#i had to edit the like cuts or whatever cause mobile tumblr SUCKS

[wroteasongabouther]

Grumpy - A Harry Styles Imagine

PAIRING: Harry/Y/N

RATING: R

WORD COUNT:  16k  (!!!!what!!!!!)

A/N: im really really sorry about my absences with my series but ive been writing this over the past while and quite like it so i really hope you all like it too xx  feedback is always lovely

Harry’s smirk soon changes back to the usual scowl he had around you. His brows wound tight, green eyes narrowed to slits, while his mildly chapped lips formed a hard thin line. His one hand is holding up his towel while the other steadied himself, suppose it’d take a bit more than a hot shower to cure this hangover. Then before you can stop it, your eyes are drifting from the droplets in his hair to his wet chest. His towel is dangerously low, exposing his more defined v line and his treasure trail that leads to...

Harry clears his throat then, snapping you back to attention. There’s that smirk again. You raise a brow and mirror his smirk.

“Just checking there’s no new stupid tattoos,” you say, lying through your teeth. Harry knew it too. So you just roll your eyes again and turn on your heels. “Downstairs, twenty minutes,” you call over your shoulder before letting yourself out of his hotel room.

or 

The one when Y/N works for Harry who has one bad attitude.

(Find the next parts here)

The sounds of empty bottles smacking into each other fills the hotel room as you finally swipe the card through and get the door open. You have to stop yourself before spewing out a string of curses and groans. The room is a wreck though. Empties littered across the floor, clothes in piles, and you notice some obvious feminine articles as well. You roll your eyes and round the corner where the bed was and as you thought so, it’s not just occupied by one naked body but two.

“Oh god,” you gasp, covering your eyes at the sight.

“What tha-“

“Oh my god! Didn’t you see the do not disturb sign Jesus Christ I’ll call the front desk and get you fired,” the young woman in the bed shouts as she pulls the covers over her body. Suppose she was in for a surprise when she realized you weren’t housekeeping.

“What are you thinking, Harry?” you question harshly, eyes ignoring the dumb blonde and focused on the squinting young man beside her.

“What are the doin’ in my room?”

“You were supposed to be at breakfast thirty minutes ago,” you state.

“Fuck,” he mumbles while sitting himself up now. Thankfully when the girl moved the covers, they ended up over his junk - not that you haven’t seen it before, just that you weren’t entirely a fan of seeing it. You roll your eyes again and cross your arms at your chest.

“Who are you?” the girl asks.

“Who are you?” You counter back, narrowing your eyes at her.

“Um, my name is...” she trails off and looks to Harry, “what did you say my name was again if someone asked?”

You snort, having to bring a hand to your lips in order to not put right laugh at this situation. He still had the same stupid plan even after all these years. Damn idiot, he was.

“Oh god, you’re not his girlfriend or something are you?” she gasps suddenly.

“Oh sweetie, if I was his girlfriend you’d be dead right now,” you exclaim with a smile. She sinks down into the mattress. “No, don’t get comfy, you’re leaving now,” you bark out the order while motioning with one hand for her to get out of the bed.

“I’m naked!”

“Then get dressed,”

“Oh my god, look away or something you fucking weirdo,”

You only roll your eyes again, turning around so your back was to the bed now. Harry grumbles, you hear him flop down into his bed again as his company gets out from the hotel bed. The girl gets dressed silently but after she’s down you hear her whisper something to Harry, which she only gets a grumbly ‘goodbye’ in response. She walks passed you, avoiding eye contact, but you follow right after her.

“Your phone,” you say while holding out your hand. The girl turns around at the threshold of the hotel room.

“It’s been off since I got up here,” she says.

You shake your head, “prove it,” you order.

She sighs, taking the iPhone from her pocket and hits the home button a few times. The screen stays black each time and you have no choice but to believe her. You stand straight then, narrowing your eyes at her. She looked rather rough, hair all over the place and black smudged down her face - not to mention her shirt was on backwards.

“Speak a word of this to anyone and you’ll pay for it. Post any sort of photo or video and you’ll pay for it. Just keep this night to yourself, dream about it, relish in the thought you fucked Harry Styles and then get over it. They all have to,” you say. Then with that, you shut the door in her face and turn back to handle the real problem at hand.

“Way to make me sound like a slut,” Harry mumbles.

“You are,” you state bluntly. Harry glares from where he lays in bed. His hair was all sorts of messed up too, but he kinda made it work you guessed, while his eyes were slightly bloodshot and he was squinting at the daylight peeking through the blinds. All of this was a sight you saw rather regularly. This was your job, laying right here, hungover as shit.

“Are you ever going to grow up, Harry?” you question. Harry let’s out a groan in response. “No, seriously, because I’ve been kicking nameless girls out of your fucking hotel room since you were 19 years old now. Isn’t it getting tired? Because I can tell you it is for me,”

“Then leave,” he utters.

“No,” you say and cross your arms at your chest again. “It’s my job, doesn’t mean I can’t complain about my job. You sure as hell do,”

“Yeah I do,” Harry resorts, lifting his head from the pillow to glare at you again. “Now fuckin’ leave, m’tired,”

Can you believe you roll your eyes again? Bloody idiot he was, thinking you’d just walk out and leave. You manoeuvre around the mess on the floor and walk into the bathroom, reaching into the shower to turn it on as hot as it can. As it steams up the room you organize Harry’s toiletries that way he has one less thing to complain about once he gets his ass in gear. When you return to the bedroom, Harry has actually made some process, eyes glued to his phone screen.

“Get in the shower,” you command him. “Now!” You shout this time.

Harry tosses his phone off to the side of the mattress, wraps a sheet around himself and gets out of bed. But of course he’s sporting his best piercing scowl while doing so. You simply return the icy look with a tight smile. Just as Harry steps into the bathroom, not bothering to shut the door, you phone buzzes. It’s Jeff texting you for an update on what’s happening. You reply with a short summary of your morning affairs, assuring him that his number one client was up and at it now.

“Don’t take your time, car leaves in 30,” you state while leaning against the doorway of the bathroom. The glass door for the shower is fogged up, but you can see Harry moving around thankfully. Some days he liked to just stand there and waste everyone’s time.

Harry doesn’t respond, so your eyes fall back to your phone screen. You decide to triple check the itinerary for today. The flight from Basel to Paris was close to two hours long which meant Harry would have plenty of time to sleep away his hangover.

“Why don’t you just quit if you complain about your job so much?” Harry asks, talking loudly over the sound of the shower.

“Cause it’s my job, has been forever now,” you sigh.

“I think it’s cause you love me,” Harry says. You can hear the smirk on his lips, and then as the water turns off and the shower door opens you look away for a moment till he’s got a towel on. Low and behold there’s that precious smirk of his.

“Oh yeah,” you taunt, “Who wouldn’t love a man with your drinking habits and all the whores too. Oh and that attitude, ugh, ta die for,” you swoon jokingly.

Harry’s smirk soon changes back to the usual scowl he had around you. His brows wound tight, green eyes narrowed to slits, while his mildly chapped lips formed a hard thin line. His one hand is holding up his towel while the other steadied himself, suppose it’d take a bit more than a hot shower to cure this hangover. Then before you can stop it, your eyes are drifting from the droplets in his hair to his wet chest. His towel is dangerously low, exposing his more defined v line and his treasure trail that leads to...

Harry clears his throat then, snapping you back to attention. There’s that smirk again. You raise a brow and mirror his smirk.

“Just checking there’s no new stupid tattoos,” you say, lying through your teeth. Harry knew it too. So you just roll your eyes again and turn on your heels. “Downstairs, twenty minutes,” you call over your shoulder before letting yourself out of his hotel room.

How you got the privilege to work for the less than lovely Harry Styles is beyond you. One day you were an intern at One Direction label, being offered to tag along on tour, and then the next thing you knew you were the one keeping all five boys in check. And you did your job well. Always professional, but can also be personal when needed too, and you got shit done. So when the band decided on their hiatus, you kept contact with them all - but everyone knew Harry was the one who needed your help the most. Liam and Louis had grown up and had kids, while Niall was never a worry to begin with, it was just Harry who was still lost. So when his new manager, Jeff, called you one day to offer you a job you knew you couldn’t decline and leave him to deal with the mess that was Harry. He only ever listened to you, therefore he needed you.

“He’s up?” Jeff asks as you approach the group standing near the lobby doors.

“Sure is, and hungover and grumpy and an asshole but what else is new,” you sigh and glance down at your phone as it buzzes in your hand. It’s Harry ordering a large black coffee before he gets down to the lobby. “Anyone want to come get some coffee with me?” You ask, eyeing up the band and few others standing by.

“I could use a tea,” Clare shrugs and follows after you.

“Grumpy needs a coffee,” you state as you push open the door to the breakfast lounge - for a lack of better words.

“Of course he does,” Clare chuckles, “he and Mitch were out late last night.”

“I know,” you nod.

She doesn’t respond as you pour the coffee into the cup, putting on a lid and a sleeve before pouring your own next. Once you’ve got three packets of sugar and one cream, you and Clare head back to the group. You’re not surprised to see you’re still waiting on Harry.

“I told him twenty minutes,” you say defensively when Jeff gives you a look.

“It’s been close to,” he states.

“I can only do so much, Jeff, can’t hold his damn hand anymore,” you huff and bring your coffee to your lips. Of course it’s too hot and burns your tongue a little.

As you look at the usual few that follow Harry on his drinking nights, you notice none of them look in as bad of shape as Harry did. Suppose they’re starting to realize they can’t keep up to a young rockstar with a drinking problem. Didn’t matter how many stories good old Tim the lead crew had from back in the day of him drinking, he was tapping out after three beers as Harry downs his fifth drink of the night. If Harry were to stop at five then that’d be a good night. His typical limit was ten. But most nights he liked to exceed that lately. The guys should’ve been around when it all started, 19 year old Harry was even worse somehow. Miller, his bodyguard since the beginning, could vouch for you.

“There you are,” Jeff exclaims as Harry makes his arrival. He’s dressed in a black t-shirt and blue slim fit jeans with some Vans upon his feet and sunglasses adoring his face to block the daylight from his sensitive eyes. A usual look.

“Coffee,” Harry grunts and grabs ahold of one of the coffee cups from your hands. Before you can tell him he took yours, he takes a large sip and his faces says it all.

“That’s mine,” you state, switching them between your hands to give him the black coffee this time. Harry immediately washes away the taste from your coffee with his own.

“We’re getting late, let’s move people,” Jeff shouts loud enough for the group traveling together to hear.

There’s one van and one car for the handful of you left to head to the next stop on tour - Paris, France. You were rather excited to be back in Paris. Meant you actually had the excuse to speak French. Which was one of the five languages you spoke fluently. But also Paris was Paris and if you weren’t excited to be there you’d be delusional.

“Helene, I need you to send me the best shots from last night please,” you call up to where the tour photographer sat front seat of the van.

“Just stage photos or backstage too?” she asks, looking through her laptop.

“Uh a few of both maybe,” you answer. Harry, who’s sitting beside you in the back seat of the van, shushes you harshly. Turning your head to look his way, you see his brows pulled down which could only mean he’s scowling behind those sunglasses he’s got on.

“Quit being so bloody loud,” he says.

“I’m not-“

“Fuckin’ screaming in mah ear,” he mumbles, turning his body away as much as he possibly can. His hip knocks into yours, which makes you glare at him as he tosses around like a child.

“Sorry I’m doing my fuckin’ job, Harry,” you snap back at him. You only get a mumbled response, you don’t even bother to get him to repeat whatever comment he has. Instead you focus on your phone as you get an email from Helene containing the photos you had just asked for.

During a meeting a few weeks prior to tour starting back up, Jeff and yourself agreed it’d be good if Harry got more involved on social media. All you two asked of him was to post one photo from each show. But Harry asked as though you were asking him to sew you a damn dress after every night. This of course lead to you getting his social media passwords and having to do the simple task yourself. It was kinda upsetting to see his fans react to a tweet, thinking its send by their idol when in reality it’s just you.

“Look good or what?” You ask Harry, literally shoving your phone into his face. He surprises you, lifting his glasses and grabbing your phone from your hand.

“Black boarder, not white,” he mutters and hands you back the phone.

“Okay,” you sigh. Guess that was as much input he had on the post.

It’s not soon enough arriving at the private jet. Harry had continue to toss, nudging you repeatedly, through the remainder of the fifteen minute car ride. Then you’re helping Grumpy figure out the back seats and letting him stomp up the stairs of the plane.

