when you wake up, okay? Don’t panic. I know things are blowing up online. I’m really sorry this is happening. I’ll try to handle it, but I want to talk to you first. It’s going to be fine, just breathe. Call me.

Her chest tightened, guilt creeping in. He’s apologizing to me? she thought, her mind swirling. She felt as though all of this was somehow her fault—that Harry, who had worked so hard to maintain some semblance of privacy in his life, was now being dragged into chaos because of her. She sighed, her fingers trembling as she re-read his message. She didn’t even know what to say to him.

Before she could respond, her phone buzzed again—her mother’s name flashing on the screen. Ashley froze. She knew this was coming; she knew her mother would have seen the headlines, the speculation. She couldn’t avoid the conversation any longer.

Taking a deep breath, she swiped to answer. “Hey, Mom…” she said, her voice soft, uncertain.

“Ashley,” her mother’s tone was careful, but it was clear she was trying to suppress disbelief. “I just saw something online. That picture of you and Harry… is it true? What’s going on? Are you two… involved?”

Ashley felt her pulse quicken. She wasn’t sure how to explain any of this, not when she was still trying to process it herself. “Mom, it’s… it’s not what it looks like,” she began, struggling to keep her voice steady. “I mean, I was going to tell you eventually, but nothing’s serious between me and Harry. We’re just friends.”

“Just friends?” her mother’s voice was skeptical now. “Ashley, I’m not one to believe everything I read online, but that picture… the way he was holding you… it doesn’t look like just friends.”

Ashley bit her lip, the weight of her mother’s words sinking in. She hadn’t exactly been honest with her mother about the closeness she’d developed with Harry. “It’s complicated, Mom. I didn’t want to bother you with it, and I… I don’t even know how to explain everything myself.”

Her mother sighed on the other end, the frustration palpable. “Ashley, you know I’m not here to judge you. But I can tell you’ve been hiding something. Why didn’t you just tell me?”

“Because…” Ashley’s voice faltered as she searched for the right words. “Because it’s not serious. I didn’t think it was worth mentioning. Harry’s been helping me out, giving me the opportunity to work with him on music. He’s been nothing but kind. And last morning… after the news you told me about Dad and everything going on with the family… I was feeling awful.”

Her mother’s voice softened, a trace of empathy slipping in. “I know, sweetheart. I can’t imagine how hard that must have been for you.”

“Harry was just trying to cheer me up,” Ashley continued, her voice quiet, tinged with nostalgia as memories of the night came flooding back. “He left his work in the middle even when I told him not to, but he wouldn’t listen. He made me laugh, danced around like an idiot, sang with me on the street, spinning me around in circles… It wasn’t some grand romantic gesture. He just wanted to make me feel better.”

Her mother paused on the other end, considering Ashley’s words. “So he left his work, in the middle of everything, just to make sure you were okay?” she asked, her voice steady. “Don’t you think that means something, Ashley? Do you really think he’s doing all that because you’re just friends?”

Ashley’s heart skipped at the question, her mind flashing back to the way Harry had looked at her last night, the tenderness in his eyes, the way he had been so protective. Her mother’s question hung in the air, lingering longer than she expected.

“Ashley,” her mother’s voice softened, “isn’t he the boy you used to listen to all the time? You had his posters all over your room, his merch… You practically grew up listening to him. You love him, don’t you?”

Ashley froze, her eyes widening in shock. How could her mother know? She had never told anyone about the feelings she’d harbored for Harry for so long, the quiet, private dreams she’d held onto. “Mom, I—what are you talking about?”

Her mother let out a small chuckle, though it was warm, not mocking. “I’m your mother, sweetheart. I know you better than you think. When you moved to London, you left some things behind. I found a letter you had written, one you never sent. It was about Harry. You’ve felt this way for a long time, haven’t you?”

Ashley felt a lump form in her throat. “You found that?” she whispered, her voice barely audible. She hadn’t realized she’d left it behind. That letter had been something she wrote during one of her weakest moments, years ago, when she thought her feelings for Harry would never be anything more than a silly crush.

“I did,” her mother said gently. “And I kept it because I knew, one day, we’d have this conversation. I know Harry’s older than you, and maybe you’re unsure of where this is all heading, but I want you to know that if he makes you happy, then I’m happy for you. You deserve to be with someone who cares about you the way he does. If he’s willing to do all of this for you, to be there for you, don’t you think there’s a chance he feels the same way you do?”

Ashley’s mind was spinning. The thought of Harry feeling something more for her had crossed her mind a hundred times, but she had always pushed it aside, convincing herself that someone like him could never see her that way. “I don’t know, Mom… I’m not sure if he could ever feel the way I feel about him. What if it’s all in my head?”

Her mother’s voice was soft, reassuring. “Ashley, if it’s meant to happen, it will. You don’t have to force it, and you don’t have to figure it all out right now. But don’t be afraid to see where this goes. If he’s willing to go through all of this for you, then that says something, doesn’t it?”

Ashley nodded to herself, even though her mother couldn’t see it. “Maybe… but what if I’m wrong? What if I’m just reading into things?”

“You’re not wrong,” her mother said firmly. “I can see how much he cares for you. And if you’re unsure, talk to him. Be honest about how you feel. Don’t let fear keep you from something that could make you happy. I know it’s scary, but sometimes, the best things come from taking risks.”

Ashley closed her eyes, letting her mother’s words sink in. She hadn’t expected this conversation to take such an emotional turn, but it was exactly what she needed to hear.

“Thanks, Mom,” Ashley said softly. “I’ll think about it. I just… I don’t want to mess things up.”

“You won’t,” her mother replied. “Just be yourself. If he feels the same way, he’ll fight for you, Ashley. And you deserve someone who will go through everything for you, just like you’ve always deserved more than what your father and I could give each other.”

Ashley closed her eyes, letting her mother’s words sink in. The idea that Harry could possibly feel the same way… it both terrified and thrilled her. “I don’t know if he feels the same way,” she admitted softly. “I’ve never said anything… I don’t want to ruin what we have.”

Her mother’s voice was gentle, understanding. “Sweetheart, if it’s meant to happen, it will. You don’t have to force anything. But if he’s willing to be there for you in the ways he already has, then maybe… just maybe, he feels more than you realize.”

Ashley sat in silence for a moment, her mind swirling with everything her mother had said. She knew she couldn’t avoid her feelings any longer. It was time to be honest—with herself, and with Harry.

“I’ll talk to him,” she said finally, her voice steady. “I don’t know what will happen, but I’ll talk to him.”

“That’s all you need to do,” her mother replied gently. “And whatever happens, remember I’m here for you. I just want to see you happy, Ashley.”

“I love you, Mom,” Ashley whispered, feeling a sense of calm wash over her.

“I love you too, sweetheart,” her mother said softly before the call ended.

“Soon”

After hanging up, Ashley stared at her phone, her heart pounding in her chest. She took a deep breath and forced herself to look at the messages again, this time with a new perspective. Maybe it was time to lean into what was happening instead of running from it. She decided to message Harry back:

Ashley:

Hey, I just saw your message. I’ll call you soon. Sorry for all of this. I’m still processing everything. Talk to you shortly!

Ashley tossed her phone onto the bed and swung her legs over the side, taking a moment to gather her thoughts. The chaos of the night before still hung in the air, but a flicker of determination began to spark within her. She realized that she couldn’t keep avoiding the reality of her feelings for Harry, especially now that they were under such public scrutiny.

She stood up and moved to the mirror, taking a moment to study her reflection. Her hair was slightly disheveled, and her eyes had that familiar mix of uncertainty and hope. With a soft sigh, she brushed her hair back and splashed some cold water on her face to clear her mind. You can do this, she thought, trying to boost her confidence.

After a few moments of self-encouragement, she paced the room, her mind racing. She needed to figure out how to approach the conversation with Harry. What would she even say? Should I confess my feelings? Or should I just focus on what’s happening in the moment?

As she continued to pace, her phone buzzed again. It was a message from Harry.

Harry:

Hey! I’m in the studio right now, but I can step out for a bit. Do you want to meet up? Just you and me?

Her heart raced at the thought of seeing him again, especially after the whirlwind of emotions she had just experienced. She took a moment to consider, knowing this could be the turning point they both needed.

Ashley:

Yes, I’d love to. Where?

Harry:

How about that little restaurant down the street? I’ll be there in 30 minutes.

Ashley quickly changed out of her pajamas into a casual yet cute outfit, settling on a soft sweater and her favorite jeans. As she looked in the mirror one last time, she felt a mix of excitement and anxiety. This is it, she thought, feeling the weight of the moment settle on her shoulders.

She made her way out of her apartment, the brisk air hitting her face as she stepped onto the street. The walk to the restaurant was filled with a jumble of thoughts. She replayed their past moments together in her mind—their laughter, the shared music, the way he always seemed to know how to cheer her up when she was feeling low. She couldn’t help but wonder if he felt the same depth of emotion she had for him.

Later, Harry waited just outside the small, tucked-away restaurant. The autumn sun hung low in the sky, casting the last of its golden light across the street as Ashley arrived. She looked stunning, her hair tousled slightly by the breeze, her eyes bright, though there was a hint of tiredness behind them. Harry’s heart skipped a beat, and he felt the familiar flutter in his chest he always got when he saw her.

“Hey,” she greeted with a soft smile as she approached.

“Hey,” he replied, trying to sound casual despite the way his pulse quickened just being near her.

“I’m glad you came.”

“Me too,” she replied, taking a seat across from him. “I saw the news… and I wanted to talk.”

Harry ran a hand through his hair, a gesture that was becoming all too familiar. “Yeah, it’s been a bit overwhelming, hasn’t it?” He looked genuinely concerned, his eyes searching hers for any hint of distress.

