And I Can’t Give That To You.

Your Delicate Point Of View

Summary : you & harry switch bodies. and well, you’ve both always been fairly curious.

TW : smut

Word Count : 2k

A/N : there is zero plot, i’ve just been wanting to write this very bizarre piece of smut. lets just go with it ya ? ✌️

you weren’t sure how it happened. weren’t even sure when it happened. and you didn’t notice until you start to stir from your sleep, arm reaching out instinctively for harry, only for your hand to smack down hard on the nightstand.

you blink your eyes open, squinting hard at the mid morning light, and when the fuck did you switch sides ? you always lay on the left side of the bed, when did you end up on harry’s side ? 

as sleep lifts from you more and more, your eyes starting to focus clearer to your surroundings, something feels off. eyebrows furrowing, your pupils fall on the hand that fell on the nightstand. is that harry’s hand ?

you blink hard and fast, willing any fogginess away, your eyes now properly focused, both hands above you, twirling them around, trying to process why you’re looking up at harry’s hands. but you were moving them ? what the absolute fuck ?

you chance to look next to you, hoping, praying, that this is some kind of really fucked up, vivid dream. but when you end up face to face with, well, your face, and your body, panic starts to set in.

you tentatively poke your body awake, watching it stir, groaning, “s’early, love.”

you notice the furrow in your eyebrows, eyes squinting open and looking back at you, jumping up as realization seems to set in quicker than it did for you.

“what the-“ harry cuts himself off, your voice coming our of what he assumed would be his mouth, completely threw him. because really, why would he assume otherwise. but now he’s staring back at his body, slight panic etched on his features.

“harry,” you whimper quietly, scared and looking for your boyfriend’s comfort.

“lovie,” he coos, noticing the need for consolation, pulling you into him, uh well, you. 

and it was all sorts of awkward. harry is not at all used to being so short and small. you’re not used to the lanky limbs and extra muscles. 

but you somehow manage, harry’s body being tucked into yours, harry giving your head, his head, a few kisses. which he did as a form of comfort to you, while simultaneously freaking himself out because he’s kissing the top of his own head, and he never knew the smell of his own hair could bring such a sense of calm. it seems your body still reacts the same way to certain things, muscle memory and all that. doesn’t mean it’s any less freaky, harry thinks to himself.

“we’ll figure this out, yeah ?” harry hums, still getting used to hearing your soft melodic tone as he speaks. 

“uhh, harry,” you murmur, a hint of embarrassment in your tone, biting your lip, his lip, as you look up, “you’re hard.”

“what ?” he asks confused, pulling his body away to look at you properly, “what are you on about, love ?”

without any words, you look down to harry’s lap, nodding, before looking back up. and realization dawns on him. his body betrays him every morning, in the form of a stiffy. something he either sneaks off and takes care of, or waits for you to wake up and take care of.

but this. this feeling was so foreign to you. not only did you now have a whole extra appendage between your legs, you had a whole extra appendage that was incredibly hard and absurdly uncomfortable pressed up to some all of a sudden much too tight boxer shorts.

“just-“ harry hums, his hand, your hand, reaching out on instinct to give a pull. he knows all too well how you must be feeling, never too much of a comfortable situation. he can’t imagine how it must feel for you. doesn’t exactly remember the first ever time he got a stiffy, but it was surely shocking none the less.

but as his hand, your hand, wraps itself around  his hard prick, he’s stunned to hear the loud moan come out of you, out of his throat, at the mere slight touch. “s’it good ?”

“fuck, does it always feel like this ?” you ask, biting your lip, his lip, a ragged breath escaping you, eyes looking up in slight embarrassment.

“yeah, pet. s’always like that,” harry chuckles. “fuck, this is weird isn’t it ? we can’t possibly-“ he cuts himself off, heat working its way up to his cheeks, your cheeks, as it simultaneously works its way down to his, your, core. “kinda wanna try,” he hums, knowing that you’ll surely understand what he’s trying to say, because christ, it is much too weird to speak out loud. “are you curious too ?”

and well, yes, you were curious, especially after that glorious touch harry just provided. besides, who isn’t curious ? who wouldn’t be intrigued in knowing how sex feels for the opposite form of genitalia ?

but fuck, could you really ? because at this moment you’re staring back at yourself and you’re expected to what ? start snogging yourself ? “it’s so fuckin weird,” you murmur. “so curious, but fuck, s’weird kissin on myself.”

harry chuckles, a playful twinkle in his eye, your eye, when he looks up, nodding, “it is weird. s’fuckin weird. but like you said, m’so curious. what if we keep our eyes closed ?”

you close your eyes, his eyes, biting hard on your, his, bottom lip, whispering, “you make the first move.”

and so he does, because as weird and as mind boggling as this entire morning has been so far, he can’t lose the opportunity to feel this. feel what you feel. so he tentatively leans forward, kissing your neck, his neck, trailing slow, tiny pecks up the side from shoulder to ear.

harry places his, your, hands onto your, his, hips, squeezing as he coos against your ear, his ear, “feel like my insides are vibrating. s’that your clit that m’feeling ? s’so achy, fuck.”

that manages a chuckle out of you, smirking, “now imagine that times a million, when you get in your teasy moods and wont touch.”

“m’sorry. fuck, gotta grind down on something,” he whines, “so different from a stiffy. christ, how are you feeling pet ?”

“s’so hard. it hurts, harry,” you whimper, feeling his, your, head tucking itself in your, his, neck, taking a shaky breath.

“wanna do something about that ?” he asks, hopeful. he’s never felt such an intense throbbing sensation. needs to quell it, needs to squeeze your thighs. needs to rut down on something, needs to be filled. fuck, he never thought he’d completely understand the intensive need to be filled up. but it’s the perfect description for how he’s currently feeling. your body needs to be fucked. and based on the tent happening in his boxers, he can assume his body wants the same thing.

“i do,” you whine breathily, “guide me harry ?” you ask, still not wanting to open your eyes, feeling him position you on top of him, slotted between his, your, wide open legs.

“wait,” harry whispers, “can you- “ he cuts himself off, slight embarrassment etched into the tone of voice. “i know your body’s used to it, but can i have a finger first ?”

“fuck,” you breathe, “of course harry.” because you absolutely remember how nerve wracking your first time was. so you tentatively reach down between your bodies, fingertips ghosting over your cunt.

this was something you were fairly used to, you knew how to make yourself feel good, and honestly you were a bit excited to show off your skills for harry. 

he shudders beneath you, taking a deep breath, as your finger gently flicks over your clit, stomach muscles flinching, harry gasping through a breath, “oh fuck.”

you keep stroking from your entrance to your clit, adding more pressure, listening to harry’s breathy moans, his fists tight in the bedsheets, as you coo, “s’it feel good ?”

“christ, poppet,” he groans, hips bucking on instinct, “need to feel more.”

“remember this when things go back to normal,” you reply smugly, your middle finger slipping effortlessly into your heat, curling up immediately, hitting that spot inside you that you know so well.

harry’s hips, your hips, raise off the bed slightly, back curling, loud whimper escaping the depths of his, your, chest, “jesus fuck-“ he cuts himself off, hips rolling into your hand. 

as you add a second finger, his eyes, your eyes, roll back, body trembling more and more, “christ, poppet, s’so fucking good, fuck. so good.”

“want more ?” you ask quietly, wanting, needing, some relief yourself. having a painfully hard prick was not something you were getting used to any time soon. and now that you’d gotten over the initial shock of hearing yourself moaning back at you, you wanted nothing more than to fall into this the same way harry seems to be doing.

“please,” he whispers around a breath, feeling your, his, lips press against his, yours. with both your eyes closed, mouths occupied with kissing, for a moment absolutely nothing felt out of place. this was a groove you could both fall into, in a natural way. 

slight nerves overtook you as your touch leaves your cunt, guiding harry’s cock into yourself.

“fuck,” you both groan, foreheads falling together, harry gasping for air, holding onto you for dear life.

you could feel your walls split themselves apart, could feel the first push from the head of harry’s cock. the overwhelming warmth, the powerful clench, the drowning wetness, it was all so much.

and fuck, harry’s never felt anything so brain fogging in his life. having something quite literally split him open and thrust into the deepest depth of his, your, tummy, legs falling open in an invitation for more. there was nothing more exhilarating, nothing more intimate, that he’d ever experienced. 

“fuck, harry,” you whine, hips thrusting at a steady pace, feeling so overwhelmed , so deliciously good, so skin tingly warm, but you had no idea how to control this body. no idea how to prolong this. you were just learning how to properly work his muscles, holding back an orgasm was a bit of a stretch.

it almost felt like losing your virginity all over again. without any awkward, slight discomforting moments. a brand new feeling entirely. one of intense pleasure.

“feels good, yeah ?” harry groans, working through the dizzying clusterfuck in his brain, unsure how to process this feeling, in an attempt to still be there for you. his typical role not being pushed aside easily, although the reversal does a fair job at trying. it’s obvious that your body likes what it likes, and being on the submissive end seems ingrained in your bones. but harry’s brain is desperate to fight it, every ounce of his being needing to be sure you were okay.

“so fuckin good, christ, don’t know how to hold back,” you whine, hands landing on your breasts, needing something to hold onto. with your, his, thumb and forefinger, you’ve got your nipples in a tight grip, harry groaning louder, back arching to press your chest further into his hands. 

“christ, shit-“ harry moans loudly, “fuck, don’t hold back, cum with me, yeah ?”

and if the desperation in him wasn’t enough, it was absolutely the hard clench of your cunt, as harry felt his orgasm peak, that tipped you over the edge.

“fuck, fuck,” you groan with each spurt of hot white cum, coating the insides of your walls, cock rutting deeper and deeper with each wave bubbling out.

harry’s jaw, your jaw, is slack, breathy pants and whimpers echoing through the room, as he comes down from the most body wrenching orgasm he’s ever felt.

“thank you,” he whispers, catching his breath, fingertips instinctively rubbing your, his, arms as you come down as well.

you hum, nodding and smiling in bliss, “can’t believe that just happened.”

harry chuckles, kissing his head, “weirdest fuckin thing i’ve ever done. wouldn’t change a thing.”

……

Masterlist

tags : @gorlsinmultifandoms

and i can’t give that to you.

in which harry suffers from seasonal depression and she doesn’t know how to help.

Keep reading

behind the doors

pairing: tanktoprry x yn

summary: we all know harry has been closed off for sometime, but what happens one night when his performance falls flat and the doors open to something new?

a/n: i wrote this months ago and haven’t read it since. i forgot what’s in here. have fun reading it xoxo missed you guys.

——————————

She couldn't tell if Harry was going through a heated-sex crazed phase, or if his other side pieces had dropped him. For the last week and half, she would wake up to the beckon of Harry inviting her to his home. Though she didn't ask questions and still went; her body was falling tired from all the passionate sex they'd been having.

The sex was rough, at first, but that was normal. It was always rough, raw, dirty sex. But as the days went, the sex got softer and softer until Harry was found torso to torso with her, arms wrapped around her neck to bring her impossibly closer with his lips that couldn't seem to tear away from hers.

It was a phase, she thought.

Harry had been getting awfully clingy, like after sex he would actually ask her to stay in bed and cuddle, but the way he would ask would be grim and gruff. He had a reputation of being cold, that he never changed, even after the softer sex they had been having.

"I'm heading out," She would tell him, to which his body would stiffen and his hand would place firmly onto her thigh to stop her from leaving the bed, "What?"

"Well, just--" Harry mumbled huskily, not making eye contact with her as his body sank into the bed, training his sight on the wall ahead, "You can stay, or whatever. I don't mind it, you're like--a spoiled brat, so..."

His argument was always that she spoiled and he knew that she wanted cuddles afterwards, but she hadn't asked him for that since they first started seeing each other. She knew not to ask because he always got so cold about it. So instead, she always just left after they were finished having sex.