In the air plane, there’s sort of a like a ‘picnic table’ set up to it. Two to four chairs would face each other, the groups of four had a full table between while the two chairs facing each other had an open space. Of course you took it upon yourself to sit across from Harry, seeing that you were one of the few people in the plane who could deal with his attitude. Harry immediately slumps down in his seat, buckles up for take off, and sits with his legs spread apart comfortably you hoped. You give him one more look, noticing he crosses his arms at his chest, before knowing he’s falling fast asleep.

You sort of wished he would’ve slept the whole flight, but half way through Harry wakes just as you’re feeling uncomfortable from the long flight. You’ve already tried to get up and wake around, talking to Clare and Sarah about some cafe they wanted to go to in Paris. But then you found yourself back in your seat, nibbling on your bottom lip while looking at your phone screen. That’s when Harry grumbles, sitting up finally and stretching. 

“Get enough sleep?” you ask, glancing up from your phone to meet his hooded eyes. He had pushed up his sunglasses to rub the sleep from his eyes. 

“I guess,” he mutters. 

“Your Instagram post is getting quite the buzz,” you state. 

“Cool,” 

“Cool,” you mock him, rolling your eyes too. In which Harry returns of course. 

It’s silence between you after that. You’re both focused on your phones, Harry bugs the flight attendant for a drink which you very quickly modify to just be a soda with no sorta of liquor at all. This earns a glare from Harry and some mumbling under his breath. 

Your legs are beginning to feel cramped up again, you seriously hated flights sometimes. When you had to travel longer distances you usually popped a gravel and passed out in order to not fumble around in your seat to get comfortable hours on end. You kick out your heeled black Balenciaga booties out till your toes hit Harry’s seat in front of you, your legs between his spread out legs. That’s not much comfortable though, just as you go to cross your legs Harry reaches down and grabs your ankle. 

“Just rest ‘em here,” he says while placing your boots on his thigh. 

You swallow the lump in your throat and feel your stomach do some kinda twist from the gesture. While Harry’s unfazed by it all, looking out the window of the plane while you cross your ankles on his jean clad thigh. He had the right idea though because you’re the most comfortable you’ve been the whole flight with your feet up. 

“Thanks,” you say with a tight smile. 

“No problem,” 

You look back at your phone, checking your own social medias for once. After people got the fact you worked for One Direction, your following grew an unbelievable amount. This only really meant you needed to hold onto a few media training skills you gave the boys for yourself, watching what you posted and what you said in order to not get backlash from the fans. But there was always backlash. 

“Are you goin’ to teach me any French?” Harry asks suddenly, bringing your gaze back to where he sat. He had rested his arm over your ankles and was hunched forward just a little. Seems that hangover really was fading away. 

“Yeah, I can,” you nod. 

“Just somethin’ simple I can talk to the crowd with,”

You nod again and think of something, anything really, and quick before this small nice gesture of Harry’s vanished behind another scowl. After his theatre tour last year everyone sat down and evaluated the shows. First thing that you brought up was the lack of interaction Harry gave to his fans. Yes, he was a stellar performer and his fans loved him for that but he barely said a sentence every night and it wasn’t going to cut it. Just yesterday Harry mentioned learning different languages and you loved the idea. 

“Bonsoir, Je ma’ppelle Y/N,” you say - you sure did miss speaking French, having learnt in your school days all the way up till your graduated at college.

One corner of Harry’s mouth twitches upwards just a bit before he clears his throat, “one more time,” he says. 

“Bonsoir, Je ma’ppelle Y/N,” you repeat. 

“Bonsoir, Je ma’ppelle Harry,” he echoes. 

“Good,” you smile, yes actually smile at Harry. “Uh, let’s go, J’appends le Francais mais je suis un peu lent.” 

Harry asks for you to repeat it again, the consecrated look on his face is kinda cute. Then he says it, mispronouncing only one word so you repeat it again and then he gets it down. Without you even asking or telling him anything else Harry puts the whole bit together with a small smile upon his lips. It just hits you that he hasn’t even bothered to ask what all of this you’re teaching him means, so of course you decide to poke some fun at him too. 

“Et je suis une douleur dans le cul,” you say, grinning at him now. 

“Et je suis une douleur dans le cul,” Harry repeats. 

Helene, who’s sitting close by, laughs loudly then which causes Harry to furrow his brows together and look her way. Everyone else around her is busy talking, have headphones in or are sleeping so it’s rather obvious she’s laughing at the little prank you’ve pulled on Harry. You two shit talked in French quite often actually. 

“What am I saying?” Harry roars out the question with annoyance in each word. You swear you see Adam jolt up in his seat 

You simply return the hint of anger with a smile, “Good evening, my name is Harry. I’m learning French but I am a little slow. And I’m a pain in the ass,” 

“Funny,” Harry grumbles, crossing his arms at his chest. 

“Thought so,” you smirk. There’s no missing the scowl that’s starting to take over Harry’s face, so you quickly kick out your foot and glare at him. “Don’t start, it was just a joke,” you say. 

Harry narrows his eyes at you but you notice the twitch of his lips again. It’s kinda sweet how he tries to not show you a smile sometimes. You run a hand through your hair, fixing the soft curls while letting out a small sigh. 

“Je suis désolé, s'il vous plait, ne me renvoyez pas,” you say, giving him a toothy smart-ass grin. Helene chuckles again before focusing back on her laptop to edit more photos you’d assume. 

“What’d ya say this time?” Harry asks, still as grumpy as ever. 

“I’m sorry, please don’t fire me,” you smile. 

Harry chuckles, “couldn’t even if I wanted to, love,” he mumbles before looking down at his phone. 

You roll your eyes but there’s still a smile on your lips. He was right. Even if you did something out right stupid, which you never would cause you’re the smart one here, Harry would never fire you. Plus Jeff wouldn’t let him. As you’ve said before, they needed you. Grumpy bugger would only listen to you. 

“‘Kay, minus the last part, speak French to me, Grumpy,” you tease. 

Harry rolls his eyes, “Bonsoir, Je ma’ppelle Harry. J’appends le Francais mais je suis un peu lent,” 

You’re staring, you know you are, but his voice sounds kinda nice. Smooth and still a little husky from his little nap. Harry speaking French was kinda hot. And you’d never admit it aloud. You’d be a damn fool to not find Harry attractive in even the slightest bit, over all these years there’s been certain times when you find yourself feeling drawn to him - but then he acts like a brat and fucks another fan for fun. You were too good for him, and he’d never see you like that anyways. 

“What?” Harry questions your staring, taking a sip of his drink. 

“Nothing,” you shake your head, “let’s add, um, merci d’etre avec nous ce soir. It mean’s thank you for being with us tonight,” 

“One more time,” Harry insists, face screwed up as he tries to remember what you just said to him. It’s kinda cute, his lips mouthing out the words before he says any just to be sure of himself. You repeat yourself one more time like he asked and of course, he’s got it no problem. The fans tonight in Paris were going to love him. Which meant you were doing your job right. 

⏤

Three shots of expresso in your second coffee of the day wasn’t your best decision, at the time of ordering at the cute little cafe with Clare and Sarah you were more concerned about the fact you were nearly falling asleep at the table. But now you had caffeine overdose jitters while walking around backstage. Jeff had you check out a few things with the crew, hand out some PIT tickets to a lovely fan and her family and now you were finally heading back to the dressing room. You shouldn’t be surprised when you open the door and see red wine being passed around, Harry drinking straight from the bottle.

Mitch and his red wine, and Harry and his drinking problem, right? You hold back the eye roll and walk towards the wardrobe rack that had been set up. There’s three options, as there is every night, from Harry Lambert for Harry to chose from. Then it was your job to text Lambert which suit Harry chooses and then he did his Instagram story thing. As you look at the suits, you really hope you can persuade him to wear the other sparkly YSL custom made one. It may be your favourite.

“Oi! M’not shit at ping pong, you are!” Harry barks back at Adam, followed by some laughter thankfully. Wine made Harry a bit more bubbly than some other liquors he enjoyed.

“I suck cause you suck,” Adam counters back.

“Shut up, I’m bettah then you’ll ever be,” Harry says. You do roll your eyes this time. Narcissistic grumpy boy, he was. You quickly make your way towards where he sat between his stupidly expensive Gucci pillows.

“Okay, that’s enough wine now,” you exclaim while stealing the bottle out of his hands.

“What the fuck,” Harry grumbles, turning in order to scowl at you.

You give him a smile before looking to the band, “Grumpy has to get changed, he’ll meet you out there,” you say. The four all stand and leave without a fight, Mitch taking the bottle of red with him as you hand it his way.

“You’re a buzz kill, anyone tell ya that before?” Harry quips, standing from his seat once the others are gone.

“Actually, you have, several times. Mostly after I kick your little whores out,”

Harry simply glares at you in return. Your expresso fuelled energy kicks in again as you rack your hand over the few suits for him to pick from. You immediately grab the hanger that holds the custom YSL.

“I think you should wear this,” you propose, smiling as you hold out the suit for Harry to take. He gives it a once over look, then does the same thing to you which causes your eyes to narrow.

“And why should I take fashion advice from you? You’re literally wearin’ a jumper and jeans,” he says.

“First of all, my shoes cost as much as my monthly rent. Second off, this sweater is your tour merchandise. And lastly these jeans make my ass look amazing thank you very much,” you counter back defensively with a snarl on your lips.

Harry smirks, “wouldn’t be able to tell if your ass looks good or not, love, you’re practically swimming in that jumper. You look bloody ridiculous,”

“I like to be comfortable, get over it and wear this god damn suit,” you growl and shove the suit at Harry. He’s quit to grab the garment before it hits the floor, raising a brow at you before you stomp off and sit on the sofa. Even though the pillows cost way too much, they were sort of comfortable. You bring your legs up on the sofa, tucking them to your chest while you lay your head on the pillow. Queue the start of your caffeine crash. Your fingers toy with the fringe along the pillow as you fight to keep your eyes open while waiting for Harry to change.

You must’ve nodded off for a few minutes, waking to Harry’s gently nudging you. Opening your eyes, you are met with so much sparkle it almost blinds you. But it makes you give a lopsided lazy smile, you were right Harry looked amazing in the suit. 

“Good choice,” you say. 

“Thanks, made it myself,” he jokes with a smug look. You roll your eye and lay your head down again. “Before you fall back asleep, can you go over the French again, I don’t really want to make a fool of myself out there,”  

“M’not going to fall asleep, just resting my eyes,” you say, followed by a yawn. 

“Right,” Harry drones. You smile while shutting your eyes. Suddenly you feel Harry’s large hands grasping ahold of your calves, lifting them before the sofa sinks under his weight and he brings your legs to rest across your lap for the second time today. 

“Ton costume a l'air très joli. Et votre français est bien,” you say sleepily. 

“Merci?”

“You’re welcome, Grumpy,” you smile. “Okay.. Bonsoir, Je ma’ppelle Harry. J’appends le Francais mais je suis un peu lent. Merci d’etre avec nous ce soir,” 

There’s silence from Harry. You’re almost too tired to open your eyes and see wether he had fallen asleep himself or maybe he was looking at his phone distracted again. Peeking one eye open, you see it’s nether. Harry’s looking at you, while his fingers are toying with the frays along the bottom of your jeans. You close your eyes again, wiggling your hips further into the couch for comfort. 

“Need me to repeat myself?” you ask, as smug as he had been before. 

“Uh, yeah,” Harry says and clears his throat, stilling picking at your fraying jeans. You fight back the smile and say the few sentences in French again. In order to keep from the caffeine crash you kept talking to Harry, trying to perfect the articulation of his words to the best you can. 

Then it was almost show time. You’re up, yawning the whole way through, and doing your job. From the dressing room to backstage, you can hear the fans singing along to the tunes as you follow behind Harry. Just as he gets to the stairs, he catches your gaze. You immediately notice he’s got a bit of a scowl on his face since someone mentioned the opening act running a little late. So you lift your pointer fingers to the corners of your mouth while showing him a big smile. Harry rolls his eyes but you can’t miss the fact his scowl is gone and there’s a hint of a smile on his lips now.

Like the show prior, you and Jeff stand off to ‘stage right’ to watch from the sidelines. Just before the lights go down and the rubix cube visuals cause a stir from the arena, you notice Harry mouthing the French you two had been working on backstage. Your lips curl up into a smile before you bring your to-go cup of tea to have another sip. Then the screen rises, the whole arena erupts in high pitched screams, and the band starts playing Only Angel. Your head bobbing along to the beat as Harry belts out the lyrics with all his might, performing had always been his favourite. Suppose your job wasn’t all that bad.