“I didn’t expect everything to blow up like this,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “I mean, I thought we were just having a fun night together. I didn’t think it would become public so quickly.”

Harry nodded, his expression softening. “I know. I’m really sorry about that. I didn’t mean for you to get dragged into this. It’s just… it’s hard to keep things private when there’s so much interest in my life.”

Ashley took a deep breath, feeling a mix of empathy and frustration. “I understand. I just… I don’t want this to ruin what we have. I don’t want you to feel like you need to protect me from all of this. It’s just… I’ve never had to deal with something like this before.”

He reached across the table, his fingers brushing against hers. “I don’t want you to feel overwhelmed. I want you to be comfortable with whatever is happening between us. If you need space, I’ll give it to you. But I also don’t want to pretend like nothing is happening.”

They stepped inside, the dim lighting immediately wrapping them in a cocoon of warmth. The restaurant had a quiet elegance about it, with dark wooden tables and soft music playing in the background. It felt intimate, almost too perfect for whatever was about to unfold between them. The kind of place where emotions couldn’t be hidden in the shadows.

They found a small table by the window, the sunlight fading as the evening set in. Harry could sense the shift in the air—the same energy that had been building between them for months now hung even heavier.

Ashley took a sip of her wine, her gaze resting on the glass for a moment before she looked up at him. “This place is really nice. How did you find it?”

Harry shrugged, trying to downplay the butterflies in his stomach. “Just one of those places you stumble across. Thought you’d like it.”

“I do.” She smiled again, but there was something more in her expression tonight. A quiet curiosity, maybe, or perhaps she was waiting for him to say something. To finally address the elephant that had been in the room between them for so long.

They talked easily for a while—about nothing in particular, work, music, life. But underneath it all, there was something pressing between them, growing with each passing moment.

At one point, Harry caught himself staring at her a little too long, his eyes tracing the lines of her face, the way her lips curved when she spoke. He quickly looked away, taking a long sip of wine to distract himself from the growing tension inside him. But it was no use. His feelings for her were too strong, too overwhelming.

Ashley must have noticed the shift in his demeanor, because she placed her glass down and leaned in slightly. “You okay? You’ve been quiet. Is something on your mind?” Her voice was soft, but there was something in her tone that made Harry’s pulse quicken.

He didn’t know how to answer her. Everything he wanted to say felt too heavy, too dangerous to voice. He was caught between the ease of their friendship and the growing intensity of his feelings for her, feelings he had tried to push down for so long.

“I’m just… thinking,” he said, his voice rougher than he intended. He took another sip of wine, hoping it would steady him.

Ashley smiled, but there was a flicker of uncertainty in her eyes, something that tugged at Harry’s heart. “About what?”

For a moment, Harry couldn’t breathe. He looked at her—really looked at her. The soft curve of her lips, the way her dark hair framed her face, the light in her eyes. Everything about her drew him in, made it harder to keep pretending that his feelings weren’t there, that they hadn’t been there for a long time.

And then, something inside him snapped.

Before he could think it through, before he could stop himself, Harry leaned across the table and kissed her.

It wasn’t a tentative kiss, not like before. It was passionate, fueled by the months—of unspoken feelings, the weight of everything they hadn’t said. His hand cupped her face, fingers tangling in her hair as he pulled her closer. Her lips were soft, warm, and for a moment, the entire world seemed to fall away. The taste of wine lingered between them, but it was the taste of her that consumed him.

He kissed her with everything he had—every ounce of feeling he’d buried, every moment he’d hesitated, every stolen glance, every heartbeat he’d ignored. His body pressed closer to hers, their lips moving in sync, the heat between them growing with every second.

And then, just as suddenly as it had begun, Harry pulled away.

Breathless, he stared at her, his heart pounding in his chest. Ashley’s eyes were wide, her cheeks flushed, and for a moment, neither of them spoke.

But then Harry saw it—a look on Ashley’s face that made his heart stop. It wasn’t shock or confusion. It wasn’t hesitation or doubt. It was something else, something deeper—an expression he couldn’t fully explain, but it was there, clear as day. She was happy. Not just happy—she was overwhelmed, like something inside her had been unlocked, something she hadn’t expected but had wanted for so long. Her eyes sparkled with joy, her lips still slightly parted from the kiss. And it was beautiful, unbelievably beautiful.

Seeing her like that, seeing her happiness so raw and unfiltered, made Harry’s chest tighten. He’d never seen her like this before. She looked as though the weight of every doubt, every insecurity, had been lifted from her shoulders in that one kiss.

But then, just as quickly, his own mind caught up to him.

What had he done? He loved kissing her. He liked her more than he could ever express. But now, the doubts flooded in like a tidal wave. What did this mean for them? Could they ever go back to what they were? And what if he wasn’t enough for her? What if being with him ruined everything for her? What if this one kiss set off a chain reaction that he couldn’t control?

His mind spiraled, the questions hitting him all at once. He had acted on impulse, and now he didn’t know where it would lead. He was terrified. What if he had just ruined everything?

Ashley was still looking at him, her eyes soft, her expression still full of the beauty of the moment, but Harry couldn’t meet her gaze for long. The turmoil inside him was too much. He had wanted this, so badly, but now that it had happened, the fear of what came next clawed at him, louder than ever.

He dropped his hand from her face, his fingers trembling slightly. His breath was shaky, his heart pounding in a way that was both exhilarating and terrifying.

Ashley didn’t speak. She didn’t need to. Her expression said everything—she was happy. But Harry… Harry couldn’t shake the feeling that he had crossed a line, a line he wasn’t sure he was ready for.

The silence between them was deafening, filled with everything that had just happened, with everything they weren’t saying. And as Harry sat there, staring at her, he realized that nothing between them could ever be the same again.

This version heightens the emotional intensity of the kiss while focusing on the overwhelming beauty of Ashley’s reaction and the turmoil brewing inside Harry. It ends with Harry’s internal conflict, leaving the emotional aftermath hanging between them, unresolved.

A/N: here is the beginning of all the drama🤭 see you guys tomorrow. Special thx to @daisyblog for always helping me! 🫶🏻

STORY MASTERLIST

Taglist: @prettygurl-2009 @sassamanda77 (TAGLIST OPEN)

Posted on: October 10th, 2024

[harryssyndrome]

Backstage To My Heart

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏: 𝐍𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐓𝐨 𝐌𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐘𝐨𝐮, 𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐁𝐞𝐞𝐧?

Ashley and Rave burst into the cozy warmth of the coffee shop, both laughing breathlessly, their clothes damp from the sudden downpour outside. The smell of fresh coffee and the hum of quiet conversations welcomed them as they shook off the rain. The city outside was blurred by the droplets racing down the glass, but inside, the warmth of the café wrapped around them like a soft blanket.

"That was sooo worth getting drenched," Rave grinned, wiping her damp forehead with the back of her hand.

"I know right? The London Eye is magical," Ashley added, Ashley grinned, her cheeks flushed from the run. "Worth it though. I haven’t laughed like that in ages."

Ashley grinned, her eyes sparkling. "And that hilarious pod mate who couldn't stop taking selfies!”

“That type of guys are everywhere!”

They found a small table by the window, with raindrops dancing against the glass, blurring the view of the streets beyond. Settling into their chairs, they caught their breath, the excitement of the afternoon still lingering. Ashley dug into her soggy bag and rummaging through it pulled out a well-worn notebook, her song diary. “I just hope this didn't get ruined..." She flipped it open, checking the pages carefully.

"Is it okay?" Rave asked, leaning over the table.

Ashley smiled in relief. "Dry as a bone, thank god. I don’t know what I would’ve done if this journal had ruined." she said, flipping through the pages.

But as she did, Rave’s eyes caught on something tucked between the pages—a photo peeking out. With a knowing smirk, she reached over and gently tugged at the corner of the picture. “You carry him everywhere you go, huh?” she teased.

Ashley glanced down and saw the photo of Harry, her heart giving a little flutter. She nodded with a soft smile. "Guilty as charged. I need him to even think of ideas."

Shaking off the moment, she clicked her pen and began to jot down some new song ideas in the margins of the page. The rain outside became a soft, steady rhythm as they chatted idly.

Suddenly, the soft patter of tiny footsteps interrupted their conversation. A little girl, no older than three, came running up to their table with wide, curious eyes. Her blonde curls bounced with every step, and her small voice chimed like a bell.

"Hi! I'm Grace!" she announced proudly, staring up at Ashley with a beaming smile.

Ashley looked up, surprised by the tiny visitor standing at their table. She and Rave exchanged amused glances before Ashley responded, "Well, hello, Grace. I'm Ashley, and this is my friend Rave."

Grace giggled and pointed at the empty chair next to them. "Can I sit?"

Ashley chuckled, picking up the little girl and gently placing her in the chair. "Of course you can."

Grace immediately made herself comfortable, swinging her tiny legs as she engaged them in a childish, animated conversation about her favourite animals and the rain. In the midst of Grace's animated storytelling, her gaze landed on the photo lying beside Ashley's diary. Her face brightened even more, if that were possible. She pointed with wide eyes.

"Hey! You know my uncle?!"

Ashley blinked, confused for a moment, her mind racing. Uncle? But before she could piece it together, a familiar voice—one that made her heart race—came from behind them.

“Grace! There you are,” Harry’s voice, deep and warm, drifted over. Ashley froze, recognizing it instantly. She turned slowly as Harry approached the table, his eyes locking onto Grace first before flicking over to meet Ashley's. “You little troublemaker!” he said, scooping his niece up from the chair. "You had me worried! You trying to get me in trouble with your mom?" He tickled her, and Grace let out a shriek of laughter.