That's how it's always been.

But recently, not so much. There had been some days that she would be out with her friends and Harry would call her to come over and spend time with him, or just have sex in general. Whenever she would decline because she was busy, Harry was quick to persuade her in ways that he knew what would get her over there.

It worked every time.

But this time, it was different.

There they laid in bed with one another, tangled up, breaths hot against one another as he snapped his hips to further his aching cock inside of her. Harry felt like his body was on fire, her mouth was spewing moans against the shell of his ear, her fingers dragging red marks down his back from how good he made her feel.

Typically Harry only lasted ten to fifteen minutes in bed, that was average for anyone, but today? He was lasting a lot longer than usual. It took him sometime for his dick to work and that was embarrassing enough. She had never seen him like that before. She questioned if he had some type of ED, but then again, Harry was a closed off person and didn't want to pry.

"Fuck, you feel so good," She broke the silence, pardon; the awkward silence between the both of them. Harry always commented on her, whether it be the way her pussy feels or the way she begs for him in bed, but he was so silent this time, "You like my pussy? Like how it feels?"

She felt his body tense up, a low growl rutting through his throat as he let out a sigh, with a slight nod, "Yeah, feels really good." He was short with her, causing red alarms to sound in her head as she watched him work himself inside of her.

Maybe it was because of all the sex he had been having lately that he wasn't able to perform the way he wanted, or maybe there was something on his mind. Either way, she was confused and ultimately it pulled her out of her mood.

His chestnut curls fell onto the sweaty skin of his forehead, as he continued to thrust inside of her, and he felt himself on the edge, but it wasn't the edge that he was wanting. He was annoyed with himself, but refused to show it, so instead he grabbed her face and slammed their lips together to make out feverishly in hopes that it kept him afloat.

Even with her dripping pussy, the way it made him feel, the way it gripped onto his cock; he lost it. He was sent over the edge, and she felt it from the inside, and suddenly the both of them got quiet, the only sounds in the room was the both of them panting out and catching their breaths.

Honestly, this was the first time this had ever happened to her, and to be frank, was not a good thing for her ego. She tried not to let it hurt her feelings, but the way Harry looked so frustrated was confirmation that it was him; not her.

"It happens all the time," She said quietly as he slid out of her, not saying a word as he fell back onto the bed beside her, "Seriously, with age and all--"

"Can you just not comment on it?" Harry snapped softly as he annoyingly grabbed his clothes from the side floor and sat himself up to get dressed. She blinked.

"Maybe I can go down on you, help you get off. I don't mind if I don't this one time," She didn't want to poke at him, but this was embarrassing enough and she didn't want him to feel bad about it, "I can use my tongue, do that thing you really like--"

"Can you just stop?" Harry was turned to the wall, pulling his sweats on as he barely glanced back at her, "Why don't you just get dressed and leave, alright? I gotta be up early in the morning for work."

She glanced at the clock, it was only eight and Harry never went to bed till eleven. It was the last straw, she couldn't take it. She had been sleeping with Harry for almost a year now and even though they weren't together, she still cared about him. It was only natural, and it was obvious that something was very much wrong with him.

"What is your problem lately?" She finally snapped, grabbing her shirt as she tossed it on carelessly and stood to her feet to dress her bottom half, a rough sigh leaving her. "You have been acting really weird lately, I haven't asked questions, but I think I deserve to know why you have been acting this way?"

"I haven't been acting weird, you're acting weird," His brow perked, a hint of annoyance behind his eyes as he stood close to the wall, arms crossed over his chest.

"Really? At most I used to see you twice a month, maybe three times if we are feeling froggy, but you have texted me every day for the last week and a half asking me to come over. Did something happen with the, uh...other girls, or?"

A scoff came from Harry, "Since when has that ever been your business? Ever thought that you were the only one that texted back fast enough? I mean, Christ, Y/N, what's up with the probing questions?" His arms flew up in defense as he left the room, but she was quick to follow after him. She was not buying his piss ass excuse.

"I'm not trying to fight with you, I'm just worried, Harry. That's all! Am I not allowed to feel worried about you?" She said gently, but it had a sharp edge to it. Harry grimaced, body tensing as he busied himself with his phone.

"That's your fault for caring," He said, not looking up from his phone, "You knew what this was, maybe you shouldn't have let your feelings get in the way of what this is."

"You know, you can be such a fucking dick sometimes!" She snapped, her voice raising just enough to make Harry look at her, "I know what this is, but hell, Harry, it's almost been a year since we started sleeping with each other. It's normal to form some sort of attachment, or emotion to the people in your life. I do care about you, whether you like it or not; which I know you hate it, but believe it or not there are going to be people in your life that actually like you! And care about you!"

"Oh, what are you going on about, Y/N? You act like I'm some guy made outta fuckin' stone, when I'm not. I couldn't give a fuck about it, but if you're gonna get all weird and emotional on me, then I don't wanna hear about it!" Harry defended while waving his hands around, throwing his phone onto the couch then gestured towards the door, "Can you just leave already?"

"There's obviously something wrong if--!" She stopped herself, gulping harshly when she realized that she was about to point, uh, that out and Harry cut her a evil look.

"Go ahead, say it."

"No."

"If my dick isn't working, yeah?" Harry scoffed, rolling his eyes as he fixed his sweatpants that rode low on his hips, "Thanks for pointing that out by the way, thought I could've gotten away without you noticing." He was being sarcastic, and he laid it on thick.

"That's not what I meant, Harry, you know that. I only point it out because that's never happened between us..." She sighs, walking closer to him as she takes his hands and places a soft kiss to his rings, "I know you don't like talking about your feelings, but I am here if you want to talk."

His features only softened just slightly, she could feel the tension in his hands relax softly and she thought she was getting somewhere. Cracking open the eggshell after the year they had spent with one another. That was until...

"Thanks, but no thanks," His hands burned at her touch, he pulled them from her grasp as he took a step back, "Now, leave."

She stared at him in disbelief, her jaw almost dropping from how cold he was being compared to the last week of him being sweet. It was enough to make her lid blow off the top, her hands shaking from anger, but she tried to contain them with balled fists even if the shivering bottom lip was a dead giveaway from her emotions.

"You know what?" She took a gradual step back, grabbing her jacket from the couch before patting towards the door, but sparing him a knowing glare, "I'm not doing this with you. You obviously have fucking problems and I'm not a punching bag you can take them out on. Just lose my number because I'm done."

Her voice shook, and she felt a pang of pain in her chest as she spoke. Harry's eyes slightly widened, then softened as his lips parted to say something, but she swung the front door open and stomped her way out of the mess he made.

Harry just stood there, staring at the door with sweaty palms as he tried to process everything that was said. Taking his phone, he shakily opened his contacts and scrolled through the empty list. All the nicknames he had for everyone was gone, he had deleted them all. They weren't what he wanted anymore. It was weird to him, because he had never came to terms with his feelings when they suddenly popped up almost a month ago, and maybe he knew what they were; but he was ignoring them.

But there was only so much he could ignore.

He stared down at her contact, one that used to be named as The Pretty One, had been changed to her name. His fingers tightened on the phone, a harsh sigh leaving his lips as he threw the phone onto the couch and did the only thing he could think to do.

He ran after her.

She was just getting into her car, almost on the verge of tears. Not because Harry hurt her feelings, but because she did care about him. Maybe a little too much, more than she would ever admit to herself. She had been so lenient with him, let him do whatever makes him happy and she did the same.

But damned her heart if she let herself feel some sort of emotions towards him. Harry didn't deserve her, she knew that. He was cold like a winter day, like frost formed on your button nose, or the cool wind that keeps your body still and ridded with goosebumps.

She was like the summer rain, like--like a warm bon-fire on a spring night with your friends, and a long sip of the hottest cocoa. She was warm. Her heart couldn't take much more of this, despite the fun they've had, it wasn't worth it to have so much worry over a man that didn't even care about her.

Just as she started the car, Harry appeared by the window beside her, making her body jolt from fright.

"Fuck!" She hissed out, pinching her eyes to see who was knocking on her window.

"Y/N! Come inside, let's talk!" Harry tapped on the window repeatedly, a scared look on his face that he tried so desperately to hide, "Don't go, okay? Let's talk!"

"No, Harry!" She yelled back with a shake of her head as her foot hit the brakes and put the car into drive, "I'm leaving! Just let me go!"

As she started to, very slowly, pull off; Harry got scared. He knew that this would be the end of them both if he didn't stop her from leaving. The only logical thing to do was to, well--

He rushed to the front of her car, hands out in defensive as he backed up as the car continued to roll forward. His eyes wide, he stood his ground as he placed two firm palms onto the hood of her car.

"Harry! What the fuck, get out of my way! You're acting crazy!" She yelled out, he was only fueling the fire that was her anger.

"No, I'm not," He tried to sound calm, and as he stared at her through the bright beams of her headlights, he slowly started to climb onto the hood of her car to make sure she wasn't to leave, "Talk to me, or stay here. I'm not leaving this spot."

That was it.

She hit the steering wheel with her hand harshly, surprisingly not inflating the airbag as she did so, before putting the car in park and flinging the door open as she got out and stomped towards the front of the car.

"What the fuck is your problem!?" She yelled out, veins prodding her skin on her throat with clenched fists.

"What's your problem, Y/N?!" Harry turned towards her as she approached him, keeping his feet tucked onto the car, "You--you..."

"My problem is that you don't care, Harry! You have never in your life been shown one ounce of care and now that you have someone that actually cares, you reject it at all costs! That's my fucking problem!" She didn't care if the neighbors could hear them fighting with one another, even if it was slightly late, her feelings mattered and she was ready to spill them.

Harry stared at her with a soft glare, a knowing-you're-so-right glare. His shoulders slumped down as he tucked his knees to his chest and didn't try to argue with the fact. His chin rested onto his forearms that splayed across the tops of his knees as he avoided eye contact with her.

"Are you not going to say anyt--"

"You're right." He shrugged, nudging his nose against his skin as he tried to bury his embarrassment into the nooks and crannies of his body, "I mean, you're right. Why would I argue with that? You got me, Y/N. That's my fucking problem with you."

She was stunned, staring at him in disbelief, once more.

"My problem is that I can fuck whoever I want and they don't try to peel apart my layers, they just wanna fuck and that's it, but that was never the case with you," He spared her a glance, flinching at the look she gave him, "You poked and prodded and even if I ignored your probing questions, you still knew. You saw right through me and I hated it because I've never--"

There was a sudden lump in his throat, his eyes pinching as he swallowed it down thickly with a shake of his head. "You just get me. You're just different and I hate it, but I also don't hate it. I like it, maybe too much, and I like having you around because you're real. You're not like the others and that's what fucking kills me because I've never..."

She was now standing in front of him, taking his hands into hers as she sniffled softly, "You don't have to say it." She told him softly, knowing that talking about his problems, or his feelings, was hard for him. The fact that he chose to open up to her though, was what made her so emotional because the snow was finally melting and under all that ice was a vulnerable man.

Harry inhaled sharply, batting his lashes that filled to the brim with emotion while his legs let loose to hang down off the car. She took a small step to stand between his legs, but he pulled her close to him and wrapped his arms around her tightly.

The first time they had ever hugged.

It felt weird, but warm, and different. It was all so confusing after the year they had together, but it made so much sense and she couldn't think of any other place she wanted to be.

"I've never felt this way about anyone before," He admitted quietly to her, as if he was to say it too loud and someone might shoot him where he sat, "And I'm just now coming to terms with it."

"Are you saying you like me?" She whispered back to him, training her eyes on him softly with a smile.

"Um..." Harry retracted, shrugging one shoulder as he avoided her gaze once more, "It's just that, um, I just--"

She cut off his sentence with a soft kiss and he melted into it like butter on a pan, like sun shining on the last snow day, and everything made sense and he felt like he could stay here with her forever.

