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hsficrecommendation · 2 months

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false god

PAIRING harry styles x reader

SUMMARY harry’s having trouble finding enough time to spend with y/n, even after she drops everything and joins him on tour. when they talk, they only seem to argue. when they don’t, they only seem to fuck.

WARNINGS she’s an angsty one— lots of miscommunication, poorly executed arguments, and general couple fighting content. BUT!! there is lots of really cute fluff at the end :> also, beware of smutty content such as soft!dom harry (my favorite), oral (f!receiving, implied m!receiving), unprotected p in v, a brief hesitation to get naked on y/n’s part, an even more brief mention of bondage play, harry leaves like one love bite, and tooth-rotting holding each other while having sex content. lmk if i missed anything!

WORD COUNT 5.5k

AUTHOR’S NOTE fun fact this was supposed to be done months ago and then literally everything that could have gotten in my way did just that. but she’s here now!! writing this was a challenge but i feel so good about it now that it’s complete and i can’t wait for you all to read it. please lmk you enjoyed by leaving feedback and/or reblogging!! special thanks to @cherryjuiceblues for beta reading for me <3 ily <3

LOVER SELECTION one-shots here.

“harry, it doesn’t matter if—”

“it does to me!”

“hey, there are two people in this relationship, you know.”

“yeah, an‘ one of ’em feels like right shit on what’s meant to be the greatest tour of his life! doesn’t that mean anythin‘ to you?”

“of course it does, i just—”

“really? ’cause y’could’ve fooled me, love.”

“harry, i swear, if you interrupt me one more time, i’m booking the next flight home.”

… tour had been going really well for harry! he was playing back to back sold out shows in some of the biggest cities in the world, with adoring fans lining up by the thousands, itching to hear him sing live. he’d already had some really sweet interactions on stage, and no crazy mishaps had occurred (he was especially proud of himself for having ensured everyone’s safety so far). just in the last week alone, he’d been nominated for three different awards for his newest album and performances. anyone could see that he was living a dream— the dream, really. the kind that only comes true once in a blue moon.

and yet… tour had been going really poorly for harry. now, he doesn’t like to complain about much; he knows just how fortunate he is, and actively tries to see the bigger picture when frustrated. but it was really hard to zoom out of his particular situation when he was so zeroed in on a particular aspect that had been bugging him for weeks— y/n.

don’t get him wrong! y/n herself wasn’t what was bothering him. it was more so her presence, and his… lack thereof.

if there’s one thing harry prides himself on more than anything, it’s being an attentive lover— even in the most innocent and platonic of ways. he tries his absolute hardest to be a supportive brother, a considerate son, a (hopefully) decent role model to those who look up to him, and especially a present, loving boyfriend. and for the most part, he’s just as successful in those aspects as he is in his career. in fact, y/n regularly speaks of how harry treats her like she hangs the stars in the sky just for him, how he makes her feel like the most special girl in the world.

but this tour was taking its toll, and harry was taking it out on y/n. he’s never been great at communicating everything in the most positive of ways— that’s where he turns to songwriting— and he’d let his emotions get the better of him after letting them build up for the past couple of weeks. he wasn’t proud of himself, but he needed an outlet.

harry didn’t mean to start the fight. but when y/n asked him where he’d been after a last minute management meeting following that night’s show kept him an extra half hour later than he said he’d be, it was like all the frustration just erupted. inadequacy is one of his least favorite feelings (next to loneliness), and being a barely-there or only-sometimes-there boyfriend couldn’t be more of a trigger for that particular emotion.

now here they were, vexation filling the tour bus around them like a fog they could barely see through, inhaling it with every breath and releasing it back into the atmosphere surrounding them. harry huffed out a sigh, arms crossed and brow furrowed as he angrily looked out the window of the tour bus to distract himself for a moment, having to mentally step away from the argument at hand, even if just for a few seconds. watching as the dark streets outside shined with the headlights of other vehicles, he found himself wishing he were in one of them. it would be nice to be in a car alone, nothing but his thoughts and some music to keep him company.

but he had real company. she was standing not six feet away from him, emulating his defensive position with her arms drawn across her own chest, jaw clenching and relaxing every other moment. when he finally turned to look at her again, he exhaled loudly.

“we were crazy to think that this could work,” he mumbled, barely audible to y/n, but she was able to make it out.

even when they fought, the girl seemed to be in sync with him, inhaling deeply, subconsciously countering his previous expulsion of breath. the yin to his yang.

“what are you talking about?”

harry groaned at her words. how didn’t she get this? “y/n, i’m never around! i wake up when you’re still asleep, prepare for the day, go to the venue, help set up the stage, sound check, rehearse a bit, and then ’m off t’go get ready for a show that lasts two hours. almost each night! i come back exhausted and aching to sleep! where d’you see yourself fitting in there?”

when y/n realized it was her turn to speak again, she said, “first off, do you think you could please calm down a little? i can’t talk to you when you’re like this.”

his eyes narrowed. “like what?”

“when you’re acting like a child, harry! i mean, for god’s sake, i’m not nine! i can handle hanging out on my own for a few days at a time and just getting to cuddle with you at night until you have a day off. it’s not like i don’t have things to do throughout the day, too.”

while harry tended to say things he didn’t exactly believe in the heat of the moment, y/n meant every word she uttered. she really was content relaxing in the tour bus or a hotel room taking care of work on her laptop, catching up on new episodes of her favorite shows, or even going out to explore whatever new city they were in by herself. harry had breaks between show days once or twice a week, and the thought of having those days to themselves was enough to sate her desire to spend time with him. it annoyed her that he didn’t understand that, as she’d never been the clingy type and was always very self-sufficient.

“oh, i’m acting like a child, am i? right, i didn’t realize that wanting t’be present in my relationship with my girlfriend was childish, but hey, you learn something new every day, i s’pose.”

oh, y/n was really starting to seethe now. letting her arms fall to her sides with a frustrated puff, she began again.

“god, harry, you’re not childish for wanting to spend time together! i’m saying you need to realize that i’m perfectly capable of waiting for your days off to really spend time with you. you’re acting like we can’t function without each other!”

“the whole idea of you comin‘ on tour with me was to have this time together, y/n,” harry fired back. “if we’re barely going to get to see each other anyways, then what’s the bloody point?”

…

harry might have spoken too soon. at least, that’s what he thought as he laid overtop y/n on the tour bus couch, because now the point might very well be getting to just feel her lips on his every now and again.

it was late; harry had just come back from a show. usually, he’s too tired to do anything but crash onto a cloud-like mattress after all the jumping around he does on that stage, but this time all he wanted was his girl. it’d started innocently enough, with harry pulling y/n into his lap on the worn, red leather of the couch. his hands roamed along her hips and down to her waist beneath her soft hoodie (which wasn’t even technically her’s, but is it really theft if harry just leaves his clothes lying around for her to nab?), exploring the soft expanse of her skin, not straying any lower. her own hands were hidden in his curls, lightly scratching at his scalp in what she hoped were soothing motions.

harry knew he was done for once he initiated the kiss. tentative at first, he pressed light pecks along the corner of her mouth, quick and feathery, like he didn’t really care if he got to kiss her so much as he got to hold her, or simply be with her. but soon, the eagerness set in, like he wasn’t sure when the next time he’d get to have her was, and suddenly he was capturing her mouth with his own, barely giving her a chance to breathe as he tasted her. while harry never really believed in a higher power, he could have sworn he found religion in her lips.

things only escalated from there. it wasn’t long before harry was wrapping his muscular arms around y/n, so tight that he accidentally squeezed too hard, earning a squeak from the girl. he muttered a hushed but sincere “’m sorry, darling,” to compensate. one hand supported her head, the other splayed across her back as he laid her against the cushions so that he could keep loving on her on the way down. he relished her little whimpers that she tried so hard to suppress, grinning against her jawbone, her neck, any skin he came across on his journey south to more pressing territory.

harry didn’t bother removing y/n’s hoodie, opting instead to push it up past her naval in favor of gaining access to the waistband of her fluffy sleep shorts. he felt her hands tighten their grip ever so slightly on his shoulders as he hooked his fingers under it, relaxing again when he rubbed the pad of his thumb delicately along her hipbone, reminding her it was only him.

it was a thing with y/n. she loved harry, of course she did, and she trusted him more than anyone. and maybe it was the way she was brought up, or perhaps a few poor experiences with sexual partners in the past, but there was always a fleeting moment of anxiety before shedding the clothing barrier before sex. like dipping a toe into a cold lake and hesitating a little, then ultimately deciding that jumping in wouldn’t be so bad.

harry never pried. the first few times they’d slept together, he noticed her nerves, and asked her if she was sure she wanted to continue. y/n had said yes each time, and after a while, he stopped asking. but still, whenever he noticed that brief nervous shift, harry gave her a chance to change her mind.

this time, he bided his time by sponging tender kisses right above where his fingers were still half hidden under her shorts. he wanted her to feel safe, and taken care of, and he hoped his gentle touches and even breathing could remedy her anxiety. as he waited, harry’s mind drifted…. he was getting lost in the feel of her soft skin, its dips and curves and blemishes. he thought about her waist, how his hands fit so perfectly against its sides; her tummy, and how the muscles there jolted when he tickled them; and her hips… god, if y/n’s body was a church, her hips could be the altar. harry was ready to say a prayer right then, thanking every higher power for blessing him with this gorgeous girl—

“harry?” his love’s melodic voice interrupted his thoughts, and harry’s eyes snapped up to meet hers, his nose continuing to skim just above her navel. “um… you can keep going. please.”

the corner of harry’s mouth quirked upward, and y/n could have sworn she caught a glimpse of mischief in the jade of his irises, but it was gone in an instant, as he wasted no time in stripping her of her bottoms.

…

“god, h-harry,” panted y/n, her grip on his curls constricting with every lick to her core, “’s so good, oh—”

“would feel even better if y’stopped trying t’run away from me, wouldn’t it? don’t wanna have to tie you down.”

y/n couldn’t help it! it wasn’t her fault if harry’s tongue was just too good and her body’s natural reaction was to attempt to escape his grip for a little relief. if anything, he should be happy— they’d been at this for so long y/n lost count of the minutes, and after two toe-curling orgasms, one would think harry’s jaw could use a break.

but that thought flew out the window when y/n remembered who she was metaphorically in bed with.

“’m sorry…,” she whimpered, gripping the side of the couch cushion as her eyes squeezed shut.

“don‘ have to be sorry, darling,” harry mumbled against her folds, chin glistening with her arousal as he placed a soft kiss to y/n’s clit, making her jolt in his hold. he breathed a short laugh, adjusting his arms so that one held her upper thigh next to his head, while the other pinned her hips to the red leather, restricting her ability to move. “jus’ wanna make you feel as good as possible, is all. will y’let me?”

harry turned his head, nipping at the inside of the girl’s thigh, and she gasped at the brief assault on the softest skin of her body, now adorning the mark of his front teeth that she loved so much. she shuddered a breath as best she could, and harry could tell by the way her knuckles were turning white in their grip on the couch that she was trying her best to be good. feeling a twinge of guilt, he figured maybe he should offer her a second to breathe. y/n opened her eyes when she felt harry’s lips retreat from her aching cunt and the weight of his head rest against the love bite.

“hey.”

y/n cast her gaze down upon the boy (who looked far too innocent, considering what they were doing) with his cheek laid on her inner thigh, stray hairs tickling her just a tad. playfulness swam in his eyes, but there was an underlying current of concern.

“doin‘ okay?”

she nodded, gulping. harry noticed.

“because we can take a break if you want to. just say the word, okay?”

“i will, i-i promise. but… can you please keep going?”

that was all he needed to get right back into it, only with even more fervor than before. when y/n reached her third and final peak of the night, her whole body shook, and harry had the pleasure of getting to watch as he helped her ride out her high. he almost came in his pants, rutting his hips into the sofa, moaning against her core, begging her give it t’me, love, that’s it.

harry pulled back when she started pushing at his head, whining for relief as he gave one final lap at her core. he grinned at her fucked-out figure as he wiped his face on his forearm, then took her hand that had been grasping at the cushion in one of his, bringing the back of it to his lips for a gentle kiss.

“feel all right, baby?”

“mhm,” she hummed between heaving breaths, glancing at what she assumed could only be a quite painful stiffy between his legs as he sat up, “do you?”

harry followed her line of vision, offering her a chuckle and an i’m fine, using his free hand to smooth his thumb along her brow. before he could even register it, her palm slipped from the grip of his other hand and traveled down to rub against the bulge in his pants, earning a sharp hiss from her boyfriend and a deep groan soon after.

“why don’t you let me repay the favor?”

…

harry was pretty sure y/n was asleep. if she wasn’t, she was definitely on the verge— her breaths were deep and even as she laid in his hold, her head on his chest, ear pressed overtop his steadily beating heart. and who could blame her? the evening’s activities had worn her out, which meant harry had done his job properly. he was more than happy to be wide awake, running his fingertips up and down her arm, inhaling the sweet scent of her fruity body wash while she dreamt if it meant she was rested and content and happy.

moments like these made harry think they could get away with it. the long hours spent apart, the hectic schedules, the fighting. sure, it was tough, and yes, they both had a temper that rivaled one another’s for the ‘least amount of patience award’ on any given day. but every missing ounce of patience was compensated by double its weight in love. they loved one another enough to make it work.

they could make this work.

right?

…

“jesus, harry, how do you think that makes me feel? you’d honestly rather i not be here? are you actually that insecure?”

“c’mon, y/n, you know tha’s not what i meant.”

y/n felt like they were going around in circles, having the same fight over and over again. only this time, the couple found themselves in a beautiful hotel room, with a beautiful view overlooking a beautiful city. and instead of getting to enjoy it, y/n was glaring at harry though the vanity mirror, his back facing her as he tamed his wild curls for tonight’s show… which he had to leave for in just a few short minutes.

the balled up fist on y/n’s hip flew up to her face, fingers flexing to pinch at the bridge of her nose as her eyes squeezed shut for a moment.

“i can’t believe this. i dropped everything to be here with you— to support you on the most incredible tour of your career— and instead of being happy i’m here as opposed to the alternative of thousands of miles away in a different time zone for months, you’re sitting here bitching about being too tired?”

harry sighed deeply, only infuriating y/n more. “you’re missing the point. ’s not that i don’t want you here, or just that ’m too tired. ’s knowing you’re sitting around by yourself, waiting on me while ’m working, when you could be out with friends and family, or sleeping in the comfort of your own bed—”

“that you’re not in!” the girl loudly interjected— how didn’t he get this? “i put all those things aside for us, har. it’s not like i’m leaving my life behind for years. christ’s sake, the tour is over in two months! but somehow, being away from my home and routine is easier than being in the same room as you right now.”

harry contemplated his next words carefully, turning them over in his head a few times and editing any obvious mistakes, leaving the pair of them to marinate in suffocating silence for a good ten or so seconds before he finally spoke.

“y/n… i can’t be a good boyfriend and a serious artist simultaneously, okay? not while ’m on tour. i can’t keep losing sleep over how well i’m balancing—”

“okay, you know what, harry? you know what? maybe you should just leave me, then. wouldn’t that be easier? you’d be able to sleep better at night, right?”

they both knew she didn’t mean it, though harry couldn’t lie and say it didn’t hurt to hear. but she was pissed, and harry knew better than to try to reason with her when she was like this.

when she realized he wasn’t going to respond, instead electing to stare brokenly into the mirror, she continued. “you know damn well how hard i work for this relationship. i’ve flown across the oceans that have separated us, driven for hours just to get to see you for, like, one— hell, i’ve skipped some of my most important classes so we could go to shitty dive bars in the middle of the day together! yeah, remember that? i love you, okay? people who love each other are supposed to be grateful for any time they have together at all, no matter if it’s every day or once a year.”

y/n took a breath, finally cooling down after her heated rant. she took a moment to take in the sight of her boyfriend, dressed so vibrantly, feeling anything but.

“they warned us about times like this,” the defeated tone of y/n’s whisper was enough to finally get harry to say something.

“what was that, love?”

the girl swallowed the little saliva in her mouth before speaking up a mere decibel. “remember what my parents said? ‘the road gets hard, and you get lost when you’re led by blind faith,’” she imitated her father’s deep voice, and if not for the circumstances, harry might’ve laughed.

they weren’t lost, were they?