Ashley stared at him, her mind racing. She couldn’t believe her own eyes at the scene in front of her. It was the Harry Styles—his familiar smile, the playful gleam in his eyes. The photo of him was still on the table between them, and Ashley swallowed nervously. She gestured Rave with her eyes to hide the picture so that the already good moment doesn’t turn into a awkward one. Rave quickly grabbed the picture and placed it inside the diary.

"Sorry about that," Harry said with an apologetic grin, ruffling Grace’s curls. "She’s more social than I’ll ever be, even with people her own age."

Ashley smiled, trying to steady her breath. "Oh, she’s been a complete sweetheart! Trust me.”

Harry stood beside the table, still holding Grace in his arms, his eyes fixed on Ashley. There was something in the way she looked at him—familiar, comfortable—but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. He cleared his throat, trying to bridge the gap of time between them.

“So, what have you been up to? You know, aside from making new friends with little rebels like Grace,” he asked with a light chuckle, nodding toward his niece, who was currently fiddling with a napkin on the table.

Ashley smiled, feeling the warmth of his attention. “Oh, you know, the usual... college, assignments. Just trying to balance everything,” she said, then hesitated for a second, her eyes flicking out the window to the rain-soaked streets. “And, uh… I sing part-time at this little place downtown.”

Harry raised an eyebrow, interest immediately piqued. “You’re singing? Like... professionally?”

Ashley gave a small laugh, suddenly feeling a bit self-conscious. “Well, I don’t know if you’d call it professional. It’s just a gig at this local bar. Helps with the rent, you know?”

“Really?” Harry tilted his head, surprised. “I didn’t know that. How long have you been doing that?”

Ashley shrugged. “A few months, I guess. It’s tough, but I love it. Singing’s always been... everything to me. Even when I’m struggling, it’s kind of the one thing that keeps me going.”

Harry’s expression softened, and for a moment, he could see her in a new light—not just as the girl he’d met through his niece, but as someone who was quietly fighting her own battles in the background, chasing her dreams just as he had once done. There was something about her honesty, her vulnerability, that tugged at him.

Just as Harry was about to ask more, Grace’s small voice cut through their conversation. “Uncle Harry, look!” she giggled, reaching for Ashley’s diary on the table. “She has a picture of—”

Ashley’s eyes widened slightly, her heart skipping a beat. Before Harry could react, she quickly leaned forward and placed a finger playfully over Grace’s lips. “Shhh...,” she said in a conspiratorial whisper, grinning at the little girl. “That’s our little secret, okay?”

Grace giggled, nodding, her curls bouncing with the movement.

Harry glanced between the two of them, his brow furrowed slightly with curiosity, though he didn’t press the matter. A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “What’s this about a picture?”

Ashley waved it off with a light laugh, trying to play it cool. “Oh, nothing. Grace is just being... well, Grace.”

But before Harry could probe any further, his phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out and glanced at the screen, his expression shifting as he saw his sister’s name flash across it. “It’s Gemma. I should probably get Grace back to her before she sends out a search party.” Harry quips, says his sister’s name like the girls already knew her.

Ashley nodded, a mix of relief and disappointment settling in. “Of course, don’t let me keep you.”

Harry stood up straighter, adjusting Grace in his arms as he pocketed his phone. “But hey, I’d really like to see you again,” he said, his tone sincere, his eyes meeting hers with a warmth that made her heart skip. “Maybe... we could catch up properly sometime?”

Ashley smiled, her nerves fluttering unexpectedly. “I’d like that.”

Harry gave her one last glance, his gaze lingering on her longer than usual, as if he wanted to say something more but wasn’t quite sure how to. Instead, he simply nodded. “I’ll make sure of it.”

As he turned to leave, Grace wriggled in his arms, leaning toward Ashley with a wide smile. “Bye, Ashley!” she chirped.

Ashley leaned forward, her voice dropping to a whisper, her eyes sparkling with amusement. “Remember, Grace—our little secret, okay?”

Grace giggled again, nodding furiously. “Okay! Secret!”

Harry glanced down at Grace, raising an eyebrow. “What secret?”

“Nothing,” Ashley and Grace said in unison, causing both women to burst into laughter.

Harry gave them both a bemused smile before shaking his head. “Alright, alright. I’ll leave you two to your secrets.”

With one final smile, Harry was about to walk out of the coffee shop, when Grace break lose from her uncle’s grasp and runs back to Ashley, “Oh my, little escapist!” chuckling to herself she bends down to wrap her arms around the little girl and gently kissing her forehead before releasing her, “I’ll see you soon okay? Don’t wanna keep your uncle waiting now, do we?” Grace nods her head swiftly before giving a soft peck on Ashley’s cheek and running off to Harry who watched the whole interaction with sweet smile never leaving his face. He grabbed his niece’s hand and stepped out of the coffee parlour, the bell above the door jingling softly as it closed behind him. Ashley watched him disappear into the rainy streets, her mind still buzzing from the unexpected encounter.

As she sat back in her chair, she found herself smiling. The feelings were resurfacing for Harry—something that had always drawn her in. And now, even after all this time, that feeling hadn’t faded. If anything, it was stronger.

Rave, who had been quietly observing the entire interaction, finally leaned in with a teasing grin. “Well, that was interesting.”

Ashley chuckled, shaking her head. “Yeah… interesting is one way to put it.”

“She really adores you.”

“Me too.”

A/N: The first chapter is up!! I’m so happy with how this one turned out! Like, comment and reblog are appreciated. DO NOT REPOST MY WORK I WILL FIND YOU. Please let me know what you think about the story so far and if you wanna be added to the tag-list so let me know in the comment section below or via DMs.

STORY MASTERLIST

Tag-List: @prettygurl-2009 @sassamanda77 @thecuriousbeauty @daisyblog

Posted on: September 30th, 2024

[harryssyndrome]

𝐁𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐓𝐨 𝐌𝐲 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭

sᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ:

"You said l've saved you so many times in so many ways, then let me save you one last time... let me love you like you've always wanted."

Ashley and Harry's friendship blossoms after they meet at a small coffee shop in London, curtesy of Harry's little niece. What begins as Harry helping the aspiring student singer to find her space in the music industry, turns into unspoken truth, hidden feelings and too many assumptions. With a rollercoaster of emotions, feelings and hate from the public, will Ashely and Harry have their happy ever after?

✧˖°📷 ᴍᴀsᴛᴇʀʟɪsᴛ .° ༘🎧

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏| 𝐍𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐓𝐨 𝐌𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐘𝐨𝐮, 𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐁𝐞𝐞𝐧?

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟐 | 𝐀𝐜𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐦, 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐬𝐢𝐥𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐢𝐭𝐬 𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐞

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟑 | 𝐈 𝐊𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐏𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞𝐬 𝐖𝐞 𝐂𝐚𝐧 𝐇𝐢𝐝𝐞

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟒 | 𝐃𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐊𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐈’𝐦 𝐑𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐇𝐞𝐫𝐞?

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟓 | 𝐌𝐢𝐝𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐌𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐡, 𝐨𝐡, 𝐨𝐡 𝐁𝐚𝐛𝐲 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐞 𝐒𝐭𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐬

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟔 | 𝐒𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐇𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐬 𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐲 𝐅𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐎𝐮𝐭

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟕 | 𝐈𝐭’𝐬 𝐁𝐚𝐝 𝐒𝐢𝐠𝐧, 𝐁𝐚𝐝 𝐒𝐢𝐠𝐧

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟖 | 𝐈 𝐰𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐓𝐨𝐤𝐲𝐨 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐞𝐭 𝐢𝐭 𝐠𝐨. 𝐃𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐝𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐤, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐈 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐟𝐞𝐥𝐭 𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐞.

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

A/N: I’m super excited for this story and I hope y’all love it as much as I do. Like and reblog the masterlist for updates. Catch early updates on Wattpad. Special thanks to @daisyblog for being my number one supporter and helping me with this project. Love you so much!🫶🏻

Also I wanna thank @thecuriousbeauty for encouraging me to get back into writing again!

Taglist is open! Let me know if you wanna be added through commenting below or dms. 💗🩵

Last updated on: November 6th, 2024 (IST)

Warning ⚠️ : mention of age-gap, mention of blood, hospitalization, accident, anxiety, self doubt, media being toxic, fake fans and haters.

[harryssyndrome]

Backstage To My Heart

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟐 | 𝐀𝐜𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐦, 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐬𝐢𝐥𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐢𝐭𝐬 𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐞

The late afternoon sun spilled through the wide, arched windows of Harry’s music room, bathing the space in a soft, amber glow. The air was warm, still, and the room was filled with the scent of aged wood and leather, a mix of guitar cases and old vinyl records scattered across the shelves. Every corner of the room whispered of creativity—the walls were adorned with old tour posters, framed records, awards and Grammy won over time and the guitars that had borne witness to countless late nights of songwriting. But today, the atmosphere felt heavier, thick with frustration.

Harry sat in the middle of the room on a worn leather armchair, his acoustic guitar resting on his lap. His fingers danced along the frets, searching for the right chord, the perfect sequence to complete the song that had been gnawing at the edges of his mind for days. He played a progression, but something was off. He strummed again, slower this time, but the melody stubbornly refused to take shape. Each note felt flat, uninspired, like chasing a shadow that kept slipping away.

With a sigh, he leaned back and let the guitar rest against his knee, staring down at the notebook spread open on the floor. Lines of half-written lyrics spilled across the page, jagged and incomplete, just like the tune swirling in his head. He closed his eyes, willing the right words and sounds to come together, but the only thing that surfaced was a thought of her—Ashley.

She drifted into his mind like a soft breeze, uninvited but undeniable. He could almost hear her laugh, that melodic sound that always seemed to soothe him ever since he has met her. His fingers absentmindedly plucked the strings, and for a moment, he could feel a connection, a fleeting sense that he was on the verge of something. But just as quickly, the feeling slipped away, leaving him more frustrated than before.