"Because," She whispered against his lips, between the both of them, "I like you too."

Harry bit back a small smile, one that was rare to ever see with him, but she saw it and she wanted to frame it and put it onto her wall. His bunny teeth were beautiful, whenever she had the pleasure to see them paired with the deep dimples on his cheeks.

"Yeah, I like you," He said back softly, brushing her hair out of her face softly, "And I want you to be mine."

She hummed softly, "Okay."

She couldn't think of anyone else she would rather be with, and at last, they could finally be together.

Narcissistic Behaviour

Summary: Harry loves to talk about himself, but it’s suppose to be Y/N’s special day. (wc: 2627)

a/n: I guess it’s angst and fluff but what do I know? The answer to that is absolutely nothing lol. Enjoy!

It was moments like this that made you feel like you were dating a narcissist. When it’s just the two of you, Harry let’s you do all the sharing. He encourages you, actually, to talk more about yourself and he would listen.

But when there was more people around, Harry liked to be the best host he can be, showing off his major success and sharing his own stories. There’s nothing wrong with that, but you wish during times like these he would share the attention.

Especially since it was your birthday. The one day of the year that you felt it was okay to be a little selfish, calling it national Y/N day. It was the only day of the year that you weren’t trying to get out of the spotlight, being so used to be invisible and never attention seeking.

And because you are okay with the attention for one day, Harry threw you a surprise party. Something that inevitably makes you center of attention, or so you thought.

Harry’s place was dark as you entered but it only lasted a minute as a giant group of people jumped up as the light flickered on and they all cheered, “HAPPY BIRTHDAY!”

You started laughing as you calmed down from your mini heart attack and others chuckled at your jump from the scare. You scanned the room and saw that the majority of people were friends, only some were unfamiliar but most likely Harry’s friends.

Harry appeared from the group to give you a big hug, lifting you off the floor and doing a quick spin. “Happy birthday, princess,” he spoke as he kissed your cheek.

“Thank you, H,” you smiled widely. You adored this man.

When he was finally put you down from your special birthday hug, you started to make your rounds of greeting the guests and chatting with some acquaintances.

–

You now stood with a group of your closest friends.

“This party is great, Y/N,” your friend comments. You were in the middle of thanking her when Harry snuck up behind you, wrapping his arms around you from behind you.

“Yeah, I know, I did it myself,” Harry said. Your friends laughed at his usual conceitedness.

“And you did a great job, Har,” you said, turning to give him a quick kiss on the cheek.

“What have you been up to, Y/N?” your friend, Nora, asks. “I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever.”

“I know right! I’ve been so busy with work lately. I haven’t had time for anything else lately.”

“Poor thing,” a friend commented.

“I’ve been telling her she needs to go on a vacation,” Harry chipped in. “But she won’t take the time off.”

“Y/N!” Nora scowled, “You need to live a little. When’s the last time you took time off?”

You shrug, unsure of the answer. The only time you can recall was over a year ago with Harry to Jamaica.

“It was forever ago,” Harry spoke up for you. “Like what, a year ago?” He looks at you for reassurations and you nod. “She wouldn’t even go with me to Cabo last week.”

“What?!” Your friends stood there shock. Not only did you give up a vacation, but you gave it up for work when you could have hit the beach with THE Harry Styles. “Well how was Cabo?” another friend asks, everyone looks over to Harry.

“It was good… actually, it was great. It’s beautiful over there, especially during this time of year.”

“And the beach?”

“The sand is so soft and the water is so clear n’ warm. It was a fun experience.” Harry was exaggerating a bit. Yes, the beach was beautiful, but he didn’t stay long enough to relax and enjoy the waves because of the paps that started to crowd the area. But no one needed to know that boring piece of information.

The questioning continued for the popstar, your friends interested in knowing why he went there in the first place and all the top notch celebrities that he spent time with. It started to feel as if this was no longer your birthday party but Vogue’s 73 question interview with Harry Styles.

You became bored, irritated, and ignored so you excused yourself, not that anyone noticed, to another part of the house. You moved to the kitchen and started to refill your wine glass.

“Hey there, birthday girl!” You turn to see a very old friend of yours, Bradley.

“Wow, if it isn’t the Bradley James. How have you been?” You ask as you both reach out for a hug.

“I’ve been good, how about you?”

“A lot better since our college days.” He chuckles a little, thinking about how troublesome the years you shared in college were.

“Oh yes, our infamous college days of sleep deprivation and starvation. Luckily, I’m not too busy that I get enough sleep now.”

“Oh lucky!” You whine. “I’m still tired from not enough sleep back then.” As you and Bradley continued your discussion, Harry had entered the kitchen, getting away from the interview he created.

He swiftly appeared by your side and added himself into the conversation effortlessly, asking, “Whatcha guys talkin’ about?”

“Our sleep schedules or lack thereof,” Bradley answered.

“Oh, really?” Harry was slightly confused on how such a subject was interesting.

“Yeah, you wouldn’t understand, it’s an old thing for us,” you responded bluntly. You assumed that Harry would either continue to listen to you guys or excuse himself, because how could he possible make an inside joke that doesn’t understand about him?

Well count on Harry to find a way. As you told Bradley how sometimes you couldn’t get enough sleep because of your job, Harry jumped in.

“Yeah, she doesn’t even get to sleep sometimes,” Harry started. Finally, you thought, something about me out of his mouth. But as he continued, your thought was proven wrong, “and I feel bad because I know how that feels. I basically have no sleep schedule on tour because I never get to sleep.”

“Oh man, that’s sounds challenging,” Bradley spoke. Suddenly, you wanted to catching up with Bradley another time, a time when someone else wasn’t eager to put himself in everything.

“Trust me, it is.”

And that’s when you see the perfect plan for your escape. Your absolute best friend, and also Harry’s sister, Gemma arriving late like usual, is now finally entering. She spots you looking at her and waves. “Oh, Gemma just got here. I’m going to go talk to her, but Bradley we need to catch up more.”

“Definitely, let me know when.” You nod and give him a quick departure hug. You’re glad when you see Harry doesn’t follow you to his sister.

“Happy birthday, girl!!” She exclaims while waving a present in front of you.

“Thank you, now come get drunk with me.” You grab her by the wrist and drag her to the home bar. You take out two shot glasses and start filling them with tequila. This is what you need to relieve the frustration you are feeling. You quickly down your shot before she can even pick hers up. You down another one in no time.

“Woah, Y/N, you’re either having the best birthday ever, or the worst,” She snickers, “Which one is it?”

“I mean, it’s not the worst, but that brother of yours…” You don’t care to finish the sentence because she knows by your tone that he is irritating you.

“What’s he doing now?” Gemma ask. You wait to take two more shots before explaining everything.

“He’s such an…ughhh” you groan out in frustration. “He won’t shut up about himself. It’s my birthday and he won’t shut up about himself!”

“I told you he was a narcissist,” Gemma jokes, trying to lighten your anger. It takes a few minutes before your anger is fully gone, thanks to Gemma and the tequila. You’re not drunk, just a little tipsy at this point.

Gemma drags you back to the party and back to socializing. Harry hasn’t been anywhere to be seen recently but that’s not your main priority right now.

It wasn’t until half an hour later when he came back out of nowhere. But now he was carrying a large cake with the help of Bradley. Everyone crowded the living room as they all sang “Happy Birthday.” The large cake was placed in front of you and you admired the big sparkly candles. When the song was done, it took two big huffs to blow them out.

The cake was sliced and pieces were distributed. Your favorite part of the party was now. As people took seats and enjoyed their cakes, your closest friends got up to say a few words about you. Nora’s was short and simple, Gemma’s was funny and full of inside jokes. Harry was last to go.

“Alright, hello everyone,” Harry was never a big fan for speeches, especially about people that meant so much to him, “so I want to say a few things about my wonderful girlfriend.” That title always made you smile. You positioned himself so that he was looking directly at you. “The past couple of years I’ve spent with you, I’ve come to learn that you are the most hardworking and understanding person I know.” You did always enjoy a good compliment, but what started off good took a turn for the worse. “Even when I’m gone traveling and performing around the world and furthering my career, you understand and support me no matter what…” You drowned out whatever he said next as the anger inside came back.

You stood up abruptly and spoke out, “Wow, you’re unbelievable, Styles. Can’t stop talking about yourself for one second, can you?” It was obviously a rhetorical question, but even if it wasn’t, you stormed out before he could even answer. The confusion on his face matched everyone else’s. It was silent for a moment as people tried to understand what had happened.

Finally, Harry spoke up, “I-I’m going to go check on her.”

He found you in his en suite bathroom. You stood with our arms out leaning on the counter, and looking at yourself in the mirror. The door was open but he still knocked as a precaution.

“Y/N? What was that about?”

She huffed out a large amount of air before answering, “It was about you being so damn self-centered.”

“W-what? Self-centered? You think I was being self-centered?” He never thought he had acted self-centered this evening and was quite embarrassed with her outburst.

“No, Harry, I don’t think you were being self-centered, I know you were being self-centered. Everything you said was about you or was leading up to be about you.”

“Woah, that’s not true. It was your friends that wanted to talk about me and asked me questions, I didn’t ask for that.”

“Then if you had such a problem with talking about yourself, you should have excused yourself. And what about Bradley? He never asked for you to complain about the sleep you don’t get. And that speech, that stupid speech!”

“You didn’t even let me finish that ‘stupid’ speech before you embarrassed me in front of every-”

“There you go again! You’re worried about being embarrassed right now instead of my own feelings. You know what,” you release a heavy sigh, “just go back to your party. I don’t want to deal with you right now.”

Harry didn’t argue back, he took you in for a few more seconds before giving a slight nod and going back downstairs. He felt like a child that was just scolded.

–

They party ended way earlier than expected. It was a bit awkward that they celebrating a girl who wasn’t even there. As everyone else had left, Gemma stayed for a tad bit longer to talk to Harry about what had happened.

“I don’t understand where all that came from. I was just trying to throw her a nice birthday party n’ she seemed to enjoy it,” Harry ranted.

“Harry, it’s not that she didn’t like the party.”

“Then what is it? How is me throwing her a party self-centered?” And so Gemma explained, in a much calmer way than you tried earlier. She explained how you felt about the way he acts at public events. For the most part, you never cared when Harry talked about himself at other social events because the events were usually for him. And there would be other celebrities to brag about their luxury lives so it only seemed natural.

But these were your friends who didn’t to go on vacations whenever they wanted or buy a fancy car just to drive around a foreign city. Then again, that’s why Harry liked to share cool things about his life to your friends. He knows how much your friends mean to you and only wants to impress them, convince them that he is good enough for you.

Not everyone was a big fan of you dating a world popstar at the beginning of the relationship, but years have passed and now they support you. But sometimes Harry feels the need to continue to get their approval.

You didn’t know he felt that way and you didn’t know that’s why he acted in such a way. But how could you know this if he never spoke to you about it? Talking to you was what Gemma suggested after she spoke on your part and he confessed his slight insecurity.

With a goodbye hug, Gemma had left and Harry started ascending the stairs. He noticed how you were all ready for bed, in your pajamas and deep under the covers. You have your earbuds in to drown out the sound of what was once happening downstairs and to try to relax. You didn’t see him enter because you were facing away from the door. But you felt the bed dip as he scooted in, still fully closed.

“Y/n…” he spoke quietly. There was no reply. He softly rested his hand on her shoulder. You were slightly startled by the contact, but then slowly turned over to face him. Your simple compliance caused a small smile to grow on his face. He took out your earbuds out and you let him. You didn’t say anything, but instead waited for him to start talking.

“M’sorry,” he spoke. “Gemma told me what I was doin’ and I promise it wasn’t intentional. I just want your friends to like me,” he talked shyly as if he was embarrassed by his request of approval.