It doesn’t surprise you when you head backstage to the dressing room again half way through the show. You had yawned so much that Jeff told you to go nap till the show was over. So you did, sleeping till Helene is shaking you awake saying it’s about time to make the mad dash from the arena. 

⏤

“I’ll get a coffee please,” you say, smiling at the waiter before he nods and walks off. 

“It’s like 8 in the evening,” Sarah states from across the table. She, Clare, Helene and yourself had decided to have a late dinner at the restaurant in your hotel in Stockholm. 

“I have to stay up late, prepare for some upcoming promotion things and reviews of the last week of shows,” you explain, “plus Harry wants a new sofa bought for his LA home by the end of this week so I’m trying to do that while in a different country,” 

“A new sofa?” Clare asks, brows pulled together. 

“I don’t ask questions anymore,” you sigh, shrugging your shoulders just as your waiter returns then with everyone drinks. You’re thankful he brings a small plate with sugars and creams too, black coffee seriously sucked. After stirring your coffee, you take a long sip and hum contently. A nice little dinner in Stockholm was exactly what you needed after this long first week of tour. You thought after all these years touring and traveling along side Harry you’d be used to it, but you are already struggling it seems. 

The four of you girls are having fun chatting about the shows and the fans and all the places you’ve seen thus far. The three of them get a big more time to look around each city than you do - you’re always busy cleaning up Harry’s mess of alcoholic issues from city to city. Last night it was literally cleaning up the wine bottles from the dressing room before the flight left from Antwerp to Stockholm. Harry and the guys took advantage of the extra time at the arena to get drunk before the redeye flight. The night ended with you muttering things under your breath, Harry scowling, and you tossing red solo cups and empty bottles into the garbage as everyone else left. 

This morning you didn’t even bother to check up on him. Wether he drank himself to sleep again or somehow got another girl into his room in the middle of the night, you didn’t care. He was rude last night and you needed a day off before the show tomorrow.

“Is that Harry?” Helene questions, pointing her fork in the direction of the bar. You chew another bite of your meal and glance the way she’s gesturing to.

She’s right, of course she is. Harry’s leaning towards another blonde with long legs while seated at the bar. The blonde is loving the smirk Harry’s got across his face, throwing her head back with laughter at whatever he had said - you bet it wasn’t even that funny. You roll your eyes and set down your coffee after having a long sip.

“I’m not doing this again tonight,” you grit through your teeth, “if one of you pays for my meal I’ll transfer you some money later, I need to do my job it seems,” you sigh and get up from the table as all the girls wish you luck. This wasn’t about to be an easy one.

You approach the bar from behind Harry, glaring at the blonde as her dark eyes meet yours. She immediately stands up straight and widens her eyes, seems you’ve scared her a bit. This brings a smug look to your lips, just as Harry turns around to glance over his shoulder and see you. You decided you wanted to spice this one up a little, so you snake your hand across his should blades and bring yourself into Harry’s side which causes him to sit up a bit and look at you with confusion clear as day.

“Can’t leave you along for too long now can I, baby?” You ask, smirking while Harry’s eyes narrow as he catches onto your little plan. You glance back to the blonde, “he’s just too polite somedays, I swear, was he offering to pay for your drinks? What an angel he is,” you give her a tight smile.

“Something like that,” the Swedish accent is thick as the girl answers you.

“What? What was happening here, sweetie?” You fake gasp, fingers digging into Harry’s neck as you look his way. He’s got that lovely snarl ready to go. “Were you going to cheat on me? You dirty bastard, how dare you, I’m the best thing that’s ever happened to you!” You whisper shout every word so it’s just heard by Harry and the blonde. Harry’s eyes somehow narrow even more into slits. But you can’t miss the tugging of his lips again, seems he’s entertained at least.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t know-“

“It’s fine,” you snap back at her. “We’re leaving now,” you say to Harry while pulling him from the bar stool. Harry huffs, opening his mouth to protest but you’re quick to shut him up again. “Don’t you dare try and talk you’re way out of this,” you say dramatically, taking his hand and dragging him towards the doors back into the hotel lobby.

Harry lets out a low chuckle as the two of you get to the elevator, you lean over to push the button and wait. You glance his way and surprised by the fact he’s not scowling at you. Harry’s grinning, yeah it’s a weird sight to behold - he only really let out a grin while on stage cause he loved that bit of his job enough. Or when Anne was around, but never would he actually grin at you.

“What?” you question, eyes narrowed.

“M’starin’ to think,” he pauses as the elevator doors open and the both of you step inside, “that you’re acting out of jealousy, love,” he finishes with that same grin.

A loud laugh, right from your gut, erupts through the elevator. You hold your stomach, throwing your head back for good measure too. Finally you turn to look at Harry again and see he’s got that scowl back on thank goodness. You give him a smile, reaching over to touch his cheek giving it a quick tap before dropping your hand back to your side again.

“You’re a funny one, Harry Styles,” you say. The elevator doors open up at the floor both your rooms were on. “Now, order in some food and watch some shitty TV show, just don’t make my job harder please,” you breathe out.

“Is that what you’re doing?”

“That and ordering your new stupid sofa,” you answer.

“Mind if I, uh, join you?” Harry coughs, seeming to struggle with asking if he could hangout with you.

You chuckle under your breath, “yeah, sure, that way I don’t pick out a sofa and order it and then you decide you don’t like it and I have to return it and then order a new one all while on the other side of the world,” you ramble out.

“You’ve known me for years, I’m sure you would’ve made a great choice by yourself,” Harry says. 

You shrug, taking out your hotel room key and sliding it through till the door opens for the two of you to walk through. Immediately all you want to do it change back into the extra large tour sweater, some sleep shorts and get more comfortable. If it was acceptable, you would wear leggings and oversized sweaters everywhere - but you knew going to a restaurant meant you should wear a cute top and some jeans.

“Feel free to get comfortable, order some room service too but just know it will be charged on your card not mine,” you tell Harry while gathering your few items of clothing you were going to get changed into.

“M’kay,” Harry hums and you walk into the bathroom to get changed and use the toilet too. To be completely honest, you’re taking your time, even going to the length of brushing your hair since you had the time to. Harry could entertain himself, you heard the TV on already and then just as you’re opening the bathroom door you see he’s answering the door for the room service. First thing you notice is the bottle of red wine on the cart.

“Can’t go a day without something to drink now?” you question once the door is closed, rolling your eyes at Harry as he reaches for the wine first.

“Do you ever just relax and have a drink?” Harry asks, raising a brow while taking a seat on one side of the bed. Of course he sits on the side you would’ve liked.

“Yes,” you mumble. 

Harry seems to take that as his right to pour you as glass. It doesn’t surprise you when his is a bit more full than yours, giving him a look while taking the glass from his hands and having a seat on the other side of the bed. The TV has some weird local show on, looked like some crappy reality TV show but you didn’t have much time to care. You take a small sip of the wine and place the glass on the bedside table to your right. 

“Mind passing me my laptop, please,” 

Harry nods, swallowing a rather large sip of his wine before leaning over and grabbing your laptop that was sitting upon the other bedside table. You open it up and log in while Harry begins to eat and steak and chips he ordered for himself. Just as you open up some emails and the online order for the couch, you reach over and steal a chip. 

“Hey!” Harry shouts. You chuckle and chew it up with a smile. 

“Okay, you mentioned a dark fabric sofa but I think a white one would look much better with the interior design you have going back in your LA home,” you explain, clicking a few tabs open to show him the options you had found. 

“I like that one,” Harry comments, touching your screen with his dirty fingers as he leans over and looks at the sofas. 

“Me too,” you nod. 

It was an ‘older fashion’ compared to the other more modern ones you had chosen for him to pick from. It was sort of funny, you were thinking of ordering the matching chair to the sofa he had picked for your own apartment - too bad your current apartment was small and crowded and so not your favourite. It was about time you started looking for a new place actually. Suppose it would have to wait till after the tour. 

The two of you sit in your bed, chatting about how Harry felt the last few shows had went. You had noticed he was a bit more cheery with his fans, which was something you gave him praise for. Harry finishes the bottle of wine before you even get a second glass, it doesn’t entirely surprise you. But what does surprise you is how much you’re actually enjoying hanging out with Harry. 

“You know the fans are going to go nuts for Stockholm Syndrome tomorrow night,” you say. 

“Should I tease them a little bit? Say we’re goin’ to sing a different song, tell ‘em we forgot the cords,” Harry smiles. 

“Oh God, they’d lose their minds,” you chuckle and sit up again while adjusting the laptop in your lap. 

“They’d have my arse I think,” Harry says, bringing the last of his red wine to his stained lips, “maybe I’ll put the blame on you, point out where you’re standing so they attack you and not me,” 

“You’re fans adore me, they’d never believe your crap,” 

“You’re right,” Harry sighs, “they do really like you,” 

“They haven’t always,” 

“God, remember when that whole drama with you and I dating,” Harry laughs. 

You chuckle, “then there was literal magazine spreads about me seeing Zayn behind your back. God, every media outlet was running with some wild ideas, then I finally told the manager to suck it and tweeted about it all,” 

“You almost got fired,” Harry recalls. 

“And yet, here I am,” you say. Harry smiles too, nodding his head before finishing off his wine completely. 

“You’re welcome,” Harry smirks. “I went to Modest and told them if they fired you I’d be more of a public mess than usual,” 

“Oh, my drunk knight in shining Gucci,” you joke, causing the both of you to erupt into a fit of laughter. Harry’s holding his stomach with both hands, eyes crinkled tight as he howls away in laughter. You quite literally have to wipe away tears that formed at your eyes. It wasn’t really that funny, but it was most definitely one of those ‘i’m laughing harder cause you’re laughing harder’. And to be completely honest, you really liked Harry’s laugh. 

Once you two finally stop laughing, you continue to talk a bit more about the tour. You inform him how much the fans want Medicine and Anna to be released, Harry just kinda shrugs but has a smug look on his face as he leans back on the headboard of your hotel bed. After a few more moments, you start to realize Harry’s mumbling his responses a bit. Glancing over, you see his eyelids shut. 

“Harry, maybe it’s time you went to your room,” you say softly. 

“Yeah,” he hums. 

Harry reached into his left front pocket of his trousers first. Then into his right front pocket. You look away from your phone to see he’s got a frown on his face while lifting his hips and searching both his back pockets, pulling out his wallet to check it too. When he curses under his breath, you sigh and drop your phone onto your lap. 

“I don’t have my room key,” he states. 

“It’s too late, the front desk is closed already,” you exclaim, glancing at the red numbers reading it was well past midnight - seems time slipped by your two while you go chatting. 

“Uh-”

“Just stay here tonight, it’s fine,” you cut him off, sighing while getting out of the bed. You’re facing away from him, towards the open curtains of your room that shows the night lights of downtown Stockholm, and reach up to stretch out your back after being hunched over looking at your laptop so much. As a cool breeze hits the back of your thighs, you realize the sweater hiked up a bit more than you would’ve liked to - there was no doubt Harry was enjoying the little show he had gotten. You bring your arms back down quick and walk over to the bathroom. 

After you’re done brushing your teeth and washing your face of any makeup left from today, you stare at your reflection in the mirror for a moment while deep in thought. Harry actually wasn’t half bad tonight. Barely any rude comments and you managed to bring bad a smile anytime his bad attitude showed up. Now tonight you’d grab the small extra blanket and keep your distance while he slept beside you. Easy, right...

Suddenly there’s a knock on the bathroom door, followed by Harry, “are you almost done in there?” he asks, his voice surprisingly not bothered at all. You open the door and reveal him leaning against the frame, eyes flickering back up from the floor to meet your eyes. Queue the twist and turns in your stomach. 

“There’s an extra tooth brush in the drawer, I believe,” you say. 

“Okay, thanks,” Harry nods. You smile, walk passed him and get into bed.

Why were you so nervous all of a sudden? It was just Harry. Who was kinda your boss and was the biggest man whore you’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting. You let out a deep breath and bring the blankets up to your chin. Maybe if you got all comfy and tried to fall asleep before Harry got back to the bed it’d be easier to ignore the fact he was here all together. Or maybe you could actually act your age and not like some virgin school girl. 

Harry exits the bathroom, turning off the lights as he walks by so it’s just the lamp lit up now. Your stomach does another twist as the bed sinks under his weight after a few moments. Then the blanket is being yanked away, torn from your hands till it’s just barely over your torso. 

“Hey,” you grumble. 

“Don’t tell me you’re a bloody blanket hog,” Harry scolds. You roll your eyes and turn your head to look his way, seeing him snuggled right up under the blanket. 