…

if there was such a thing as heaven on earth, y/n is pretty sure she’s been there. in fact, she goes there whenever harry so much as touches her.

when he kisses her shin as they lay watching a movie together on the couch, pulling her leg up off his lap and craning his neck downward to meet it in the middle. when he runs his fingers down the bridge of her nose, making an exaggerated boop! noise once he reaches the tip, gently pressing against it like a doorbell. and especially when he has her like this.

harry’s arms felt secure wrapped around y/n’s torso, her hips moving back and forth atop his own. the feeling of his cock twitching and shifting inside her while her nipples rub deliciously along his chest made her dizzy, like she had just gotten off a loopy rollercoaster. harry’s back arched just slightly off the plush mattress of their hotel suite’s bed when y/n gave a little bounce, arms constricting around her and forcing a pleased sigh to fall from her lips.

the girl hid her face in the crook of his neck, and harry could feel each and every hot breath against his skin. lost in pleasure, he let his large hands migrate from her hips down to her bum, where he gave a small pinch to the flesh, eliciting a yelp and a small jolt from y/n.

“sorry, baby,” he laughed, “couldn’t help m’self.” harry gently flattened his palm against the now tender skin, rubbing there softly in an attempt to soothe the little ache he left. when he felt satisfied, he shifted to rubbing between her shoulder blades instead, his other arm still wrapped around her lower back as she returned to her previous rhythm above him.

y/n could tell harry was enjoying himself. his groans alone were evidence enough, not to mention the little utterances of “shit, darling,” and “so good t’me,” he frequently let slip. but perhaps he just needed a bit more to reach his high, because without warning his hands were on her thighs, gripping tightly as he began to thrust upwards into her at a much quicker pace than she had originally set— it had her seeing stars in a matter of mere seconds.

“oh, god— harry,” y/n gasped out, gripping the edge of the plush pillow by harry’s ear. she could feel him hitting that special spot inside her with every snap of his hips, and she couldn’t stop her eyes from rolling back into her head, muscles tightening all throughout her body.

“almost there, angel… just…,” harry’s thrusts began to slow, becoming more deliberate, and now he was moving her hips to grind against his each time they met, sending y/n over the edge.

y/n’s moans were long and drawn out as she came, body spasms making her hold on more tightly to harry for stability. she didn’t even hear him finish, too busy reveling in the euphoric feeling of cumming in his arms, surrounded by warmth and love and feeling the safest she had in a long while.

it was moments like these where y/n couldn’t fathom how she’s ever been upset with harry. he was perfect, lying here under her unsteady body, breathing deeply not only to catch his breath, but to take in the smell of her. she wanted this for eternity. and if this was heaven, then surely hell was when they fought with each other.

…

y/n thought she was dreaming at first, not used to being roused from her slumber by anything other than her well-timed alarm and the occasional bark of a dog on a nearby street. she expected that after blinking the sleep from her eyes a few times, the vague image of her favorite boy would dissipate, and she’d fall back into the comfort of her warm pillow. but when she squeezed them shut once, then twice, and her boyfriend’s face was still a foot away from her’s, brushing his fingertips up her nose and along her brow, she set aside her exhaustion in exchange for confusion.

now, harry knew better than to wake y/n up. in most circumstances, she’d tell him off, or gently kick at him to get him to leave her alone. he found it rather endearing, and it’s one of the reasons he’s so protective of her in her sleep— always holding her close to keep her safe, shielding her eyes from any light intruding on the space she lay, making sure both their phones were set to ‘do not disturb.’ but he had to make an exception, just this once.

“darling,” she barely registered his whisper, “wake up f’me, please?”

a whine fell from y/n’s lips, her eyes scrunching shut as she turned her body away from him, which harry knew was code for let me sleep, for fuck’s sake! a smile graced his lips at the action, jotting down a mental note to make this up to her later.

compensating for the newfound distance between them, harry scooted closer to her. he kneeled on the floor next to the bed, close to the pillows she rested upon. he laid one arm against the mattress, perching his chin on the back of his wrist. using his free hand, he continued to brush his fingertips lightly against his love’s cheek, her jaw— all along her face, really. god, her loves her face so much.

“please, baby?”

harry had just come back from one of his best performances yet— the crowd’s energy was unmatched, the chemistry between him and his band members was palpable, and he’d managed to not get hit with any flying objects all night! but what really did it for him was the fan project he was surprised with at the end of the show. thousands of people in the room wore light-up bracelets that shone pink and blue during one of his favorite songs, ‘love of my life.’ if harry’s heart had been any more full in that moment, it might’ve exploded right there in his chest.

he had been on cloud nine for a moment. but soon, realization washed over him in a way that squeezed at his lungs, stealing his breath for a second. the love of his life was somewhere miles away, probably sitting in their hotel room watching a comfort film, oblivious to anything he was feeling on that stage. he just wanted to go home to her and gush about what had happened, and how he wished she’d been there, and how it made so much sense that it would happen during ‘love of my life’ because it was the perfect representation of the amount of love he had for his, and how if she’d have been there, he would have looked directly at her and smiled the whole time.

it made him realize how bloody stupid he was.

in retrospect, the conversation he’d needlessly just woken y/n up for could have waited until morning. but then harry wouldn’t have been able to sleep if he didn’t tell her he was sorry right away.

a groan sounded through the room, followed by the ruffling of bedsheets as the girl turned back over to glare annoyedly at harry. he let out a soft laugh at her behavior.

“’m sorry, baby. know you jus‘ wanna sleep right now, but ’s it okay if we talk for a mo‘?”

“now?” y/n asked in a gravelly voice.

“now, m‘ love.”

with a soft sigh, she relented, sitting up and rubbing the sleep from her eyes with her knuckles. harry caught the motion, bringing his hands up to pull hers away from her face. he didn’t like when y/n did that, as she always managed to do it too roughly. instead, he held her smaller hands in his own, getting up to sit on the edge of the bed, facing her.

“what is it?” y/n asked through a yawn. harry looked at her for a moment— really looked at her— before responding.

“i’m sorry.”

it took her a moment to register his words. “for waking me up?”

harry laughed that dreamy laugh she loved so much, and it almost made up for the fact that she was up at twelve thirty in the morning. “no, y’little minx. not for that. well, yes, for that, but that’s not what i meant.”

“what are you sorry for, then?”

harry looked at her with an expression y/n couldn’t place. it look him a few beats to speak. “i… i’m sorry i was such a prick before. i love that you’re here, an‘ that i get t’see you when i’m off. know you put aside a lot for this, an‘ i ruined it with m’own problems. didn’t mean to.”

y/n’s features softened at the boy’s sincerity, and if it weren’t for the warmth his hands encapsulating hers provided, she’d have reached out and held his face, peppering kisses over every dip and curve.

“i know you didn’t…. i’m sorry, too.”

“for what?”

“i should’ve listened better. you were trying to tell me how you felt and i just disregarded it. that wasn’t very nice of me, either.”

the right corner of harry’s lips tugged upwards, morphing his mouth into that little half-grin y/n adored so much. “think we can get past it, darling?”

the girl scooted forward the tiniest bit, harry’s magnetic pull too hard to resist. though they were the only two in the room, she whispered, “i’ll forgive you if you forgive me.” harry liked how she made something so simple sound like a secret deal between them.

harry’s half-smile quickly quirked up, completing itself, and y/n swooned over his dimples and adorable bunny teeth. a short and quiet breath of a laugh fell past his lips, and for a moment, he just looked at her. but his gaze caught a glimpse of uncertainty in her eyes, and his grin faltered a bit.

y/n was always good at hiding her true emotions when she wanted to. not when it really mattered, don’t get her wrong— she wasn’t one to take anyone’s shit. but at dinner with her parents or meetings at work, she was able to pretend she wasn’t exhausted or annoyed. it never worked with harry, though. he could read and understand her like his own lyrics, and tonight was no exception. he saw through the mask of humor at her uncertainty, and a pang of guilt bloomed in his chest.

he let out a sigh as he beckoned her forward by gently tugging her hands, still in his, toward him. “c’mere, baby,” he said softly, pulling his love into his lap. y/n curled into him, knees tucked upward into her chest as his strong arms found purchase around her frame, holding her tenderly but securely. one of harry’s large hands held the back of her head against him, her ear right over his heart, listening to it beat for her.

“love you like crazy. you’ve no idea.” he peppered light kisses to the top of her head, so softly she might’ve missed one or two. “thank you for comin‘ an‘ s’porting me. means the world, honestly.”

“i’m happy to be anywhere with you, har,” she replied in a voice honey-thick with sleep. “even if it’s just for a few minutes. always so happy to have you.”

harry closed his eyes, laying back into the pillows, bringing y/n down with him so that she was laying overtop his sturdy body, inhaling his every exhale.

“you have me,” he said, though he was almost certain she didn’t hear him, likely already pulled into the void of sleep, drawn in by the comfort of harry’s arms, his smell, him.

“you’ll always have me.”

taglist (final time using the old one, see new link in bio): @fahsey @caswinchester2000 @lmaotshollandd @jackiehollanderr @nervousdadmode @amii-nyc @skitmix @auggie2000 @voguesir @yourgoldengirls @hunnybunimdun @lolooo22 @atoris-fantasy

#I'm actually crying.#this is such a pretty piece #I just know i'll be rereading this over and over again #harry styles fluff #harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x y/n #harry styles smut #harry styles one shot #harry styles angst #harry styles x reader #harry styles fic rec #harry styles x fem!reader

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hsficrecommendation · 2 months

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do you have some fics or know of any where harry spits into the girls mouth i find that so hot

I just tried to look around at some fic rec blogs and I couldn’t find anything specific to that :( but for future ref for all the besties looking for particular fics, here are some of the rec blogs I always look at!!

@hrryfics

@jarofstylesrecs

@harrystyles-recommendations

@hsficrecommendation

@harrystylesficreccomendations

@iconicficrecs

@harrystylesficrecs

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hsficrecommendation · 4 months

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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

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hsficrecommendation · 4 months

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clover

harry is a newly single father to a brand new baby and he doesn't know what he's doing. going home for the summer, he didn't expect to find himself a new kind of honey named (y/n).

this is a patreon exclusive piece, with this first part being the only publicly available part.

wordcount: 8.5k+

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June.

That used to be Harry's favorite month until it became the name of his whole world.

She was a December baby named after the peak of summer—his idea. He'd always loved the colors of the berries and the flowers that bloomed at the end of the month—something sweeter than strawberries, even—tinting the sky and the air that filtered all around him. That was all he could think about the second he held his baby girl in his arms, dressed in hospital scrubs and a thin, ice-blue cap covering his hair. He saw her through distorted vision, his gaze warped by the tears rimming his waterline. All he could do was let out a strangled breath, the air having to move around the lump of his heart in his throat.

It was the most overwhelming moment of his life.

Despite the way she was still covered in stick and the world she knew before joining his, she was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. She had her mother's chin and the shape of her rounded lips, but she had his eyes and nose. She was his baby, it was clear. Clear like the dewy summer mornings in his youth, when he would race outside to play with his friends. Clear like the prickling taste of watermelon rinds when he'd bite just a little too far past the pink of the flesh. It was clear that he was going to love her for the rest of his existence—and then some—like the reflections on the bottom of a pool.

She was his June.

While his baby girl—June, he remembers thinking so fondly—was getting cleaned up, swaddled and eased into her new world with the help of the birthing team, Harry was able to make it official.

June Clover Styles.

His last name scrawled across the paper to punctuate her existence, right above where he was put down as her father. Nothing could have prepared him for the pride he felt looking at the certificate in his hand. He was her dad.

Those quiet moments when he was finally able to really hold her, a little pastel striped hat tucked over her head and a blanket swaddling her form, everything melted away. In that second it was way too easy to forget the fact that she was just on the brink of being considered premature, brought into the world exactly three weeks before her due date, with the size to prove it. For those measured paces it was like her premature status wasn't due to the fact that he and her mother—who was sleeping off the delivery only feet away—were on the rocks for the entirety of the pregnancy.

He didn't see any of the complications between the mother of his child and himself when he held the product of all of his love and affection in his arms. He sat in blissful ignorance. It was a bubble he wished he clung onto just a little tighter, kept around himself and June for just a little while longer.

But as Harry learned the hard way, all bubbles pop into prismatic shards at some point, no matter the lengths you go to keep it safe. He got his bubble for a little over two months before it was burst.

Carolyn—June's mom—was at one point, who Harry considered to be the love of his life. He saw the white picket fence, the kids, and the powder blue home when he looked into her eyes back then. Every once in a while he swore he could pick out the stills of that imagined life if he really searched for them, but after June came into the world, it was like they were erased completely.

Despite the way Harry may have fooled himself, he and Carolyn were never perfect. They were never meant to be the perfect match even though he tried his hardest to make it so. His life became a soap opera the second they made it official when they were attending university. The people in his life were less than entertained with the constant on-again-off-again antics they pulled, majority of the time at Carolyn's hand when she would suddenly become bored of Harry and want "time apart" as she had said. He had only ever been the one to call it quits when he felt he was at the end of his rope with her, when he felt his beaten heart couldn't take much more of her dangling her love in front of him only to pull it from his grasp last second.

But when they made up, oh, that was the easy part.

Every heated argument finished with them falling into bed with one another. Nothing was ever truly resolved, just pushed to the back burner while the sheets hissed around them and meaningless apologies were shared between kisses. When the morning came, Harry still felt the same frustration, sadness, and subsequent anger that he momentarily forgot about the night before. The cycle was never ending, the same arguments prompted by the same so-called mistakes that would end in the same bed that only bred more resentment.

Along with the juvenile games played out between them, they made it as far as to living together for over a year when Carolyn fell pregnant. Harry's pretty sure that happened after they'd had a day full of arguments where he ended up with his bags halfway packed and his phone pressed to his ear calling his sister for a place to stay for a while. He remembers the way she gave him those big brown eyes that he once saw a future in, her pouted lips telling him she was sorry, that she wanted him, needed him even. She told him how she loved him, but that he made it so hard to not get mad at him with the way he just wasn't fun—her exact words. He could hear the echos of his own voice telling her he would work on that, he would try harder for her, and that he loved her too.

That was the night they decided to forgo protection—his idea to follow through on the beginnings of being somewhat adventurous for her.

A couple of weeks later, Carolyn's period was late and he picked up a handful of at-home pregnancy tests on the way home. All three they tried were positive, the verdict later backed up by a doctor.

Harry didn't like to think about the way Carolyn's shoulders fell with every confirmation of the baby growing in her tummy. How each time she was told "Congratulations, you're pregnant!", her jaw would tick and she would tune out the rest of the information. He was worried that she was thinking she had to follow through with the pregnancy, that he was apart of the pressure that made her uncomfortable with every mention of what would happen nine months (technically, ten as he had found out) from then. But, even when he reminded her that this was all up to her, that no matter what she chose for herself and her body, he would be there every step of the way, she told him that she wanted to follow through with the pregnancy.

Things went well for the first month or so after they found out. It seemed Carolyn had felt at home with the idea of the life inside her and the one that was being crafted with Harry at her side. He was ever the doting gentleman, working his way around her mood swings and trying his best to satiate each of her cravings. Though, eventually, it didn't seem to be enough for Carolyn to be happy.

The fighting followed soon after, carrying them all the way through to the unexpected early delivery of June.

A pause was triggered when they took her home, Harry protected by the baby bubble he had inflated in the delivery room. Carolyn did everything she could to avoid the bubble Harry made, doing what she could for June before completely checking out. He wanted to leave her be, let her have her space after housing a human for nine months. He read how some people, after giving birth, struggled to find their identity and purpose now that they no longer had a baby inside them. He stayed the silent pillar beside her, offering support in subtle ways, but ultimately allowing Carolyn to come to him when she was ready.

He remembers the day she sat him down after June went down for a nap. Going into it, he figured she was now going to open up to him with the way she sat across from him with her lips in a stern line and her eyes glossy with tears. He was not at all prepared for the words that came out of her mouth.

"I can't do this, Harry."