“H, my friends already like you, and bragging about stuff won’t make them like you any more.” You were quiet, no longer angry.

“I know that now, and I’m sorry for not realising that sooner.” You sat up more and cuddled into him, resting your hand on his chest and relaxing your head into the crook of his neck. You were ready for this stupid argument to be over.

“I’m sorry, too. I shouldn’t have freaked out on you, especially in front everyone.” He mumbled something of reassurance that it’s okay. “It was a really nice party though. Thank you.” You looked up to him

“Of course. Happy birthday, love.” He closed the distance between the two of you with a sweet kiss.

“Is there any cake left?” You asked right after his lips departed yours. He chuckled at your love of cake.

“Yeah, I saved you some of my cake. And we can eat it with my fancy forks that I got in Italy,” Harry joked.

“You better shut it, Styles. It’s still my birthday.” Year after year, Harry was always the best gift you could ask for.

Found

Summary: An extra for Mine*

The one where your mafia boss boyfriend, Harry, has to put you in danger in order to keep you safe.

Word Count: 2.8k

*Contains Mature and Explicit content! Please only consume what you feel comfortable with!💞 You are so much more important!*

“Asher?”

Harry’s eyes find the floor, narrowing with a malicious vengeance.

It’s a look you know well, but never in relation to the aforementioned man. His partner, his second-in-command.

His friend.

You stand and make your way to him, wary of his demeanor as you gently outstretch your finger to his arm. “What’s wrong?”

He almost looks like he wants to flinch when you touch him, and your heart aches for whatever he’s fighting inside.

But then, he looks to you. He looks, and he wraps his arms around you, and he nearly yanks you into his chest.

Everything is him. Every scent, every sound, every feel. His muscles are rigid, and his breathing is shallow, and he’s cursing through gritted teeth.

He doesn’t let you go. Not for quite some time, and despite your attempts to rub his back in soothing circles, nothing calms him.

Finally, he pulls back to take hold of your face. He nuzzles his lips and nose into your forehead, and whispers, “I love you. I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry I ever let them take you—”

“Harry,” you exhale, slipping yourself free of his hold so you can look him in the eye. “Don’t do that, we talked about this—”

“I don’t care,” he nearly growls. “I don’t care, I love you, and I never should have let them take you. You have no idea what they could have done—”

“Yes, I do. I was there.”

The reminder makes his expression drop. Skin paling almost as if the thought repulses him.

He moves to hold you again, and you let him, but you don’t wipe the stern look from your face. “Harry, what’s wrong? What’s going on? What’s wrong with Asher?”

He’s quiet for a long lull. Perhaps in an effort to prepare you or perhaps he’s simply trying to wrap his head around it himself.

“His comms are down,” Harry begins slowly. “And they found his tracker discarded a few miles outside of the warehouse.” 

You feel your heart leap into your throat. “What, um…what does that mean? Is he okay?”

That pensive look returns as he squeezes the back of your neck gently. “It means I have to do something I don’t want to.”

“Like…what?”

His eyes return to yours. A vibrant green that bleeds remorse as he dips down to run his lips along your temple lovingly. “I’m so sorry I ever put you in danger.”

Your heart sinks. “Harry—”

“I’m sorry that loving me causes you more pain than joy,” he whispers, and you can hear each ounce of guilt. “I’m sorry that my love comes with so many conditions—”

“Harry,” you try again, leaning back to take hold of his face and squeeze. “You’re scaring me. What’s going on with Asher, what do you have to do?”

He stares at you for a long while, a subtle red rim swimming beside his lashes. “I need to make a call,” he says shortly.

And with that, he pulls himself from your arms and disappears into the other room, the phone squeezed tightly in his hand.

You hear his heated conversation through the walls of the small apartment. Can’t decipher what he’s saying but you know he’s upset. And when he returns half an hour later, he’s wrought with frustration and regret. 

“Har?” you begin gently, cautiously watching from your spot in the tiny kitchen. “Are you…is everything okay?”

You know he won’t offer you an honest answer. He doesn’t particularly like sharing the details of his job with you. He claims it’s better if you don’t know. Safer. And maybe he’s right.

Or maybe he just wants to protect you any way he knows how.

He looks up and finds you. Frowns in the kind of way that has your soul sinking down to the cold, hardwood floor below as he strides over to you.

He takes your hands. Pulls you into his chest and traps you against his heart. Buries his lips into the crown of your head and whispers, “I love you,” for what feels like the hundredth time today.

You smile sadly. “I love you, too. But you’re really starting to scare me, Har. I just…I wanna make sure you’re okay.”

He leans back and captures your cheeks in his palms. Presses his love into your skin as he sucks in a sharp breath and murmurs, “Do you trust me?”

Your answer is instantaneous. “Yes.”

He seems relieved. He seems gutted. “And do you trust that I would never knowingly put you in danger? That I would do anything to ensure your safety?”

You swallow thickly. “Of course.”

He exhales shakily before dipping down to press his forehead to yours. “Do you trust that I love you? More than anything in the fucking world?”

There’s an odd feeling blooming in your chest yet you feel strangely calm. “Yes,” you tell him, nuzzling into his touch. “Always.”

He keeps his eyes closed. Doesn’t let you go as struggles through his next sentence. “Then I need you to do something for me, mama.”

“Anything.”

His features twist, as if it wounds him to hear you say it. “I need you to go sit down on that couch.”

Your lashes flutter as you slip your fingers around his wrists. 

“I need you to sit down, and I need you to wait,” he continues, in a tone so distraught, it makes your throat feel dry. “And I need you to trust that whatever happens next…is because I love you.”

Your breath hitches.

“I need you to trust that this is the only way.” His grip becomes tighter. “I need you…to trust me.”

Despite the countless warnings currently going off in your head, you nod quickly. “I do. I trust you, Har. I promise.”

The muscles in his jaw constrict, teeth scraping together as he stumbles over a wounded inhale. Then, he surges forward and presses his lips to yours. Over and over and over he kisses you. Mumbling, “I love you, sweet girl. More than anything in the whole fucking world. I love you, I love you, I love you.”

His anguish is evident. Body tense beneath your touch and chest heaving with grief. He’s moments away from allowing the tears to fall from his eyes, and it hurts you to see him in so much suffering. 

He kisses you until he has to rip himself away. Tearing himself out of your arms before turning on his heel to disappear into the next room, without so much as a glance back.

And you know it kills him to do it.

You look toward the living room, eyeing the couch warily while taking a deep breath. You do trust him. More than anything.

So, you sit. Take a seat on the center cushion and pull your knees to your chest in wait.

Minutes go by. Then an hour. Harry never returns. The entire apartment is silent. The sun is beginning to set behind the mountains he’s hidden you in, leaving you to wonder in the darkness.

And then…a sound. The first sound in forever. The murmuring of hushed voices and the shimmying of a lock.

The front door opens. Three figures creep into the room, dressed in all black. It’s an instant wave of déjà vu, reminding you of only a few days ago when you were taken the first time.

You want to hide. Want to scream in protest. Want to call out to the man you love and have him protect you.

But he knows they’re here.

And he wants them to take you.

Maybe you don’t know why. Maybe you should be wildly confused and insanely terrified.

But you’re not. You trust him. And as the three shadows find you on the couch, you exhale a deep breath, and allow yourself to be approached.

You play up your terror. Figuring it’s better to give them a little fight so they don’t suspect your compliance.

You gasp and you whimper, and you attempt to squirm away as they crowd you. But only one man kneels to the floor in front of your feet, pressing a large, glove-covered palm to your mouth.

You suck in a shaky pant as his eyes find yours through the mask he wears to hide his face.

And those eyes.

You’d know those eyes anywhere. As soft and reassuring as the touch against your lips. He doesn’t speak. Doesn’t call you by that familiar nickname or attempt to comfort you.

But you know him.

You aren’t sure why he’s here. Aren’t sure why he’s with them, but Harry must know. And if he’s allowing him to take you…it must be for a reason.

Things work quicker from there. They bind your hands before one of them throws you over their shoulder. They take you from your place of safety and toss you into a van. They don’t speak to you, they don’t look at you, they don’t even sit near you.

Everything is cold and dark. Far too quiet and somewhat unnerving. You drive for what feels like hours before the car finally stops and you’re removed from your prison.

You’re brought into a different warehouse this time. Smaller. Fuller. There are guards crawling in every corner of the room. Guns, grenades, and various weapons litter the walls and tables. It smells like cigars and bad decisions.

And just before you can allow yourself to doubt Harry’s intentions, you’re brought into a large office.

And sat in front of the one man Harry fears the most.

Callahan Matthews. 

 You’ve seen his face enough times to recognize it now. The way it leers at you. The way it smiles behind the cigar placed between his strangely white teeth. The way he gestures for you get comfortable as the office door shuts firmly.

“Well, well, well,” he begins in a sadistic croon, leaning back in his seat to study you. “How nice to finally meet you.”

You feel your blood run cold as you stare back, offering nothing more than an unamused frown.

Matthews glances toward the guard that brought you in. “Was she any trouble?”

“Not at all,” the man replies, the familiar voice sending chills down your spine as he slips off his mask to reveal his face.

Asher.

“She never is,” he adds, the corner of his mouth curling up in a cruel display of agreement. “Isn’t that right, sweetheart?”

 Your fingers grip the armrests beside you, chest heaving as you work to remind yourself of why you’re here.

Your confusion and betrayal makes both men grin. “And Styles?” Matthews asks. “Where is he?”

“He was at the apartment,” Asher tells him, and you feel your head begin to pound. “We left him be, just like you asked.”

“Good.” Matthews crosses his arms over his chest. “You think he’ll come for her?”

“I know he will. He’ll give you anything you want to keep her pretty little head on her pretty little neck.”

The larger man laughs, pulling the cigar from his mouth. “And isn’t that just a shame? A man with so much power brought to his knees by something so pathetic.”

“Incredibly so,” Asher agrees, allowing his focus to drift back down to you. “Don’t you think?”

You toss him a bitter glare. “Bite me.”

Asher hums. “Haven’t I already?” he murmurs, leaning down and forcing you to rear back. His smug condescension more than evident. “Unless you want to beg me to do it again?”

Matthews smirks. “Perhaps if he’d spent more time questioning the men he allowed into his home—into his girlfriend…he’d have found his supposed mole.”

“Harry trusts too easily,” Asher declares, finally straightening up and allowing you to breathe. “Always has. It makes him incredibly weak.”

“And incompetent.” Matthews rakes his gaze over your tense figure. “Can’t imagine what she sees in him.”

“She sees what he wants her to see,” Asher says. “If he tells her he loves her, she believes it. If he tells her she’s safe, she believes it. If he tells her she loves him…she’ll believe it. All he has to do is convince her that she’s being saved, and she’ll do anything he wants.”

It’s the lowest of blows. Coming from the man who watched your relationship bloom from the very beginning. Who was there through every fight, every miscommunication, every moment of realization. 

He knows the two of you better than anybody else does.

And if this is truly how he feels…

The office door slams open. Four men wrestle through the frame, pulling a struggling man in their grasp.

Harry.

You see him out of your peripheral. See the blood around his cheeks, the bruises already darkening in color, and the ripped fabric on his chest. 

You feel sick. Distraught beyond measure and when his eyes find yours, tears begin slipping down your cheeks.

He’s shoved onto his knees as Matthews stands from behind his desk. Asher remains to the side, watching as a gun is pressed into the temple of his friend’s head.

He says nothing. Shows no remorse or acknowledgement of such cruelty. 

His indifference is infuriating.

“Suppose I shouldn’t be surprised,” Matthews begins as one of the guards weaves their fingers through Harry’s hair and yanks his head back. “But I am a little disappointed.”

Harry remains quiet. Breathing heavily between gritted teeth as he stares daggers through the man approaching. 