“M’not a bloody blanket hog,” you state, “but you sure are,” you add under your breath. Harry lets out the blanket enough for you to cover up your body. 

“No, m’not,” Harry argues back. 

“Goodnight, Grumpy,” you mutter back, too tired to fight with him. Seems his bad attitude was back just in time. You turn your back to him and close your eyes, hearing the sound of him turning off the lamp. Harry turns in the bed, not touching you though, a handful of times before he’s letting out a soft chuckle. 

“What?” you question. You know he’s smirking or something, you just know it. 

“Just trying to remember the last time I shared a bed with a woman and hadn’t fucked her,” he exclaims. You roll your eyes, glancing at the clock quick to distract you from any other thoughts that popped into your head.

“Such a romantic,” you say. 

“Shut up,” Harry grunts. 

“Grumpy,” you mutter under your breath. 

Then you both go quiet again and thankfully it doesn’t take too much time before you’re fast asleep. But then you’re dreaming. Vividly actually. You’re in the dressing room, laying on the sofa with your eyes closed and at first you seem like you’re trying to sleep. But then your lips part, a small whimper falling from your throat and your fists gasp onto the first thing they can as the sensational feeling runs through your veins. Your fists find someones hair, thick and soft to your touch. You feel someones warm tongue between your slick folds, lapping at your wetness and flicking over your sensitive clit over and over again.

“Oh, God, yes,” you moan aloud, gripping at their hair some more as your body arches into their touch. 

“Not God, love, close though,” their deep voice vibrates against your sex. Your eyes spring open at the sound of his voice - Harry’s voice. Looking down you see it’s his brown curly locks in your hands and his face between your legs. His green eyes meet yours, lips curling up into a smirk before he dips back down to rapidly lap at your wetness again. 

He sure does know what he’s doing. Tongue moving quick till your body arches off the sofa again and your moans echo off the walls of the dressing room. It feels so good. Maybe even too good. Harry abruptly stokes a finger at your entrance. Not moving for a moment before his finger plunges into you, causing a high pitched gasp to fall from your lips. He’s not starting off gentle, he is slamming his finger into you right till the cool feel of his ring touches your skin. You’re almost blown away by his attention to your clit while fingering you. It’s bringing you closer and close to a release. 

“Keep going, please, please- Harry,” you beg with your eyes screwed shut. Your stomach bubbles before your legs begin to shudder, the wetness between them gets worse with your release. 

You’re body melts into the sofa after the orgasm stops. Then your eyes open open once again as you feel Harry move over top of you. His green ones are full of lust, lips in a smug look before his lips wrap around his finger that is slick with your cum. There’s no denying how fucking sexy it is though, the way he groans afterwards causes your stomach to flutter. 

“Always knew you’d taste so sweet,” Harry purrs before leaning down to latch his lips to yours. 

But just before he can kiss you, your eyes flutter open from the sunlight hitting them just right. You squint, bringing an arm up to block the morning sun, then just as your about to turn away you realize you can’t exactly. There’s a heavy arm draped over your waist, hand curled into your sweater so tight you really can’t move. Your eyes widen, unaware of when Harry had gotten so close during the night. 

“Holy fuck, your feet are freezing,” Harry utters suddenly. His voice hoarse as he’s just waking up. You then realize that his bare legs are against yours, your ankles tangled together. 

“Where did your damn trousers go?” you question a little more harsh than necessary. Harry rolls his eyes and brings his arm back to his side. 

“You’re not wearing any either,” he mutters. 

“Whatever,” you say. Just then, as you move your legs away from his, you realize how wet you are between your thighs. You swallow hard and are quick to jump out of the bed. “I’m showering,” you state before quickly making your way into the bathroom and swiftly closing the door behind you before Harry could utter another word. 

The water is hot, nearly burning your skin as you stand under the stream entirely too long. You’ve washed your hair and was just standing there now, thinking about the dream you had. The way his mouth felt against your sex, the warm breath from his nostrils while his tongue did magic you swore. If that was a dream, you couldn’t imagine what the real damn thing had you feeling like. You jerk as your own hand makes contact between your thighs. You can’t help it, the mere thought of your dream has you itching to be touched. Thankfully you know your body well, and there’s this one spot on your clit that if you have just a bit of pressure and rub circles frantically you...

Not any longer than a minute later and you’re coming undone. Your bud sensitive to your own touch so quickly that you have to slip your hand away before your knees buckle and you’re falling in the shower. Knowing you’re taking much too long, you quickly wash your body with your lavender soap and turn off the water before stepping out of the shower. 

You’ve got the white fluffy towel wrapped tightly around your body after you dried yourself off a bit. Staring into the steamed up mirror, you are shaking your head at yourself. There wasn’t going to be a real thing. Harry wasn’t ever going to touch you like that. And you shouldn’t be standing here wishing he would. 

“Shit,” you curse under your breath as you realize you had rushed into the bathroom so fast you didn’t grab any clean clothes. 

There was no way you were going to step back into your dirty clothes and defeating the whole purpose of you having a shower to begin with. So you took a deep breath, pushed back whatever stupid nerves you had about Harry being in your room still, and walked out of the bathroom. 

“Yeh really couldn’t shut the curtains-” Harry’s words get lost in his throat as he sits up in bed and sees you standing there in a towel. His eyes are wide for only a second before he’s smugness takes over. “Forget ya clothes, love?” he asks, in which you instantly roll your eyes at him. 

“No, I was going for a new look,” you joke, turning around to open your suitcase that’s sitting on top of the dresser. 

“Well,” Harry pauses, “I quite like the new look then,” 

You have the white t-shirt you’re planning to wear in your hands, clenching the fabric as you literally have to pause and inhale deeply while your thoughts go off again. Swallowing back the lump in your throat, you make sure you’re got underwear and a bra before reaching for some black jeans. You were running out of clothes already it seems, and you seriously hated doing laundry. 

“Get up, we’ve got to head to the arena soon and I’m starving,” you order before holding your towel with one hand and your clothes in the other. Harry’s eyes dart to the items in your hand, but you’re moving too fast into the bathroom again. 

You hope that Harry’s up and going as you finish getting ready, putting on some perfume just before you hear someone pounding on your hotel room door. Your brows furrow together in confusion. Who in the world could be knocking on your door this early in the morning? Well, besides someone from the crew but with such urgency? You open the bathroom door when you hear Harry answer the room door. 

“What the-”

“God, no, it’s not like that!” You shout immediately as you met Jeff’s narrowed eyes. 

“Please explain to me why he’s standing here in his underwear, and you’re getting out of the shower,” Jeff fumes at the both of you, stepping inside of your room to shut the hotel room door behind him for privacy. You see Harry roll his eyes then he steps back and walks away from the situation entirely. 

“We were just hanging out last night talking work stuff, it got late, and then Harry realized he lost his room key and the front desk was already closed for the night,” you explained, “he slept here, on the other side of the bed,” you add, peering back over your shoulder to see Harry jumping into his trousers. Harry’s gaze meets yours, eyebrows lifted as you tell Jeff a slight lie. 

“Right,” Jeff says. 

“It’s the truth, Jeff, don’t really care if you believe it or not,” Harry huffs and walks up towards the two of you. “I’m bloody starving, can we go eat now,”

Harry doesn’t wait for either of you two to answer, reaching for the door handle and ripping open the door to walk out of the room. Seems Grumpy was bad in full force this morning. You sigh, giving Jeff one last look, before grabbing your purse and room key from the small desk and walking out of your room with Jeff behind you. 

“Get his new room key before we leave for the arena,” Jeff says just as you two are approaching Grumpy who’s staring at his phone waiting for the elevator. 

“Yes, of course, had planned on it,” you mutter out. The three of you step into the elevator then as it arrives.

Harry looks up and catches your gaze. You’re tongue sticks out to quickly wet your slightly chapped lips - noting you have to stop into a close by shop and buy some chapstick. Maybe Harry needs some too. You can’t help as the thought crosses your mind and your eyes fall down to look at his lips. It only takes a second before they’re curling upwards just a bit into a smirk. You look back up and meet his gaze, glaring at him as he keeps the smug look upon his face. What was even happening between you two? All you did was share a bed last night and now you’re looking at his damn lips, ugh. 

⏤

“Wow that looks unreal,” you say in awe while looking at your phone screen. 

“I can’t even describe the big this crowd is, Y/N, like I can’t see the end of it,” your friend, Miles, tells you as he lifts his phone up again and shows you the sea of people in DC. You’re in utter awe of it all, jealous of your good friend as he gets to be such a part of history in this March for Our Lives back in DC. 

“I wish I was there,” you groan dramatically while bringing the phone close to your mouth. Miles chuckles, showing his face once more. “Also I seriously miss you,” you add with a smile. 

“I miss you too, you’ve been away for like way too long,” he says. 

“I know, and I won’t be back in LA till after Ireland and that’s in like a month,” you pout your lips. Miles mirrors your pout before his gaze switches to the crowd around him again. “You’re vlogging this right? Cause I need to see this footage,” you say. 

“Of course I am, this is going to make a great video with an even better message,” 

“All your vids have a great message, Miles,” you smile. 

“Thanks,” he grins before flipping the camera back around to the crowd as they start up another chant. You actually got chills, way over here in Germany.

“Y/N-” you turn at the sound of Harry’s voice, seeing him enter the dressing room. He’s still got an hour till showtime, which he’s spent with Jeff doing something you can’t exactly remember right now. Harry’s brows furrow at the sight of you FaceTiming someone. He walks up behind where you sat on the sofa and peers at the screen. “Is that DC?” he asks. 

“Yup,” you nod, watching him as he stares at the screen. 

“That’s unreal,” Harry breathes out, repeating the same words you had just said. 

“Miles, say hi to Harry,” you say to your friend. Miles stutters on a word before the camera is being flipped and you see his bright wide eyes. Sure, all your friends were aware that you worked for Harry Styles but that didn’t mean they were cool with the fact. Didn’t matter how much you bitched about his bad attitude, your friends were all swooning over him just like the rest of the world. 

“Harry, hey, wow, uh congratulations of the tour and the year you’ve had man,” Miles beams. He honestly looks so cute through the grainy phone, he’s got you smiling - while Harry’s straight faced and gives him one nod. 

“Thanks, and congrats on being apart of history,” Harry says. 

“Wow, thanks, yeah it’s great here,” Miles replies. 

Harry turns to look at you now, which makes you look his way too, “hang up your phone and let’s actually get to work,” he grumbles and walks off towards the three suits for tonight. 

“Sorry about that,” you say closer to the phone while rolling yours eyes. 

“It’s fine, cool actually,” Miles says.

“I have to go now, but keep filming and send me some footage later when you get the chance,” you smile. Miles says his goodbyes and you’re ending the call sadly before standing from the sofa. 

Harry’s scowling at the suits, shoving them around roughly and barely looking at them it seems. Or else he’d notice how great the red Givenchy suit with the black shirt with white embellishments on either side of the buttons really truly was. You had actually forgotten about it, it had been an option in Paris earlier this month but you were so in love with the sparkly YSL suit to even care. But now, this red suit was everything. 

“Miles your boyfriend?” Harry asks all of a sudden. 

Your head snaps up, looking at him with your brows pulled together. Harry only asks you maybe once a year if you were still single or not. But never had it sounded so... jealous? Or were you actually going crazy after that stupid sex dream. 

“Miles is my friend,” you answer, “what suit are you leaning towards?” you ask, clearing your throat. 

“Uh, the red one,” he says while grabbing the hanger off the rack. 

“Good, I like that one,” 

“Should I go for the white boots too?” Harry asks, his voice more soft than before. You smile and bend down to pick them up, admiring the Givenchy boots that weren’t even on the runway yet - cause that’s the power Harry has in the fashion world nowadays. You remember when his tour wardrobe consisted of black jeans and black t-shirts to match. “What’re yeh grinning at?” Harry asks, eyebrows furrowed while his own lips twitched upwards. 

“Just thinkin’ about your outfits for the Take Me Home tour. I wasn’t really around for wardrobe bits involving you, but I packed a lot of it up I remember,” you explain. 

“You weren’t really ‘round much back then, kinda hid out from the boys and I,” Harry states while he focuses on taking the suit off the hanger. You smile and take the metal wire from him as he hands it your way. 

“I’ve changed since then, was a bit more nervous, didn’t really understand all this stuff,” you admit. 

“And now you’re a boss at it all,” Harry says, smiling a little while unbuttoning the shirt he currently had on. 