In hindsight, he should have just taken her words for what they were, instead of mixing them up into a mind game he ended up only playing against himself. He just couldn't fathom that she would willingly walk away from the same little girl that he thought about when he fell asleep and woke up with the need to cuddle. There was no way she was exhausted of June's big eyes looking up at them with all the wonder of the universe swimming in her irises, or the way she cried for no other reason than she missed her parents. There was no way she could be choosing to opt out of the endless summer that was the baby girl asleep upstairs.

During his research to become the best father and partner, he had read up on the after affects pregnancy can have on a person, and worried Carolyn was experiencing a bout of Postpartum Depression. There was no other explanation for her words, right?

So he told her: "I can't even imagine how you're feeling, Carolyn, but I promise y'that I'll be there every step of the way. We can get through this, yeah? June needs you—I need y—"

Though his tone was soothing, he only seemed to spark a fire within her he hoped wouldn't burn his world.

"But I don't want this!" she had yelled, stiffening in her seat and looking Harry dead in the eye, "You know this was never the life I saw for myself. It was always you who wanted kids, I never pictured any of this for me." Tears glossed over her gaze, but even the distortion couldn't deter her from squaring up against Harry. "I can't do this, Harry. I don't want this life, and you need to let me go. I can't stay here, and you'll take care of June better than I ever could. I just can't be here anymore; I can't be with you."

He remembers the small fight he put up against her, and how he was quickly stomped out with her admittance that she was not happy with him and the life he'd made for them. She told him she never could be happy like this. Was he expecting her to be tied down forever? Be tied to him for the rest of her life?

After that, Harry just sat on the overstuffed couch that had been their couch for the past two years, as she stomped upstairs. Only forty-five minutes later she came back with a collection of his suitcases packed full of her clothing and anything else she figured was important enough to rip from Harry.

Before he could drown himself in an ocean of tears, Harry took himself upstairs, completely bypassing what was now his room alone, and to the nursery he had painted and decorated all by himself. His baby girl who was just days shy of being two months old at the time, was still sound asleep, unaware of the shift her life had taken in the last two hours. All he did was sit beside her crib with his legs criss-crossed under him, gazing at the earth angel that had chosen him to be her father.

A tint of bitterness had washed over his vision for just a second, seeing all the memories, milestones, and moments a mother is supposed to be there for. Carolyn had been thinking selfishly when she left, taking each of those things from June without so much as a second thought. Now his baby would have to settle for him when he barely knew what he was doing as is.

The longer he looked at her—her bowed lips gaped with deep puffs of air escaping, tiny fingers and toes grasping after whatever it was she dreamed about, a dusting of blonde locks that he hoped would darken to brunette curls just as his had—the bitterness faded away. Harry was left with only a rose tinted picture, one where he saw himself with his June every step of the way. Carolyn had created a void of her presence that now only made way for Harry to be there for her, just as he promised her the second he looked into her eyes for the first time. It was hard to be upset when he saw his future now swathed in baby giggles and a tiny voice calling for her daddy to come play with her. He wouldn't let her want for a single thing, every void filled with his love as he made the life for her that she deserved.

Harry didn't look back after that. As far as he knew, now three months later, Carolyn had been traveling the world since the day she walked out with a new companion who made her smile more than he ever remembered being able to do.

It was just him and June from that point on. And, god, Harry wished he could say he had seamlessly filled the void of another parent and was so in-tune with everything his little girl needed that it was like nothing had changed. But, it seemed no matter how many parenting books you read, how many documentaries you watched, or how many actual parents you talked to, nothing could prepare you for the real thing. All the texts and the visuals made it seem so easy; just hold her, change her, and feed her.

But, how is he supposed to know the difference when she cries the same heartbreaking cry for everything? How is he supposed to keep his cool when she cried like every small inconvenience is the worst thing to ever happen to her? It scared him when she cried for even just a handful of minutes and he couldn't figure out what she needed. It scared him more than anything in the world that he couldn't help her.

He was so exhausted.

He bypassed tired the second week she had been home, now the only word that described the way his bones ached and head was a constant state of mush was pure exhaustion. He was very, very, very lucky that his workplace had been more than understanding of his situation, allowing him to work from home since Carolyn had left, but June still wasn't sleeping through the nights as soundly as all the mommy-blogs said, creating a light sleeper out of the both of them.

His mom helped as much as she could from across the country. Anne was always available and ready to offer advice even if he was calling her in the middle of the night when he was having a particularly panicked night with his little star. She answered his FaceTime calls with a smile on her face and enough wisdom to calm him despite the distance between them.

Harry just needed more; more sleep, more time to work, more time to be Harry before he was June's daddy (though he's fairly certain that's the most fulfilling part of his life). He needed more help.

Despite the way he cried for help just short of actual crying, he was hesitant when his mom first offered for him to come stay with her for the summer. He didn't want to intrude on the life she had curated for herself after he and his sister embarked on their own adventures. She had already been a mom, twice, anyway, it wasn't fair to make her raise another baby that wasn't her responsibility to begin with. And, he couldn't help but feel like he had something to prove. He wanted to prove to not only himself, but baby June that he could do this himself; prove to her that he could be the dad he promised her he would be.

His resolve came crumbling down on a particularly rough night with June. She'd had an upset tummy for hours, and as far as she knew, it was the end of the world. All she could do was cry for hours on end while they waited for the ache to pass. Harry held her with shaky hands and tears that matched her own harbored in his eyes, cooing to her around the lump in his throat over how sorry he was and how much he loved her. He told her how everything was going to be okay in the most soothing voice he could muster, but he didn't even believe the words.

At some point in the early morning, she ended up falling asleep. It was a small reprieve for her tiny voice that was going sore and her puffy eyes that couldn't produce anymore tears. Harry took advantage of the short time, unsure of how quickly she would stir again, and called his mom. He needed to talk to someone, apologize to someone who could actually listen and maybe hear the same reassuring words he couldn't believe from his own mouth. His mom barely said anything after she picked up, only listening to Harry's hushed words on the other line. He told her how bad he felt thinking she had been ready to incorporate some solids into her diet, the couple spoonfuls of mashed peas being the thing that's kept her up all night. Her distress was his fault and he couldn't even make her feel better.

It wasn't until Harry paused, trying to regulate his breathing after the ocean that had fallen from his eyes when she spoke over his sniffles.

"Harry, be honest with me. Do you need help?"

Harry had felt like someone had asked him if he was okay after struggling through a whole day of being not okay. It all came crumbling down. The measured breathing he had worked himself up to was gone in a second, reverting him back to shaky inhales around the rock in his throat. He got himself out of the nursery before his crying could disturb June. He remembers the way he sunk to the floor of the hallway outside her room, nodding his head despite the way he knew his mom couldn't see him.

"I do, I really do, mum," he had cried, the words quiet as it was the only way he could get them out.

That's how Harry found himself trudging through his bathroom at three a.m. on a Sunday, getting ready for a flight that would take off in two hours. He was going home for the next three months, staying with his mother for the first time since he'd left for university almost ten years before. He was excited to see his mom and receive the much needed help, but he couldn't say he was particularly ecstatic to be going back to the small town. He remembered all too well how nosy the people could be, thinking that since they were all neighbors and everyone knew everyone in a round-about way, that they were permitted to know everything about everyone. He wasn't exactly ready to field questions over where June's mom was, why he was out here, and minute details about his baby he didn't feel comfortable sharing. But, through all of that, Harry was maybe a little too excited to show June around to all of the little places he used to go when he was young. Of course, she wasn't going to remember this visit really at all as she grew up, but at least there would be that foundation for the rest of her life.

He was most excited for June to meet his mom for the first time. Per his request, the few months after she was born, when he and Carolyn were struggling the worst, Anne didn't visit, only meeting June over FaceTime calls. Harry didn't want to make her come down only for her to see a deteriorating relationship and his own shortcomings as a father, a hard decision he had come to when he maybe wasn't in the best state of mind in the middle of the night, operating off of little sleep. But, he didn't want to think of those times anymore, he only wanted to think about the summer that lied before him and the baby girl waiting for him in the other room.

Stepping out of the shower, a yawn stretched his features. Harry dressed himself in a pair of black and white speckled sweatpants, a pastel yellow hoodie adorning his torso. He padded towards June's room, absently tying his hair up on the top of his head with a green scrunchie. The strands created a little sprout on the top of his head, the curls still wet from his shower. He quietly stepped into June's room, her white noise machine still running as she lay sound asleep in her crib. When he saw her like this, he couldn't help but wonder what she dreamed about—if she dreamt at all, anyway. He selfishly hoped they were happy dreams with him as a star, just as she was in his.

He gently picked her up from her crib, wishing he could craft a way where she could continue to sleep through this whole ordeal but knowing that was going to be impossible. He offered his pinky to her tiny hand, heart melting when her fingers unconsciously wrapped around the digit as best she could. The whole of his palm cradled her back, keeping her secure to his chest as he dropped a kiss to the top of her head.

"Good morning, Junebug," he cooed, dragging his nose along the baby thin curls on the top of her head. Her baby soft scent was a source of comfort for him, his favorite thing in the world now.

She took her time waking up, Harry having to coax her from sleep with a few more cooed pleas and gentle kisses for her soft skin. Eventually, she lazily blinked open her big green eyes, the length of her lashes felt against Harry's chin. He pulled her back just far enough to get a good look at his little star, finding her looking up at him with her gaze wide with wonder and the same adoration he held for her.

"Hi, bubba," he cooed, petting at her side with his thumb as she squeezed his finger, "I missed y'so much, 'm so happy you're awake." He ducked his head head and pressed another tiny kiss to the tip of her nose, pulling back only to find a smile tugging at her lips. He liked to think she was just as excited to see him as he was with her. "We need to get ready, we've got a big day ahead of us, don't we?"

Harry sat her down on the padded, green changing table at the end of her crib. "Do y'remember what I told y'we were doing today, bubs?" he asked as he started changing her out of the soft pink onesie she had slept in. A mess of babbling noises left her mouth, small hands reaching up towards Harry. He nodded to her like she had made perfect sense in her ramblings, "That's right Junebug, we're gonna get on a plane today. 'M a little worried, 'm not gonna lie. We've never done that before, have we? Don't want y'to be scared, especially at the airport—I know it can be a little overwhelming. But, 'm gonna be right there the whole time."

She pliantly moved every which way he needed as he spoke, offering small babbling of her own thoughts to imitate the timbre of her daddy. Once he had her diaper changed and she was all cleaned up and ready to be dressed, Harry couldn't help but to drop a tickling kiss to the bare of her tummy. A screaming peel of laughter bubbled from his baby, her legs kicking and arms flailing in accordance with the noise. It was his favorite thing to do, get her all giggly and smiley when she woke up, the best way to start his day. He indulged in the act a couple more times before pulling away, offering her his finger to hold on to as he picked through her lemon yellow dresser. The drawer held slim pickings, only a handful of outfits she no longer fit into and wouldn't be appropriate for the weather still in the furniture. Most of her things were tucked away in one of his suitcases. A tiny green romper printed with watermelon slices on it was the first item pulled out, followed by a pair of little socks and a warm cardigan to go over her arms (he'd read layers were best for traveling babies).

She didn't fuss as he dressed her, only offering occasional burbles of her thoughts. "Yeah?" he prompted as she looked up at him, "Is that what you're most excited about?" He nodded along to her gibberish that followed, her tiny voice filtering through the otherwise quiet nursery. "Me too, me too," Harry mused, pulling her chubby legs through the ruffled leg holes of the fabric, "'M really excited for y'to meet grandma. I don't know if she's got another name she'll want you to call her, though, but 'm sure she'll let y'know." He smiled at the way the green of her romper matched the bright of her eyes, absently reaching for her little, white socks as he didn't have it in him to take his eyes off of her. "I think, after we go home with her, we'll take a short nap and then go out for a little, how does that sound? Explore some, maybe pick up some dinner?"

June paused for a moment, quiet as Harry fit her wiggling toes into the socks before offering her input. A short bubbling of noises came from her, stopping abruptly as she kept her gaze locked on her dad above her.

Harry thoughtfully nodded his head, tying her hair up in a matching sprout, "You're right, you're right. We'll stay in tonight instead, get a full night's rest before we go out and terrorize the town. Good thinking, Junebug."

With the finishing touch of slipping her cardigan on and a pair of tiny shoes that he dreaded the day she grew out of (they matched a pair of his own, just in opposing colors, and he hadn't been able to find any bigger sizes for when they didn't fit anymore), he finally had his girl all ready for the day ahead. He already had her diaper bag all packed, the banana printed tote sitting on the kitchen table beside the pastel purple front pack he was going to be wearing in the airport with her. Harry had been ahead of it all, prepacking his car with all of their luggage the night before.

"Ready, Junebug?" he cooed as he picked her from the changing table.

The response he got back was a blink of her green eyes and the makings of a smile on her pouty lips.

"Me too."

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Harry dutifully waited his turn to get off the plane, June tucked against his chest as he had retired the front pack to the diaper bag once they were seated. While she had been a tiny bit overwhelmed in the airport itself, she had been just the sweetest thing the whole flight. He had both heard and been on the receiving end of horror stories of traveling with a new baby, so he was more than relieved when she settled for looking around at other passengers and playing with the strings of his hoodie.

Passing by the stewardesses, Harry politely nodded to them, proudly puffing his chest when he heard them fawn over how cute and sweet his June was. He took his time as he exited the tunnel, allowing other passengers to flow around him and keeping out of the way. He stuck to the less crowded and quieter spots he could find as he searched for his mom, peeking over the sea of people. A smile bloomed across his features as he spotted her with a brightly colored sign with both his and June's name printed on it, bubbly hearts and bright accents drawing his attention.

It was quite the job to meander through all the people, but completely worth the elbows he got to the ribs when he was finally within sight of his mom. Nothing felt like home the way she did, her smile the sun and her arms the warming fire on a chilled night.

"Harry!" she called, already abandoning her sign on the floor beside her feet, not caring of the footprints that would be stamped across the back of the paper. Her arms were open for him to step into, holding his baby in one hand as he wrapped his other around his mom.

"Hi, mom," he smiled, taking advantage of the short hug before he maneuvered June to be in the spotlight.

"And little June! Oh, let me say hi."

She was quickly passed off, Anne taking her expertly in her arms with what Harry swore was a sheen of tears coating her eyes. He excused himself, allowing them a moment to get acquainted as he picked up the luggage that was waiting for them on the carousel. June didn't even seem to notice his absence as she was caught up in playing with his mom's hair, and looking at her with wonder in the green eyes she had passed down.

Harry wasn't sure what it was that followed him as they left the airport. His hands were heavy with his bags and the homemade sign his mother gave him, but there was more than just the luggage that stuck close to him. He peeked over at his mom beside him, finding June still happily entranced with her, the silly game of wiggling the sprout of hair on the top of her head entertaining her endlessly. Something joyous was following him and he prayed this was the kind of the bubble that could withstand his harsh grip.

God, it was good to be home.

—————

A single kiss was pressed to June's head before Harry laid her down in the hand-me-down bassinet he had set up beside his bed. While some of her bigger items, like her crib and bouncer she loved, were being mailed down later in the week, he made the choice of packing the noise machine down with them. It had been the perfect choice since he knew she was going to have trouble finding sleep in the new environment, which was proven right with the way she fussed all afternoon. He'd kept her up after going back to his mom's house, wanting to keep her schedule as it is at home, and allowing his mom to spend time with the grandchild she'd already missed too much time with. It only resulted in a cranky baby who refused to go to sleep despite the way she was fighting off her dreamland. In the end, the white noise and the rhythmic bouncing he was doing around the room won out.

Though sleep tugged down his eyelids, Harry still gently cracked the door to his bedroom shut with one last glance through to check on his sleeping bubba. He padded down the familiar staircase, absently rubbing at his eyes as he listened into the sound off bubbling water and simmering sauce in the kitchen. His mom had been busy with June for most of the afternoon, and while he loved seeing them bond for the first time, he missed her, too. He wanted to spend the night with her like he used to when he would visit: sipping on red wine, watching a show that she swore was the most entertaining thing she'd seen in years, and finishing when both of them couldn't keep their eyes open any longer or when Harry started dozing off in the corner of the couch (usually around nine p.m.).

"Smells good, mum. What're y'making?" he mumbled, stepping towards the dining table where she was putting out the place settings.