"Focus," he muttered under his breath, shaking his head as if to dislodge the image of her from his thoughts. He was here to work on the music, not to be distracted by memories of her. But as he tried to refocus, his phone buzzed loudly on the table beside him, breaking the quiet tension of the room.

Harry grabbed it, glancing at the screen—Mitch. He sighed and answered.

“Mate, you alive in there?” Mitch’s voice rang out, a mix of humour and concern. “You’ve been off the grid for days. What are you doing, working yourself to death?”

Harry rubbed his eyes. “Just trying to crack this song. It’s not happening.”

“That’s your problem. You’re trying too hard. You need to loosen up.” There was a pause, then Mitch’s tone turned casual, persuasive. “Look, there’s this new pub down the street. Nothing fancy, but good drinks, good crowd. You should come out with me, take a breather.”

Harry hesitated, his gaze drifting back to the guitar. The idea of stepping away felt like giving up, but maybe Mitch was right. His shoulders were tight, and his mind was knotted with frustration. A break wouldn’t hurt, would it?

“C’mon, you’ve been in that cave too long,” Mitch added with a chuckle. “It’s just one drink. You’ll come back fresh.”

Harry let out a breath, feeling the weight of the past few hours pressing down on him. “Alright,” he finally said. “I’ll come.”

“There you go! I’ll swing by in ten. Be ready.”

As he hung up, Harry glanced back at his guitar, its strings still vibrating faintly from his last frustrated strum. The music would have to wait. Maybe stepping out, just for a while, was exactly what he needed.

He placed the guitar gently on the stand, grabbed his jacket from the hook by the door, and as he walked out of the room, the last of the sunlight began to fade, casting the room into a soft shadow, as if it, too, was ready for a pause.

As Harry and Mitch stepped into the pub, the cool evening air gave way to the warmth of low lighting and the hum of quiet conversation. The place was new but had the comforting charm of somewhere that felt lived in. The scent of wood polish and hops mingled in the air, and the soft strumming of acoustic guitar music played in the background, creating a laid-back, intimate atmosphere.

The pub was dimly lit with vintage Edison bulbs, casting a golden glow across the worn leather booths and dark wooden tables. Exposed brick walls lined the room, adorned with framed photos of local musicians and a few well-placed guitars mounted as decoration. A small stage sat in one corner, waiting for the night’s performer. The bar stretched along the far side of the room, made of dark mahogany, gleaming under the soft lights, with shelves stacked high with bottles of liquor that caught the light like stained glass.

As they made their way toward the bar, Harry took it all in, the rich warmth of the place immediately easing the tension in his shoulders. “Not bad,” he said with a nod of approval. “This place has a good vibe.”

Mitch grinned, nudging him with his elbow. “Told you. You need to get out more. You spend too much time locked up in that music room of yours.”

They reached the bar and slid onto the stools, the wood cool beneath them. Mitch motioned to the bartender, a young guy with tousled hair who looked like he knew his way around a cocktail shaker.

“What’ll it be, lads?” the bartender asked with a smile.

“Two glasses of your best whiskey,” Mitch replied without missing a beat, flashing Harry a grin. “No messing around tonight.”

Harry chuckled under his breath, shaking his head as the bartender poured their drinks. The clink of ice hitting the glass was satisfying, and the amber liquid swirled as the bartender slid the drinks toward them. Harry picked up his glass, feeling the weight of it in his hand. He took a sip, the warmth of the whiskey spreading through him, easing the lingering frustration from the day.

“Alright,” Mitch said, raising his glass for a quick toast. “To loosening up.”

Harry clinked his glass against Mitch’s and took another sip, leaning back slightly on his stool. For the first time in hours, he felt his mind start to settle, the constant churn of melodies and lyrics finally slowing down.

“So,” Mitch started, turning to Harry as he swirled his drink. “How’s the music going? Still wrestling with that new song?”

Harry let out a small sigh. “Yeah, still can’t crack it. Every time I think I’m close, it just... slips away.” He flicked his finger finishing the sentence.

Mitch nodded thoughtfully, taking a sip of his whiskey. “That happens sometimes. You’re too close to it, mate. Stepping back helps.” He leaned forward slightly. “Got any new ideas floating around?”

Harry shrugged. “A few. It’s all half-formed though. I’m trying to pin something down before the tour starts again.”

“Ah, the tour,” Mitch said with a grin. “That beast is always looming. Got all your setlists figured out?”

“More or less,” Harry replied, relaxing into the conversation. “But there’s always something last minute.”

Mitch took another sip of his drink, glancing around the pub. “Your family going to come to any of the shows this time?”

“Yeah, they’re planning to. You know how my mum is—she likes to be at as many shows as she can.”

Mitch chuckled. “That woman’s a legend. Always front row, cheering the loudest.”

Harry smiled, the thought of his mum’s unwavering support warming him. The conversation felt easy, familiar, as it always did with Mitch. But then, after a pause, Mitch’s tone shifted, just a touch more playful.

“So... what about you?” Mitch asked, raising an eyebrow. “When are you planning on settling down?”

Harry nearly choked on his drink, laughing as he set the glass down. “Where the hell did that come from?”

Mitch leaned back, grinning. “C’mon, mate. You’ve been on the road for years, music’s going great, but what about... the other stuff? You can’t stay single forever.”

Harry rubbed the back of his neck, trying to brush it off. “I don’t know,” he said, his voice quieter now. “Right now just doesn’t feel like the right time.”

Mitch cocked his head, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “And when is the right time?”

Harry swirled the whiskey in his glass, watching the amber liquid catch the light. He thought about it for a moment, then said, almost absently, “When I find the right person.”

There was a brief pause, and Mitch’s grin softened into something more serious. “Yeah, well, when you do, you better not let go of her.”

Before Harry could respond, the lights in the pub dimmed, drawing their attention toward the small stage in the corner. The hum of conversation quieted as a young woman stepped up with an acoustic guitar slung over her shoulder. She gave a shy smile to the crowd before starting to strum, her voice soft and clear, filling the room with a gentle melody.

Harry stared at the stage, the dim lighting casting a warm glow on the performer as she adjusted the microphone. For a moment, everything seemed to slow as the woman stepped fully into view, and his breath caught in his throat.

It was Ashley.

She wore a white dress fully covered with patch flowers that fell just above her knees, its full sleeves covered in delicate patches of white flowers. A black tie hung loosely around her neck, giving her a casual but effortlessly chic look. Her long hair flowed freely, tumbling past her waist, catching the soft light as she strummed her guitar, the stage becoming her canvas. She seemed both ethereal and grounded, her presence commanding yet calm on the stage she currently owned. Around her neck, a delicate locket caught the light, hinting at a personal story he longed to know.

As she began to sing, the gentle strumming of her guitar filled the pub, the audience hanging onto her every word. Harry's heart raced, an overwhelming sense of pride swelling within him as he watched her perform. She poured herself into each note, her voice weaving through the melodies with a depth that stirred something deep inside him.

The first few songs were well-known covers, classics that showcased her vocal range and emotional delivery. But then, as she transitioned into the next piece, Harry's breath hitched. It was his song—“Golden”—the very song he had poured his heart into, crafting it during one of those late-night writing sessions when the world felt both heavy and light.

He watched, entranced, as she sang the lyrics with a sincerity that took his breath away. Every word she spoke felt like a revelation, the way she brought his creation to life was like nothing he had imagined. The audience swayed with her, their eyes closed, feeling every emotion that washed over them in waves.

As the song neared its end, Harry felt a rush of adrenaline. Ashley’s eyes roamed the crowd, and for a split second, they locked onto his. He could see a flicker of surprise in her gaze, quickly replaced by a hint of nervousness. She hesitated for a moment, but Harry smiled widely and gestured with enthusiasm, giving her a thumbs-up. “You’re amazing!” he mouthed, and he could see the tension in her shoulders relax just a bit as she returned her focus to the song.

The final notes of “Golden” hung in the air, and the pub erupted into applause, cheers mingling with the clinking of glasses. Harry felt a rush of warmth flood through him, knowing she had truly captivated them. She beamed at the crowd, her confidence rising, and Harry couldn’t help but admire the way her spirit shone on stage.

After a brief pause, she took a deep breath, her smile widening as she announced, “Wow guys, thank you so much for sticking around with me this far! I never thought I would be doing this but it also never felt this right before so here’s a song I’ve written called ‘Carefree!’”

Harry's heart raced at the mention of her original work. He leaned in closer, eager to absorb every word she would share. The atmosphere in the pub shifted slightly; a sense of anticipation hung in the air, a collective breath held as Ashley began to play.

The first notes of “Carefree” flowed like a gentle stream, airy and light, but there was an undercurrent of yearning that pulled at the heartstrings. Her voice soared effortlessly, embodying the very essence of freedom and joy, yet with a hint of longing woven throughout the lyrics. Harry found himself lost in the moment, captivated by the way she expressed herself. Each note felt like a glimpse into her soul, and he was drawn deeper into her world with every line.

Around him, Mitch leaned closer, his eyes wide with awe. “I can’t believe this girl is playing small pub gigs,” he murmured, his tone a mix of disbelief and admiration. “With that kind of talent, someone should have signed her ages ago.”

Harry’s mind raced at Mitch’s words, a spark igniting within him. He turned his head slightly, watching Ashley as she sang, her face glowing under the soft lights. The realization hit him hard: she deserved more than this intimate setting. She needed the chance to share her music on a larger scale, to have her voice heard beyond these walls. The idea began to take shape—a plan to help her, to be the one who could give her the opportunity she so richly deserved.