“Someone has to tell your ass off,” 

Harry doesn’t respond or chuckle, which causes you to glance away from the wardrobe rack and to him. He’s staring at you, lips still tugging just slightly upwards, and he’s shirtless now. It’s a sight to behold really. The strange tattoos and the bit of chest hair he’s got. And his tummy, it’s actually kinda cute. But then there’s the v line and the trail of hair that makes your head all kinds of dizzy. You find yourself checking Harry out, snapping yourself out of it before he can make some snide comment. You’re rather surprised he’s not, and there’s no smirk on his lips either as you look at his face. He’s licking his lips, eyes roaming your body. Unlike your usual outfits, you’re dressing in your best pair of black jeans - showing off your ass of course, and a rather tight ‘March for Our Lives’ shirt because Sarah wanted the slightly bigger size and the small fit you fine. Overall, you weren’t going to downplay yourself cause you looked pretty good. 

“You’re the only person I’d let tell my ass off,” Harry states, eyes finding yours once more. You’re blushing, you have to be, while the palm of your hands are getting sweaty too. 

“What are you ever going to do without me?” you question, humming afterwards while giving Harry a smile. 

He chuckles, slipping his arms into the black Givenchy shirt. As he’s buttoning it up, you find your eyes trailing each movement and that’s your queue to walk away. You make your way to the sofa once more, grabbing your tea that you had forgotten about and taking a sip to find it’s cold. You frown at the styrofoam cup and huff while taking a seat on the sofa. 

While waiting for Harry to get ready, you sit there and overthink - as per usual. Ever since Stockholm things have been a little bit different between yourself and Harry. He’s been a bit more chirpy than usual. Happier maybe? But definitely still as Grumpy as ever. Like the shameless looking that had just taken place, there’s been more questionable things and motions happening. He’s let up his flirtatious side with you a little, but still giving you a bit of attitude after to make it less awkward you suppose. And the sex dreams, well of course those haven’t gone away. Just last night you dreamt of Harry fucking you in that hotel bed in Stockholm. The dirty thoughts cause you to shake your head just as Harry sits down next to you on the sofa. 

“Tell Lambert what suit I’m wearing?” Harry asks. 

“Yep,” you nod. 

“Gonna watch the show tonight or nap again?” Harry questions, leaning back into the sofa and throwing both his arms across the back of the sofa. 

“Did you want me to watch the show?” 

Harry keeps his lips tight, looking at the small coffee table before they flicker over to meet yours. There’s something different about his look, something a bit softer and more welcoming than other times. You give him a small smile and lean your head back against the sofa - to be honest, you could use a nap after last nights late night with the girls here in Germany. To sum it up, Clare could handle more beer than you thought she could but you could out drink them all. 

“I mean, I like having everyone out there supporting me,” Harry shrugs, “but if you need some sleep, just come see me off and watch Only Angel. I know it’s your favourite,” he says. 

“I’m really starting to love The Chain,”  you state.

“Then come back for The Chain,” Harry shrugs.

You smile, “have I ever told you how much my dad loves Fleetwood Mac? He wanted to marry Stevie for the longest time, even after he married my mom,” you say, chuckling afterwards at the memory.

“So you grew up listening to them?”

“Yup, and The Eagles a lot too,”

“Me too, my dad quite liked them both,” Harry states. You hum out in response, smiling at the fact you two were talking about someone other than work. Harry turns his head, matching how you were leaning back against the sofa. “Could you imagine, Stevie Nicks being your mum?” He says.

“She basically is your second mum!” You chuckle, reaching over to smack his arm lightly. “I’m still not over meeting her twice last year, she even remembered me the second time it was crazy,”

“Why wouldn’t she remember you?” Harry questions. You can feel there’s more he wants to say, it’s almost like you can see the wheels in his head moving as he licks his lips. Just then someone’s knocking on the door, Jeff opens it up and pops his head in. You make the move to get up first as you already knew it was close to show time. And Harry’s plan wasn’t so bad, you’d walk down to ‘stage right’ enjoy Only Angel and maybe Woman and then come back till the end of the show. 

“Hey,” you call out to Harry right before he’s stepping to the stairs to get on stage. He turns back around and meets your gaze. “Have fun out there, and keep up with the birthday thing they’re eating that right up,” you tell him with a smile. Harry mirrors your small smile and nods as you reach out and fix his suit jacket. “Break a leg,” you add before shooing him off. 

No one could wipe that grin off Harry’s face even if you tried. The moment Only Angel starts up, Harry’s prancing around the stage and hyping up the crowd like always. You can’t help but smile as you watch him, singing along yourself and swaying you hips to the beat - no matter how many times you watched this show, you’d always enjoy it. 

“He seems more cheery tonight,” Jeff says, leaning towards you in order to not completely shout over the music. 

“Yeah, I noticed that too,” you agree. 

“Look, I don’t know what you’re doing but keep doing it,” 

“I don’t know what I’m doing either,” you shrug. And it was the complete truth. Sure one night you two shared a bed, and things have been less snappy between you both since then, but otherwise you aren’t entirely sure it’s because of you that Harry’s been less of an ass lately. But hey, you’ll take the credit if it means you’re in Jeff’s good books again. 

⏤

Spain was hot. And you weren’t exactly feeling the best either, so the heat wasn’t doing you any good. You typically loved the summer time and the sun on your skin, it was nice. But not when you had this dumb flu that has been making your head pound and your nose run for the past 24 hours now. Through the years of touring with One Direction, you knew it was best to just lay in bed and sleep away the sickness. Too bad Harry had a different idea. 

“Get out of bed,” he grunts. 

“How the hell did you get into my room?” you ask, brows wound tight as you peer over your blanket to see him standing at the foot of your bed with his arms crossed. 

“Told the front desk I needed a key,” he shrugs. 

“Abusing your power I see,” you mumble before bringing the blanket back over your head in hopes Harry would get the idea and leave. But of course, he doesn’t. Instead he tugs on the blanket and you have to keep a death grip with both of your hands in order to keep yourself covered. “I’m only in a sports bra, prick,” you snarl at him. 

“Got no pants on, huh? Sleep naked when you’re not sharing a bed?” Harry questions you, smirking of course. 

“No, you idiot, I’m wearing shorts too,” 

“This is besides the point, get out of bed,” Harry orders you again. 

“No,” 

“Now, come on,” Harry tries again. 

“No, seriously, go away,” you bark at him. Harry tugs the blanket again and you really want to scream at him but you’re not feeling up to it honestly. You sigh and lay there on your back, not even caring about the fact Harry’s seeing you in your sports bra right now - it was like a bathing suit, right? 

“Funny,” Harry snorts, you turn your head and see him smiling, “the roles are reversed for once,” he states. 

“At least there’s not a strange man in my bed you have to deal with too,” you say, rolling your eyes while sitting up and throwing your legs over the side of the mattress till your feet hit the ground. Harry doesn’t respond, just chews at his bottom lip like he’s in thought or something. You sniffle and end up laying back down on the mattress while pouting. 

“Almost made it,” Harry sighs. 

“M’sick, what else can you expect from me?” 

“I expect that you’re willing to push through it since we’re all getting out of the hotel and doing something today,” Harry exclaims. You let out a long groan, rolling over to grab a tissue and blow your nose. “Cute,” Harry mumbles. 

“Shut up,” you say while sitting back up again. 

“Now look who’s the grumpy one,” Harry snickers. You roll your eyes and stand up, walking passed him to get to where your suitcase was laying open. Harry turns around, watching you as you’re trying to find something acceptable to wear out in this heat. 

“You,” you sigh, “you’re always going to be Grumpy,” 

“Meh, today’s been an alright day. Woke up earlier than I needed to, went down and got breakfast with Mitch and Adam, and then the others joined us and Jeff told me about this art museum here,” Harry explains his morning thus far to you. It’s honestly rather surprising, you couldn’t recall the last time Harry had been up before you and even had breakfast with any of the band. You furrow your brows and turn back around, leaning against the dresser while crossing your arms at your chest. He has taken a seat upon your unmade bed now, still watching you.

“You didn’t drink last night? Didn’t have any whores here in Barcelona?” You question him. 

Harry shakes his head, “only had some wine with Sarah and Mitch in their room, watched a rom com, and then went to sleep in my own bed,” 

“Are you becoming a changed man, Grumpy?” you tease. 

This earns you an eye roll from Harry right away. You only snicker under your breath and turn back around to grab the thin black tank top that you’d plan to wear with some high wasted jean shorts and some sneakers. Hopefully you wouldn’t die out in the heat with this outfit. 

“Okay, get out, I need to change,” you say, shooing at Harry but he doesn’t move an inch - only give you a bigger smirk than before. 

“What, no show today? Quite like the towel bit,” he jokes. 

“Yeah, you’re definitely not a changed man,” you mumble to yourself mostly. But Harry hears you and scowls. “Seriously, I’ll text whoever and meet you all downstairs,” 

“You know I have a key right, I’ll come right back in so don’t even think about layin’ back down,” 

“Yeah, speaking of, give me the room card,” you order him, flipping your hand palm up for him to give you the key. Harry only smirks again, digging into his front pocket and handing you the key. “I won’t go back to sleep, I might travel with a handful of tissues but you’ve got me up now, congrats,” 

“Grumpy,” Harry chuckles before walking out of your room finally.

Barcelona was beautiful. You had been here twice before while touring with One Direction actually, but had never really gotten the chance to look around the city itself. Now, as you stood outside under the sun and looked up at the art installation you were really glad Harry had gotten you up this morning. You sniffle some more, walking up beside Clare as you take in more of the museum. She’s telling you about the night she and Helene had last night, making sure she tells you a million times how much you were missed though. But you assure her you had a good night sleep. 

“Oh there’s some fans,” Clare says just above a whisper. You look up from the ground and see she’s right. There’s a handful of them all standing together waiting for Harry, who’s walking just in front of you with two bodyguards by his side. 

“Let’s hope this doesn’t go wrong and I don’t have to step in today,” you say. There’s been times when Harry’s bad attitude reflects horribly towards some awaiting fans and you literally have to step in and try to make the situation better. With your sickness, you really didn’t want to today. 

“Harry,” the fans thick accents can’t be missed while they grin at Harry. 

“Hi,” he says, giving them a smile. 

“Can I get a picture?” One asks, handing off her phone to another fan before Harry even gets to answer. And he doesn’t, he just stands beside her and gives the camera a thumbs up before giving her a quick goodbye and looking to the next fan. A girl wearing a jean jacket, how in this heat you don’t know, comes up to Harry next and asks for an autograph. It’s all really sweet, Harry’s not acting out or scowling at them, so you step by the whole ordeal and step back a few feet with one of the bodyguards while waiting for him. 

“Y/N?” Clare calls out. 

“You go on, I’ll wait,” you say, because you always did - mostly to be ready to do your job and do any damage control. The girls just nod and go on towards the awaiting van. 

“Can we do a group photo, I’ve just got people waiting now,” Harry says, pointing his thumb to where you stood off by Miller, Harry’s number one bodyguard through all these years you’ve known him. 

The fans all agreed and things went smoothly, they had grins upon their faces as they wave frantically when Harry begins to walk away from the group of them. Miller steps behind him, arm outreached to protect him in case any fans got any crazy ideas but thankfully none of them did and you stepped beside Harry easily while walking towards the van. You nudge him with your elbow, causing him to look your way instead of at the ground. 

“Good job, made that easy,” you noted. 

“I’ve been doing this for quite a while, Y/N, I know how to handle a few fans,” he says. You roll your eyes. 

“Somedays aren’t as easy as that was,” 

“Whatever,” 

“Whatever,” you mock him, stepping up into the van without giving him another look. Suppose it was your fault he was giving you attitude, maybe you just should’ve stayed quiet and kept your thoughts to yourself. 

The van ride is filled with everyone giving their opinion on what you had all just seen. You were keeping quiet, eyes shut as another headache started up. Although this day was pretty great and you loved everything you saw and learnt here in Barcelona, you just wanted to be back in your hotel room and get some more sleep even. So that’s what you did, upon arriving back to the hotel you gave everyone a quiet goodbye and excluded yourself from the group while making your way back to your room. 

Not even an hour later and there’s knocking at your door. You groan to yourself, hoping you don’t have to argue with Harry about how you’re not going out for whatever dinner they had planned tonight. You just couldn’t muster up the energy to be completely real. But when you open the door and reveal room service, your brows pull together. 

“I didn’t order anything,” you say. 

“This was ordered for you, ma’am,” she says, so you step back and let them push in the cart before she leave your room again. You’re rather confused, looking at the aray of things on the cart. Soup, chips, iced water, a bottle of Advil and a entire pot of tea. Then you notice the small note beside the tea pot. 