Despite the simple pair Harry was expecting her to stop at, she sheepishly looked up at him as she arranged an added duo to the table. "Now, I know you're tired, but..."

"Mum," he started, a petulant groan already building in his chest before she looked up at him with the parent eyes he could only wish to master.

"Don't be upset, Harry," she warned, resuming her fixing of the place settings, "Do you remember Mrs. Crowley I've told you about? Beth?"

Harry nodded his head, remembering the silly stories about the so-called "Gardening Club" his mother was apart of, along with Beth Crowley (he's pretty sure minimal gardening was discussed with more of an emphasis on town gossip and casual wine drinking around charcuterie boards). He already knew where this was going the second her name was mentioned.

"I may have told her that you were back in town along with June, and she wanted to come by and meet you." She flashed him a beaming smile Harry didn't have the heart to be mad at. She had already mentioned to him how she told all her friends about him and her grandbaby, prepping them for the "someday" she used to fantasize about, where they would come visit and she got to show off the family her son was creating.

Honestly, Harry wasn't much in the mood to entertain, much preferring to the original wine and reality T.V. night he had planned on, but he couldn't find it in him to turn down his mother's plans. She had already agreed to having Mrs. Crowley over anyway, so he couldn't much back out when she was most likely on her way. Instead, he would take one for the team and take his own sleep deprivation while June got to snooze away her hectic morning upstairs.

"Okay," he slowly agreed, "But, 'm not waking June up. She can meet her another time, but I really want her to sleep right now."

"That's totally okay, I'm sure they'll understand," she bubbled, popping up from her place and bustling towards the kitchen to start portioning out the dinner she had put together, "Thank you, Harry!"

As he settled into of the chairs, a familiar divot in the table from where he had accidentally spilled nail polish remover on the surface and the acetone ate at the coating, Harry couldn't be more happy to be home.

Anne ran around the house, bubbling off tidbits of information about how excited Beth had been over the phone when she invited her over. She told him of how she had talked him up to all of the ladies in the Gardening Club, and he just had to meet all of them and show off his Junebug, but Beth was her favorite and best friend out of the bunch so she got priority seating. Harry was listening with a lopsided smile on his face, a single dimple denting his cheek until a knock on the door interrupted her tittering.

"Oh!" she peeped, already rushing out of the conversation and towards the front door. Harry checked the baby monitor on his phone as he waited, making sure June was still okay before he got busy with entertaining for the night. He was absently aware of the sound of the door opening, followed by his mom's excited greeting. It wasn't until another name was mentioned that his ears perked up and a pinch in his brow appeared.

"And you've brought (Y/N)!"

The call was filled with bubbling excitement that Harry had only ever really heard when she was greeting June over FaceTime or short phonecalls when she was awake. With that tone Harry just figured Mrs. Crowley had brought one of her nieces his mom had told him about, someone to bond with June. What he was most distracted with, was whether or not his mom was loud enough to disturb his bug. Ever the worrier, Harry couldn't help himself before he checked the baby monitor app again, absently hearing his mom in the background escorting their guests through the house.

"And this is Harry!" was his mom's eager introduction, his cue to put his phone away and be the junior host under his mom.

When he picked his head up, Harry couldn't help but feel silly for not having given them his full attention right away.

(Y/N) was not a little girl brought along to entertain June—no, she was a woman that he couldn't take his eyes off of. A soft smile adorned her features, Harry grateful for the unobstructed view he was given with the way her hair was gently pulled back with a clip in the shape of a large butterfly. A white sundress was draped over her body in flowy runs. Smatterings of matching blue butterflies that mimicked the ones hatching in his tummy dotted the fabric. She stood silently beside Mrs. Crowley, only offering her quiet smile while his mom continued talking despite the way he hadn't heard half of what she said.

Harry was quick to stand up from his spot at the dining table, stumbling to his feet in an attempt to make a good first impression with his worn sweats and the messy sprout of hair on the top of his head. He made an effort to draw his eyes away from (Y/N), moving them to the woman beside her.

"Harry, this is Beth," his mom introduced, a giddy smile on her face.

"Nice to meet you," he greeted, leaning over and politely shaking her hand, even though he was sure his own was shaking, "Mum talks about you all the time, thank you for keeping her busy."

Mrs. Crowley—Beth—let out a small laugh, "I doubt she talks about me as much as she does you. It's nice to finally meet you as well." She drew back, dropping Harry's hand that returned to the bundled mess he was making of his fingers behind his back. "And this"—placing her hand on the girl's shoulder—"is my niece, (Y/N)."

Her tried not to appear as eager as he really was when he took his half step towards her, offering his hand for her to shake just as he did her aunt. "Nice to meet you," he mumbled, a small smile taking home on his lips.

He wasn't sure if it was because he's almost certain this is the first time he's touched a woman in over a year (Carolyn wanted nothing to do with him for most of the pregnancy, and dating wasn't really a priority after he had June), but he could have melted at the small contact of her hand in his. Her fingers were soft, wrapped around his palm. The heat from her skin was enough to warm him for just a second. He felt so juvenile to be getting so caught up in something like this—he had a child, for God's sake, he was a little too old to be getting so flustered over touching her hand.

"Nice to meet you, Harry," she reciprocated before pulling back, taking the same hand that had been in his to brush a stray piece of hair behind her ear.

Harry wanted to say more (what he would have said, he's not sure, but he wanted to hear her voice again), before Beth cut him off with the perfect distraction to get him back on his feet.

"And where's June?" she excitedly smiled as Anne herded them to the dinner table.

Harry perked up at the sound of his daughter's name, "She's upstairs, sleeping. We had an early flight this morning and she's still recovering a little, but I would love for y'to meet her another day."

"Of course! She sounds lovely, I don't mind waiting on her."

A proud smile took home on his lips, happy to hear such praises of his little star.

His mom started passing around the serving bowl full of pasta to the table after everyone was settled, she and Beth leading the conversation. Harry couldn't help but be hyperaware of the way he had luckily sat himself across from (Y/N). He had a front row view to the smile she wore on her cheeks, the pout of her lips every time she took a sip of her water, and the perk that was brought to her shoulders whenever she was called in by Beth or his mother on some facet of their conversation. He felt like a teenager the way he almost rushed through his answers about his life, and his baby upstairs so he could go back to gazing at her across from him. All that was missing was his sister—Gemma—to call him out for giving (Y/N) his softened eyes throughout the meal.

Whenever (Y/N) spoke, Harry gave her his rapt attention. Despite the way he wanted to pretend like he wasn't already just a little too taken in her presence, he found himself searching for small cues that she might be holding the same kind of affection that he immediately drew for her. He knew, in the long run, it would be best if he didn't get involved with her, the list of reasons starting with the fact he was a new father and ending with his inevitable departure in just a few months, but maybe it wouldn't hurt to spend some time with her. Though he searched for those signs through the dinner, he couldn't find anything other than the fact she was just very... friendly.

He couldn't think of another word to describe it but friendly. She was kind, giving whoever was speaking all of her attention, chirping out a laugh when appropriate and adding her own quips. She wasn't overly involved whenever the attention was on him, keeping just as kind as she was when the other women at the table were talking. As plates started getting cleared and the short dessert of cookies was being placed on the table, Harry couldn't help but feel a bit silly. He already had a list of reasons on all the ways they couldn't work if he allowed the butterflies in his tummy to take control of his heart, but he should have started with the question of if she was even interested in him.

"And have the hyacinths bloomed yet?" Harry heard Beth ask as he tuned back into the conversation, nibbling on the consolation prize of a cookie.

He saw his mother perk up from the corner of his eye beside him, obviously having been waiting for this question. "Oh, they've just started! Do you want to come see?" It only took a second, it seemed, before the two of them were ushering out the back door to the garden his mom was so proud of. "Did you want to come, too?" his mom offered over her shoulder.

Harry shook his head, "I'll stay in, jus' in case June wakes up or anything." At the mention of his daughter, he double checked the baby monitor on his phone, finding her still sound asleep.

Fiddling with the notification settings on the app, Harry hadn't even realized (Y/N) was still across from him until she chirped out his name.

"I think I'll stay inside with Harry, but thank you, Mrs. Twist."

He could already imagine the smile on her cheeks as he tried to settle the thumping heartbeats that were rattling through his chest. Anne nodded her head, Harry catching the small look she shot him before sliding the glass door closed behind her. He already knew what she was thinking, always the gentle matchmaker, especially when he and Carolyn weren't on the best of terms. He wished he could tell her that he'd already found that (Y/N) wasn't being anything more than a polite friend.

"So, you're close with your aunt?" Harry prompted, locking his phone and giving the full of his attention to (Y/N). Even if she didn't reciprocate his own enchantment, it would be nice to have a friend over the summer.

She perked up at the sound of his voice, her bright eyes being drawn from the cookie in her hands to Harry across from her. "Oh yeah," she bubbled, nodding her head, "Me and her have always been pretty close, so after I graduated I came out here for the summer with her and ended up loving it. So, I decided to just stay here, and work in her bakery instead of going to school, and I've never looked back."

It made sense to Harry, now knowing that she worked in a bakery. Of course she did, someone with a smile so sweet and a demeanor warm enough to rival the toasty pockets within fresh baked bread would have no other place to be.

"Oh, which bakery?" he asked, leaning his elbow on the table with his chin caught in his palm.

"It's called Marigold, right off of Bluebird and Main. Have you been before?" The same pesky flyaway that he caught her pushing behind her ear more than once throughout the night, fell into her sightline again. This time, Harry was able to catch what looked to be small cherries printed over the surface of her nails, the bright red catching the waning light from outside. He missed painting his nails; maybe he could grab a lesson or two from her.

"No I haven't," he shook his head, forcing himself to not follow the gleam of her nails as they adjusted the top of her dress, "This is the first time I've been home in a while, so I've never been by." If his mom had told him about her, he may have come home a bit sooner.

(Y/N) immediately perked up in her spot. "You have to come in! I love everything we make, but our macarons are my favorite!" The brightness that illuminated her irises like the sun only intensified as she spoke, guiding him like a bumblebee to the marigold she so fondly named.

He felt his own smile stretch enough to cause a dimple to dent his cheek, "I don't think I've ever actually had a macaron before."

"Oh, Harry, you have to come try! Aunt Beth has this special recipe and I've never had any as good as ours," she gushed, her hands animated in the air around her.

"Is that what y'do? Do y'make them?"

"I do, yeah. Aunt Beth showed me how to make a bunch of the different pastries and things that first summer I lived here, and since then it's all I've wanted to do." She spoke about that summer with a fond smile on her sugar-sweet features, "Come in when I'm there, and I can give you a sample or something, just to finally try a real macaron and everything."

"I definitely will," he smiled, a little more than eager to already have an excuse to see her again, "I've got to catch up on some work next week, but I'll be by really soon."

"What do you do? For work I mean." She mimicked his earlier body language, leaning into the table and giving him a closer look at the sunshine eyes he couldn't draw away from.

"I—uh—I work for a publishing company," he started, reeling back into himself with a reminder that she wasn't doing anything more than being friendly. It wasn't her fault she was so lovely. He absently ran his knuckle under his nose, "I read over manuscripts and see if they're worth investing, then I send them off to the editors to do the real work."

"What kind of books do you usually get? Would I know any of them?"

Harry couldn't help but feel a little giddy under her attention, recalling the ways Carolyn never really shared any interest in his career. "Maybe," he smiled, "We publish a little bit of everything, but mostly er—"

Just then, a notification buzzed at his phone. He already knew what the grey bar on his screen would say, June's short nap coming to an end. Nonetheless, he double checked the baby monitor, finding that June was stirring in her borrowed crib. While he wanted to keep spending time with (Y/N), he hated the idea of June waking up somewhere unfamiliar all alone.

"What is it?" (Y/N) asked, her tone still soaked in the smile he could already picture in the back of his mind.

"June needs me, I'm sorry," he explained, putting his phone away with an apologetic smile curling his lips, "But, it was really nice to meet you, (Y/N). I'll definitely be coming by the bakery sometime." He hated to be rushing away from (Y/N), but he already got another buzz from his phone to let him know there was more movement coming from his bedroom.

(Y/N) only offered him a friendly smile, Harry swearing he saw a disheartened sag to her shoulders but he didn't allow himself to analyze much further. "It's totally okay, don't worry! It was really nice to meet you, too. I'm looking forward to having you at the bakery; you'll have to bring your June with you."

An edge of guilt followed him up the stairs after he waved to her goodbye, leaving her be in the gold bathed dining room. He peeked inside his bedroom, finding June just on the edge of waking up with sleepy coos leaving her pouted lips. He got to her just in time, crooning small calls of her name as he reached into her crib.

"Good nap, bubba?" he whispered, cradling her to his chest. He dropped an affectionate kiss to the top of her head as he sunk down onto his bed. She sleepily blinked up at him, green eyes matching his own calming him with saccharine sweetness pumping through his system. The sound of several pairs of footsteps knocking downstairs caught his attention, bringing a smile to his face thinking of the girl just a level below. "I met someone tonight, Junebug. I think you'd really like her, she was very nice. I really liked her, but I don't think we're ready for that, are we?"

The chirp of (Y/N)'s voice sharing her goodbyes floated through the house, including the message she told his mom to pass onto him. He almost wanted to rush down the stairs, halfawake June in his arms and tell her goodnight, that he promises to be around soon. Instead, he watched as June's eyes wandered in search of where the voice was coming from.

"We'll visit her soon," he murmured to her, "Sound good?"

Harry took the sound of her babbling to be a good sign.

—————

When Harry fell asleep that night, his feet hanging off the too-short bed, with the even keeled breathing of his baby beside him, he couldn't help the trail his mind was tracing.

He knew he had a good feeling about this summer.

—————

clover honey has a sweet and floral taste, the aroma lingering long after finished

ahhh!!!! its finally done!!! tbh this is not at all a fic I ever thought id write and it took me a minute to really get into this but im really happy w how this has turned out and I really really hope u all like it too!! this is a patreon exclusive, my second exclusive series on there, with this being the only publicly available part!! thank u for reading, sorry for any mistakes!! if u have any questions or requests please send them in!!

#harry styles fluff #harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x reader #harry styles angst #harry styles one shot #harry styles fic rec #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x fem!reader

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hsficrecommendation · 4 months

Text

NUMBER ONE

A/N: i've been dying to post this fic for so long! i wrote this first so it's been sitting in my drafts for over a month, if not two haha! it's a good old fake dating trope with personal assistant reader, one of my fav things! happy holidays to you all, hope you are having a loving time!🎁

PAIRING: Harry Styles X PA!Reader

WORD COUNT: 10.3k

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This fic is part of ❄️ FANFICmas 2021 ❄️ Read more about fanficmas here!

“What do you mean you can’t come?! You promised me a month ago, Jonathan!”

Holding the phone to your ear you have a finger in your other to hear whatever he is saying on the other end of the line. The concert is still on and it’s almost impossible to find a spot backstage where you can actually hear something, not when Harry is blowing the place up, just as usual.

“I know! I’m sorry, but you know my brother is the only one in the family with a driver’s license other than me and he broke his fucking ankle, now I have to be the chauffeur for all my aunts during the holidays!” he growls in frustration.

“Then get a real chauffeur! Or can’t you drive them around after you’ve spent the night at mine?”

“Just tell your mom something came up for me, okay? And that I’m really sorry, I wish I could be there blah blah blah. I’m sorry, Y/N, okay? I really wanted to help you, but I can’t.”

Closing your eyes you take a deep breath, trying your best to hold your tears back.

You should have known this whole plan was the worst idea you’ve ever had, but when you’re desperate there’s nothing that sounds too ridiculous. The plan was to bring Jonathan home for Christmas so he can pretend to be your boyfriend and your family would stop bugging you about being single now that your sister is engaged. When Leila called you with the news a month ago you were extremely happy but you also knew you would never hear the end of it that your sister, who is three years younger than you is engaged and you don’t even have a boyfriend.

“I have a busy schedule and I’m focusing on my career,”you tell them every time, but they think it’s just a lame excuse. Well, it is an excuse, but you wouldn’t say it’s lame. It’s the truth, you don’t have much time left next to the tasks you carry with being a superstar’s personal assistant and tour manager at the same time. It’s a killer combo, but you love the challenges and you love the job. Your mother however thinks you’ll never find a husband if you keep working in this pace and she is already praying for your soul even though you’re only twenty-seven, you have plenty of time.