As Ashley’s song came to a close, the audience erupted into applause once more, the sound echoing through the pub like a wave of appreciation. Harry felt his heart swell with pride, admiration, and something else—a fierce determination. He could help her.

He turned to Mitch, his mind buzzing with possibilities. “We need to do something,” he said, his voice firm. “I can’t just sit back and watch her play here when she has so much more to offer. I want to help her get noticed.”

Mitch’s expression shifted from surprise to understanding, and he nodded slowly. “I get it. You’re talking about getting her some real exposure, aren’t you?”

“Exactly,” Harry said, excitement bubbling in his chest. “I can talk to Jeff or use some connections. I can introduce her to the right people, get her a demo recorded. She needs to be seen. I can’t let her slip through the cracks.”

As he spoke, Harry’s resolve strengthened. He imagined Ashley on bigger stages, her voice filling arenas, her music reaching hearts all over the world. The thought made his pulse quicken; he could help turn that dream into a reality.

Harry said, his voice resolute. “She deserves more than this.”

Mitch grinned, raising his glass. “Now that’s something I’d like to see. Just don’t wait too long, mate. A voice like that… someone else is bound to notice soon.”

Harry nodded, his heart pounding with the possibilities. He wouldn’t wait. Not this time. He wouldn’t let her slip away, in more ways than one.

Just then, as the last notes of the performance faded into a warm, lingering echo, Ashley stepped off the stage, her cheeks flushed with exhilaration from the performance. Harry’s heart raced as she approached, and he felt a mix of excitement and nervousness bubble within him.

Harry stepped forward first, his voice genuine and warm. “You were amazing up there, Ash. Seriously, you sang ‘Golden’ better than me! I couldn’t take my eyes off you. That original song, ‘Carefree’? You’ve got a real gift.”

“Absolutely,” Mitch chimed in, leaning against the bar with a teasing grin. “If I were a record label, I’d be throwing money at you right now. But don’t worry, I’m not a label, so you’re safe from my awful negotiations.”

Ashley laughed softly, a light blush creeping across her cheeks. “Thank you, both of you. It means a lot to hear that, especially coming from you two. You’re both incredibly talented.” Her eyes sparkled with sincerity, and she tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, clearly flattered yet shy under their praise.

“You were incredible. Seriously, you owned that stage.”

“Thanks!” she said, still beaming, her eyes sparkling with enthusiasm. “It’s been a while since I’ve performed. I felt so nervous at the start but now it felt good.”

Mitch chimed in, nudging Harry slightly. “Yeah, you can thank me I guess! I brought this man here. Well in all seriousness, you’ve got a real gift, Ashley. I mean, I can’t believe you’re still playing in places like this. You should be out there making records!”

Ashley laughed softly, a hint of modesty in her demeanor. “I appreciate that, but I’m just starting out. I’ve got a long way to go.”

Harry smiled, noticing her modesty. “You deserve every bit of it, Ash. Honestly, I was thinking…” He hesitated for a moment, gauging her reaction. “What do you say to joining us at the studio? We’ll show you around and hang out for some time.”

Ashley’s eyes widened, a mixture of surprise and excitement washing over her. “The studio? You really think I could…?”

“Of course,” Mitch interjected, his enthusiasm infectious. “I mean, I don’t usually let just anyone into the sacred space where we create magic, but I think we can make an exception for a star like you.”

“Wow, I mean, are you sure? Is it okay?,” Ashley said, her voice barely above a whisper and Harry simply nodded. “Then I’d love that.”

Harry felt a rush of anticipation. This was the start of something beautiful, and the idea of collaborating with Ashley excited him. “Great! Let’s head over there now. I think you’ll love the place.”

The studio was nestled in a quiet corner of town, an unassuming building that hid the magic within. As they entered, the familiar scent of polished wood and fresh paint filled the air, mingling with the remnants of soundwaves that had been captured within its walls. The dim lighting set a cozy ambiance, with soft spotlights highlighting the various instruments scattered around the room.

Mitch headed straight for the coffee station, his usual humorous commentary filling the air. “Alright, who wants some terrible coffee? I make it just the way I like it—too strong and slightly burnt. Just how the pros do it!”

Harry chuckled as he moved to the center of the room, gesturing for Ashley to explore. “Feel free to check out the instruments. We’ve got a great selection here. I think you’ll be surprised at what you can do.”

Ashley wandered around, her eyes wide with wonder. She approached a vintage guitar hanging on the wall, its wood polished to a warm sheen. “This one looks beautiful,” she said, her fingers lightly brushing the strings.

Harry watched her, noticing how her demeanor shifted when she was surrounded by the instruments. The shyness melted away, replaced by a quiet confidence. “Do you play often?” he asked, genuinely curious.

“Not as much as I’d like,” she replied, picking up the guitar. “I usually stick to my acoustic at home. It’s easier to write that way.”

“Let’s hear you play then,” Mitch said, appearing with three mugs of coffee, the steam rising like a delicate fog. “You’ve already wowed us once tonight. Let’s see if you can do it again.”

Ashley smiled, a glimmer of excitement in her eyes. She settled onto a nearby stool, the guitar cradled in her lap. “Okay, um… I’ve been working on something new,” Ashley said, her fingers gliding over the strings as she sought the right melody. The warm wood of the guitar felt familiar and comforting against her hands. She began to play a few soft notes, each one weaving into the next, forming a delicate tapestry of sound.

The studio was alive with a gentle hum of creativity as Ashley settled onto the plush couch, cradling her acoustic guitar in her lap. The soft glow of the overhead lights illuminated her features, highlighting the excitement in her eyes as she prepared to share her latest creation. She strummed a few chords, the sound resonating through the cozy space, and Harry and Mitch leaned in, intrigued, exchanging glances, both captivated by her focus. Mitch leaned forward, propping his elbows on his knees, as Ashley began to sing:

“When the shadows fall and the night takes flight,

I’ll find my way through the darkness, I’ll be alright.

With the moon as my guide, I’ll dance on the edge,

In the quiet moments, I’ll make my pledge.”

The lyrics hung in the air, filled with a longing that resonated deeply with Harry. There was something magical about the way she poured her heart into her music, and he found himself mesmerized. When she finished, the room was quiet for a moment, the silence punctuated only by the soft strumming of her fingers on the strings.

Harry leaned back against the wall, absorbing the sound. It was clear that there was more to Ashley than met the eye; her talent extended beyond just singing. She poured her heart into the guitar, weaving intricate melodies that seemed to echo her emotions. The atmosphere in the studio transformed, the air thick with creativity and potential.

Mitch, ever the jokester, leaned over to Harry and whispered, “I think we might need to start looking for a new band name. ‘The Harley Show’ has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?”

Harry snorted, his gaze still fixed on Ashley as she played. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, Mitch. But seriously, she’s incredible.”

As she finished, the last notes hung in the air like a beautiful memory. Ashley looked up, a bit shy, but there was a spark in her eyes that hadn’t been there before. “How was that?”

“Are you kidding?” Mitch exclaimed, setting down his coffee with an exaggerated flourish. “That was phenomenal! You should be on stage at Wembley, not just in this cozy little studio.”

“THAT was beautiful,” Mitch continued, breaking the spell. “You’ve got a real knack for this, Ashley. I mean, really, that was incredible.”

“Thank you!” Ashley replied, her cheeks flushing with warmth at the compliment. “It’s just a rough idea, but I thought I’d share it.”

“Rough idea?” Harry chuckled, shaking his head in disbelief. “That’s not a rough idea; that’s a full-fledged song waiting to happen. You’ve got a real talent, Ash.” He leaned back, a grin spreading across his face. “You should definitely consider getting it recorded.”

Ashley smiled, a mixture of shyness and pride washing over her. “You really think so?”

“Absolutely,” Mitch chimed in, a playful glint in his eyes. “I’m just waiting for the day you’re headlining at Wembley. I’ll be in the front row, waving a big sign that says ‘I Knew Her When!’”

Ashley laughed, a light, melodious sound that seemed to echo in the room. “Thanks, guys. You’re making me blush.”

Mitch clapped his hands together, breaking the tension. “Alright, enough of the sappy stuff. Let’s get down to business. How about we record a little something tomorrow as a demo? Just to test the waters?”

Harry grinned, the atmosphere shifting back to playful banter. “Not a bad idea. What do you think, Ash? Ready to record your first hit?”

She chuckled, the nerves dissipating as excitement took their place. “What really!? I-I don’t know what to say… you’re not kidding right?”

“Nope, we’re being serious.” Harry asserted with a grin.

“I hope I don’t mess it up.”

“None at all,” Mitch replied, his tone light. “Just remember, if we flop, we can always blame it on Harry’s awful coffee.”

Harry rolled his eyes but couldn’t hide his smile. “Fine, but if we do flop, I’ll make sure the coffee is even worse next time.”

They spent the next few minutes exchanging ideas, laughing and bouncing thoughts off each other like a creative ping-pong match. The atmosphere was light, filled with a sense of camaraderie and mutual respect. Harry could feel the connection between them growing stronger, the excitement of collaboration igniting a spark he hadn’t felt in a while.

After a bit, Mitch checked his watch and sighed. “As much as I’d love to stick around and witness the birth of the next big hit, I really should get going. The family is probably wondering if I’ve been abducted by aliens or something.” He pushed himself off the wall and stretched his arms above his head, shaking off the lingering fatigue. “You two have fun with your songwriting, alright? I expect to hear some amazing things soon.”

“Thanks for stopping by, Mitch,” Harry said, clapping him on the shoulder. “We’ll be in touch.”

“Take care, guys!” Mitch waved as he made his way to the door, leaving Harry and Ashley in the cozy studio.