“I was hoping for a little more of a fight,” the man admits. “Perhaps even a reason to respect you before I kill you. But I see you lose your edge where she’s concerned.”

Your nails scrape down the chair. Desperately wanting to run to him. To throw your body in front of his and shield him from the weapon you can already see Asher slipping from his belt.

“It’s a shame she has to watch the great Harry Styles die in such a trivial way,” he tsks, hand outstretching for the gun Asher is offering to him. “But I suppose that’s what you get…for thinking you were strong enough to save her.”

The sound of a bullet ripping through the air reaches you before the realization does.

The weapon has been fired. A body is hitting the floor and you’re ready to scream as a smattering of blood streaks across your cheek.

With a wounded, heavy, and unmendable heart, you find the man you love. Needing to see him one last time.

But Harry is still kneeling on the floor. Exactly the way he was before, now covered in a few extra drops of blood.

That aren’t his.

You turn and look for the answer. 

You find it with Asher.

The gun is raised and pointed toward the large man responsible for so much pain and destruction. You see the bullet through his skull as his lifeless body splays across the ground. A pool of blood collecting around his head.

Smoke wafts from the barrel as Asher stares calmly and stoically before he turns his attention and his weapon toward the other four in the room.

“You touch her…or you touch him,” he begins in a threatening murmur, eyebrow raised and ready for any defiance, “and I will make sure there’s enough room in the ground for your bodies, too.”

A moment of silence dances between the walls.

And then, for the second time in twenty-four hours, you’re forced to watch a sea of bullets fly through the air.

You aren’t sure who fires first. Aren’t sure where the danger lies. But you are sure of the way you lunge yourself at Harry’s body to pull him out of harm’s way.

His arms wrap around your torso as you both roll into the corner, just behind the desk. The sound of more gunshots echoes in from the rest of the warehouse as you make the connection that Harry’s men have arrived.

Your ears are ringing. Your chest is pounding. So much violence and strife is happening all around you. And you can do nothing but bury your face in Harry’s chest and will it to be over.

And through all the chaos, you hear him whisper, “I’m so fucking sorry. I had to. I had to let them take you, I’m so fucking sorry. Never let them take you again. I love you. I’m so fucking sorry.”

You aren’t sure when it finally stops. At least in this room. Aren’t sure when the ricocheting of bullets comes to an end. But you do eventually feel Harry lift up to survey the damage and make sure the coast is clear.

The resonating terror is pounding inside your head, but you do your best to follow him out from behind the table. Clutching onto his hand as he leads you into the main part of the office where you find an array of dead bodies and blood dispersed across the walls and floor. 

And just when you feel the first rush of relief in what feels like weeks…you find one more body in the corner of the room.

With a bullet hole right through his chest.

Asher.

Wow, now that's two parts where we end with his name said all dramatically, it's almost like he's the main character??? OOPS??? 🙃 I LOVE YOU ALL, THANK YOU FOR READING AND WAITING AND BEING SO NICE TO ME😭💞

Previous Part:

~ Lost (A Mine Extra)

~ Full Mine Masterlist

~ Other Harry Blurbs

~ Full Masterlist

Taglist (If you ever need or want to be taken off, or simply excluded from certain fics like this one, please let me know!! 💞) : @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @keepdrivingkisses @swiftmendeshoran @tiredinwinter @straightontilmornin @justlemmeadoreyou @harrysdaydreams @tiaamberxx @peterparker1sgf @myfavfanficsever @vamprry @fdl305 @tchalametishot @ssaama @indierockgirrl @likeapplejuicenpeach @vane28282 @acesofspadess @stylesfever @narry-heart @virginvirgo @pagesfalling @creativelyeva @char112244 @snwells @armystay89 @oh-my-hecky-padalecki

exhibitionism + edging, showing subrry off and telling him what a good boy he is 😵‍💫

*The Club*

Stepping out of the shower, I wrapped a towel around my chest before letting my hair out of the shower cap. I checked the time and was pleased we were on schedule, maybe even a little ahead. Drying off, I dropped the towel to the floor and headed into the main bedroom.

My eyes went to the side of the bed, and a pleased smirk spread on my lips as I saw Harry. His cock was hard, pressing up against his stomach, dripping down on his thighs, crotch, and stomach. A black satin blindfold was tied around his head and except for the chain choker around his neck held closed by a padlock, he was completely naked.

I took a seat by my vanity and did my makeup and my hair for the night before putting in some earrings, rings, and a necklace. Pleased with the look, I walked over to the bed where I'd laid out my outfit for the night. I put on the mesh bra and made sure the extra decorative straps around the waist and back were laid properly before putting on the matching thong.

Pulling up the leather pants, I admired myself in the full-length mirror. The heels I'd picked out for the night were downstairs so for now I was done and all that remained was to get Harry dressed. "Stand" I told him as I grabbed one of my favorite harnesses for him.

Harry slowly got up, getting feeling back in his feet again after kneeling for a long period of time. I stroked my hand over his chest, enjoying seeing how his nipples hardened and his poor cock twitched in eagerness. "Quite excited for tonight aren't you, H?" I asked, moving my hand very slowly down toward his crotch.

Harry opened his mouth to reply before quickly snapping it shut and nodding. I chuckled and flicked his cock with my finger. "Good boy. You may speak until further notice" I told him. Harry put his hands behind his back and groaned as I kept running my fingertips up and down his cock every so gently. "Please, Miss" he keened, his stomach muscles visibly tightening in front of me.

Grinning, I patted his chest. "You should save your begging for later tonight" I told him before I pulled off the blindfold he was wearing. Harry squinted at the light and blinked rapidly a few times before I was his eyes looking me over. "You're so pretty" he whispered and took a second look. "Touch?" he asked quietly as he moved his to his front.

"No. Put this on" I ordered him before walking away to decide the rest of his outfit, smiling as I heard him let out a breath and a slight whimpering sound coming from him. Finding a pair of leather pants that matched mine, I plucked it off the hanger and grabbed a jockstrap.

I signaled for him to put it on while I grabbed him some socks and a button-up shirt to wear while we were driving. "Miss? Help, please?" Harry asked as he couldn't get the harness to lay right as he looked at himself in the mirror. I rolled my eyes. "What would you do without me? So helpless" I tutted as I walked over and started tightening and adjusting the straps so they were perfect.

"I know, Miss. I'm sorry" Harry blushed. "Thank you for helping me, Miss" he said while I grabbed his collar and pulled him towards me. Kissing him slowly, I hummed against his lips as he returned the kiss passionately. He put his hands on my hips and he moved closer while he rubbed his fingers on my exposed skin.

"Please, can I taste you? Want to make you feel so good, Miss, please. I'll be so good, want you" Harry moaned as he asked so nicely. I stroked his cheek. "Get down on your knees" I told him softly, giving him a smile. Harry licked his lips and quickly kneeled, running his hands down my legs.

I stroked his hair while I nudged his crotch with my foot. "Now why would I let a naughty boy have such a treat?" I asked. Harry looked at me confused. "Naughty, Miss?" he asked and I could see his mind going a thousand miles as he thought it over. He jerked his hands off me as if I'd burned him. "I-I" he started apologizing but I just hushed him and put my finger against his lips.

"Don't worry, I'll only add an extra 30 minutes to our playtime for you touching me without permission" I told him with a smile. I gave him his shirt and socks before I told him to get up and follow as I headed downstairs.

After I'd finished getting my heels and blazer on, I grabbed my little clutch. I held out my hand for him to take. He looked at it and went to grab it before he stopped himself and looked at me unsure. "You may touch me now, baby boy" Harry smiled and took my hand.

The drive to the club was just about 40 minutes and the closer we got the more Harry tried to adjust the tight pants around his crotch. "Leave the shirt in the car" I told him as we got to the valet parking. I held my hand up to signal the valet boy to stop, Harry would open the door for me.

Harry took off his shirt quickly before he got out of the car and walked over to my side. Opening the door, he held out his hand for me. I accepted it and stepped out and handed him the clutch before I slipped off the blazer. Giving the valet boy the car keys and a little tip, I grabbed Harry's hand again.

After showing off our member cards and ID, we were finally inside. The music was going, people were dancing, some were playing while some were just chatting. It was exhilarating.

Seeing a free booth area, I led Harry over. "Quite a crowd tonight, everyone had the same idea as us" I said leaning back and taking in everyone. "Mmm" Harry hummed as he looked around too. Some people on the stage caught his eye. It was two women and one man, the man was being whipped by both the ladies.

Smirking, I put my hand on his bulge and squeezed. "Jealous?" I asked as I leaned in. Harry gave a slight nod before a blush spread over his face. "I'm sure something can be arranged" I chuckled and moved my hand to his back.

I laughed loudly and nearly snorted as I listened to Julia telling a story about an incident at work. Our friends had finally arrived after being an hour late and judging by Leo's hair and the marks on his neck and chest- it was easy to see why they'd been late.

"Remind me to never ever work in retail. I don't know how you do it" I told her honestly and took a sip of my water. "Neither do I to be honest" Julie replied with a slight chuckle. We both looked out at the crowd to check on our boys. Harry, Leo, and some of the other boys were talking and laughing on the dancefloor.

"So, will we be seeing you two at the party on Saturday?" Julie asked, sipping her drink. I nodded. "We'll be there! What kind of people will be attending? Need to know where the line is" I asked and looked at her. "Oh, it'll be fellow scene people so you're free to come as you are. Just some drinks but we can still express ourselves" Julie said.

"I'll be sure to book a cab then" I grinned. Leo came and sat down next to Julie and whispered in her ear. Meeting Harry's eyes, I beckoned him over with a finger. While I waited for him to make his way over, Leo slid down to the floor. Julie gave me a smirk as she spread her legs and pulled her skirt up.

We'd been friends a long time and had pretty much seen each other do everything, especially at the club. Harry's face was flushed and there was a slight sheen of sweat all over his chest as he took his seat next to me, his eyes going to Leo who was eagerly lapping at Julie's pussy.

He looked at me hopefully, making me laugh quietly. Pulling him in for a kiss, I tangled my fingers into his hair, loving how he would whimper and moan as I tugged on his hair. "Be good boy and eat you out, Miss? Taste you, make you feel good, please" Harry begged against my lips.

"I think it's time to lose the pants, baby" I told him as I stroked his cheek. Harry nodded and stood up, eagerly starting to push down his leather pants. He slipped his shoes back on and sat down. I pulled the cup on his jockstrap back and pulled his cock out, holding my thumb on his cockhead and running it in circles on the sensitive tip.

Harry moaned and threw his head back as he grasped onto the couch bench we were sitting on. "Fuck! Miss, please" he panted as he turned his head to look at me. "Please what?" I asked him while I kept on rubbing his cockhead. "Cum! Please, can I cum? Need to cum, please" he begged, his fingers turning white from how hard he was clutching the couch, drops of sweat appearing on his forehead.

"Oh, no I don't think so" I smiled, gave his cock a little tug, and took my hand off him. Harry whined and his hips were moving as his cock searched for friction. "You should take off the jockstrap actually, I'll have better access that way" I told him, ignoring how Julie was moaning and cumming right next to me as she wrapped her legs around Leo and pushed his face into her.

Harry let go of the couch and hooked his fingers to the straps and pushed them down. "I'm quite thirsty actually, could you get me a red bull with ice?" I 'asked' while I grabbed a green armband from my clutch and slipped it on Harry's wrist. "You can have water if your thirsty too"

I could see that it was taking his brain longer to take in the words I was saying and fully process them. He looked at his bracelet and I saw his cock twitch. Licking his lips he stood up, his face bright red. "Oh, Harry, would you mind getting me a mojito while you're over there" Julie asked as she gave him a smirk.

He nodded and started to walk over to the bar. "First time alone with the green on" I told Julie while keeping an eye on him. The club had several color codes, a green bracelet meaning the person was free to be touched. Hands were sliding and stroking him everywhere as he made his way to the front of the bar.