And besides… you’re not quite interested in dating. Not when the man of your dreams is right in front of you and he also happens to be your boss.

“It’s fine,” you mumble into the phone.

“I’ll make it up to you, okay?”

“Sure. I gotta go,” you sigh when you hear the last song starting.

You end the call with a bitter goodbye and take a moment to yourself to think about the trouble you brought on yourself. When your mom kept bringing up your nonexistent dating life over the phone you couldn’t take it anymore and opened your big mouth, telling her that you’d be bringing someone home for Christmas. Not anyone, your boyfriend. Which you obviously don’t have. Jonathan is your only straight male friend who you’d trust with the situation and it took some time to convince him to do it, but at last he agreed to be your fake boyfriend, however his brother’s accident screwed it all up and you’re supposed to fly home in a few days with him but… it’s gone to shit and you’re gonna have to explain to your family why you’re alone again.

It seems like a frown is etched onto your face, because as Harry runs off the stage, sweaty and high on adrenaline he freezes as he sees you, a quizzed look in his eyes.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you grumble. “Go and get ready to leave,” you tell him, sending out a few texts, avoiding to look at him. When he doesn’t move for several moments your eyes snap up at him. “Would you not be a pain in the ass and do what I asked?”

“Woah, what’s gotten your panties twisted?” he asks with a frown, but heads to his dressing room finally and you walk along him, busying yourself with your phone.

“I said nothing. I’m gonna go and talk to head of security. Meet me at the car in thirty.”

Harry wants to question your sudden change of act, but he has no chance as you run off to do your work.

Running your usual rounds in the venue you make sure everything is going smooth, the arena is slowly emptying out and the stage crew starts to take the stage apart and load everything into the trucks. For a little bit you forget about having to face your family, but as soon as you head out to the car to meet Harry it comes back clashing down on you.

“You’re starting to worry me, Y/N. You look like the world is about to end,” Harry comments on your act once again as the two of you climb into the car and head back to the hotel.

“If the world ended today I would be the happiest,” you mumble barely audible, but he still catches your words.

“You sound like an emo teen, would you just tell me what got you so upset?”

“I’m upset because I’m stupid!” you groan, folding your arms on your chest. The driver starts the car and you roll out of the parking lot, passing by hoards of fans, but neither of you care about them now. Harry is watching you intently as you load your problems out on him. “Jonathan was supposed to come home with me for Christmas, but his brother broke his fucking ankle so he can’t come and I have to go home alone!”

“Okay, I feel like I’m missing something,” Harry comments, eyes narrowed at you. “Why was he supposed to go home with you?”

Pursing your lips you think about telling him a lie. You don’t necessarily want him to know that you’re so desperate you told your mother you have a boyfriend when you’re as single as you can get. This is something only crazy people do who think that their life is a movie.

“I, uhh… I might or might have not told my mother that I have a boyfriend who I’m bringing home for Christmas. And that boyfriend was supposed to be Jonathan.”

“Wait, what?” he grimaces. “You’re dating Jonathan?”

“I’m not!” you growl rolling your eyes. “I just wanted him to pretend like we’re dating.”

“But… why exactly?”

Sighing sadly, you turn to stare out the window, the flickering lights of the city passing by you in a blur. You’ve never told anyone in details about what it was like to grow up with your sister. She was just always better than you. Prettier, more popular, she nailed everything in life. She was a cheerleader in high school and of course, prom queen, she’s been dating her boyfriend since the eleventh grade, she got into Columbia with scholarship and now she is working a perfect job, lives in a perfect house with the perfect man who’ll marry her soon.

You never blamed her. You couldn’t hold it against her that she had everything she wanted. It’s the way your family always treated the situation. You weren’t popular, didn’t get to be prom queen, hell you almost didn’t even go to prom because no one asked you out. You dropped out of college and started as an assistant in a law firm before you ventured over to celebrities. Two years ago you landed this spot next to Harry and you’re proud of what you accomplished, however your parents don’t feel quite the same. You never hear the end of it that you didn’t finish school, but Leila did, that your job is not the type they generally consider serious, but Leila’s is, or that you haven’t had a serious relationship in five years, unlike Leila… Nothing you do is good enough or just simply… enough.

You just wanted one Christmas when you’re not the disgrace of the family. Apparently, you wished for way too much.

“Doesn’t matter, Harry,” you mumble, shaking your head softly.

He remains silent and you’re convinced the topic is dropped, but when you reach the hotel and the two of you are heading up in the elevator, he breaks the silence and almost makes you faint.

“I could go home with you and pretend to be your boyfriend.” You turn to him with wide eyes, fully convinced that he is just pulling your leg, but he seems serious.

“Excuse me?”

“I could do it. Only if you haven’t told your parents that it’s Jonathan, because then we would have some problems with the change…” he muses.

“I-I didn’t tell them, but… Harry, you can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because you can’t.”

The elevator arrives and you’re quick to storm out heading to your room, but Harry catches up with you in a heartbeat.

“I totally can and I’m willing to do it, Y/N.”

“You can’t! They know you’re my boss!” you shush him, but he just rolls his eyes.

“So what? That doesn’t mean we can’t be a couple.” You ignore the way your heart skips a beat as Harry talks about the two of you as a couple. This is not exactly the setting you imagined it come up.

“Harry,” you sigh stopping in the middle of the hallway. “This is just… ridiculous, okay? The whole thing was a bad idea. I shouldn’t have even come up with it. I’ll just tell them the truth.”

“Well… if you change your mind, you know where to find me,” he shrugs, shoving his hands into his pockets.

“Of course I know, I’m the one who puts your schedule together,” you scoff and he just grins at you before walking up to his room and disappearing inside.

Not even twenty-four hours later you’re sipping on your afternoon coffee in a different city, laptop in front of you on the small table of the hotel bar, going through loads of emails, making calls to all parts of the globe. You’ll head to the venue soon to check out how the stage building is going, it’s been your usual for months now, life on the road.

Your fingers are typing away fast on the keyboard when you spot the familiar figure approaching you from the corner of your eyes. You don’t have to look up to know it’s Harry, wearing a black hoodie and grey sweatpants, a coffee in his hands as he lazily walks up to your table and takes a seat, inviting himself into your company.

“Have you thought about it?” he hums, stirring the black liquid as he stares out the window.

“I think about a million things a day, you have to be more specific,” you answer in a flat tone, eyes still glued to the screen.

It’s been the dynamic you built up. You like to be sarcastic, a bit rude to him but he always knows it’s just a game. It helps you keep a very fragile wall between the two of you so you don’t fall for him even more and at least you can do your job. Though Harry likes the bickering, even fuels it as much as he can, enjoying the little remarks and teasing.

“The Christmas thing,” he adds, taking a sip from the coffee, sliding lower in his chair.

“I have not,” you mumble, but it’s a total lie. It’s all you’ve been thinking about since he offered to be your fake boyfriend. You haven’t been able to wrap your mind around the absurdity of it: your boss, who you’re in love with, coming home with you for Christmas to pretend to be your fake boyfriend. This straight up sounds like the plot of a Netflix movie.

“Okay, then think now. Because I’ve thought and I came up with a few things that would convince you.”

“Harry, I’m working. My job doesn’t end when you run off the stage, alright?” you sigh, leaning back in your seat, pinching the bridge of your nose.

“You’re just answering Jeff’s million emails, that can wait,” he says and simply shuts the laptop down, your eyes widening.

“Are you fucking crazy?!”

“I am, but what’s new?” he smirks at you, crossing one leg over the other. “So. I’m the perfect candidate to be your fake boyfriend, because I know everything about you. We’ve been practically living together, I know the way a boyfriend would know you.”

“Harry, can you just—“

“Second, I’ve met your mother and I totally charmed her, she would love me!”

“You’re giving yourself way too much credit, H,” you roll your eyes.

“Come on, don’t tell me I wouldn’t make her swoon as your boyfriend!”

It’s hard to admit, but he is right. Your parents might not like your career choice, but they love Harry. They think he is the greatest person in the celebrity world and your mother even said that you should quit your job and just date him. As if that was so easy…

“Alright, third. I assume we would have to sleep in the same room so we would have to share a bed and we’ve done that before. Wouldn’t be a problem this time either.”

“Harry, how long did you spend thinking about these stuff?” you huff, your head rolling back as you let out a frustrated groan.

“Enough to make the perfect plan,” he smirks proudly. “Come on, it’s gonna be fun!”

“No, it’s not,” you shake your head right away. “You don’t know the shitshow that goes down on Christmas in our family.”

“It’s a shitshow everywhere, I can manage,” he shrugs.

“And how do you plan to explain to your mother that you won’t be home for Christmas on time?”

“Mum’s in quarantine, one of her girlfriends tested positive so now she is locked up as well. It ends after Christmas so we’re celebrating later.”

“I can’t believe you have an answer to everything,” you scoff in disbelief. “Why are you so desperate to do this?”

“Because I wanna help you! I can tell it’s something important to you and you do so much for me, I could finally do something for you! Just let me help!” he begs, running a hand through his hair and god, he looks way too good for your league. No one will believe you scored Harry Styles…

“I don’t…”

“Come on!” he groans in frustration. “It’s gonna be fun, we can spend some time together without any work loading on us. When was the last time we did that?”

“You took me out to dinner on my birthday,” you answer without a second thought, because you’re definitely keeping tabs on the times you spent alone with Harry.

“That’s right, but that’s been so long,” he whines. “I’ll be your best fake boyfriend, your family will fall in love with me and they are gonna finally get out of your hair about being single.”

“I never told you this is why I’m doing it,” you narrow your eyes at him.

“Y/N, I know you,” he smiles at you softly. “You’ve complained to me several times how your parents just keep bugging you to get a boyfriend and your sister just got engaged. You don’t want to go home alone and listen to them dragging you down because Leila is getting married and you’re not.”

You never thought he paid attention, not this much at least. But it seems like Harry remembered everything you told him and it’s making your chest ache. It would be easier to keep your emotions out of the equation if only he wasn’t the greatest man alive, always so caring and thoughtful. You’re afraid that if you’ll pretend to be dating Harry your heart will get broken, even more than it already is. That’s why you’re so adamant about not accepting his offer.

“You’ll have someone to complain to all Christmas, I think that’s a great deal, Y/N,” he smirks at you, slurping up the rest of his black coffee.

Just as you’re about to answer him, your phone starts to ring and the words die on your tongue as you reach for the device.

“I have to take this,” you mumble. Harry nods and standing up he grabs his empty cup.

“Think about it some more,” he softly tells you, giving your shoulder a squeeze before walking away. You pay one last glance after him before turning back towards your phone and answering the call.

It’s the last show before everyone is heading home for the holidays. The tour dragged longer than it was planned at the beginning, more and more shows were added, because Harry just wants to give the people what they want. That’s how you ended up with the last show being so close to Christmas.

Harry is on stage now, talking to a fan whose sign just asked for dating advice, he is wearing a magenta suit, of course, no shirt underneath. His smile is beaming as he is talking about how they should never trust a man who forgets their birthday and you’ve always found it funny how wise he can get when he is definitely no expert in dating. After all, he is just about to pretend to be your boyfriend for the holidays, what kind of sane man agrees to do that?

Fixing your mask you step out to the arena to the secluded area where crew members can get a glimpse of the show. You stay close to the wall, watching him parade on the stage, another rainbow flag glued to his hands, just like about every night. There’s no doubt this is his element, the place where he is himself the most and you’ve always admired how open he can get with thousands of people around him.

It’s not a surprise you fell for him, how could you not? You hit it off instantly when you started working for him at the beginning, an odd but deep friendship forming between the two of you quite fast. Being vulnerable with Harry feels like second nature, he is a great listener and has a magic power to get you to trust him right away. One month into knowing him it felt like you’ve known him all your life.

And loved him all your life.

While you shared almost every detail of your life with him, he has seen you at your best and worst, bought you tampons in the middle of the night and held your hair as you threw up from food poisoning, there was one thing you could never tell him: how badly you fell in love with him.

You know you’ll never get to have him the way you want. It just wasn’t meant to be, no matter how painful it is to accept it. But as you watch him sing his heart out on stage, the ache to get closer to him just grows and you’re desperate to get just a tiny slice of him.

That’s when you make up your mind that you’ll let him go home with you and pretend to be your boyfriend. Because if that’s the only way you can have him… you’re gonna take it.

It’s an emotional moment as Harry leaves the stage for the last time, he is throwing kisses everywhere, bowing and waving around before he runs behind the curtains where you’re already waiting for him.

“Great job,” you pat him on the back, the two of you heading to his dressing room.

“Thanks. Gonna miss this a lot,” he sighs, chest still heaving as he is trying to catch his breath. “When are you leaving tomorrow?” he asks, pushing the door to his dressing room open and you follow him inside, closing it behind so it’s just the two of you. He gets rid of the mask as he starts unbuttoning his shirt, his suspenders already hanging from his waist.

“You mean… when are we leaving?” you ask, biting into your bottom lip. He freezes and then his head snaps around to look at you, a cheesy grin already growing on his lips. “I thought about what you said and… if you’re still up for it, I would appreciate it if you came home with me to… pretend to be my boyfriend. God, this sounds so stupid,” you groan shaking your head.

“Oh, you won’t regret it, Y/N,” he chuckles and walking closer he yanks you into his arms, hugging you tight, almost knocking the air out of your lungs. “This is gonna be so much fun!”

“Yeah,” you mumble against his shoulder. “I really hope so.”

“Would you relax? You definitely don’t look like you’re happy to bring your boyfriend home.”

Harry places a hand over your bouncing knee as he pulls up to your parents’ house, your anxiety rising high when it comes into your vision. It’s decorated exactly the same as every year, your mother never buys new decorations, not even when they start to look rusty and worn down.

You shoot Harry an awfully fake smile, but he just chuckles as he places his hand back at the wheel.

“I will not take the blame for any emotional or mental trauma you might suffer from while you’re here, alright?” you remind him again.

“Yup, you want me to sign a contract?” he teases you smirking and you just smack his chest playfully.

He pulls up to the driveway and you see the curtains move in the window so it’s just a matter of seconds for your mother to burst out the front door and attack the two of you. You still haven’t told them who your alleged boyfriend is and she’ll probably flip when she realizes that it’s Harry.

“Get ready, babe,” Harry smirks as the two of you get out of the car and the front door flies open just as you expected.

“Finally!” your mom runs out, hands in the air as she approaches the two of you. You walk around the car, joining Harry by the driver’s side, his arm coming to curl around your shoulders to pull you to his side and you swallow hard, plastering a smile on your face, watching your mother finally realize who you’ve just brought home. She stops, mouth hangs open, covering it with her hands as she stares and you and Harry with wide eyes, while the man on your side is just smiling at her sweetly, always the charmer.

“Oh my God! Y/N, why didn’t you tell me?!” she screeches before taking the rest of the way to you, pulling you into a hug.

“Don’t freak out, okay? I wanted it to be a surprise,” you grit through your teeth as you hug her back before she turns to Harry, arms wrapping around him as well.

“I surely am surprised! Oh my, I was not expecting you, son!” she cheers, patting Harry’s dimply cheeks.

“It’s so nice to see you again Mrs. Y/L/N.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, just call me Martha!”

“Alright,” Harry chuckles, his hand coming to rest on your back. “Hope you don’t mind Y/N didn’t tell you about me, but we’ve been keeping it low.”

“Oh, I understand, though I’m a bit hurt you thought I wouldn’t keep my mouth about it!” she jokes. “But let’s forget about it, come on in! Don’t freeze out here. I’ve just made hot chocolate. Leila and Stanley will be here in a bit too, they are on their way already.”

Unloading your stuff from the car you head inside, your dad coming from the kitchen with a steaming mug in his hand when he spots the two of you, his eyebrows shooting up upon seeing Harry with you.

“You’re dating your boss?” he asks right away, no filter on him at all.

“Dad!” you roll your eyes at him, Harry just grinning next to you.

“What? Is he not your boss?”

“He is, but… it’s not like that, alright? We don’t work in an office or something like that.”

