#i got rained on and came to class looking beautiful despite my carefully slicked back hair falling into my eyes

[meet-me-in-the-kitchen]

I love badboy!harry but he’s only soft for y/n like fuuuck

“Fucking son of a bitch,” he growls, his furious, electric green eyes skimming over the disgusting, drunken brute he’s got a hold of by the collar. Lazy apologies frantically slip out of the man’s mouth, a laugh slipping at the end as he raises his arms up in defence.

“Hey, bro, it’s not my fault! She didn’t even tell me she had a boyfriend. And that little dress she’s wearing... You sure she wasn’t enjoying it?”

Crack

The sound of a nose cracking was evident within the bar, the volume and violence associated with the gesture silencing the heaps of college students inside of the club. All eyes were on Harry Styles, the football star and quarterback, usually a mystery to the rest of the student body. The most anyone ever got out of him was a sneer or lazy acknowledgement. The girls always twirled stands of their hair in between their fingers at the sight of his curly, dark locks and the boys couldn’t help but give him an obvious onceover every time he walked into the room.

He was madly popular for his attitude, silent, deadly, and admittedly equally, madly attractive. Harry Styles was always ready with a snappy comeback or a glare given from the simple flash of his intelligent eyes, clad in a leather jacket that fight almost too right, perfectly slicked back, thick thatches of hair, and a smirk. Throwing punches wasn’t anything new for the bad boy and his group of misfits, but this was new.

He was angry in a way they’d never seen Harry angry— it was as if his eyes were dimmed with lava and his silence spoke volumes more than the disdain dripping from his cherry lips, his clenched teeth gritting hard enough to shake the entirety of the campus.

And for what?

A girl, it seemed.

“Fucking bastard,” Harry spat onto the offending man’s grimy face, his long, calloused fingers coming back bloody. He kicked him away afterwards, huffing at the moans and cries the prick howled. Just about to kick his ribs, Harry growled when Niall Horan pulled him back, keeping a strong grip on his struggling arms.

“It’s not worth it. Stop, Styles,” Niall warned.

“Let. Me. Go, Niall,” he spoke between gritted teeth.

“Y/N will wear whatever she wants wherever she wants, whenever she wants, and if you do so much as think about her I will tear off every muscle in your pathetic little body,” Harry hissed at the bloody heap on the floor, his volume gradually increasing into a roar.

Breaking free from the Irish gang member’s grip, Harry formed his fingers into a fist before pounding them into the disgusting bastard’s body again, hearing every crack fizzle into satisfaction. He kicked at each rib and tore at whatever flesh his hands could grope and pinch. Blood flowed down his face once the man beneath him gained enough consciousness to bust Harry’s lips.

He was seeing red, kicking at every inch of the man that had even attempted to hurt his girl. Brief moments where he could hear alarmed screams and shouts of ‘Harry, campus security!’ from Niall and Zayn were unimportant. He was seeing anger and the need to do her right.

A small cry in the midst of everything shattered the red.

“Harry, stop. Stop,” y/n pleaded, her soft, quiet voice breaking with every punch he sent flying.

Fuck, Harry cussed internally. She sounded afraid. She was afraid.

When he looks back at her, she’s shaking, tears threatening to spill from her wide, doe eyes and her lips wobbling in that way they do when she’s upset. Her fingers are fiddling nervously and her eyes are disappointed and sad.

They were supposed to go on a date after this. We’re only supposed to stay at the club for ten minutes to catch up with some friends for a while, then go to that fancy French restaurant y/n’s eyes always glaze over when she’s reading the Yelp reviews on it, but she refuses to let herself splurge on a college student budget.

She’s been stressing herself out, isolating herself with nothing but papers and small dormitories while chanting her Anatomy and Physics notes as if they’re some hazing ritual sent by a cult instead of preparation for finals. Her sleep schedule is off and the only times Harry can see her or force her to consume something other than coffee and energy bars (and maybe get her to take a shower) is when she’s huddled in some corner in the library.

So, he tells her to keep this day available and reserved the best table at the restaurant. It was no problem. Harry came from wealth, and besides, none of that matters with y/n. She saw him in a way no one else ever had or ever would. y/n treated him gently, treated him as if he were everything to her and saw him as someone she could trust with every intelligent, insightful thought and every emotion she had ever felt.

And he’s so careful with her, determined to keep away from that bad boy facade. Although it felt confusing at first to let his guard down in front of this beautiful, sweet girl he’d met in his Philosophy class, slowly it became easier and it freed him, somehow. Even Niall and Zayn to a liking to y/n. It was impossible to reject her.

His eyes nearly burnt into ashes once he saw her in that dress she never wears. She looked so pretty and his heart beat was so wild and erratic he hoped she couldn’t hear it already. Her lips were painted red and her eyes held the sky. It was everything.