‘feel better love -Harry’ 

You are smiling so much your cheeks hurt, while your stomach is doing that familiar twisting thing it’s been doing a lot lately - every time because of Harry of course. This was so stupid of you. To feel this way about Harry. It was stupid and reckless and you couldn’t seem to do a thing about it cause he kept doing stupid things like this. He was talking to you more about personal things, about life and his feelings and it wasn’t helping you at all either. But you had to keep it professional, you had to step back and think for a minute. Did you really have feelings for Harry?

⏤

You had taken a moment, staring at the large table here at Osteria Francescana, and thought about where you were going to take a seat at this extravagant dinner with some people from Gucci. When Jeff told you you were joining him and Harry, you were a little shocked but then snapped into shape and got yourself ready. Wearing your trusty Balenciaga boots, some black high wasted wide legged Gucci pants, and a pink floral printed long sleeve shirt that wasn’t Gucci because you could only afford so much high fashion clothing items. With your hair pulled back into a tight bun, you were rather impressed with yourself for getting so glammed up in a hotel room. 

“Il tuo ristorante è molto carino,” you say to the owner who’s sitting at the head of the table. You decided that assuming Jeff wanted you here for your Italian, you take the free seat beside him and across from Harry. 

“Tu parli italiano?” he questions. 

“Sì, da quando ero un bambino,” you smile. You could thank your grandparents on your mothers side for the lessons in Italian. They were very clear from your infant days that they wanted you to know their mother tongue, so they taught you and it’s stuck ever since.

“Is she telling you all my dirty secrets?” Harry questions from where he sat, lips tugging into a smile as you meet his gaze. 

“I’m just letting him know how lovely this place is, and that I learnt Italian when I was young. From my grandparents,” you explain, saying the last bit while looking to the owner again. 

“Qual era il tuo nome di nuovo?” he asks, smiling at you. 

“Y/N,” you answer. 

“Ah, it’s so lovely to meet you my dear,” he says, switching back to English for everyone else’s sake you supposed. 

The dinner was going amazing, the staff was fantastic and the meal was probably the best you’ve ever had. Everything was great till Harry started to scowl across from you, unsure of why exactly. Someone must’ve said something to tick him off, or maybe he didn’t like the meal he was served. Regardless his bad attitude wasn’t about to ruin this. You kick out your foot and make contact with his shin, he screws up his face and glares at you. 

“Hey, m’wearing this suit tomorrow, don’t fuck it up,” he growls. You narrow your eyes at him for the harsh language in front of so many important people. 

“Outfit repeater, huh?” you tease him. Yeah, teasing wasn’t the way to go. Harry scowls at you, something you hadn’t seen in a while. You sink back into your seat, watching Harry across from you to try and figure out what’s got him so in his head. But then the waiter that’s been waiting on your table shows up again, leaning over you slightly to fill up your water cup. You smile, looking up to meet the sweet blue eyes of the rather cute Italian young man. 

“Nient'altro signora?” he asks softly. 

You’re blushing, you just know it, “no, I’m okay,” you reply. 

Once the waiter has moved on, you bring your water to your lips and look back across the table. Harry’s scowl hadn’t left his face, in fact it might’ve even gotten harder. You can’t help but roll your eyes at him. This dinner was amazing, incredible and a huge step for his career and yet all he can do it sit there downing his drinks and scowl at everything and everyone around him. Speaking of those drinks, Harry finishes off another glass of whatever liquor he’s been ordering - and of course he catches the waiter just in time to order another. 

“Hey,” you whisper shout to Harry as the owner was getting up, mentioning something about dessert in Italian under his breath. 

“What?” Harry grunts. 

“Slow down on the drinks, you’ve had like triple anyone else has,” you exclaim. Harry only glares at you. “Stop, I’m just doing my job-” 

“Well fuck off,” he grumbles, looking away from you and down at his phone screen. You blink a few times, thrown off by his attitude since it’s been a while since he’s been so bluntly rude to you. Taking a deep breath, you have another sip of water and look off down the table to see Jeff staring at you. He needs you to step up again, to get Harry to relax and quit drinking so much. 

But you can’t. No matter the amount of kicking of his shine or glaring you do, Harry ignores you scowls and drinks more and more. Finally when it’s time to leave you can tell he’s trying to get ahold of someone. You’re sitting in the seat behind him, reading briefly how he’s getting ahold of some Italian girl to warm his bed tonight. You lean back in your seat and stare out the window as it feels like someone’s punching you in the gut. This was why you shouldn’t have gotten inside of your own head this past little while, thinking all about how nice it would be if Harry maybe felt the same way you were - but after tonight and seeing him text some floozy, it’s obvious he could never. 

⏤

You were having a bad day. Since the moment you woke up, ignoring Jeff request to get Harry up, you haven’t been having the best of days. You had forgotten about doing laundry so all you had to wear were the same Gucci high waisted black pants from last night - which makes you feel hypocritical since you bugged Harry about being an outfit repeater. Plus all you could think about was how you managed to let your feelings get in the way of your work. 

So after eating something at catering with Clare and Helene, you ended up wandering the hallways. Jeff comes into view as you get close to backstage. He’s glaring, which makes you slightly nervous as you approach him. 

“Harry’s locked himself in the dressing room,” he states, “I don’t care if there’s a half naked lady or red wine staining those stupid Gucci pillows of his, get in there and get him going,” 

“Yeah,” you pause and nod, “okay, uh, yeah,” you mumble, turning around and slowly making your way towards the dressing room. You’re taking your time, nervous of what you’re about to get yourself into. Because you’re not entirely sure your heart can handle it after the past 24 hours. 

You’re pulling gently at the tour shirt you tucked into your pants. Kicking out your sneakers against the pavement floors up till you get to the looming door to the dressing room. Maybe you could just pound on the door, yell something and then run away like a little baby. You roll your eyes at yourself and lift your fist up to knock on the door. It was time to act your age, push away any and all feelings for Harry, and do your damn job. 

“Harry,” you say loudly with your face right up by the door. He doesn’t answer. “Harry, open the door,” you try again. 

You sigh in defeat. This was ridiculous, the show started in less than two hours and you knew he wouldn’t be getting ready in there by himself. He was probably getting drunk, or maybe he wasn’t alone at all and had found himself some hot blonde who worked at the arena. You find yourself frowning at the thought. You sigh again before bringing your fist to the door and knocking. 

“Grumpy, hello, open up,” you groan, growing rather tired of this already. 

Again no answer. You press your ear to the door, hesitate at first because if he really did find someone who worked here to have a quick fuck you weren’t going to like hearing that at all. But there’s nothing. It’s like he’s not even in there. You take a deep breath and reach for the handle, maybe Harry had left since Jeff checked up on him. But of course you’re wrong as you jiggle the knob and it doesn’t open. 

“Harry, seriously!” You shout this time, not caring about the few looks you get from crew members passing by. 

Then without any warning, the dressing room door opens and you’re being pulled into the room by Harry’s large hands. His one hand stays glued to your arm while the other shuts the door behind the both of you, he pushes you back till your back hits the door. You furrow your brows and stare up at Harry, meeting his wild green eyes. There’s barely a breath from either of you before he’s leaning forward and pressing his lips to yours. 

The kiss brings a warmth over your entire body. You feel like your chest is going to explode from the feeling you get. It only takes you maybe half a second before your brain kicks in and both your hands are tangled up in Harry’s hair while your lips move with his. Harry’s lips are hot against yours but it felt too good to stop. Next thing you know his teeth graze your bottom lip, causing you to open your mouth and let him slip his tongue in. Your getting dizzy now, grasping onto his shoulder hard while his hands feel cold against your warn skin, having made their back under your skirt and drawing up and down your back. You’re so in the moment, enjoying this way too much, but then it hits you. 

“Harry,” you breath out his name, pushing back his shoulder just a bit so his lips move further away from yours. “We shouldn’t,” you add in a low voice. 

“No, we shouldn’t,” Harry agrees, his words hot on your skin. But then he’s moving back towards your face again and your stomach is doing those god damn twists and turns. You practically melt into him as his hand firmly presses your hips into his, leaving your head to lean back into the door again as he kisses you. 

Harry’s hand lifts up to your jaw, thumb resting gently on your chin as he tips your head further upwards while he puts every bit of energy he must have into this kiss. You have never been kissed like this. Such urgency and desire, all while his touch makes you feel light inside. You breath out deeply through your nose, running a hand from his temple all the way through his hair. He’s massaging your hip when you finally snap out of the exhilarating kiss.

You move so quickly, pushing away his arms and stepping into the middle of the dressing room. It takes you a moment to catch your breath, your hand absentmindedly moving to your lips to just graze over them - they felt like they were vibrating. A million thoughts are running through your mind, the biggest one being what the hell just happened... 

“Last night, you - you slept with some whore and now you think you can just come onto me like this?” you bellowed. You had hoped your voice came out sounding less weak than you were feeling right about now. 

“I didn’t sleep with anyone last night,” Harry states. His voice sounding closer while you hear his boots smacking against the floor, softening as they meet the carpet you’re currently standing on.

“What the hell, Harry?” you hiss, turning on your heels to see he’s only an arms reach away. 

He looks as bewildered as you felt. His hair flipped to the left, a large piece falling over his forehead while the rest all stuck out funny. But of course he made it work. Those stupid green eyes are soft, there’s no scowl or glare or anything like you were so used to. You swallow back the lump in your throat and lick your lips as your eyes fall down to his - why did you want to feel them against yours again so desperately? 

“You were acting out last night, you were a proper asshole to me last night,” you say. 

“Last night,” Harry begins, his voice louder now, “it all fucking hit me like a damn truck, Y/N. You were flirting with that waiter right in front of me and speaking Italian to him and I got fucking jealous,” 

You’re chewing on your bottom lip as you take in each word Harry had just said. He was jealous. He was jealous over you. And now he kissed you. Harry kissed you. You blink rapidly at him as your brain was an utter mess. Then your gaze meets the floor as you try to think of what you’re going to say next.

“M’sorry,” Harry sighs. Your head snaps back up to meet his stare. “For being such an ass last night, and for kissing you like that. That wasn’t fair of me,” 

You open your mouth, ready to tell Harry that it was okay. Because you wanted that kiss, regardless how many times you tried to tell yourself you didn’t. But then your cell phone is going off in the pocket of your pants. It’s almost as though the sound brings you both out of some trans, Harry clears his throat and shifts on his feet while you take the phone out of your pocket. It’s Jeff. 

“Hey,” you answer. 

“Is he alive? What the hell is going on?” Jeff questions you. 

“Yeah, he’s fine,” 

Harry looks back to you as he grasps the fact you’re talking about him. He’s taken a seat on the arm of the sofa, staring at you as you listened to Jeff order you to get him ready - time was ticking before the show here in Bologna, Italy was to start. You give Jeff short answers while pointing Harry to the wardrobe rack. Harry rolls his lips into his mouth, waiting a moment before reluctantly walking over to the pink suit hanging up for him. 

“Yeah, 20 minutes, I got it,” you nod. 

“Thanks for getting to him, Y/N. Don’t know where we’d be without you,” 

“Uh, without a main act I’d assume,” you joke, chuckling under your breath. 

“Wouldn’t that be fun,” Jeff chuckles a lot more light heartedly than you. You hear him talking to someone else before he’s quickly saying goodbye and hanging up the phone. Taking the phone away from your ear, you look towards Harry and run a hand through your own hair at the sight of his. 

“20 minutes, please don’t lock yourself in here again,” you say. Harry holds your gaze and you swear you feel your heart ache in your chest. Once he gives you a nod, you turn on your heels and leave the room. There was no way you could just sit in there and hangout till he was ready. 

You don’t see off Harry before he walks on stage. But you do stand by Jeff like you always do, watching Harry before the screen rises up. His eyes are glued to the floor, not seeming to even realize when the fans start to lose their minds and scream for him as he’s revealed from behind the scene. You have your arms crossed at your chest, your head feeling like it’s about to explode from everything that had just happened in the past bit, maybe you should go back and take a nap.

“I’m heading backstage,” you tell Jeff. He nods to you and then you’re walking away from the stage to go lay down in the dressing room. 

No amount of rest could prepare you for the call you take as you sit on the sofa. It’s quiet in the room, no one else is around, all you can hear is the faint sound of Harry’s songs. As you have your phone pressed to your ear, you’re no longer thinking about the kiss or your feelings towards Harry at all. All you can think about is you needed to get on the next flight back home. 