“That I know,” he mumbles and you bite your tongue not to comment on his words. “Well, welcome back, Harry.”

He extends his hands for your boyfriend and he takes it with a soft smile.

“Nice to see you again. And I know this might be a bit weird, but I assure you that we do everything we can to keep our relationship separated from work. It’s been going well.”

“I’m not one to judge,” your dad shrugs. “Worked with your mother when we got together,” he smirks, patting Harry’s shoulder and you let out a long breath. This could have gone better, but it’s not as disastrous as you’ve imagined it. Nice start.

The two of you bring your bags up to your old room, having a few moments to yourself as you close the door saying you’ll unpack.

“This went well, right?” Harry hum, sitting down to the edge of your bed and you try to ignore how weird it is to see him in your old room, the one you grew up in.

“It was fine. But I think Leila will be more skeptical than them, so we gotta convince her.”

“No problem,” he smirks confidently.

Not too much later you hear the front door open and close downstairs, your sister’s voice hitting your ear as she and her fiancé are welcoming your parents. You take a deep breath, mentally bracing yourself for the meeting.

“Okay, come on. Let’s say hi to them,” you say Harry, who’s been lying across the bed flipping through your high school yearbook until now. Shutting the book closed he jumps to his feet and follows you out of the room.

You spot Leila at the bottom of the stairs, Stanley right behind her and they look just the same as you remembered them.

“Hey! There you are!” she greets you with a bright smile when she sees you walking down the stairs, Harry trailing behind you. “And Harry! Hi!”

She doesn’t seem surprised to see Harry and the way they hug got you suspicious. Leila doesn’t seem fazed at all that Harry is the one she is seeing by your side.

“So, um… I know I didn’t tell you about it, but Harry is… the one I’m dating.” you explain, the words feel strange and unfamiliar on your tongue.

“That’s great!” she beams, but no trace of surprise is seen on her face still. Something is off. “Oh, let me put the tiramisu into the fridge,” she rushes off, Stanley following her behind with their bags as you turn to face Harry.

“What the fuck is going on?”

“What do you mean?” he asks with an innocent look.

“Leila doesn’t seem surprised to see you, you know anything about that?”

“That’s because I told her,” he answers as if it was the most usual thing ever, but you don’t share his opinion.

“What do you mean you told her?”

“I talked to her and told her that I’m the one you’re dating and you’re bringing me home for Christmas.”

“What the fuck?! When did that happen? And why are you talking to my sister?!”

It seems like you’re the only one who is shocked by the information, Harry doesn’t seem too shaken up by any of it. If anything, he is looking at you like you’re crazy.

“Talked to her on the phone yesterday. Why is that so shocking to you?”

“Because I didn’t know you were just casually making calls to my sister!”

“You talk to my sister all the time.”

“But that’s different! I’m your assistant, I need to keep in touch with the people around you.”

“I don’t think gossiping with my sister is your job,” Harry smirks at you. “I’ve kept in touch with your sister since I met her last year. Thought I would let her know that you’re bringing me.”

“And do you think she believed that we’re dating?” you nervously ask, glancing towards the kitchen where you can see Leila already arguing about something with your mom. When you look back at Harry he seems a little hesitant, but it disappears from his eyes pretty quickly.

“Don’t worry, she didn’t even question it. Come on, let’s mingle a little.” He puts a hand to your back, guiding you after the rest of your family, though you’re not quite in the mood to put up an act for now. However you don’t have much of a choice.

Somehow, you manage to survive the first day at home. Harry was right, he charmed the shit out of your mother and by the time dinner was over you were sure she was more in love with him than you. Your dad seemed a little skeptical at first, but it didn’t take long for Harry to warm him up and they sat down for dinner like old pals. Everyone seems to love Harry and the fact that you’re dating him.

It’s a shame it’s all just one big lie.

Wrapping yourself up in a thick blanket you grab your tea from the kitchen counter and head out to the sunroom to join Leila, Stanley and Harry for a late night chat. Your parents are already out, your mom is gonna be up by six probably in the morning to start everything for the big family gathering tomorrow, so it’s just the four of you.

It’s too cold to sit on the porch, that’s why you decided to take the evening to the sunroom where your mom keeps most of her precious plants. Arriving you see that you’re the only one drinking tea, an open bottle of wine sits on the table, Everyone nursing a glass of the red liquid as you hold your steaming mug in your hands, sitting down next to Harry. He’s been drinking a bit throughout the evening, though he is not drunk, and you know how touchy he can get with some alcohol in his system, but you still get surprised when he curls an arm around your shoulders and tugs you to his side.

“Apple and cinnamon?” he asks with a lazy smile, sniffing the air that smells from your tea.

“Yeah. You want to try?” you ask, voice barely more than just a whisper. You haven’t been able to get used to the little touches and looks you’ve been getting from Harry. You keep telling yourself not to fall too comfortable into this role, because it’s all fake, but it’s hard to draw the lines.

“No, I’m good, but thank you,” he smiles at you, taking a sip from his own drink.

“Oh my God, you two are the cutest,” Leila sighs and you look at her, meeting her dreamy eyes as she sits cuddled up to Stan’s side. “You haven’t told us how it happened, I wanna hear the story!”

You purse your lips, looking up at Harry you share a glance and he is the one speaking up first.

“It just… kinda happened. I slowly grew some balls and asked her out one day.”

“So you were always into her?” Stan asks.

“Since day one,” he answers, but his eyes are locked on yours and the damn butterflies in your stomach are going crazy. It’s really hard to remind yourself that it’s all just an act, especially when his fingers are delicately dancing on your arm and shoulder.

“And how did you ask her out? Did you just blurt it out or did you plan it?” Leila asks in excitement.

Harry’s eyes shift to his drink as he runs his tongue across his lips, probably coming up with a story he can feed them and you wonder what he’ll say.

“It was at the beginning of tour, just a few shows into it, in Dallas to be precise. She was in my room before the night of the show, going over my schedule for the next few weeks and I was trying to decide if I wanted to shave or not. We had some wine, just chilling and taking it slow,” he starts and you realize that this evening actually happened, you still remember it.

“She was lying on my bed on her stomach, typing so fast on her phone, I wondered how her thumbs haven’t fallen off,” he chuckles and you can’t push down a smile either. “Maybe it was the alcohol or I just finally came around and figured out what I want in life, but I sat down, took her phone and she whined, but I just stared at her smiling and… asked her to have dinner with me in the next city. Then she asked if I wanted her to reserve a table and if anyone else was coming, but I told her that it was just gonna be the two of us, because it’s gonna be our first date.”

Your lips part and your chest aches as your eyes are glued to his. He described that evening perfectly, everything happened like that except he never asked you out. When he grabbed your phone from you, he just stared at you as you whined and asked for it back and he cocked his head to the side before handing it back to you at last, walking back into the bathroom.

“That sounds just like Y/N, thinking that it’s a group thing,” Leila chuckles, snapping you back from your thoughts, you definitely got lost in the memory and the way Harry is staring at you right now.

“Uh, yeah,” you chuckle nervously, bringing your mug to your lips to busy yourself with something, but you were too fast with that and the hot drink burns your tongue.

“I kind of always knew you two would end up together,” Leila muses and you can feel your cheeks heating up.

“Sure you did,” you mumble to yourself, religiously avoiding to look at Harry for the rest of the evening.

You head up to your rooms about an hour later when the wine has run out and you’ve been yawning for a while. Leila and Stanley take her old room while you retreat into yours, Harry following behind and for a hot minute you forgot that you have to sleep in the same bed, but reality comes crashing down on you when he closes the door and it’s just the two of you after being surrounded by your family all day.

You use the bathroom first while Harry lies in bed, scrolling on his phone before it’s his turn. You’ve never been more anxious to sleep next to him, this whole day just turned your world upside down and now you have to share a bed with him, even though it’s not the first time. He has crashed in your hotel room several times not just on this tour but on several trips you’ve taken around the globe since you’ve started working for him.

Placing your rings to the nightstand you cocoon on your side of the bed, pulling the covers up to your ears as you lie on your side, facing the wall. The bathroom door opens and you listen to Harry fumbling around in the room until the mattress dips behind you and he makes himself comfortable on his side. Just when you think he’s gonna go to sleep without a word he speaks up.

“Are you mad at me?”

Turning around you give him a puzzled look.

“Why would I be?” you ask, your heart beating like crazy.

“Because you’ve been so quiet since Leila asked how we got together. Did I say something wrong?”

The two of you are lying now facing each other, your hands tucked under your head as you take just a split second to adorn his handsome face squished into your pillow. You wonder why everyone believed so easily that you’re a couple when he is clearly way out of your league.

“I’ve been just tired. My mother can be a bit too much all at once,” you say, forcing out a tiny smile.

“Are you sure that’s all?”

“Of course.”

“Okay,” he hums nodding into the pillow. “Tomorrow is the big day? Your whole family is coming over?”

“Yeah. Grandparents, aunts, uncles and cousins, the whole fam,” you chuckle softly, a smile tugging on his lips too.

“Alright, I’ll switch into full boyfriend mode.”

“Was it not that today?” you tease, making him chuckle.

“Kinda, but I can put some extra into it.”

“No need, you already charmed everyone.”

“Everyone? You included?” he asks teasingly, no clue how on spot that question was.

“Don’t get too cocky,” you warn him, trying to mask your real emotions.

“Okay, I’ll take it as a yes,” he grins, clearly pleased with himself. “Good night, Y/N.”

“Night, Harry,” you sigh, turning back around, your heart pounding in your chest and you can only hope he can’t hear it in the silence.

The house is packed and it’s not even nine am. You didn’t joke when you told Harry that it’s gonna be a shitshow. Your mom has three sisters, each of them at least two kids, but Aunt Carol spent her twenties popping babies out one after the other, gifting you with five cousins alone, so your home would be full if only they came over, but that’s not an option. You’re trying to fetch yourself a coffee, but your cousin Annabelle’s twin daughters have been running in circles in the kitchen, making you trip over them almost three times in the past thirty seconds. Today is going to be way too long and tiring.

If it wasn’t enough, the morning was kind of awkward.

Your bed is not the same size as the ones you’ve shared in hotels before, so you and Harry ended up tangled in each other sometime in the night and when you opened your eyes you were met with his chest, his arms draped over your figure as you were hugging his waist under the covers. You were so shocked, for a minute you didn’t even know what to do, then he woke up too, hugged you even tighter for a second before he realized the position you were in.

It was a bunch of sorry and no worries and awkward fumbling and mumbling before you jumped out of the bed and locked yourself up in the bathroom. You never plan to talk about it again, but it’ll be stuck in your head probably forever.

“Good morning!” Harry greets everyone walking into the kitchen, dressed in a pair of light washed jeans and a simple red sweater. He looks so cozy, you almost want to bury your face in his chest, but you just stare back at him, stirring your coffee, not even realizing that you should introduce him to the people he hasn’t met. Luckily, your mother takes the situation into her own hands.

“Isn’t it great that Y/N finally has a boyfriend?” your mom enthuses to your aunts and you just roll your eyes, sipping on your coffee. “I was starting to get worried that she’ll be alone forever!”

“Mom, I’m only twenty-six. It’s not like I was behind or something,” you scoff at her.

“You haven’t had a boyfriend in so long, we all thought you’d just given up to even look!” she laughs as if she just told the joke of the year, but you’re not laughing at all.

“I’ve been busy, I’ve been working a lot to get here in my career. I’m holding two positions on a sold out tour, that doesn’t leave much time to look.”

“One of those positions is an assistant, honey. Those are never too hard, I assume,” she smiles innocently and you’re quite close to throw the mug at the wall screaming. But before you could react, Harry steps over to you, pulling you in front of him, his arms snaking around your waist from behind as he keeps you tight to his chest.

“Well, it’s not,” he speaks up calmly. “I usually work on at least three projects at the same time and Y/N is the person who keeps it all together. If it wasn’t for her, my career would be literally over. And beside all that, she is tour manager, she stays in contact with about a hundred people on the daily basis and she makes sure everything goes as smooth as possible. I can assure you that Y/N works harder than anyone and I’m so grateful for her, every day.”

Everyone in the room is stunned from Harry’s little speech and you have to blink a few times before you can even move. Harry just smiles around before his eyes fall on you and he simply kisses your cheek before his arms fall from around your waist and he moves to pour himself some coffee.

Your mom just mumbles something that resembles a sorry before she is called away, your aunts leaving as well so it’s just you and Harry left in the kitchen for a few minutes.

“Hey,” you softly say, standing next to him as he is sitting at the kitchen island. “Thanks for… standing up for me.”

“Just told them the truth,” he smiles at you, his hand finding yours on the counter, squeezing it gently. “I hope you do know that you’re amazing at what you do, keeping everything together. I’m sorry your mom doesn’t see how huge it is.”

“Nothing is serious to her other than being a lawyer or a doctor,” you scoff rolling your eyes.

“She has pretty high standards,” he chuckles softly. “But if that makes a change… I’m really proud of you, Y/N.”

“Thanks,” you breathe out. If only he knew how much that means to you…

Somehow you survive the first part of the day without breaking down fully and it has a lot to do with Harry on your side. Every time one of your aunts or your mom or one of your nosy cousins comments on something about you, he swoops right in and not only stands up for you, but he always makes sure to keep you grounded and calm, touching you in any way he could. A hand on your arm or back, sweet and tiny glances and smiles, an arm curled around your shoulders or waist, he’s been really good at this pretending and if you didn’t know better you’d think that he is doing all of this for real.

Sometime after lunch you get caught up in a raging game of Scrabble and you lose track of Harry. When Uncle Thomas wins the third round, using words you all think are made up but he proves over and over again that they aren’t, you leave the table to look for Harry and make sure your family hasn’t wrecked him.

Walking upstairs you hear his voice coming from your room and as you get closer you realize that he is not alone, Leila is in there with him. As you appear at the door their conversation comes to an abrupt stop and Harry jumps to his feet as if he was just caught doing something he shouldn’t have been doing.

“Hey, everything alright in here?” you ask, eyes switching between the two of them.

“Of course, we just had a little talk,” Leila smiles at you sweetly, standing up from the edge of the bed. You catch them share a look and your stomach drops, something is going on, but you have no idea what it is and it seems like they are keen to keep it away from you. In the matter of just a few seconds, your anxiety and darkest thoughts take over your mind and you come to the worst possible conclusion.

What if Harry is into your sister? He kept in touch with her all this time and now they are sneaking away from the rest of the family, this looks awfully upsetting, but you can’t let your mask fall.

“Hey, do you maybe want to take a walk?” Harry asks stepping closer to you, but this one time you want to keep some distance between the two of you.

“Um, I’m not feeling too good.”

“Oh, what’s wrong?”

“Just… I think I’m gonna take a quick nap, if that’s alright,” you mumble.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Leila asks, worry lacing through her voice and you just nod, forcing out a smile.

“Yeah. I’ll be fine.”

She leaves so you can have some peace and you get to bed, pulling the covers over yourself, realizing that Harry is still in the room. He comes to sit on the edge of the bed next to you, brushing your hair out of your hair with a soft touch and it churns your stomach.

“Do you need anything?”

“No, I’ll just rest a bit. I promise I’ll be fine,” you smile at him and he doesn’t seem convinced, but nods anyway and leaves, closing the door behind him.

You’ve done this before, got yourself over the fact that you’ll never have a chance at Harry. But this time it hurts even more, because you got a glimpse of what it would be like if he was yours and now your heart is breaking more than ever.

An hour later when you wake up you feel a tad bit better or at least good enough to get back to pretending. While you were out, Harry befriended the younger ones in the house and as you get downstairs you find him in the living room, focused on a coloring book, all the other kids doing the same thing around the coffee table. When he spots you, he abandons his work and he is quick to get to his feet and rush over to you.

“Hey, how are you feeling? Any better?” His hand moves to check your forehead in case you have a fever, but physically you’re alright.

“Yeah, I’m better,” you smile at him and he pulls you into a hug, pressing a kiss to the side of your head.

For some reason, Harry doesn’t leave your side from that moment. He is just always around you, watching you like a hawk.

Dinner finally comes and you all gather around the table, naturally, you sit next to Harry and he keeps putting an arm onto the back of your chair as you both try to keep up with the conversation at the table.