Harry groaned as someone squeezed his ass tightly, while another stroked his cock. "A-a red bull with, fuck! Ice please" Harry whimpered as someone pulled on his nipples. "And, a mojito, please" he grasped the edge of the bar and closed his eyes, the feeling of someone spreading his cheeks and pressing a finger against his asshole.

"I'll bring it over" the bartender said as she started making the drinks. "No, please, I'm supposed to get them" Harry spoke up and choked back a moan. "Give this to your dom, I'll be over with the drinks when they're done" Harry accepted the little business card and signed the bill before he started making his way, hands touching him as he went.

He handed over the card before he slid down to the floor and pressed himself as close as possible to me. Reading the card, I chuckled and stroked Harry's hair. I showed it to Julie who also did a little chuckle. "Oh yeah, I've had a few of those. Give them to the subbies they think are likely to drop the drinks. I say she called that one right" I smirked and nodded. "Me too"

Harry was practically shaking, clinging to my legs and waist as he panted, his hard cock dripping precum everywhere. I kept stroking Harry's hair, giving him a chance to calm down a little. Feeling a little pinch on my arm, I looked down quickly with a frown. "Baby?" I asked.

Harry held up the hand with his armband on. "Off, please?" he asked as quietly as he could considering the music and the other people talking. I gave him a comforting smile and nodded. "Want to come sit up here?" I asked as I took off the bracelet, putting it back in my clutch.

He got up and sat down right next to me, almost sitting on my lap. I wrapped my hands around him. "Want a break?" I asked, meeting his eyes. He shook his head quickly. "No! Just want you! Please" he whimpered as he pressed his face into my neck.

I rubbed his back as he sat still for a few minutes. "I'm sorry, Miss" Harry said as he pulled back, a little blush on his face. "What you sorry for?" I asked and took his hand. "For getting overwhelmed. I liked it but it was so much and you weren't there and I wanted you there but I wasn't even that far away and" he rambled, lost in his thoughts.

Cupping his face, I met his eyes. "If we bring out the green armband again, I will be by your side the whole time. Okay? I never want you to be uncomfortable, scared, or worried. I'm going to keep you safe" I told him firmly but lovingly. Harry chewed on his lip before he nodded. "Okay, Miss"

"Good boy" I moved my hands down to his neck and pulled him in for a long, deep kiss, practically feeling Harry melt in my hands. He put one hand on my leg to steady himself as he leaned into the kiss. Reaching down to his cock, I wrapped my fingers around it and started stroking it slowly.

Harry's breath hitched and he let out a quiet moan. "My little boy, having his cock out for all these people. Watching you be such a good boy for me" I told him, keeping the slow pace. "Please" Harry begged with a whine.

I chuckled and took my hand off his cock. "No, no, please, Miss" he complained as he pressed his head against the wall, his cock twitching against his stomach. "See those two chairs? Imagine that you're sitting in one and I in the other. It's so close to the stage that everyone could watch as I played with my boy" I whispered into his ear, running my finger up his shaft.

Harry opened his eyes and looked over at the two chairs I was talking about. "Please, please" he whimpered. "You want everyone to see you be a good boy, baby?" I wrapped my fingers around him again, moving my hand up and down quickly.

"Fuck! Yes, please, Miss, need to cum, please, good boy promise" Harry moaned as his hips rose slightly, thrusting into my hand. Seeing that he was close to actually cumming, I took my hand off him, a smirk growing on my face as the sounds of his whimpers and disappointed sounds went straight to my cunt.

I stroked my hand up and down his chest as he breathed heavily. "I should book the stage one night. Could have you show everyone how good that mouth of yours is before I show everyone how long I can keep you on the brink" I teased, enjoying how his eyes widened and his breath sped up.

"Please" Harry begged as I took hold of his cock. "Yeah? You like that idea, baby? Me showing you off?" I tightened my grip but moved my hand up and down slowly. He nodded, whining quietly. "Be good" he mumbled, his pupils were so wide as he looked at me.

"Always so good for me. Wake me up with your mouth, give me the best foot massages, have the best ass I've ever had the pleasure of fucking and spanking" Harry arched his back, his mouth gasping silently. He was so close, I considered letting him cum.

But I took my hand off him again. "Noo! No, no, please! Miss, please!" He cried as he shifted in his seat, raising his hand before bringing them behind his back so he wouldn't touch himself. "Please, let me cum. I'll do whatever you want, please" he sniffled and squirmed.

"Oh, you want to cum?" I asked, wrapping my hand around his cock. "Yes! Yes, please, want to cum so bad Miss, please need to please" he begged as I stroked my fingertips over his cockhead, his hands coming out from behind his back only so he could press them down into the couch. "So close, Miss, please, please" he begged breathily, his head dropping back.

I jerked him off quickly and with a tight grip. "Open your eyes, look at everyone that's watching you. All of them so jealous" I told him as he lifted his head, opening his eyes and looking around, moving my hand as fast as I could. "Please! Going to cum, Miss, going to, I can't, please" he gasped and held his breath as he started to shoot his cum all over his chest.

Smirking, I looked at him pleased. I kept my fingers around his cock until he was done. "Thank you, thank you, Miss, love you" he mumbled as he tried to open his eyes to look at me. I leaned in and gave him a kiss, stroking his arm. "I love you too, baby. Make me so proud" I told him before letting him rest against me as he was almost asleep. The poor boy was worn out.

When Julie pushed Leo down between her legs again she looked at me. "This is all your fault by the way" I held Harry closer before smirking proudly. "You're welcome"

Always a Fineline

warnings - little angstyyy blurb!

summary - basically just you and harry divorcing. lol.

—————————————————————————

There sat the divorce papers between you and your husband, Harry.

Nothing had worked, you’d both been doing couples counselling and tried to build the love back up with endless dates and nights with just the two of you.

Still nothing.

You two weren’t toxic to each other, no, the spark between you both just wasn’t there anymore. It’s like the love between you and Harry had died down, all that was left was an empty hole in both of your hearts.

You met Harry while he was alone at a bar in 2013, from there you both built a really good relationship that soon turned romantic with Harry finally getting down onto one knee in 2016. Now, 2 years later you were both sat at the table Anne gave you and Harry after you’d both moved into the new house.

Harry stared down at the piece of paper, a sad gloomy dew clouding his eyes, the green appearing almost a dark grey colour.

Signing this paper was the last thing you’d have to do before parting ways for good.

“Who gets the house..?” Harry asks, holding the tip of the pen just above the signature box on the form, a frown prominent on his lips, eyes never leaving the paper.

“H, we already talked about this. I’m okay with staying with my parents till I get my new apartment.” You lean back in your chair slightly, eyes still on the curly headed boy you’d thought you’d always call home.

Harry nods sadly, bringing the pen down onto the paper, signing his name slowly before dropping it onto the page, sliding it across to the middle of the table. Yet, he still doesn’t look at you, his eyes still find his way to either the table, the wall behind you or the piece of paper.

“So.. that’s it?” He almost whispers, shrugging one shoulder, finally his eyes meet yours, both your hearts almost break, seeing the visible pain and tiredness on both of your faces, dark circles under your eyes from the lack of sleep due to the build up of this moment.

“You’ll be okay, Harry. I’m still gonna be here for you.” You smile sadly, trying to lighten the mood, even though there’s nothing light about this.

He shakes his head. “It won’t be the same as it was, Y/N. You know that.” He frowns, his head bowing down once again to avoid eye contact.

You stand up, walking around to his side of the table, hands softly coming in contact with his jaw, picking his face up so he’s looking up at you, like he’d always do when you were sad. “I know it won’t be the same, H. But we have to do this, do it for the sake of our mental health. All we’re doing is going around in circles, It’s an endless cycle of this.. of us.” You choke on a sob at the end, tears finally spilling out of your eyes.

Harry had tried so hard to be strong and not breakdown in front of you, but seeing you cry did it for him. Endless tears are shared between the two of you in what seems to be your last moments close to each other. “I still love you though Y/N.”

“Do you really love me or do you just love the thought of me being around you. Think about it Harry, our love is gone.” You lean down, pressing your forehead against his as you both cry, thumbs caressing the pads of his cheeks.

“I really wanted forever.” He whispers.

“Forever in another lifetime, i promise. We’ll be alright.”

————————————

2021, Las Vegas.

The screams of fans roar through the MGM Grand Garden Arena, it was his first show of Love On Tour where he’d debut his latest Fineline album.

Taking the place onto the centre of the stage, a crew member passes him his guitar as the stage rises up slightly, “This is a special one to me, i know a lot of you have been dying to hear it. I hope you love this song as much as I do.” He smiles, clapping and awes can be heard all around the stage.

The first strum of the guitar to the beat of Fineline is played, Harry takes a deep breath, a sudden emotion coming over him in a flashback of how this song was made. Who inspired this special song to him.

“Put a price on emotion, I’m looking for something to buy.”

“You’ve got my devotion, but man I can hate you sometimes.”

Singing from the crowd can be heard, harmonising Harry in a way no other concert could compare.

“We’ll be a fineline.”

“We’ll be a fineline.”

“We’ll be a fineline.”

Somewhere through the song Harry had closed his eyes, he finally opened them, looking out to the crowd, something in him tells him to take a quick glance up to the VIP box, so he does.

It takes time for him to recognise the person peering over the edge, before it clicks. Y/N.

The person that inspired him to make this album was watching Harry like a hunter show this special album of his to the world.

A small smile cracks at his lips before returning his eyes back to the crowd.

Maybe they will be a fineline.

————————————————————

TBH THIS WAS REALLY BAD AND SHORT CONSIDERING BUT IT IS MY FIRST EVERY WRITING PIECE SO DONT FEEL BAD IF YOU CRINGE BAHAHA!! PLEASE GIVE ME FEEDBACK LOVE YA! I AM ALSO NEW TO WRITING SO THERES PROBS ALOT OF GRAMMAR ISSUES ALSO COS I RUSHED THIS WHILE LISTENING TO MONTELL FISH 😭

i dont exactly like this so feel free to skip like the whole thing!! this is my first time writing a piece like this even though i have many drafts put away, but I wanna say a big thank you to my kind friend @harringtons-honey for quite literally helping me for tips with my writing, i want to truly give you the world for that!!

what it is: YN is Harry’s personal assistant and she gets sick, but he’s playing Wembley

word count: 4k

The air is crisp and clean as YN steps out of her hotel into the streets of London, hurrying down the sidewalk as she scurries to the first pharmacy she can find. 

It’s 7.54 in the morning and she’s been awake for almost twenty-four hours. Not on purpose, obviously. And not on her boss’s orders either, despite having there been nights the team deemed important and she was required to pull an all nighter, but those were usually times of celebrations, either spent at an afterparty or waiting until midnight for Spotify to release the album everyone had been working hard on.

The air hurts her lungs as she stops to catch her breathing, the pounding behind her temples not dimming the slightest as she trespasses the sliding doors of the pharmacy, only intensifying with the bright artificial lights shining down on her from the ceiling.

She pulls her sunglasses out of the pocket of her sweatshirt and slides them over her eyes, relishing in the temporary relief washing over her sensitive eyes.

Her phone vibrates in her pocket and she pulls it out, grimacing at the name on the screen; it’s her boss, Harry, asking her what time she’s ready to leave for the venue. 

Once her turn comes, she quickly explains her symptoms to the pharmacist and just as quickly she pays for the medicine the pharmacist has taken out for her.

She walks out of the pharmacy and types back a short response to Harry, telling him she’s on her way to his room.

She hopes the medicine she has stuffed in her pocket will make her feel better, and she thinks as she’s making her way back to the hotel that she’ll ask Harry to stop along the way to grab a coffee, hoping it will soothe the tension behind her temples. There’s no way she can be sick when her boss is playing at Wembley for the first time.