⏤

“She left?” Harry questions Jeff as they walk backstage to the dressing room. He had immediately noticed your absence and asked Jeff where you had gone. He expected maybe you were having a little nap before the show was over. But he wasn’t expecting to hear you had gotten on a plane and left him behind. 

“Yes, she’s on her way back to the US right now,” Jeff states. 

Harry’s eyebrows pull together as he lets his thoughts overwhelm his head. He had done this. He had to go and kiss her like that and now she had run away from him. This was all his fault. How stupid could he be? You worked for him, you kicked woman from his hotel room too many times, why did he think you could possibly feel the same way he did about you..

Harry keeps quiet the whole ride to the private jet that’s waiting for him and the band. He takes a seat, staring at the empty one in front of him before he pulls out his phone. Harry stares at the screen, thinking of what he’d even say to you. Maybe he could just say sorry a bunch of times till you got annoyed and came back. He sighs and leans back in the seat as he hears the jets start up. 

“Sir, please turn your phone off,” the flight attendant asks, bending close towards him. Typically Harry would shamelessly check the young woman out. But not tonight. Right now, Harry’s itching for a drink.

“Bring me somethin’ to drink, somethin’ hard,” he orders her in a harsh voice. 

part 2 >>

[amispnrewatch]

SPN 1x06 “Skin”

Okay, I’m gonna try to type while I watch this time instead of forgetting this blog exists until the episode is almost over.

You can tell the footage for the previously on segment was saved on a VHS copy instead of the original film that the show was shot with because even in the HD iTunes version I have it looks low quality as fuck. And jumpy in the way that brings me back to my teens watching the WB all the damn time.

I love this song. WTF is this song. Shazam says “Good Deal” by Mommy and Daddy. I… have no comment, except that it sounds like everything I was listening to in college at the time this shit was airing.

Aaaaand not!Dean turns around to face the SWAT team after obviously torturing some woman. THAT is a cold open.

I wanna know what that car is in the background. It’s pretty. Maybe a convertible Impala? They have similar grills. This is not at all important.

Also, I love that with these higher definition versions of the episodes you can see that Sam’s email is lawboy and whatever dot com and that people in the fandom have started calling him Law Boy. It’s hilarious.

DEAN: Well, what exactly do you tell ‘em? You know, about where you’ve been, what you’ve been doin’?

SAM: I tell ‘em I’m on a road trip with my big brother. I tell ‘em I needed some time off after Jess.

DEAN: Oh, so you lie to ‘em.

SAM: No. I just don’t tell ‘em….everything.

DEAN: Yeah, that’s called lying. I mean, hey, man, I get it, tellin’ the truth is far worse.

SAM: So, what am I supposed to do, just cut everybody out of my life? (DEAN shrugs.) You’re serious?

DEAN: Look, it sucks, but in a job like this, you can’t get close to people, period.

Aaaaand now I have Dean and Cassie feelings again and we haven’t even gotten to her episode yet.

SAM: No, man, I know Zack. He’s no killer.

DEAN: Well, maybe you know Zack as well as he knows you.

Aaaaaand now I have Dean and Lee feelings and we’re nowhere near Lee’s episode in season 15.

YOU JUST BLEW THROUGH A STOP SIGN DEAN WTF.

Little Becky. Oi with the reusing of names.

Of course Sam made friends with a bunch of rich kids while he was at college in a desperate attempt to try to be normal.

SAM: You know, maybe we could see the crime scene. Zack’s house.

DEAN: We could.

REBECCA: Why? I mean, what could you do?

SAM: Well, me, not much. But Dean’s a cop. (DEAN laughs.)

DEAN: Detective, actually.

I love that Dean was like “how dare you call me that.”

Okay, after a bit of research, I totally want to take a day trip to Bisbee, Arizona, but it’s already in the 90s here in the desert and it’s not even May so that trip is going to have to wait until… winter or something. There is no way in hell I’m going deeper into the desert when the weather gets hotter.

It’s a historic mining town tourist trap looking place now which is exactly the kind of shit I love.

SAM: Bec, look, I know Zack didn’t do this. Now, we have to find a way to prove that he’s innocent.

I mean, not technically, technically you would 1) NOT FUCK WITH A MURDER INVESTIGATION YOU’RE NOT LEGALLY INVOLVED IN BECAUSE ANYTHING YOU FIND WOULD BE INADMISSABLE IN COURT 2) find evidence to provide a reasonable doubt for the jury that he did commit the crime. You know, like a lawyer would need to do, Law Boy.

DEAN: I just don’t think this is our kind of problem.

When I made my husband watch this show with me (he’s seen it all at least once now over the years) this is the recurring thing that drove him crazy.

You guys can’t even go in through the back door? Or shut the front door behind you? Really?

REBECCA: (tearfully) Well, there’s no sign of a break-in. They say that Emily let her attacker in.

Yeah, that doesn’t even really mean that she knew her attacker. Just that it was someone she let her guard down around or got in some other way. See: The Son of Sam and Nightstalker, etc.

Love the pinup magnet on the fridge. I’d throw shade at that, but I have a pinup magnet on my fridge too so… pot kettle and all that.

Okay, both people in the next couple are gorgeous.

And oh wow those special effects changing eyes… wow.

This poor couple. I feel so bad for them in this episode.

How… how are the police gonna explain the way he was able to beat himself over the head with a bat??? I…

I love that 5:30 in the morning on TV is clearly like… 10 AM.

Okay, this is a really unrelated point, but the graffiti on the dumpster here reminds me of the Teen Wolf fandoms use of the name Void!Stiles when Stiles Stilinski was possessed by a Nogitsune… I just spent way too long digging through YouTube and my Tumblr tags from back when those episodes were airing looking for a few specific videos and couldn’t find them. The TL;DR reason I bring it up here is goofball, bi-coded main character guy getting possessed by an entity set on destroying the people he loves. SOUNDS LIKE THIS EPISODE AND A WHOLE LOT OF SPN RIGHT. I love that all these monster hunting shows call out to each other.

This scene haunts me years later and I don’t even WATCH Teen Wolf. I just watched the fandom on Tumblr collectively lose it’s shit then tripped down a Hale Pack fanfiction rabbit hole.

ANYWAY

Back to Supernatural, a show that also treated its fan base, cast, and characters like garbage! Huzzah!

DEAN: Well, there’s another way to go—down. (They look down and notice a manhole.)

I’m gonna be mature and ignore the double entendre there…

But I love that Dean thinks of the world in 3D. Which sounds like a dumb statement to make, but this is honestly a good example of that in action.

SAM: I bet this runs right by Zack’s house, too.

Really Sam, sewers run by houses? SO WEIRD. I WOULD HAVE NEVER GUESSED.

DEAN: You know, I just had a sick thought. When the shapeshifter changes shape—maybe it sheds.

SAM: That is sick. (DEAN puts the bloody pile back on the ground.)

Guys, there is a WHOLE ASS EAR in that pile of yuck you’re looking at. I think it’s pretty safe to assume the shapeshifter indeed sheds its skin like a snake. A much… gooier snake.

Sam’s friend is rightfully pissed at him for fucking with the crime scene.

This is before the pearl gripped guns?! Wow. I never noticed that before.

Also, this whole episode gives me feelings.

++++

Cool. Tumblr mobile ate a whole section of my notes on this when it crashed for NO APPARENT REASON. Love that.

It always boggles my mind that actors can trust the people they’re working with enough to let people “tie” ropes around their neck or put them in actually dangerous positions in a scene.

SHAPESHIFTER: He’s sure got issues with you. You got to go to college. He had to stay home. I mean, I had to stay home. With Dad. You don’t think I had dreams of my own? But Dad needed me. Where the hell were you?

SAM: Where is my brother? (The shapeshifter leans in close to SAM.)

SHAPESHIFTER: I am your brother. See, deep down, I’m just jealous. You got friends. You could have a life. Me? I know I’m a freak. And sooner or later, everybody’s gonna leave me. (He backs away.)

SAM: What are you talkin’ about?

SHAPESHIFTER: You left. Hell, I did everything Dad asked me to, and he ditched me, too. No explanation, nothin’, just poof. Left me with your sorry ass. But, still, this life? It’s not without its perks. (He laughs.) I meet the nicest people. Like little Becky. You know, Dean would bang her if he had the chance. Let’s see what happens. (He smiles and covers SAM with a sheet.)

This exchange is just… so much. So many feelings. And I will forever (unless we magically get a fix-it fic mini season someday…) be SO MAD that none of this got resolved in that pointless, trash heap of a finale.

REBECCA: Okay, so, this thing—it can make itself look like anybody?

SHAPESHIFTER: That’s right. (She chuckles.)

REBECCA: Well, what is it, like a genetic freak? (The shapeshifter laughs.)

SHAPESHIFTER: Maybe. Evolution is about mutation, right? So, maybe this thing was born human but was different. Hideous and hated. Until he learned to become someone else. (REBECCA looks around, uncomfortable. The shapeshifter’s eyes glint silver, and he smiles.)

It always amazes me how much of this show is a pile of accidental queer allegories parading around in an ill-fitting toxic masculinity suit.

Vulcan mind meld! I love nerd!Dean. Also, I’m rewatching Star Trek: TOS with my husband, because that is what my life amounts to these days, rewatching comfort TV and flailing over the bits I love.

This post does a better job than I can do of pairing up screen caps with the dialogue of this next scene. SIX EPISODES IN. They’re dumping all of this character depth SIX EPISODES IN. FUCK THIS SHOW FOR NOT EMBRACING ITSELF.

Okay, I love that he screams back in her face after he threw the phone. It’s not something to laugh at because the situation is horrifying, but I can’t help laughing at it every time.

AND THE WAY THEY CUT THESE SCENES. Going from him winding his hand back to backslap her directly to him dropping the chains on the table to show how hard he must have hit her without actually making the actors hit each other. Good job editing department!

I… don’t understand the shifter’s motivation for killing people. If he can take over people’s identities without killing them, why kill them? Is it just because he’s a homicidal, rapist piece of shit? Cause that’s all it seems like.

How did the SWAT team even know she was being attacked? Why can the snipers aim no better than Storm Troopers?

Ugh, these kind of transformation body horror scenes are exactly why werewolf stories have never really appealed to me much. Like, I could do without watching your ribs move and teeth fall out, dude.

BUT.

THIS FUCKING SCENE.

I looked up the song that’s playing over shapeshifter!Dean being caught by the SWAT team and then going through the grotesque transformation. (And as far as I know, the iTunes version has the original music from the episodes.)

It’s a song called “Mary” by The Death Riders

Who's your mother, who's your mother here boy // Who's your mother, whos your mommy dear // Who's your father, who's your father here boy // Who's your father, who's your daddy dear

Silently screaming // Where everyone knows // Daddy's always watchin' // Where everywhere - everywhere I go

I don't wanna be a freak show pretty boy anymore // I don't wanna be a full time slave // I don't wanna be your midnight cowboy anymore // I just want to be Mary

This is… a fascinating choice. Here are the rest of the lyrics. The song as a whole has a weird incesty kinda vibe to it? Kinda like when SPN tries to straight-wash itself and misses the mark wildly. (Like Dean’s male siren episode.)

The midnight cowboy line reminded me of 12x11 and the bull riding scene with “Broomstick Cowboy” by Bobby Goldsboro playing over it

Dream on, little Broomstick Cowboy, // Dream while you can; // Of big green frogs, // And puppy dogs, // And castles in the sand.

For, all too soon you'll awaken; // Your toys will all be gone. // Your broomstick horse will ride away, // To find another home. // And you'll have grown into a man, // With cowboys of your own. // And then you'll have to go to war, // To try and save your home.

And then you'll have to learn to hate; // You'll have to learn to kill. // It's always been that way, my son; // I guess it always will.

Because, you know, why not add tons of feelings into the lyrics, right?

Props to the people who can embrace their rewatches and reclamations of the show with ease. Because every episode seems to remind me of how hollow and tragic Dean’s ending was and I just… struggle all over again.

Anyway, back to the episode so I can move on with my day.

REPORTER: An anonymous tip led police to a home in the Central West End, where a S.W.A.T team discovered a local woman bound and gagged. Her attacker, a white male, approximately twenty-four to thirty years of age, was discovered hiding in her home. (A sketch of DEAN appears on the screen.)

DEAN: Man! That’s not even a good picture. (SAM looks around cautiously.)

SAM: It’s good enough. (He walks away.)

DEAN: Man! (He follows SAM.)

(CUT TO: Alley. DEAN and SAM are walking. DEAN steps into a puddle.)

DEAN: Ugh, come on.