“So when are you guys getting married?” You hear your cousin, Penelope ask and you don’t even look up, assuming the question was addressed to your sister, but the silence grabs your attention and when you raise your gaze you realize that she asked you.

“I’m sorry, what?” you chuckle nervously. “We’ve been dating for just a few months, P. Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Come on, I’m sure you want to tie this dude down as fast as possible!” she jokes, more people joining in on the laughing while you just grit your teeth. Harry’s hand moves to your knee under the table and he gives it a gentle squeeze before handling the situation.

“We’re not in a rush. Got all the time in the world, right, love?”

The way he called you love has turned you into jelly and you can barely manage to hum an answer as he smiles at you warmly. God, you’re so gone for the man, it’s ridiculous.

“Y/N, would you please bring in the tiramisu from the fridge?” your mother asks and you nod, standing from the table, but Harry moves with you at the same time.

“Let me help.”

You don’t protest, just let him follow you into the kitchen, grabbing the two massive boxes filled with the dessert before heading back, but right as you cross the archway of the kitchen your grandma speaks up.

“Hold on! Stop right there!”

You freeze, Harry right beside you as you stare back at your grandma with a puzzled look, but she just smirks back at you and it’s giving you a sinister feeling.

“Look up, darling!” she tells you and you do just that, finding a mistletoe hanging right above you, your stomach dropping instantly.

“Grandma, come on!” you groan, anxiety rising in your gut.

“I’m not the one making the rules!” she chuckles sweetly and it’s infuriating that you still can’t be mad at her, when she is forcing you into your most awkward situation ever. You dare to glance at Harry just for a second, seeing him with a blank expression, nothing can be read from his face.

“It’s just a silly thing, we’re not gonna…”

“If it’s just a silly thing, then get over with it and you can come back to the table!” she pushes and you have to bite into your bottom lip to stop yourself from a remark.

This is it. This is the moment where you’ll just die from embarrassment, because you’re sure Harry will not go through with it, that would be way over the lines and also, it would be stupid of you to think he would ever be okay with it. So you start thinking about a way to get out of this, but you don’t get far.

Because the next second, Harry’s hand cups your face, he turns your head, angling your head for him before his lips press onto yours.

A round of gasps and exciting murmuring washes over the room, but you shut it all out, only focusing on how Harry’s lips are gently sucking on your bottom lip, kissing you for the first time ever. It doesn’t end in just a few seconds, because when his lips let go of yours he goes right back again, kissing you a little more confidently and this time you return it as well, deepening it just a tiny bit. Your free hand moves up his chest to the base of his neck as you try to wrap your head around what’s truly happening, though it surely feels like a dream. One you’ve already had several times, but none of them were as good as this one.

“Get a room!” one of your cousins laughs, her voice bringing you back to reality, so you pull back, shock plastered all over your face and Harry seems to be mirroring the expression as he stares back at you. But a moment later you force a smile on your face, not wanting to draw any attention.

The two of you walk back to the table, place the tiramisu to the two ends and take your previous seats as the conversation carries on while you sit there in total disbelief that you just kissed Harry under a damn mistletoe.

Well, technically he kissed you and that just makes you even more anxious, not knowing what went down in his head before he made the decision. You have absolutely no idea how you’re gonna move on from this.

Later, when most of your family has left, only those are still around who are spending the night, some of you move to the sunroom again with some wine and leftover for the hungry men. It’s Leila, Stan, Harry and you, two of your cousins, one of your uncles and his wife occupying the beat-up couches your mom has moved to the room a few years ago. This time you’re having some of that wine as well, the conversation is going well and since there’s not that much space, you’re pushed up against Harry’s side while he has an arm curled around your shoulders. Ever since that kiss under the mistletoe something has changed, you can feel it in not just him but yourself too, but you don’t know yet what it really is and you’re a bit scared to face him alone in bed tonight. But for now, you’re just enjoying having him close to you.

Excusing yourself you take a quick trip to the bathroom, fixing your smudged mascara in the mirror before heading back. Just as you near the room you stop, seeing Harry and Leila in a seemingly confidential conversation in there, they are leant closer, pulling themselves a bit away from the rest of the group and your throat closes up at the sight of them. After the kiss you were way too busy to think about what you suspected before about Harry and Leila, but now it hits you like a train.

You should have expected it, Leila was always better than you in every possible way, you were always just a shadow of what she was. When you were a senior and she was a freshman in high school, you remember some of the boys in your class coming up to you, asking if you could introduce them to her. She was always the first one men noticed, the stunning and the pretty sister out of the two of you, why would it have been different with Harry?

With trembling lips you turn around and decide to take a few more minutes alone before returning. Making your way into the empty living room you sit down in the dark to the couch, the only light source is the Christmas tree in the corner, painting the room in a red and yellow hue. You pull your knees up to your chest and try your best not to let the tears spill out of your eyes, but it’s hard to control your emotions after everything that happened in the past two days.

You get sucked into your own dark thoughts and doubts so much that you don’t even hear someone else coming in.

“Y/N?” Your head snaps up at the sound of Harry’s voice and you spot him slowly approaching you on the couch with a worried look on his face. “What are you doing here alone?” he softly asks, sitting down next to you.

“Yeah, I just… I needed a minute. Why did you come inside?”

“Because you’ve been gone for like fifteen minutes, I was worried about you. Is everything alright?” Reaching out his hand falls on your knee and he gives it a gentle squeeze, as if he is saying that he is here and listening.

“Sure. I’ll be out in a second. You just… go back and enjoy the evening, don’t worry about me.”

“Y/N, I always worry about you and you seemed a little shaken up all day.”

“Nothing is wrong, Harry. Just go back, Leila must be looking for you.”

You couldn’t help the petty, bitter comment and you can tell that it took him by surprise as well. But it’s been bottling up inside you all day and it slipped your mouth.

“Why would she?”

“Harry, I’m not blind,” you chuckle bitterly. “It’s not a surprise you like her, but I hope you know she is a risky business since she is engaged.”

“Excuse me?” he huffs in disbelief. “Are you implying that I’m into your sister?”

“It’s pretty obvious,” you mumble under your breath. “You kept in touch with her, talked to her on the phone even before we came here… And when I found the two of you in my room earlier? That seemed pretty intimate.” Your cheeks are burning, but hopefully the dim lighting is hiding your embarrassment that you even have to talk about it.

“That’s… You got the whole thing wrong, Y/N, let me explain.”

“You don’t need to explain your feelings for her, I get it, I’m used to it, it’s totally fine.”

“Would you shut up for a minute and let me talk?” he laughs amused and you finally close your mouth, giving him the chance to talk. “I did keep in touch with Leila but not to the extent you think and most of the time she was just asking if you were doing alright because you haven’t answered her texts. I called her before coming here because it felt odd to come here without telling here, that’s all. Sure, I like her, she is a nice girl but… I assure you that I have no feelings for her or whatsoever. When you caught us in your room…”

He takes a deep breath, like he is getting ready for some kind of announcement and you’re holding your breath, staring back at him intently.

“She figured out that we are not dating.”

“What?” you ask, all blood rushing out of your face.

“Yeah, she saw right through us. But she also saw through me,” he admits clearing his throat. “She wanted to talk to me because… okay, I’ll just say it. She asked if I’m into you, because it seems like that and I told her that I am.”

Your stomach drops, eyes widen and your lips part at his words and it feels like you’ve just entered a parallel universe, because there’s no way Harry just admitted that he is into you.

“I told her that I’ve been in love with you for probably as long as I’ve known you and she urged me to tell you, because she thinks you feel the same way. Then you came up and I suggested to go on a walk because I wanted to tell you, but you didn’t feel good, so I just… dropped it.”

He rubs his face in his hands, letting out a long sigh as he leans back and stares in front of him for a moment before he continues.

“Then that kiss happened at dinner…” A tiny smile tugs on his lips and your heart is fluttering in your chest. “That wasn’t how I imagined our first kiss happening, forced by your grandma in front of your whole family, but… It didn’t matter, I was seeing stars, Y/N. Fucking stars and it was just a kiss!” He lets out an amused chuckle and you can’t help but smile as you listen to him intently, a feeling in the back of your mind still bugging you that it’s just a fever dream. “Leila has been bugging me to tell you all day, but I just couldn’t find the right moment and this is not that either I’m pretty sure about that, but…” He turns to you and reaching out he tugs a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “I don’t care anymore.”

There’s a few seconds of silence of the two of you just staring at each other, letting everything sink in and you have no idea what to do or say next.

“I literally just admitted to you that I’m in love with you and you haven’t said a word, Y/N. I’m starting to worry,” Harry speaks up chuckling and you can’t help the grin plastering across your face.

“I think that my jealousy scene was pretty obvious,” you mumble back and Harry reaches out, cupping your face in his palm, making you melt into his touch.

“I can’t believe you thought I was into your sister who is engaged!” he chuckles and you shoot him a narrow-eyed look.

“Hey! You acted suspicious! And you can’t blame me, my sister always came before me in everything.”

“Not for me,” he hums and you could cry from his words as he scoots closer, his hands grabbing a hold of your legs as he pulls them across his lap, his palms resting on your thighs. “You’ve always been my number one.”

“Always?” you ask in a whisper, your faces getting closer with each passing second and your hands find their way to the base of his neck, your noses bumping against each other.

“From day one, I told you,” he smirks at you cheekily. “Are you gonna say something to my confession or you’ll leave me hanging?”

“Your ego could use some humbling,” you tease him, though your heart is about to jump out of your ribcage.

“Not the time for that, baby,” he warns you playfully before he finally leans in, closing the distance between your lips, kissing you for the second time today.

It’s similar to the one you shared during dinner, but somehow different. There’s no anxiety and guessing about what it means or how the other is perceiving it, because it’s clearer than daylight.

Your hands cup his cheeks and he grasps your waist, pulling and positioning you until you’re straddling his lap and you can’t help the moan that slips through your lips, right into his mouth when your chest presses up against his. His kisses are slow but demanding and deep, he is taking his time savoring the moment, doing everything he couldn’t when your family was watching you with curious eyes earlier.

His lips move softly against yours, sucking and tugging on yours, tongues and teeth clashing, it’s a bit messy, but you don’t mind it. It’s perfect.

“Where did they—Oh!” Leila’s voice breaks the moment as she walks in, quickly stopping when she sees the two of you tangled up on the couch. You pull back, trying to pretend like you weren’t just making out on the couch like teenagers.

“Hi Leila,” Harry smirks as you hide your face in the crook of his neck, still sitting on his lap.

“Didn’t mean to disturb the lovebirds,” she grins widely, knowing exactly what she just walked into. “I wasn’t even here!” she calls out, going back to the sunroom.

“I think we got busted,” Harry murmurs, his fingers carding through your hair.

“We did. And she’ll tease me about it forever!” you groan, lifting your head. “We’ll never live this down, getting together after pretending to be dating.”

“Don’t care, would do it all over again,” he smirks pleased, eyes wandering down to your lips over and over again.

“This feels like a shitty Netflix Christmas movie,” you chuckle and leaning closer you wrap your arms around his neck, pecking his lips shortly.

“Shitty?” he gasps dramatically. “You’re talking about our relationship!”

“We have one?” you tease him.

“Of course,” he grins back. “Your last one.”

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed it!

#harry styles fluff #harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x reader #harry styles angst #harry styles one shot #harry styles fic rec #harry styles x y/n #harry styles smut #harry styles x fem!reader

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hsficrecommendation · 4 months

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Can you please write one where harry and reader, who is apart of the love band, being together and they get married without the media and the fans finding out. So when he is introducing the band he introduces her as mrs. Styles and everyone freaks out?

a/n: hiii friends! it's been a while but I am here to share another story. originally this was supposed to be something short and sweet but here is 9k of a new story I hope you enjoy 💜💜💜

Harry had fallen in love with her from the moment he saw her though he can’t say the same for Y/N. He knew it was foolish to call it love when all he knew was her name. He fell in love with how she got lost on stage playing each song. It was something he wanted to never forget. When Jeff told Harry he was going to meet Y/N, he froze and almost decided to leave, but he knew he had to see her and hear her voice because if he didn’t, he’d regret it for the rest of his life.

The reason Harry was here tonight at the Roxy was because he was forming his band. He was in the middle of writing an album, and Jeff thought she would be the perfect addition. Harry didn’t know then how meeting Y/N would change his life. Harry loved telling this story to anyone who asked how they first met. It’s one he’s said during the production of his first album endless times and during interviews.

He walked up to Y/N, smiling, but it dropped when she turned around, and his eyes caught the grin she was giving him. Instead, he dropped her gaze to rest on her collarbones, where a delicate pearl necklace rested. Harry knew he was admiring her necklace, but to everyone else, it looked like he was admiring her chest. Harry only realized when Jeff nudged him. Y/N didn’t say a word, only told Harry it was great to meet him and looked forward to hearing his music.

“There is no music yet,” he told her honestly.

“What is there?” She asks, looking at him curiously.

“Heart and soul,” he confesses.

“Well, Harry. I look forward to joining you in the studio if that’s alright.”

Harry quickly nods his head. “Tomorrow if you’d like.”

Y/N shares a look with Jeff, who only shrugs, “if that’s what you’d like.” She’s called away, and Harry knows he will be counting down the minutes until he sees her tomorrow. She leans close to him, and Harry relishes her sweet cherry smell. “Next time you want to stare at my boobs, maybe don’t make it so obvious.”

Harry pulls away, shocked, at a loss for words, unable to defend himself.

“See you, Harry.” She sends him a smile that makes him feel warm, and he tries his best to commit it to memory.

Jeff claps his shoulders, unable to contain his laughter, “man, you’re down bad.”

“I’m in love,” he breathes out.

“You’re insane. That’s what you are. No way Y/N will ever date you,” Jeff laughs, but Harry is determined.

Harry shakes his head, “I’ll be sure to remember that at our wedding, where you will not be invited.”

Safe to say, Harry had to work hard for her love, but he never regretted it. Not one single moment because it led him to be loved by her.

After that studio session, Harry had no shame in asking Y/N to join his team as a writer and guitarist. She told him she’d think about it, and with the fear that her answer would be no, Harry got on his knees and begged her to say yes. She couldn’t even hold in her laugh. “Jeff thought you’d do something like this, but I assured him you’d be professional.”

Harry laughs awkwardly on his knees, looking up at her. “Is that a yes?”

Y/N shakes her head at Harry’s antics. “Yes, Styles. I’ll join this team.” Harry gets up and hugs her tightly. “With one request,” she voices.

“Anything. Absolutely anything.” Harry promised. He would give her the moon or a million dollars if she wanted.

“Sarah Jones. She has to be brought on as your drummer.” Y/N sighs then, “I don’t know if she’d say yes, but you’d be a fool not to ask.”

And like that, Harry had three members in his band.

Mitch would be hired a week later.

From there, the four of them became the best of friends. While Harry was enraptured around Y/N, trying his best to spend time with her, he missed seeing the sparks fly around Sarah and Mitch. Harry was busy when they arrived from Jamaica, having no time for the band, which broke his heart. He loved seeing them and getting dinner with them but promoting a new album was no joke.

His new friend Mitch was living in his old flat. Mitch quickly got on with Harry’s friends, but soon enough, even they did not see him. It was then he found out how Mitch was always getting dinner with Sarah, and Y/N would join occasionally. Harry knew he was more than welcome, but with the single releasing soon and tour rehearsal starting, he knew he’d seen her more than enough.

They had been rehearsing for a few days when Y/N walked into the studio in tears. Harry quickly rushed over to her, leaving Jeff to speak to himself. He looked her over and found her unharmed, but he still took her in his arms, assuring her she was okay. Harry knew it was bad because she didn’t even push him away.

“You’re okay, you’re okay,” he kept repeating. At this point, he wasn’t sure if it was more for him or her.

Y/N pushed him away after a few minutes. Sarah was beside her, slipping her hand around her waist to support her. “My guitar was stolen,” she mutters. “I-I-I went for coffee in the shop down the street, and when I returned, my window was smashed. They only took the guitar, nothing else,” Y/N cries.