…

Harry isn’t one to comment on other people’s appearances, his mum taught him that and it has stuck with him since he was a little kid, a sort of an unspoken rule out of kindness, and therefore he’s never asked if someone was sick because they weren’t wearing makeup or if someone had eaten a little more over the holidays.  He never considered other people’s looks something that concerned his range of business, but once he sees YN, he can’t help but wonder if she’s okay.

Her hair is tied in a messy braid, and there’s some strands falling out of it and in front of her eyes. She’s wearing a big love on tour sweatshirt and a pair of yoga pants, but that isn’t particularly concerning, because he’s used to her comfy articles of clothing. 

What’s concerning is her face… and Harry already feels bad for thinking that, but she doesn’t look like herself. And Harry would know. Of course he would know, because he spends a lot of time looking at her face, especially when she’s not looking, most of the times when she’s reading a book next to him in a moment of rest or when she’s answering emails on Monday mornings. So… he knows her. He knows her skin looks paler than normal, and the circles under her eyes aren’t the same as that one time they partied all night after Harry won album of the year at the Grammys.

He wants to ask if she’s okay, because after a year of working together they have that kind of confidence, but he doesn’t want that to be the first thing he says to her, so he just smiles at her and welcomes her with a side hug and a good morning.

“Hi” she’s quick to greet back, and Harry notices even her voice sounds scruffier than usual.

“Are you ready to go?” She asks a second later.

“Yeah, yeah, the car’s down already?” He asks surprised. Sometimes it takes a while before the drivers find the hotel, and YN and Harry spend that time watching videos on youtube or talking about the day’s schedule.

YN shrugs but doesn’t say anything in response, which is weird to Harry because she’s usually really bright and energetic in the morning, and she’s really meticulous on top of everything: she never lets him wait without finding something to pass the time first.

“Let’s just stay until we don’t know for certain” he suggests.

She agrees with a nod of her head and she heads to his bed, sitting down on the end of it. It’s not uncommon for her, because she’s always in his space, and there have been times where they were forced to basically sleep in the same bed (one time YN fell asleep on his bed, and Harry was so in his song-writing-bubble he didn’t even realize until he was so tired he couldn’t keep his eyes open, so he slipped in next to her and literally passed out).

He still needs to tie his shoes, so he sits next to her and ties the laces of his ratted vans.

“How’d yeh sleep, pet?” He asks, because she’s freakishly quiet and it’s making him anxious. She’s never quiet, and with this being a stressful day already for Harry, every little thing that’s different from normal alerts him.

“Fine” she whispers, knuckling at her eyes, his question bringing back the awful memory of the night she spent tossing and turning in the scratchy hotel sheets, praying for a moment of solace every time she tried to breathe through her nose and failing.

“Me too…” he nods.

YN feels bad because she should be more engaging, but she really doesn’t have it in her to make small talk. 

Some time passes before the driver calls YN’s phone to tell her the van is here, shaking her awake. She remembers closing her eyes to rest them, and next thing she knows she’s sound asleep on her boss’s bed. She’d be a bit embarrassed if it wasn’t for how awful she feels already. 

“Crap! I fell asleep!” She exclaims once she hangs up the call. 

“Yeah” Harry says from next to her, still laying on his bed, “just fo’ like… fifteen minutes though” He’s playing on his phone, and YN pushes at his bicep, “we need to go, driver’s here”

She gets up from the bed and slips on her shoes, grabbing her work bag (it’s really a tote bag but she finds calling it work bag makes her waaaay more professional) from the floor next to the door.

“YN” she hears Harry clear his voice, and she turns around to look at him.

He’s still sitting on the bed, and he passes a hand through his hair before saying, “are yeh all right?” 

She closes her eyes in a furrow and tries not to wince when a sharp pain shoots behind her eyes with the movement, “yes, yes” she stresses, although not convinced.

“Are you sure? C’mon yeh can tell me!” 

“I’m fine, Harry” and despite her words, she sniffles, “maybe I have a cold or something…”

“You can take the day off if you need to, yeh know that” 

“No, there’s no way” she shakes her head swiftly, “no”. 

“YN…” he trails off.

“Harry, I told you I’m fine. I can work! Let’s just go, okay?” 

He sighs but does as she says, following her out of his room.

Harry isn’t a worrier. If someone from his team, or band whatsoever, says they can work, he at least presumes they’re mature enough to know the expanse of their limits. 

With YN, it’s different. He worries.

Not because he considers her immature, but she’s just… different. Ever since she started working for him as his assistant, he’s always looked out for her, despite being the one that didn’t want to hire her in the first place.

She’s young, she works a lot to prove herself to him, despite him telling her lots of times she doesn’t need to prove anything and she’s doing a great job as she is. 

She does unthinkable working hours, sometimes pulling all nighters, other times hurrying to his house in the middle of the night because he’s a little bit of a hypochondriac and she needs to check immediately what’s that new mole he has on his back (turns out it was a speck of dark chocolate that stuck onto his skin).

She’s soft and she always puts her job (him, actually) first, so he doesn’t really trust her to know her limits. If she’s sick she should rest. She should lay in bed and maybe eat a little soup and watch comfort movies tucked under the sheets, but he knows she won’t. And he knows he’s the reason behind that, because he’s playing at Wembley tonight, and she doesn’t want to cause trouble. Harry thinks she in no way could ever be described as trouble. 

And maybe, and he feels a little bit scared to admit this, he could postpone the show just by a couple hours, at least until he knows she’s resting at the hotel. but, she hurries into the van and pretends like she’s just got “a cold or something”, so Harry doesn’t question her further. 

He could just order her to take the day off, but he knows that would hurt her feelings, and he can imagine the look on her face, like a puppy being scolded, so he bites his tongue: there’s no way he could ever hurt her feelings.

…

YN has to stop a couple of times when she starts feeling dizzy on her feet. She shouldn’t run this much when she’s probably feverish, but there’s so much to do! She doesn’t trust to delegate, and not because she’s pretentious, but because she’s a control freak that needs to know how things are being handled, so she would only get much more frustrated and it would eventually just end up in her doing all the work anyway, increasing her fever undoubtedly. 

So, she chugs downs a lot of water and a lot of ibuprofen, taking deep breaths every time she starts feeling nauseous. She should probably inform Harry at least that she doesn’t feel good, so if anything were to happen he wouldn’t be too surprised, but she knows how he is; he would demand she stop immediately and go back to the hotel to rest, and she can’t allow that to happen. 

Wembley is the dream of a lifetime, and Harry sound checks every song two times before passing on to the next one. YN sits quietly in one of the seats, preparing Harry’s next instagram post on her phone. She handles all of his socials, because that’s what she was originally hired for. “A young set of eyes”, Jeff had defined her, and from then, her life had changed completely. 

Of course, she wasn’t aware she’d develop a crush on her boss at the time she was hired. She figured she’d be immune to his charm; she’s younger than him, much less experienced (in every aspect of her life), and hasn’t really seen anything yet, so she thought they’d just be too different to get along. Spending each second of the day together didn’t help, though, because it was then she got to know Harry for who he truly was, and with that, came the awareness of how many things he’d lived through and how many things he could teach her. How soft he was with her, how he would always drape a blanket over her when she accidentally fell asleep on his bed, and how he would tell her she looked pretty even after pulling an all nighter and probably looking like a raccoon. That’s just how he was.

And that’s why she values his dreams more than her health. She would never do anything that could harm him, so she shrugs off the dreadful feeling off her back and keeps working. 

…

“Hey” Harry plops down on the couch next to her, draping his arm on the backrest of the couch. If he’d stretched his fingers he could touch her shoulder, but he doesn’t just yet. He knows she still doesn’t feel good, he can see it in the way she’s hugging herself in the Love on tour hoodie she has on (probably one of his because their laundry always gets mixed up).

“Hi” she says softly, her voice much lower than it’d been the last time he saw her.

It’s closer to show time now, but he’s still not in his outfit. YN wonders if that’s the reason why he came in the dressing room in the first place.

“What are yeh doin’ hidin’ in here all alone?” 

“‘m not hiding!” She pouts, “jus’… resting” 

“Mh, yeah?” He hums, turning his head to look at her, “restin’ your ears? Are you tired of my music yet?” He jokes.

“Never!” She beams, swatting at his chest playfully.

He lets his arm fall down on her shoulder, and he tugs at her, squeezing her against his chest.

She breaths him in, and despite her stuffy nose, she can smell the faint scent of his fabric softener. Musk and lavender. It’s the same as hers.

 “I’m sorry I’ve been a bit of a pain lately…” he trails off, his mouth buried in her hair, “nothing to do with you… was jus’ nervous is all”

She squeezes his hoodie between her fingers to tug him closer, “I’m really proud of you. You’ll do great.”

“Thanks, pet” he grins, breaking away from the hug.

She sniffles and he looks between her eyes warily, “’s there anything you want to tell me before I go on stage?”

“Jus’ to kick ass” she giggles, aware that wasn’t what he was alluding at.

“Mmmh” he muses, getting up from the couch. He knew she’d be stubborn about this so he doesn’t pressure her.

“Hav’to start gettin’ ready” he clears his throat, heading towards the portable hanger YN set up in his dressing room.

He then proceeds to take off his hoodie and his tank top, leaving him shirtless before her.

She’s seen him in his underwear many times, but maybe it’s the fever, maybe it’s the crush on him that’s growing stronger everyday, but she feels her insides get warm at the sight. 

He tugs his sweats down his legs too, kicking them off his feet, and YN pretends to pick up her phone to respond to a message that definitely could have waited. 

He picks up the heart printed overalls he’d be wearing and tugs them over his legs, jumping a little in his place so they could fit over his bum.

Once he’s fully dressed, he looks over at YN and finds her looking at him already, her eyes a little droopy. He feels his heart tug in his chest at the sight. He wishes she’d let him help her. If he could he’d send her back to the hotel straight away, but he has to admit he’s selfishly relishing in the idea of having her here, looking at him perform. It makes him want to do even better than he always does. 

“All ready then” he smiles, dimples denting both his cheeks.

“Mmhh” she hums, getting up on her feet. She walks towards him and adjusts the neck of his shirt, petting it down.

“Good luck Harry” she smiles. He has to refrain himself from lowering his head down to kiss her, and he’s aware these thoughts are way too unprofessional of him, but he can’t help himself. Not when she’s looking at him like that.

“See ya after the show, pet”

…

“Harry!” Jeff pats down on his shoulders as soon as Harry runs backstage, “you just smashed it! Fuckin’ smashed it mate!”

Harry laughs with him out of politeness, but his mind is really on something else.

“Fuckin’ Wembley, Harry! Wembley’s Harry’s house!” Someone else shouts, and he thinks it’s Lloyd but he doesn’t really pay much attention to him. There’s someone missing from the crowd. YN. She’s nowhere to be found, and he’d really like to celebrate with her. She’s the one that should join in on the fun and get a little bit of praise too, because without her, harry doesn’t think he could’ve played Wembley.

Everything was going fine, and he saw her next to his mother standing in the private part of the pit, but then, when he came back after chatting with a couple of fans, she was gone. He wonders if she’s okay.

“Hey, Jeff” he clears his throat, hoping to be discreet with his tone of voice, “where’s YN?” 

“Oh…” he nods, “she wasn’t feeling proper good, so I sent her to your dressing room. I told her to get back to the hotel, but she refused to leave”

Harry nods and after a ‘thanks’ he hurries towards his dressing room, hoping to find her there.

Once he opens the door, the sight of YN sleeping on the couch crouched on herself makes his heart somersault in his chest.

“Hey, pet” he coos softly once he crouches down next to her.

He repeats the endearing greeting, and this time she stirs awake. YN brings one hand to knuckle at her eyes tiredly, and Harry frowns at the sight of her bloodshot eyes. He brings one hand to caress her cheek, but when he realizes how warm she is, he brings it up to her forehead. She’s burning hot. 