As the door clicked shut, a comfortable silence settled between them. Ashley fidgeted slightly, her gaze drifting toward the floor. “So… now what?” she asked, her voice soft yet curious.

Harry leaned back on the couch, looking at her with an inviting smile. “I guess we can talk some more about the music or maybe try to come up with some ideas? What do you think?”

Ashley hesitated, then looked up at him, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Actually, I have an idea. Do you have any plans for the evening?”

“Nope, nothing on the agenda,” he replied, feeling a mix of curiosity and excitement.

“Perfect,” she said, her grin widening. “How about I take you to a secret place?”

“A secret place?” Harry raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Now you have my attention. What do you mean?”

“It’s a spot I found a while ago, tucked away from the city noise. It’s quiet and perfect for just hanging out. Plus, I think you’ll really like it,” Ashley explained, her excitement palpable.

“Lead the way, then,” Harry replied, standing up and stretching his legs. “I’m in.”

They made their way out of the studio, the cool evening air refreshing against their skin as they stepped into the street. The city around them was alive with lights and sounds, but Ashley seemed to know exactly where she was going, her confidence radiating as she walked ahead.

Harry couldn’t help but steal glances at her, captivated by the way she moved, her long hair cascading down her back and catching the soft glow of the streetlights. They walked in comfortable silence for a few moments, the sound of their footsteps echoing off the pavement.

Finally, Ashley turned down a narrow alleyway, her smile mischievous as she glanced back at him. “Trust me, it’s just around the corner.”

“I hope it’s not one of those situation where you inject me with something and kidnap me” He quips, earning a playful punch from Ashley.

They stepped through the alley, emerging into a small grassland bathed in the soft light of twinkling fairy lights strung between the trees. It was a hidden oasis, with a wooden gazebo at its center and colorful flowers blooming all around. The atmosphere was serene, a stark contrast to the bustling streets they had just left behind.

“Ta-da! Welcome to my secret place,” Ashley said, her voice filled with pride as she gestured around.

The night air crisp and filled with the soft sounds of nature, the only sounds being the soft rustle of leaves and the distant hum of city life that seemed so far away now. Ashley, with a small smile playing on her lips, stopped in the middle of the clearing and knelt down, unzipping her bag.

“I’ve been waiting for the perfect time to use this,” she said with a grin, pulling out a soft, plaid picnic blanket. She spread it over the green grass, smoothing out the edges with her hands.

Harry chuckled softly, watching her with a mix of amusement and admiration. “A picnic blanket, huh? You really come prepared.”

“I always come prepared,” she replied, shooting him a playful look before gesturing for him to join her. “This place isn’t just for music, you know. It’s for escaping, for breathing.”

Harry sat down beside her, resting his hands on his knees as he glanced around, taking in the serene atmosphere. The fairy lights above cast a gentle glow, the trees around them swaying lightly in the breeze, while the stars twinkled brightly in the clear night sky. It was peaceful—far removed from the chaos of their everyday lives.

Ashley placed her guitar and bag by their side, then, with a soft sigh, she lay down on her back, letting out a tired breath. “I come here to forget about everything,” she admitted, her voice quiet, almost reverent. “When things get too overwhelming, I just need to lie down, stare at the sky, and let it all go.”

Harry watched her for a moment, seeing the exhaustion etched into her features. The day had been long, filled with emotions and new experiences, and he could understand her need for calm. Slowly, he mirrored her movements, lying back on the blanket beside her, their shoulders just inches apart. He stared up at the night sky, the stars twinkling like tiny diamonds against the dark canvas above.

It was quiet for a while, the kind of comfortable silence where words weren't necessary. The tension of the day seemed to melt away, replaced by a sense of stillness that neither of them had experienced in a long time. For Harry, the weight of the world always felt like it was pressing down on him—whether it was the expectations of his fans, the constant scrutiny from the media, or the relentless schedule that came with being a global icon. But here, in this secret spot, all of that felt distant, almost irrelevant.

After a few minutes, Harry broke the silence, his voice soft but curious. “Why did you choose me to bring here? To share this secret with?”

Ashley turned her head slightly to look at him, her eyes reflecting the soft glow of the lights above. She took a deep breath before answering, her voice gentle but sincere. “Because you deserve it. You deserve a place where you can forget about all the noise, all the stress… even if it’s just for a little while.”

Harry felt a lump rise in his throat at her words. He wasn’t used to people seeing him in this way—beyond the fame, beyond the persona. But here was Ashley, someone who understood, who saw through the facade and recognized the pressure he carried every day.

She continued, her gaze still fixed on his. “I know it can be difficult… always being surrounded by cameras, being tracked by people wherever you go. It must feel like there’s no place left to just be you. That’s why I wanted to share this with you. I trust you with this place, Harry. And I think you need it more than I do.”

Her words hit him harder than he expected, and for a moment, he felt a wave of emotion rise within him. She understood him—really understood him—and that realization brought with it a sense of vulnerability. He had spent so much of his life guarded, carefully navigating the world as Harry Styles, the king of pop, the world renowned singer. But here, with her, he could just be Harry.

He swallowed hard, trying to gather his thoughts. “You… you really get it, don’t you?” His voice was quiet, but filled with gratitude.

“I think I do,” she replied, her tone soft but unwavering. “I know I haven’t been in your shoes, but I can imagine how overwhelming it must be. Everyone deserves a place to be free, to breathe.”

Harry turned his gaze back up to the stars, blinking away the sudden rush of emotion. He hadn’t expected to feel so understood, so seen, in a moment like this. After a beat, he took a deep breath and spoke, his voice low but steady. “I’ve been thinking a lot about this, and I want to tell you something.”

Ashley shifted slightly, her attention fully on him now. “What is it?”

Harry turned his head to face her, his expression serious but filled with warmth. “I want you to be a part of my next album. I’m going to talk to Jeff about it. I think your voice, your songwriting… it’s exactly what the album needs. You deserve to be heard, and I want to help make that happen.”

For a moment, Ashley didn’t say anything, her eyes wide with surprise as she processed his words. Then, suddenly, she lifted herself up from the blanket, her hands moving quickly to wrap around Harry. She pressed herself against him, her body half on top of his as she hugged him tightly, her voice trembling with emotion.

“Thank you,” her voice quivered, her face buried in his shoulder. “Thank you so much, Harry. You have no idea what this means to me.”

Harry, momentarily taken aback by the sudden gesture, hesitated before wrapping his arms around her in return, holding her close. Her gratitude, the raw emotion in her voice, struck him deeply. He had known it would mean a lot to her, but this reaction was more than he had anticipated.

“You deserve it, Ash,” he murmured softly into her hair. “You’re incredibly talented. The world needs to hear what you have to say.”

She pulled back slightly, her eyes glistening with unshed tears, but her smile was radiant. “I don’t even know what to say… I’ve never dreamt about it this way, it’s more than I deserve Harry. I don’t know how—”

“I know you deserve it. You’re capable of doing so much more, this is just the beginning!”

Harry smiled, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “You just have to trust yourself. Just keep being yourself, keep creating. The rest will fall into place. But for now you’re stuck with me.” Harry tries to lighten the mood.

“Gladly.”

Ashley lay back down beside him, her head resting lightly on his shoulder, and they both returned to staring up at the stars. The moment felt surreal, but also perfect—two people, connected by their shared love of music and a mutual understanding of the pressures they faced.

For the first time in what felt like forever, Harry felt a sense of peace wash over him. And as they lay there together, enveloped by the quiet of the night and the soft glow of the stars above, he knew that this—this simple, quiet moment—was exactly what he needed.

A/N: and that’s chapter 2 for you! I’ll be posting back to back till 13th of October so make sure to like or reblog my story masterlist for the marathon updates. The little lyrical portion is also written by me🥰 so all of this is my original work. DO NOT REPOST MY WORK!!! I WILL FIND YOU. DMs are always open here and on IG by the same username. Thx for your support so far!

Special thanks to @daisyblog for helping me on this journey. I adore you!🫶🏻

Taglist: @prettygurl-2009 @sassamanda77 (THE TAG-LIST IS OPEN)

Posted on: October 1st, 2024

[harryssyndrome]

Backstage To My Heart

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 3 | 𝐈 𝐊𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐏𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞𝐬 𝐖𝐞 𝐂𝐚𝐧 𝐇𝐢𝐝𝐞

Ashley blinked her eyes open, sunlight streaming softly through the window blinds. She smiled to herself, her mind immediately drifting to the events of yesterday. Harry had sent her a message late at night, something about him coming to see her soon. It wasn’t just the idea of seeing him, but something about his tone, the way he lingered in his words, had stirred a feeling deep in her chest. She shook the thought away momentarily, feeling silly for how much hope she held on to, but the giddiness lingered.

Slipping out of bed, she stretched her arms overhead, letting the cool morning breeze from the slightly cracked window wash over her. Her cherry-red shorts and the fan-made “Love On Tour” t-shirt made her feel lighthearted, a piece of him somehow always with her even if it was just a shirt. She began her daily routine, brushing her teeth and splashing cold water on her face, her thoughts still swirling with images of Harry’s smile, his voice, and the way his hand had briefly brushed hers the last time they saw each other.

By the time she finished her routine, she wandered into the living room, and there was Rave, her best friend, sprawled comfortably on the couch, eyes glued to the TV. “Big Bang Theory” was playing in the background, and Rave, ever the multitasker, had already made Ashley’s tea. The aroma drifted from the kitchen.

“Morning!” Rave chirped, glancing over her shoulder. “Your tea’s ready, by the way.”

“Thanks, Rave,” Ashley smiled, still shaking off the remnants of her thoughts. She moved towards the kitchen, ready for the warmth of the tea to settle her.