But then some bastard had the nerve to touch her and make her feel uncomfortable even after y/n clearly stated she was with someone and even if she weren’t, she didn’t want him in her space. From that point, Harry had lost the control he’d so carefully preserved. He couldn’t stand anyone being treated like that.

She was afraid now. Trying so hard to keep it together when the seams were so close to falling apart and failing. The tears came down her sad, pretty face in streams she shyly tried to hide behind her thick locks of hair. y/n looked utterly terrified, and as he licked at the wounds on his torn lip, Harry couldn’t blame her.

“What are you all looking at,” he barked, his eyes dark and blank once more, the bar suddenly colder as some people grabbed the offensive bastard off of the floor and everyone was forced to return to partying and getting drunk, although their thoughts and interest was somewhere else. He knew she didn’t like that much attention.

She leaves the bar, and he follows. The sky is black and the white streetlights reflect in the light, drizzling rain pouring from the sky. The road is empty, the dark path shining with water.

“y/n...” Harry trails off, unsure of where to begin and not accustomed to feeling this way about anyone. His eyes snap upto her figure once she turns away from him, beginning to walk away.

“I’m sorry, Harry,” she whispers, eyes downturned and shining with tears. “I don’t wanna go to the restaurant anymore. I hafta go.”

“y/n, wait,” he’s desperate, narrowing his eyes slightly as the rain pours over them, latching his hand onto her wrist lightly after circling it. “I’m sorry.”

“I didn’t mean to scare you.”

She doesn’t expect him to keep her from walking away and the tears come down, little gasps escaping her chest.

“Oh, baby, please don’t cry. Don’t cry, please. Can’t handle it,” he pleads, his own emotions festering inside of his chest in complicated motions. She doesn’t fight it when he pulls her into his chest, warm tears leaking from her pretty, sad irises and through the fabric of his shirt.

“I wasn’t- I didn’t want to do anything bad, swear,” Harry hiccuped, his own hard exterior crumbling as his eyes grew wide and frantic, brimming with moisture. “Didn’t want to make you sad, y/n. I swear I was just trying to make him go away, because he invaded your privacy. I’m not bad. Am I? I’m trying not to and-“

“Harry, stop. I’m not mad,” y/n mumbles. “I just come from a family and circle of friends who didn’t ever bother to care for me. I just didn’t expect you to step in when no one else ever has.”

Something in Harry’s electric green eyes intensifies as he gazes attentively down at y/n, his jaw clenching and his chest throbbing with both sadness and contentment that they would be the only ones to look after each other.

Harry grabs her as she turns to leave, pulling her closer to him despite her widened doe eyes and breathlessness. The intensity in his eyes silences all argument or notion to flee. His eyes lock onto hers, moments before his large, calloused hands lift to cup at her tightened jaw.

He kisses her.

Soft is the first thing Y/N thinks of at her first taste of his mouth, moving in sync with hers. Soft when everything about this, them has been so hard. She swears she’s never met someone like him- someone with such granite for temperament to the outside world, but such a complex when it came to himself. His cherry lips are just right and his mouth covers hers almost tentatively, a test and a challenge. and she shivers, teetering within his hold and almost losing balance from the sheer intensity and silent emotion expressed from his lips on hers. Paying no mind to every difference and every hardship they’d ever crossed and would ever, she throws her arms around his broad shoulders and clutches onto him for dear life, and the guttural moan which escapes from the back of his throat is enough for her to clasp her hand onto the back of his neck, scratching slightly against his scalp through his silky curls. It’s enough for her to lose all sense of control. She thrusts her chest sleek against his, and kisses him hard.

y/n is glued to harry as if he’s everything she needs to survive and he does the same.

The hot, summer rain is thrumming down their backs and the night seems to stop just for them- capturing this moment. The stages are set, the emotions feel right, and this moment is theirs and only theirs, and who can take it away from them?

So, they kiss.

Two people from two different worlds, connected solely by understanding each other in ways the world never could. Their teeth clash against each other and the electricity in his eyes is now coursing throughout her body. His lips transmit liquid fire and the heat is what she yearns for. Her hot palms keep him close and they’ve never felt this way before.

She’s the first one to pull away, gasping as her lungs painfully attempt to inhale the cool, night air. Her wild eyes flicker from his swollen lips to his equally flustered eyes, messy curls, and the faint hint of warmth in his cheeks and she wonders how she must look.

“I don’t care about what they say,” she breathes in desperation, “I don’t care about what they say.”

“Yeah?” He asks, his voice raspy, but charming all the while. It’s playful and so him. His eyes glitter with an emotion she can’t quite figure out yet, but it’s warm and safe and wonderful, so she snuggles into his warm chest some more, muttering a ‘yeah’ and sighing as the rain pounds down on her back.

She can hear the slight smirk in his deep voice, but also the vulnerability and promise when he rests his warm lips on the somewhat wet surface on the hollow of her throat and mumbles:

“Me neither, princess.”

MASTERLIST