He immediately feels guilty. He should’ve sent her back to the hotel as soon as he realized she was sick, hell, he shouldn’t have let her leave his room that morning!

“Harry?” She asks timidly, her voice coming out scruffy. She gulps but flinches as the hurt in her throat doesn’t subside. 

“Yeah, ’s me” he whispers, moving the hair away from her face, “let’s go back to the hotel, okay?” 

“No Harry! The show! You can’t leave… the show! It’s wembley” she stresses, gripping his bicep tightly to refrain him from leaving her.

“Shh, shh” he shushes her, “calm down. ’s okay. The show was great. Everything was great” he coos, pressing his lips down her forehead and flinching from how hot it feels, “you did so great”.

She sniffles and: “great?” 

“Yeah” he nods, reassuring her, “let’s go now, okay?”

He helps her get up on her feet, and she stumbles a bit in her place. She grips the fabric of his overalls tightly between her fingers, and he lets her, hoping to be at least a little bit of comfort.

…

“How are you feelin’? What hurts?” He asks her once they reach his hotel room (he wanted to go back to hers, but couldn’t find her key and didn’t want to startle her too much).

“Everything” she pouts.

“I’m so sorry, darling” he sighs, ushering her inside his room.

She’s stable on her feet now, the little nap at the venue kind of helped a bit in soothing her, but still, everything hurts, and the thought of being in a hotel room and not at her own house bothers her.

She also doesn’t want Harry to look at her like this, all sweaty and red in the cheeks. She must look so embarrassing! 

“I’ll draw you a bath, how about that?” He proposes, not waiting for her response and heading directly towards the bathroom.

Now that he thinks about it, harry’s glad she’s in his room, because (being the Harry Styles) his room has a bathtub, whereas hers doesn’t. He also has lots of salt baths and bubbles to add to the water, courtesy of the hotel, and he adds everything he can to soothe her stuffed nose and make the bath as pleasing as possible.

She knocks on the door delicately, and he turns his head to look at her.

“Bath’s ready” he smiles gently, and he dips his index finger to test the temperature of the water, careful not to make it too hot to not aggravate her fever any more. 

Harry excuses himself from the bathroom, and tells her to give him a shout if she needs anything.

It’s a couple of minutes later when he hears her calling for him, her voice still lower than normal.

He knocks on the door and after he gets her consent he opens it, peeking his head inside. She’s laying in the bathtub, the water submerging her almost to her neck, and he’s aware she’s naked under, but the bubbles cover her body entirely.

“Are yeh all right?” He asks worriedly.

“Mhmh,” she hums, “jus… keep me company?” 

He’s happy she’s more responsive now, and he happily sits at her side, plopping down on the toilet seat next to the tub.

They sit in silence for a while, Harry’s aware he’s still in his fancy (and uncomfortable) show clothes, but he doesn’t care. He’s just happy to dote on her now as she’s been doing with him since she’s been hired.

“I can’t believe you played at wembley and I missed half of it” she says after a while, the water sloshing around her as she turns to look at him.

“There’s always next time” he grins at her playfully.

She throws a smile at him, “bet”.

His mouth opens in a sideway smile, his dimple indenting only one of his cheeks, and more seriously than he did before, he says “I wish you’d told me you weren’t feelin’ good”

“Didn’t want to spoil your day” she shrugs.

He wants to tell her she wouldn’t have spoiled it, that if she’d asked he would’ve postponed his show and crawled in bed with her, cuddling her until she felt better, even with the risk of getting himself sick too, he didn’t care. He would have done anything to make her feel good; but how can he tell her? How can he be honest about something like that without revealing another part of himself to her? He’s her boss. He’s older than her. And he doesn’t know if she feels the same way.

So, instead of making a complete fool out of himself, he ushers her out of the tub, passing her a towel without looking at her. He engulfs her in the bathrobe and ties it tight on her stomach, careful to have her bits covered completely by the fabric of the towel.

When he reaches his room, he takes out a t-shirt and a pair of boxers for her to sleep in, and he leave her to change in the bathroom.

While he waits for her to come out, he texts his mum if she could make that delicious soup she always prepared when he was sick, promising he wasn’t sick himself and that he’d explain in the morning. His mum answers a couple of minutes later with a thumbs up and a kissy face. 

He locks his phone and plugs it in the charger next to the bed, leaving it on the bedside table.

When YN comes out of the bathroom, she looks better already. Her cheeks aren’t as red and her eyes appear to be more rested, but, she still looks tired, and he smiles at her as he tugs the comforter down for her to slip in.

She curls up under the covers and waits for Harry to tuck her in, “comfortable?” He asks.

She nods with her cheek against the pillow, “just wish I was home” she whispers and the affirmation pains him.

“I’ve been overworking yah, haven’t I?” He sighs deeply, feeling extremely guilty. 

She’s quick to shake her head no, flinching when a sting of pain hits her temples with the movement. 

“Yes I have… you’ve been s’good” he smiles down at her.

“You’re a Wembley player now” she whispers, her eyes closing on her as she speaks, and Harry chuckles endeared at her. 

“Get some rest” he coos, but she’s already fallen in a deep sleep that will probably be tainted with a curly headed guy with green eyes and a pretty smile.

He fishes from inside her bag a tab of ibuprofen and, with a glass of water, he places them on the bedside table closer to her side, so, if she’d ever were to wake up in pain, she could take the medicine immediately. 

He takes the shortest shower he’s ever taken, quickly putting on his pajamas and brushing his teeth. Once he’s ready for bed, he slips in next to her, leaning down to press his lips on her forehead to check her temperature. She’s still warm, but the bath seemed to be of help, and probably the much needed sleep, too.

He thinks he’ll give her the rest of the month off. He owes it to her, so she can get back up on her feet and spend some time at home if she’d like. He takes a minute to wonder why hasn’t he ever given her more than a day of rest, and he doesn’t have to wonder too much, because he knows the answer already, one that is overbearing and too deep to even analyze after the day he’s had: he doesn’t want to be away from her that much time. It’s as simple as that. He’s fucked.

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Remember that time in Chicago, Harry gave that dog belly scratches for ages ….. mentally still here

Out of a dream

summary : you and THE harry styles had a one night stand.. the night was a blur so the morning you wake up you’re quite surprised.

warnings : mentions of sex, swearing, fluff?? pls let me know if there was anything else!!

*HEY GUYS!!! first of all I want to thank you for everything on my first ever writing post, i know it’s not the best thing you’ve ever read, it’s definitely not the best thing I’ve written but I didn’t expect that much love. I’m so sorry for just disappearing, life has been very busy but I will get back to things soon! p.s this is how y/n will be in most of my writings, not shy, very outgoing and sarcastic!!!*

Last night was very much a blur.

The only thing you remember was drinking at a random club in the Hollywood Hills, then stumbling into a SUV before everything else was just a blackout.

Waking up to the sun beaming onto your face, your eyes flutter open, hand coming up to block the bright light from your eyes. Although everything seems quite normal, you feel a heavy thing over your torso and a soft aroma of a Tom Ford cologne, pushing yourself up quickly you scan the room, confused on how you might of ended up here.

Well, you already know because the most logical reason would be that you wanted to get someone’s dick wet. You look down to see if the man you pleasured was good looking at-least and-

“Holy fuck.” Your eyes widen, your heart beating out of your chest as you freeze. Harry fucking Styles is sleeping right beside you, curls sticking up left and right, you realise his face was buried into your stomach because of the red mark on it.

You also realise you both were naked, quickly scrambling out of the bed- or wait, his bed. You grab your panties from the floor pulling them up, panic mode absolutely activated.

You hear him moving on the bed, sheets rustling as he sits up, glancing to him he’s stretching his arms above his head, turning his head to you and you notice the panic now evident on his face.

“Hey.. uhh, are you okay? Did I scare you or something, I promise I didn’t kidnap you.” He watches you as you put on your bra, grabbing your shirt and jeans to put on.

“I didn’t realise I literally just fucked Harry Styles, sorry.” Looking into the full-size mirror he has next to the bed you fix your hair up, not noticing how he’s got out of his bed and put his boxers back on, you also didn’t notice how he winced from what you said, he didn’t like when he was labeled as just a famous celebrity a random girl had fucked after having the best sex he’s ever had.

“Hey, chill out. Calm down I’m not gonna like bite you or anything. Unless..” he walks up behind you, looking at you through the mirror.

“Harry, this isn’t funny. 15 year old me would be absolute screaming right now that I actually finally fucked Harry Styles.” Your face blooms in redness at the confession, you see him raise his eyebrows in the mirror, smiling.

“‘S really cute y’know, your dream coming true. You don’t have to go right now.” His hands find their way to your hips, pulling you back into his chest as you keep your eyes on yourself in the mirror, clipping your earrings back into your ears.

You practically lose your breath as his hands caress your hips, all you want to do is pounce onto him and fuck him yet again. But you can’t, you always tended to have attachment issues and having them with Harry Styles was not the way to go.

You had to continue on with life and hide the fact that you hooked up with Harry in the back of your head.

“I have to go, Harry. I have a home and a life, maybe we can hook up some other time in like 3005 or something!” You muster up a smile for him, turning to look up at him, his eyes shine a beautiful emerald green, a dimple pokes out of his cheek, his lips a beautiful shade of pink.

Oh you wanted him so bad again, you knew Harry, from his music of course but you didn’t know or let’s say like him enough to be a fan, that’s for sure. He tugs on your hips again, your hands coming to his waist to brace yourself.

You did wonder if this is what the routine was with all his hookups, fuck them till he was satisfied? Part of you also didn’t think so as he was such a gentleman.

“Come on, darling. Jus’ a little bit longer? I promise, this is not what happens wit’ all the girls I have seen.” The pet name makes you all giddy, your hand coming up to comb through his chocolate curls.

“Are you just trying to make me feel bad for you so then I can follow your music and promote it and whatever?” You ask, eyebrow raising. You see he’s taken aback by that, his eyebrows creasing.

“No, no! Y/N im so sorry if it looks that way, oh my god. I promise that’s not- that’s definitely not what I’m trying to do.” You giggle at his panic, a little surprised that he remembered your name.

“I’m just kidding.” You smile as he pushes his bottom lip out in a soft pout, without thinking you push up onto your tippy toes, pressing your lips against his soft ones, he kisses you back almost instantly, innocently pecking your lips a few times before he slips his tongue into your mouth.

Harry then lifts you up, your legs wrapping around his waist as he moves back to the bed, mumbling something softly against your lips.

“Maybe you could give me your number or something if I prove to you that the night was really worth it.” He pulls away, a smirk on his lips, you laugh, biting your bottom lip softly.

“Yeah, yeah. Dream on Watermelon Sugar singer.”

You see a spark in his eyes and as he leans back in to kiss you again your vision goes black.

You feel heat on your body and your eyes snap open, the sun beaming on you, yet again. You look around the room, sitting up, you’re in your own room. You look beside you, a messy empty spot beside you.

Your head then whips to someone walking into the bedroom, it was your fiancée, a bright smile planted on his face seeing you’re finally awake.

“You were having a good dream so I didn’t want to wake you, sounded like you were having fun.” He wiggles his eyebrows, coming to move onto the bed, pulling you into his chest.

“Yeah, it was about the first time i met you.” You plant a kiss onto his bare chest, arms wrapping around his waist.

“Ohh, s’right when I was Watermelon Sugar boy.” He smiles, kissing the top of your head. “Lucky you finally gave into giving me your number, hey? Now getting married to my one night stand in two weeks.”

“You’re still a loser, Harry. And no I’m still not following your Spotify even when we’re married.” You mumble against him.

“Dang it.”

hehe lol this has no plot xx

dividers by @firefly-graphics 🤍