Just as her fingers grazed the kitchen counter, the doorbell rang.

“I’ll get it!” Rave shouted, leaping off the couch, clearly excited by something. Ashley didn’t pay it much mind, figuring it was probably a delivery, maybe some food or packages they had been expecting.

Only, Rave didn’t return right away. A few moments later, she came rushing into the kitchen, her voice bubbling over with excitement. “Ash, you gotta come see this! I don’t want to steal this moment from you!” Her eyes gleamed, and she motioned Ashley towards the door.

Ashley gave her a puzzled look, slowly heading towards the entryway. Her steps faltered when she spotted the delivery man standing there, holding the most beautiful bouquet of lilies she had ever seen. She blinked, her mind spinning. Who could have sent her this? It was too stunning to be a coincidence.

“Ithink this is for you,” the delivery man smiled as he handed the bouquet over.

“Th-thank you, have a good day.” Ashley stammered, still in a daze as she took the bouquet from his hands.

When she brought it closer, the rich scent filled her senses, but it wasn’t just the flowers that had her heart pounding. Tucked neatly between the stems, she noticed a small, delicate note. Her fingers trembled slightly as she reached for it.

As she slid the note open, she saw his handwriting—distinct, slightly slanted. The note was simple yet enough to send her heart racing:

“They might not be as amazing as you are, but I hope they might brighten up your morning. — H”

Ashley gasped, staring at the note in disbelief. Her breath caught in her throat. She had to be dreaming. This couldn’t be real, could it?

“Rave, pinch me. I think I’m dreaming. Harry sent me flowers… Harry Styles just sent me flowers!”

Rave’s eyes sparkled with amusement. “I’ll do you one better,” she grinned mischievously before playfully punching Ashley on the shoulder, a soft jab that brought both a yelp and a laugh from Ashley.

“Ow!” Ashley laughed, rubbing her arm, but the smile on her face never faded. “Okay, I’m awake. But this… I just can’t believe it.”

“Well you better start believing it!”

Ashley walked through the familiar path leading to her secret spot, the place she had always gone to clear her mind. She had an tiring day with auditions and work. The sun was low on the horizon, casting a soft orange glow over the earth. The cool evening breeze tugged at her hair as she adjusted the guitar strap slung across her shoulder and her backpack on the other. She wasn’t expecting anyone else to be there—it was her private retreat, after all. A place no one knew about except, Harry.

As she neared the clearing, her eyes caught sight of a lone figure sitting on the old wooden bench by the trees. From the back, the figure was unmistakably familiar—broad shoulders, dark tousled hair, the casual slouch that she knew so well. She slowed her steps, her heart quickening in her chest as her brain registered what her eyes were seeing.

Harry?

She hadn’t told anyone else about this spot, certainly for Harry. But there he was, sitting with his elbows resting on his knees, his head slightly bowed as if lost in thought. Her footsteps, muffled by the soft dirt, became more audible as she drew closer, and his head lifted slightly. He turned, eyes locking on hers.

A small, surprised smile flickered across his face. “Ashley.”

Her breath hitched. “Harry. It seems like you’re liking this place, huh?”

She tried to sound casual, but there was an edge to her voice, the surprise clear. This was her sanctuary. Yet, seeing him here, she wasn’t upset. If anything, the surprise was mixed with something else, a warmth that stirred within her at the sight of him.

Harry stood, his movements slow, almost as if he wasn’t sure how she would react. “I, uh, I guess I should’ve told you,” he started, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “Ever since you brought me here that one time, I’ve kind of… well, I keep coming back.”

Ashley tilted her head, grinning now. “Well, that’s good isn’t it?”

He shrugged, shoving his hands into his pockets. “I guess. It’s peaceful here. Quiet.” He glanced at the trees swaying gently in the breeze, then looked back at her. “It reminds me of you.”

The words hung in the air between them, and for a moment, Ashley wasn’t sure how to respond. She blinked, processing the unexpected confession. Harry shifted awkwardly, his gaze dropping to the ground as he continued, his voice softer now, almost hesitant. “And… being here kind of brings me comfort. Like, when everything feels too much—tour stuff, interviews, life—I just come here. I didn’t realize it at first, but…” His voice trailed off, and he met her eyes again. “It reminds me of you. Of… us. I-I meant the time w-we spent together.”

There was a vulnerability in his voice that she wasn’t used to hearing, and she could tell by the way his shoulders tensed that he wasn’t sure if he’d crossed some invisible line. It made her heart ache in a way that was both sweet and painful.

Ashley smiled softly, her voice gentle. “It’s… nice to know you find peace here. That is the reason I brought you here in the first place, I’m happy to hear that.”

He seemed to relax slightly, his eyes searching hers as if trying to gauge whether she meant it. The air between them felt lighter, but there was still an unspoken tension, one that had been building for months.

“So,” she said, breaking the quiet as she shifted the weight of her guitar, “you’ve been sneaking off here to escape?”

Harry laughed, the sound warm and familiar. “Sneaking? Nah, more like… strategically disappearing.”

Ashley grinned, walking closer now and plopping down on the bench beside him. She set her guitar down, resting it gently against the seat. “And here I thought this was my little secret spot.”

“It still is,” he said with a playful grin. “I’m just borrowing it.”

“You’re lucky I’m willing to share.”

He leaned back, resting his arms along the back of the bench, his fingers just brushing against hers. “I’m honoured.”

They both chuckled, the ease between them returning. For a few moments, they simply sat there, letting the quiet settle in. The trees rustled softly in the wind, and the fading light painted the sky in soft shades of pink and orange. It was peaceful, just like it always had been for Ashley—only now, it was better, because Harry was there.

“So,” Harry began, his tone shifting to something lighter, “what’s new with you? Any new music brewing?”

Ashley nodded, feeling her creative spark reignite just thinking about it. “Yeah, actually. I’ve been working on something. It’s… different. A little more raw, I guess.”

“Different, how?”

She paused, trying to find the right words. “It’s like… I’m not hiding behind metaphors as much. I’m trying to say what I actually feel, instead of burying it under layers of symbolism.”

Harry raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “That sounds intense. What made you want to go in that direction?”

She hesitated, her fingers brushing the edge of her guitar case as she considered how much to share. “I guess I just… I’m tired of pretending, you know? Like, writing all these songs about how I feel but never really saying it. I want to be more honest.”

Harry nodded, understanding filling his eyes. “That’s brave. It’s not easy, putting yourself out there like that.”

“Yeah, well… you’ve inspired some of it, actually.” She said it casually, but the moment the words left her mouth, she felt her cheeks heat up.

Harry’s smile faltered slightly, his expression softening. “I did?”

Ashley nodded, fidgeting with her hands. “Yeah. I mean… we’re friends, and I’ve learned a lot from you, even as a songwriter. You get me, and that kind of connection is hard to find. Some of the songs are different in that… sense.” She tried covering up, she didn’t want to make things awkward with her and harry with that confession just yet.

Harry was silent for a moment, his eyes focused on the horizon, but there was something deeper in his gaze. “You know,” he said finally, his voice quieter now, “I’ve been writing too. Trying, at least. But it’s hard.”

Ashley tilted her head, curious. “Why’s that?”

“Because I’ve been feeling a lot of stuff that I don’t really know how to put into words,” he admitted. “About life, the band, everything. And… about you?”

“I m-meant the ideas we discussed the other day at the studio.” He quickly added.

Her breath caught in her throat. The tension between them was there again, stronger now, but still unspoken. She could feel it in the way his voice softened when he mentioned her, the way his fingers had subtly brushed hers.

“I’m not exactly great at saying how I feel,” he added with a sheepish grin, trying to lighten the mood. “You probably noticed that.”

Ashley laughed, nudging him gently with her shoulder. “Yeah, I’ve picked up on that a bit.”

They shared a smile, and for a moment, it felt like the most natural thing in the world. The sun had dipped lower now, and the sky was a rich blend of purples and blues.

“What if we played something?” Ashley asked, grabbing her guitar and setting it across her lap. “You can show me what you’ve been working on.”

Harry hesitated, his eyes flicking from the guitar to her. “I don’t know if it’s any good…”

“It doesn’t have to be perfect. Just play,” she encouraged, strumming a few chords softly to ease him in.

He smiled at her, that boyish grin that made her heart flutter, and then reached for the guitar. “Alright, but don’t laugh if I mess up.”

They spent the next hour swapping melodies, Harry showing her the rough sketches of lyrics he had been working on, Ashley playing him bits of her new songs. Their conversation shifted easily between music and life, their words filled with playful teasing and shared memories. For the first time in a long while, everything felt simple between them.

As the last light of the day faded and they sat together in the quiet dusk, Harry turned to her with a thoughtful expression. “You know, Ash,” he said softly, “this place—it really does feel like it’s ours now.”

Ashley looked at him, her heart full as she smiled. “Yeah. I guess it does.”

Ashley and Harry sat together on the picnic blanket, the soft murmur of the trees around them blending with the occasional strum of Ashley’s guitar. The sky had deepened to a rich navy, dotted with the first signs of stars, and the warmth of the day had given way to a crisp, cool evening.

Ashley pulled her guitar closer, absentmindedly strumming a few chords as they chatted, the comfort between them feeling natural, as if they’d done this a hundred times before. But something about tonight felt different—like they were on the edge of something unspoken.

“You’ve been quiet,” Harry said, breaking the stillness. He turned his head slightly, his eyes flicking over to her as he leaned back, resting his arms along the bench’s backrest.

Ashley chuckled softly, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “Just thinking.”

“About what?”

She paused, letting her fingers dance lightly over the strings. “About how different things are becoming now.”