I love that we get two tiny little back-to-back vanity moments for Dean here. One commenting on the sketch artist rendition of him being broadcasted on the news and the other tripping in the puddle. There is literally someone running around the city trying to kill people while wearing Dean’s face, but Dean is still concerned with how he looks appears to others. He’s still concerned with keeping up his own performance. The shifter left him with just a t-shirt, so he doesn’t even have his usual comfort layers on and at any moment someone could spot him and call the police or try to kill him for assaulting Sam’s friend. His life is wildly out of control in that moment and the only thing he can try to focus on is his appearance (something semi-controllable) and finding the shifter before any of that other shit can happen.

One day I want to put together a like top 10 episodes focusing on / explaining each TFW character from the series. Like the kind of list you could show someone who’s never seen the show, but has OPINIONS about the characters (or who hasn’t seen the whole show and seen the growth they went through… you know, like the people responsible for the travesty of 15x20). This episode would be on that list. I’m not sure how I could manage to make a list of only 10 episodes to understand Dean Winchester by, but eh.

SAM: What are you gonna do to me?

SHAPESHIFTER: Oh, I’m not gonna do anything. Dean will, though.

SAM: They’ll never catch him.

SHAPESHIFTER: Oh, doesn’t matter. Murder in the first of his own brother? He’ll be hunted the rest of his life. (He picks up a sharp knife and examines it.)

Speaking of season 15 in general, this right here. This was Chuck’s villain story arc thesis statement. AND THEY DROPPED THE GODDAMN BALL WITH IT. I think that’s the thing that honestly pisses me off the most these days (about 5 1/2 months from when the finale aired) is that they tried making the whole thing a tragedy but did such an awful job with it that it just ended up like a deflating condom balloon at a dive bar concert. Disappointing and gross. The finale for season 14 set them up SO FUCKING WELL and it just… didn’t get there.

Becky’s parents are gonna be pissed at how torn up their house is after all this shit…

And you’re not shooting him when you first see him strangling Sam because…?????

I like that he took the necklace back. Also, is this kinda Dean death number .5 of the show? Like it wasn’t him but it was also kinda him. Eh.

At least they left the windshield on Baby this time. Reflections are better than tearing her apart.

[deadanddeactivated]

Changes

So @figurative-siren-song posted a thing today and uhh apparently i was really in the mood to write some heavy angst. This was before i was having a really shitty day (tbh when i wasnt having a shitty day it had a happy ending).

Anyway no fancy post editing because tumblr mobile sucks, please enjoy

AO3

--

The sides weren't like real people.  They couldn't just… reinvent themselves or change the way a real person could.  When the sides wanted to change, they had to break apart. Become a fragment of their old selves, and let the other fragments fade.

Virgil knew a thing or two about changing.

Not like De, who was still self-preservation no matter what he called himself.   Or like the twins, who couldn't even remember King tearing himself in two.

Forgetting didn't work so well for Virgil.  Instinct wouldn't have made the mistakes Fear and Anxiety had.  

Then again, Instinct was the one that started the whole mess.

(It's not like the memories had stayed away anyway.  Not like with the twins. Virgil supposed he should have expected that.  It just wasn't in his nature to forget, even if he couldn't remember what he wasn't forgetting.)

The point is, Virgil knew a thing or two about changing.  

So the pit in his stomach didn't really come as a surprise.  He knew the risks. Lifetimes ago Instinct and King had talked about them at length.

"Hey Roman."  Virgil greeted that morning, hoping Roman didn't notice how tense his smile was.  "You want to spar or something today?" 

"Don't distract me!"  Roman declared, yanking a snack from the cupboard and turning back towards his room.  "I have to get this project done! Thomas is depending on me!"

"Oh."  Virgil breathed, even though Roman was already gone.  Patton walked in next, offering a smile as he prepared a quick breakfast of sugary cereals.

"Good morning Virgil!"  He greeted.

"Morning Pat."  Virgil returned the smile, even if it didn't  reach his eyes. "Hey, do you maybe want to bake today?  I think we're running low on cookies."

"Oh that sounds swell!"  Patton said. "But Thomas is feeling a bit disheartened at the moment, I need to spend the day lifting his spirits!"

"Right, of course."  Virgil mumbled. 

"Thanks for understanding kiddo, we'll bake tomorrow."  Patton assured, planting a kiss atop Virgil's head as he passed.

"Tomorrow, right."  Virgil agreed, looking down at his hand.  Tomorrow.

Logan was already at work when Virgil knocked at his door. 

"Yes?"  He asked, sounding a little annoyed at being interrupted.  Virgil hesitated, biting his lip a moment before pushing on.

"I was just wondering if you wanted to go stargazing, maybe."  Virgil suggested. "The sky in Remus' side of the mindscape always does cool things when you're around."

"My apologies Virgil but I am busy preparing next week's schedule.  Perhaps we can go some other time." Logan refused and immediately turned back to his work, assuming the conversation to be over.  Virgil just sighed, stepping from the room and wondering what now.

As he was turning to his own room, thinking of maybe writing a letter, the rundown door at the end of the hall caught his eye.  

Trying in person couldn't do any harm, right?

Stepping through to the other side of Thomas' mind, Virgil was a little surprised to find he remembered exactly how to get to the living room.  He even remembered which of the floorboards creaked and which would break if he stood on them. It was actually a little bit of fun and by the time he found De, reading on the couch, he was smiling.

"He De!"  He greeted.  "Wanna hang out?"

"Why?"  De hissed, destroying Virgil's good mood.  "I'm sure the others didn't send you here to spy on me."

"What? No, I just wanted to-"

"Don't save it."  De spat, standing.  "You didn't choose your side, don't live with it."  Without another word, De walked off.

That…

That didn't go the way Virgil was hoping.

But it's alright, he told himself.  There was still Remus. Hopes high, Virgil eventually found the green side in his side of the imagination.

"Remus!"  He called, waving.  The glare Remus shot his way made Virgil stagger back.

"Fuck off."  The duke growled.

"Wait, Remus-" But before Virgil could speak, throned vines rose from the ground to separate them.

"I said fuck off."  Remus repeated.

Oh.

Right.

Okay.

That's…

That's fine.  

It's fine.  

Virgil will just try again tomorrow, right?

But even as he thought it, Virgil knew he wouldn't last that long.  He didn't have the drive to fight against the growing pit in his chest.

Wiping his eyes, Virgil knew there was really only one thing left to do.  It still took him another moment to sink out.

"Virgil!"  Thomas startled as Virgil appeared, jumping back from his computer. "Uh, not that I'm complaining but what are you doing here?  I'm not anxious."

"I know."  Virgil said, leaning against the back of the couch and looking off to the side.  "I just, wanted you to know that I'm proud of you. You're doing a great job."

"Thanks?"  Thomas frowned, sounding unsure.  "Is everything alright man?"

"Yeah."  Virgil lied.  "It's nothing I wasn't prepared for."  He took a deep breath and forced himself to look at Thomas.  "Bye Thomas." He said.  

Then, in a blink, he was gone.

Instinct sat with King a lifetime ago.

"If you break apart you might fade."  Instinct warned.

"I'm going to tear myself apart no matter what."  King argued. "Maybe this way I'll survive it."

"It's too dangerous." Instinct argued.

"It's my only choice."  King shrugged. "I'm going to forget this.  I don't want the mini mes to know about this, just in case they keep breaking.  In case they become something so small, Thomas doesn't need them anymore."

"Thomas is always going to need his creativity."  Instinct claimed.

"Not this one he doesn't.  I don't make sense to him anymore."  King sighed. "Look after them, won't you?"

"...I will."  When King broke he tried for two perfect halves and yet Virgil's pretty sure there were pieces missing.  Things so very King that went to neither Roman nor Remus.

Years later Instinct sat alone.  

Thomas wasn't listening to him, the sides weren't listening to him.  He couldn't be sure if it was Morality turning Patton, and therefore all of Thomas, against him.  Or was it Thomas' new ideas of instincts being somehow lesser than normal thoughts. Maybe it was Instinct himself athat had pushed them away.

Whatever the cause, the problem remained.  Thomas wasn't listening to him. The sides weren't listening to him.  He couldn't do his job like this.

What was the solution?

King.  King was.  

That night, something in Instinct broke and he ceased to be.  

Fear arrived in the mindscape a few days later.

Fear had long since broken into Anxiety when the memories started flooding back.  Spurred on by desperate attempts to remember a name he wasn't sure he had.

And with those memories came a realization.

Anxiety was a fragment of a fragment.  He was too small a side. Instinct could handle a change in Thomas.  But Anxiety? One wrong change and he'd cease to be.

That night Anxiety tried to leave first, hoping it might hurt less.

Now, fading into Thomas' subconscious, Virgil was glad he stuck around.  He just wished he had longer, to fix the things he broke.

But Anxiety wasn't like Emotions or Logic or Creativity.   Next to them he was just a small part of Thomas. A part Thomas could manage himself now.  He didn't need Virgil.

Would the others notice, Virgil wondered.  Would they realize what he'd been asking for all day? 

Would they care?

Virgil didn't have long left to ponder that.

None of the sides were particularly happy to be called for an unscheduled meeting, all rather busy.  However they couldn't just ignore a summons from Thomas. Patton, Logan, and Roman appeared together and yet Thomas looked around desperately, like he was looking for something.

"Is everything alright kiddo?"  Patton frowned.

"You threw off my groove!"  Roman claimed.

"Where's Virgil?!"  Thomas asked, panicked.

"Why he's right-"  Logan cut himself off, turning to see Virgil's regular spot empty.  "That's odd." He frowned.

"Did something happen?"  Patton asked.

"I don't know!  He just, he popped in and he said he was proud of me and then he was just, gone!"  Thomas explained.

"But you clearly still have your anxiety."  Logan noted. "You acted rather different when you didn't."

"Then it can only be one thing!"  Roman declared. "Rise, you fiends!"  At his shout, Deceit and Remus find themselves appearing.

"Oh yes, this is exactly what I wanted to do today."  Deceit claimed, rolling his eyes.

"What did you do to him?!"  Roman demanded.

"Who? Jeffery Dahmer?"  Remus asked, tilting his head with a smirk.

"I believe he's asking if you've seen Virgil."  Logan clarified.

"Not at all."  Deceit huffed. "He certainly didn't try to trick me into 'hanging out' with him."

"Me too!"  Remus gasped.  "So I skewered him with thorns!"

"Remus!"  Patton exclaimed.

"Okay so I didn't skewer him."  Remus grumbled. "But I tried! And that's what counts!"

"Virgil must have been real desperate if he went to you two for company."  Roman muttered.

"He did ask if I could spend time with him, unfortunately I was busy with the schedule."  Logan said.

"He asked me too."  Patton realized.

"Geez, what would make our local loner desperate for company all of a sudden?"  Roman asked.

"His room."  Patton whispered.  He sunk out quickly.

"Patton?"  Thomas called, concerned.

"What about Virgil's room?"  Remus questioned. "Is it dirty?"  He smirked.

When Patton rose up a moment later, his face was seldom enough to put them all on edge.  He opened his mouth to say something but instead found tears filling his eyes.

"Patton?"  Logan pressed.

"It's, it's gone!"  Patton managed through tears.

"Guess you lot weren't good enough for perfect ol Virgy either."  Remus smirked.

"No." Logan said, understanding washing over him.  "If his room is gone that means… Virgil faded."

"What?  No, that's impossible!  Thomas still has anxiety!"  Roman argued.

"Thomas will always have anxiety.  However, he no longer needs Virgil to manage it."  Logan explained, shaking his head and trying to pretend his hands weren't shaking.

"I still need Virgil!"  Thomas argued. "We have to bring him back!"

"I'm sorry Thomas, you don't need him.  Subconsciously, you know that." Logan said.

"But we can bring him back, can't we?"  Roman asked.

"No."  Patton sobbed.  "We can't." A thunk cut into the sense of grief falling over the sides.  Turning, they saw Remus had fallen to his knees.

"I…"  Remus' voice was a whisper, quieter than any side had heard it.  "I didn't let him talk. He tried to talk to me."

"He wasn't lying." De said.  "He was trying to say goodbye."

"He isn't gone!"  Remus screamed. "Maybe he's just, he just moved back, yeah?  Let's go check De, I bet he's picking a movie for movie night!"  He decided.

"Remus."  Deceit tried but Remus was already gone, racing through the mindscape for a room that wasn't there anymore.  Patton sobbed louder to the side but Deceit barely heard him.

Virgil tried to say goodbye.

Deceit never let him.

He's not going to get a second chance.

Another thunk rang through the room.