Harry’s lips tugged into a small smile at her mention of us. “Yeah, however, this is just the beginning of some beautiful things, right?”

Ashley nodded, her gaze dropping to her hands as she strummed a softer tune. The silence between them was comfortable but charged with something neither of them quite knew how to address yet.

A cool gust of wind rolled through the clearing, making Ashley shiver. Without thinking, she pulled a blanket from her backpack, one she always brought just in case she stayed out late. She draped it over her lap and turned to Harry with a playful smile. “I can share, but only if you promise not to hog all the warmth.”

Harry grinned and scooted closer, draping part of the blanket over his legs, their knees now touching under the shared fabric. “Deal. But don’t blame me if I steal the whole thing accidentally.”

As they settled into the warmth, Ashley felt a strange, yet comforting sense of closeness. It wasn’t just the physical proximity; it was the easy, unspoken understanding that lingered between them. The kind of bond that made the silence more meaningful than any words could be.

“You know, I was used to being here all alone,” Ashley said after a moment, her voice softer now. “But ever since you started showing up, it feels… different. Not worse—just different. Like I don’t need to be alone here anymore.”

Harry smiled, glancing over at her. “Glad I could make the cut,” he teased, nudging her gently with his elbow.

She laughed, leaning into the nudge. “Don’t get too full of yourself.”

They shared a grin, but the playful mood quickly shifted when a soft glow caught their attention. The space around them began to fill with tiny, glowing lights—fireflies, blinking gently as they floated through the clearing. One by one, more appeared, turning the quiet space into a scene that felt almost magical.

“Oh wow,” Ashley whispered, her eyes widening as she watched the fireflies light up the area around them.

Harry sat up a little straighter, his eyes following the glowing orbs. “Haven’t seen fireflies in forever,” he murmured, a smile spreading across his face.

Ashley, feeling an almost childlike excitement bubble up inside her, gently placed her guitar on the ground and stood up, her eyes never leaving the fireflies. “They’re beautiful.”

Without thinking, she stepped away from the bench, moving quietly through the grass as the tiny lights blinked and danced around her. She reached out a hand, trying to catch one, giggling softly when it darted away just before her fingers could reach it.

Harry watched her, amusement glinting in his eyes. “You gonna catch one, or are you just chasing them for fun?”

“Both,” she said with a grin, spinning lightly as she moved through the clearing, her laughter soft but full of joy.

He chuckled, standing up and moving toward her. “Alright, let me help. You’re never gonna catch one with those reflexes.”

Ashley shot him a playful glare. “Oh yeah? I’ll have you know I’m excellent at catching things.”

“Uh-huh,” Harry replied, his tone full of mock disbelief. He moved in front of her, reaching his hands out slowly toward one of the glowing fireflies. “Like this…”

Before he could get close, the firefly darted away, and Ashley burst out laughing. “See? Not so easy, is it?”

Harry shook his head, laughing with her. “Okay, maybe I underestimated them.”

She took a step closer to him, her laughter fading into a soft smile. “Come on, keep trying.”

They moved around the clearing together, their laughter echoing in the quiet night as they playfully chased after the fireflies. At one point, Harry reached for one that hovered just above Ashley’s head, but as he reached forward, he accidentally caught her waist instead, pulling her back slightly.

Ashley froze, the warmth of his hands around her waist sending a spark through her. She glanced up at him, their eyes locking for a brief moment.

“Gotcha,” Harry said quietly, his voice soft, almost teasing. But there was something more in his eyes—something unspoken.

For a moment, neither of them moved, standing there in the soft glow of the fireflies, their breath mingling in the cool night air. The playful chase had given way to a stillness between them, one charged with an electricity they both felt but hadn’t yet named.

Ashley smiled up at him, her voice a little breathless. “Guess you’re better at catching things than I thought.”

Harry’s grip on her waist loosened slightly, but he didn’t let go. “Only when it’s something—or someone—worth catching.”

The words hung between them, and Ashley’s heart skipped a beat. She felt the shift in the air, the quiet admission in his tone, and for a moment, all she could do was stare up at him, caught between the lightness of the evening and the weight of what wasn’t yet said.

Before the moment could stretch too far, a particularly bright firefly floated between them, breaking the tension. Harry laughed softly, his hands falling away as he stepped back. “Guess we’re not great at this.”

Ashley smiled, grateful for the release of the tension, but the warmth from his touch lingered. She walked back to the bench and sat down, feeling her heart still racing a little faster than before. Harry followed, sitting beside her again, their shared blanket now feeling like a reminder of the closeness they’d just shared.

As they settled back into their spot, the fireflies continued to dance around them, and Ashley looked up at the stars, her smile soft and content. “You know,” she said quietly, “I think I like this—sharing this place with you.”

Harry glanced over at her, his expression softening. “Yeah,” he agreed, his voice gentle. “Me too.”

As Harry and Ashley continued their walk, the city around them felt quieter, the hum of the day fading into the soft, peaceful sounds of night. The streetlights flickered to life, casting long shadows along the sidewalk. They walked in comfortable silence, close enough that their arms occasionally brushed, neither acknowledging it aloud but both aware of the gentle warmth it brought.

They passed a small corner store with its lights still on, and Harry paused, his eyes lighting up with a grin. “Feel like grabbing a late-night snack?” he asked, nodding toward the store. “I could use something sweet.”

Ashley raised an eyebrow, feigning reluctance. “You’re just trying to delay taking me home, aren’t you?”

Harry smirked. “Maybe,” he said, with a playful shrug. “But only because I enjoy your company.”

Ashley rolled her eyes, but her smile betrayed her enjoyment of the moment. “Fine, but I’m picking.”

They walked into the store, perusing the shelves like kids in a candy shop. Ashley found a box of colorful gummy worms, and Harry grabbed a small bag of chocolate-covered pretzels. “Bet I know which is better,” Harry teased, shaking the bag of pretzels in her direction.

“You have terrible taste,” Ashley shot back, holding up the gummy worms as if they were a prized trophy. “Clearly, I’m the snack connoisseur here.”

Harry laughed, giving a small shrug. “Alright, I guess we’ll have to see.”

As they walked back outside, each munching on their chosen snack, Ashley suddenly spotted movement near the corner of the street. A sleek, black cat darted across the pavement and stopped just short of a nearby bush, watching them with curious eyes.

“Look,” Ashley whispered, pointing at the cat. “It’s so cute.”

Harry glanced over, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Let’s follow it. Maybe it knows the best snack spots around here.”

Ashley giggled. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Or I’m right,” Harry countered, starting to walk quietly after the cat. “C’mon, let’s see where it goes.”

They tiptoed after the cat, half-joking and half-serious in their little pursuit. The cat wandered lazily down the street, completely ignoring them. Ashley, unable to contain her laughter, nudged Harry’s side. “We look like complete idiots right now.”

Harry grinned, not missing a beat. “Speak for yourself. I look like a professional cat tracker.”

“Sure you do,” she replied, giggling as they continued their playful stalking.

Suddenly, the cat turned, catching sight of them, and with an annoyed flick of its tail, it dashed off into the night, disappearing into a side alley.

“Well, there goes our new friend,” Harry said, hands on his hips as he watched the cat vanish. “Guess we’ll never know its secret snack spots.”

Ashley laughed, shaking her head. “Maybe we should’ve offered it some gummy worms.”

Harry looked at her, his eyes bright with amusement. “That’s your answer to everything.”

As they neared Ashley’s house, the playful energy between them shifted to a more relaxed, comfortable quiet. The streetlights above flickered, and Harry noticed the distance they had left to her door. He turned to her with a grin, eyes twinkling.

“Alright, I’ve got an idea,” he said, suddenly stopping in the middle of the sidewalk.

Ashley raised a brow. “What now?”

“I bet,” Harry started, “I can beat you to your front door.”

Her eyes widened in surprise, then narrowed in playful suspicion. “A race? Really?”

He nodded, stepping back and stretching his legs dramatically. “Yeah. Winner gets to claim victory. And maybe the loser has to buy snacks next time.”

Ashley crossed her arms, pretending to think it over, but her competitive streak was already kicking in. “You’re on.”

Without another word, they both took off, racing toward her house, their footsteps echoing in the quiet night. Harry, laughing the whole way, was surprisingly quick, but Ashley, fueled by the desire to win, managed to pull ahead in the last few steps.

She skidded to a stop just before the front door, breathing hard but grinning triumphantly. “Looks like I win, pretzel boy,” she teased, hands on her hips.

Harry came to a stop a second later, panting and laughing. “Alright, alright. I let you win.”

Ashley gave him a skeptical look. “Sure you did.”

He held up his hands in mock defeat, still catching his breath. “Guess that means I owe you snacks next time.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” Ashley said with a smile, her cheeks slightly flushed from the run, but also from the lingering joy of the evening.

They stood there for a moment, the energy from the race settling as the night closed in around them. Harry, still smiling, leaned against the railing of her porch, his eyes softening as he looked at her. “You know, I like this—just hanging out. No pressure, no spotlight.”

Ashley’s smile faded into something softer, more genuine. “Yeah,” she agreed, her voice quiet. “Me too.”

For a moment, they stood there, neither wanting to say goodbye, savoring the last bit of time they had before the night truly ended.

A/N: sorry guys for the delay but something happened with me which emotionally affected me so I couldn’t really think and write anything at all until today. Hopefully I’ll be able to continue writing and post daily. I hope you enjoy this chapter, see u guys again tomorrow! Like, comment & reblog are appreciated! DO NOT STEAL MY WORK AND REPOST IT!! I WILL FIND YOU.

Special thanks to @daisyblog for helping me so much 🥹🫶🏻

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Posted On: October 4th, 2024