Harry feels his heartbreak for Y/N. During a restless night in Jamaica, she shared how it was her grandfather’s guitar. He gave her lessons from a young age, and her mother hated it because she always had a new cut or callous. It was a big part of her childhood, and when Y/N shared she wanted to pursue music as a career, her grandfather was the first to support her. He gifted her the guitar knowing she would produce magic with it, and he wasn’t wrong. Y/N created beautiful melodies for his first album with that guitar, the Fender J Bass American Deluxe. The one her grandfather, played on his wedding day.

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” he voices, knowing this heartbreak is not something he can heal. Harry immediately sends a message to all the crew and friends in the area to see if they spot her missing guitar or see someone with her guitar case. Harry tells the band they’ll meet tomorrow instead, and she is quick to disagree, stating she can play, but he promises her it’s okay. “Jeff was telling me about this meeting I have to attend.”

Jeff nods, frowning at Y/N. The band gathers around Y/N, and they’re quick to have her laughing, promising to take her to lunch.

“Y/N, your car? Is it okay?” Harry asks, knowing it can’t be safe to drive with broken glass.

“Huh,” she turns to him, confused. “Oh, uh. I drove it here. The backseat is full of glass, and I didn’t even think of anything I needed to fix.”

Harry waves her off, “I know a guy. He can take it to the mechanic. I’ll make sure to have it dropped off at your flat.”

“Harry, I couldn’t–”

He cuts her off. “Please, it’s the least I can do.” Harry knows he shouldn’t feel guilty, but if he hadn’t scheduled a band practice, then her guitar wouldn’t have been in her car and therefore stolen. Sarah assures him she’ll get Y/N home.

Y/N walks out with the band all crowding around her, and Harry knows she’s in safe hands. It doesn’t hurt that he wishes he was the one comforting her, but it’s true he has business to take care of. She just doesn’t know it’s all for her.

After the hell of the day, she had Y/N went home and cried some more. It was well into the evening when she got a text from Harry that her car would be dropped off soon. She was thankful. He was kind enough to help her. She knows other bosses would be rude and awful, but not in this industry with Harry as her boss. She opens her door to find a young man with a key in one hand and a guitar case in the other.

“That mine?” She points at it, confused.

The young fellow shrugs, “you Y/N?”

She nods silently.

“Then it’s yours.”

Y/N takes it from him, bidding the man goodnight after checking her car was out front. She hurries inside, curious as to why they also sent a guitar. She opens it up and gasps. In the case is a yellow semi-hollow Epiphone Jack Casad. She told Harry this was a dream guitar she was saving up for during their first studio session. Her name is engraved on the top of the guitar in beautiful handwriting. Y/N is careful to pick it up and is mesmerized by how nice it is. To no surprise, it’s a perfect fit in her hands, as if it was made for he

Y/N

I know there is no replacing the guitar you lost, but I was having this one made for you as a thank you for creating this album with me. I couldn’t have done it without you. Hope we can continue to create music together, and if not, because you’re too talented to stick around with someone like me, I hope you take this gift as an appreciation for my love for you.

Love, H

Harry was thinking about her because she knows a guitar takes months to make. Y/N appreciated it more than he knew. Y/N would spend the night playing with the guitar until it felt like hers. When she showed up the next day with the guitar, no one dared to say a word, but between the looks Y/N and Harry shared, they all knew.

That note would be the first sign that Y/N picked up on that maybe, just maybe, Harry liked her as more than a friend.

The album was well received, and Harry was over the moon. The first shows were nerve-wracking, but having Y/N there calmed him. She gave him pep talks assuring him that the fans would love him, and love him they did. They screamed his songs back to him, and it was easy to get lost in the feeling of being on stage. Before he knew it, they were taking off on a sold-out tour across Europe and North America.

He had started writing his second album with the help of the team and Y/N. She brought a beautiful melody, and it’s how the start of “Sunflower” kicked off the first song on the track though it would undergo various changes. He loved being in the studio with Y/N because she brought these ideas and perspectives he had never thought of. She was the heart of the album. Touring and writing with Y/N was a dream come true.

Harry was having the time of his life, but Y/N still paid him no mind. She acted as if there was nothing between them, like there was no spark, which drove him crazy. Harry watched as Mitch and Sarah fell in love, and he wanted that. He craved it with Y/N, with only her. The fact that he couldn’t have her weighed heavy on him, and it got worse when he heard rumors of Y/N going on dates. It broke him because he loved her, and she only saw him as a friend. They spent every free moment together, so the fact that she didn’t share she was seeing someone hurt because, at the end of the day, he wanted to see her happy.

He wasn’t proud of what he did next.

There was woman after woman he brought to the show. Harry didn’t know what Y/N thought, but he slowly began to pull away, needing to get lost in someone else; even if it was for an hour, Y/N could consume his thoughts for the other 23 hours. Harry wanted her to want him, to miss him, so he began bailing on lunch with her, not including her in conversations. He thought she didn’t care because she had no response. She treated him the same with a friendly smile and easy conversation.

Harry didn’t notice the change in her because he was too focused on the new person he was bringing around. If he got his head out of his ass, he would have seen every sad look Y/N shot his way. Or how Sarah urged her to talk to him, but Y/N would walk away. He didn’t see that she was slowly pushing away from not only him but the band. That she thought her days were numbered.

It wasn’t until she fell sick that Jeff told her that her backup would be able to cover for her for however long she needed. That was all the confirmation she needed to know Harry was replacing her. It broke her, but it was his band, after all.

Harry was ready to perform, huddled in the circle with the band, when he looked across from him to find unfamiliar eyes. He looked around but saw every member of his band except for her. His heart rate increased, and Harry knew he had lost her.

Sarah met his gaze and took pity on him, “she’s sick.”

At that moment, Harry wanted to cancel the show and run to her side, ensuring she was alright, but he couldn’t. He was sure it was the worst show of his life, but he didn’t have time for Jeff or anyone to give him shit for it. When he was off the stage, he drove to their hotel and pounded on her hotel room door. Then suddenly stopped when he realized that wouldn’t help her.

The door creaked open, and there was Y/N with a red nose and sleepy eyes.

“Hi, petal,” he greets softly, knowing he has to tread carefully.

She rubbed her eyes as if trying to see if he was actually there. “Harry?”

“It’s me. Can I come in?”

Y/N doesn’t respond. She steps back, opening the door wider. She locks it behind him and crawls back into bed. She tells him to stay away because he has a show tomorrow, and he knows she’s right, but he doesn’t care. He sits at the foot of her bed.

“How are you feeling?”

Y/N rolls her eyes, “I’ve been better.”

Harry hates this lingering tension. “Sorry, you felt you couldn’t tell me.”

She shrugs, “Jeff didn’t want to get you sick.”

“You’ve never gone through, Jeff before,” he reminds her.

“That was before,” Y/N muttered.

Harry sulks, letting his shoulders drop in frustration. “What you goin’ on about?”

“The fact that I’m getting sacked,” she tells him, never one to beat around the bush.

“Sorry,” he can’t believe what she is saying. “I would never.”

She scoffs, clearly not believing him. “Don’t have to lie to me. Very convenient that your friend is my replacement tonight. We clearly know I’m replaceable.”

“Don’t you dare say that,” his voice firm. He had never seen her as replaceable. His heart breaks thinking about doing a tour without her. “You created this band. I wouldn’t be having the time of my life on stage if you weren’t there next to me. You’re my best friend.”

Y/N has turned away from him, and as much as he hates it, he respects her enough to let her be. “Some way to show it,” she murmurs.

Harry hates that her voice is so weak and timid around him. She’s never once taken his shit, but here he is on the verge of losing her. “I-I,” he sighs. “I’ve fucked up badly.”

“I get that you’re dating and such, but when you start acting like a dick and treating others like they’re beneath you, that’s when you know you’ve lost against the industry.” He lets her words sink in. “I feel like I’ve lost you.”

A direct hit to the heart.

“You did nothing wrong,” Harry assures her. Y/N motions for him to explain. “I was going through shit and felt selfish going to you for help. You’ve seen me through a lot, and I didn’t want to add more,” he lies. Harry is full of lies, but he can’t tell her he loves her. Not like this. “It was easier to get lost around others that don’t care about me.”

Y/N turns to look at him. Her tired eyes are locked with his, and he knows she’s trying to read him. That he’s an open book for her, he always has been. She won’t find anything at this moment because he knows he has to bury his love for her deep inside if he wants to keep her.

“Y/N, I’m sorry for icing you out. I’m sorry for not showing you I care. You’re always my number one since the moment you entered my life. I would never dream of kicking you out of your band. I will understand if you want to leave but know you will always have a spot here with me.

“Well fuck you first,” she tells him outright. “I’m not going anywhere. I just needed you to get your head out of your ass. Though if you ditch me for a groupie, I’ll cut off your dick.”

Harry shakes his head, not surprised at all by her words. This is his girl.

“Don’t worry, you’ll always be my favorite girl.”

Those words settle deep in Y/N’s heart. When Harry pulled away from her, Y/N swore she felt a crack in her heart because it was sinking in that she was losing him, but she didn’t understand why it hurt so much to be replaced.

It wasn’t until later that night after she kicked him out of her room to stay away until she felt better she received a basket of her favorite teas and snacks from home. Even a few books she had been eyeing but had not had the time to buy. It’s when Y/N began to realize that she was in love with him. Though she had no idea how he could feel, she did the only thing she could do. She packed those feelings in a box and moved on.

Real World Studio was a dream to work at, and it was even better because he had his friends with him. Harry usually could not keep his eyes off Y/N, but tonight he wished she was anywhere but here. After seeing her on a date last night, he was fuming, and he knew it was dumb to ignore her. It was impossible in the studio. Y/N had her guitar in her lap, and it was this beautiful melody someone could get lost in. Except, he wouldn’t take the time to give it a full listen.

“H, just give it a listen,” she pleads, knowing her song's potential.

Harry exhales, “nothing special, it doesn’t fit.”

Y/N feels her anger rise at his dismissal but decides better than to argue with him. She goes to the corner of the room, dropping her guitar, not wanting the memory of Harry for the moment, and picks up Mitch’s spare. She doesn’t notice when Mitch sits next to her. Too lost in her head, cursing Harry out.

“Y/N,” she looks up at him. “It’s good.” Having heard the song a few times, Mitch now plays it on his guitar, and Y/N can’t help the smile that takes over her face. Mitch’s talent is undeniable.

Harry perks up, calling out Mitch’s name to play that song again. “Come on, Mitch, again.”

Mitch grimaces, “H, it’s—”

“Again,” Harry requests.

Mitch does as he asks but only gets a few notes in when Y/N stomps over to him. She pushes him hard, causing him to stumble. The entire room falls silent. Harry feigns confusion, not knowing what he did wrong.

“You’re an arrogant son of a bitch,” she spits angrily. Y/N walks out of the studio with her head held, and Harry deflates, knowing he went too far.

“Man, what’s up with you? That’s—you have never treated any of us like that,” Sammy tells him, confused.

Harry throws his notebook across the room in frustration, “Y/N has a fucking boyfriend and hasn’t told me. Saw her having dinner last night.”

Mitch scoffs, “so that gives you permission to be a dick.”

Sammy laughs, Harry whips his head to look at him and is about to tell him to shut up when Sammy drops a bomb on him. “I went to dinner with her last night.” Harry feels his anger bubble. “I have this friend that wants to work with her.”

Harry backs down, shoulders slumping, “I’m a dick,” he agrees.

“Think you should go find her,”

“And say what?” He looks at them for answers.

“Sorry, is a good start,” Tyler offers.

Mitch shakes his head, “he can never admit he’s sorry or that he’s the jealous type.”

Harry walks out knowing they aren’t any help but knows he does have to apologize. Y/N doesn’t deserve how he treated her. The good thing Y/N didn’t go far; she’s sitting on the hood of her car staring at the night sky.

“Y/N,” he calls out to not startle her.

“Thought you’d come out sooner,” she sasses.

He exhales, “The boys were chewing me out.”

“Hmm…”

Harry stands before her, and regret is written all over his face. “I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve that. I was an asshole for my own stupid reasons.”

“Okay,” she mutters.

He takes a step closer, his hands resting on her thighs. “I’m just a jealous son of a bitch and took it out on you. I’m sorry, you’re my favorite person, and that’s no excuse for treating you this way.”

She smirked, hearing him repeat her earlier words she screamed in the heat of her anger. “I put up with a lot of your crap.”

“And I’m grateful,” he promises her.

“Maybe too much,” she teases.

Harry knows she’s right. “Then don’t anymore.”

“Fine.”

“Fine,” he repeats.

“Leave then,” she waves him off, and something inside him snaps. Her words don’t hold malice, and he’s not leaving without her. They both know that.

He steps between her legs, not giving her any room to escape him. Y/N looks at him with wide eyes, uncertain of his next move. Harry pushes a few strands of her hair back. His eyes fall down to her lips and then move back up. Before he can convince himself otherwise, Harry leans in, pressing his lips against Y/N’s. He feels her tense up, but she melts into him within the next few seconds. He leads the kiss in a steady rhythm allowing himself to get to know what she likes. It feels like coming home, and he wonders how he went so long without tasting her. He knows one will never be enough; he wants more. Harry wants all her kisses.

Y/N pulls away breathless, one look at her face, and Harry knows she’s panicking. It’s settling in quick, but Harry has always been able to calm her, a special trick he’s learned for years of knowing her. His take will be slightly different tonight.

“Y/N I l–” Y/N stops him.

“Please,” she pleads. Begging him not to say it. Harry sighs, taking a step back.

“We’ll talk tomorrow,” he promises.

Harry walks her back to the hotel for the night with the promise of breakfast together. He hopes breakfast happens, but part of him knows it won’t happen. The following day he was informed she had checked out. All that was left was a note saying she was sorry and that she would call him soon. That same night he was on a flight to Japan.

After all, there’s an album to finish.

Two weeks in Japan weren’t enough to heal his heartbreak, but it was the perfect place to meet friends, try good food, and write new songs. He had written five new ones, and though he knew some might not make it to the album now, maybe they would for the next one.

His birthday had come along, and he spent it alone reading in a cafe. Harry got endless texts from his family wishing him a happy day, but there was one person he hoped would call. Except that she didn’t. Everyone told him to move on, but he wanted to grieve this love because Y/N wasn’t just anybody to him. She was the one. He’s willing to fight for her because he knows what it’s like to live without her and hates it. Harry misses her, but he’s also hurt.

It was early morning when there was a loud knock on his door. He stumbled out of bed in no rush to open his door. After a surprise party last night, he allowed himself to have one too many shots and now is paying the price for it. Y/N always reminded him to have some water and a Tylenol before bed on nights they went drinking.

Harry swung his door open, expecting to see Tom or Tyler but standing in front of him was Y/N. A timid smile was on her face, a large duffel hanging off her shoulder and a gift bag in her hand.

“Hi, Harry,” she broke the silence after a few seconds (minutes, he couldn’t be sure.) “I-I’m sorry to show up announced. Uh–Gems convinced me it would be a good idea.”

He has no idea why he’s here, and he can’t even ask her why she’s here because it seems he has lost the ability to speak. He never imagined her coming to Japan for him.

“I’m sorry for leaving. I’m sorry for stopping you from saying something you probably have held in for a long time.” She pauses, looking around her, nervous someone could overhear her. That’s when Harry realizes they’re standing at his doorway.

Wordlessly he moves aside to let her in. Harry locks the door behind her as she drops her bag and presents by the door. Y/N takes her time slipping off her shoes. He can spot her hands shaking but doesn’t dare comment on it.

“Harry,” she says his name with so much love it gives him a glimmer of hope. “I love you,” she shouts.

Harry was not prepared for her confession. He wasn’t prepared for her. “And I think you love me?” She questions.

Harry doesn’t answer.

Y/N looks around the room nervously. This is not how she pictured the moment on the flight here. Sure, she wasn’t expecting the warmest greeting, but she also didn’t expect silence. Y/N was not sure how to go from here. Before she can begin to think about how bad of an idea this is, Harry takes a step forward; she doesn’t dare move away. He stops until there is no space between them.

There are two things he could tell her: one would make her the happiest person alive, and the other has the possibility of breaking her. Except, there’s a third option she wasn’t thinking about because Harry was never good with his words. He always thought actions speak louder than words, so he leaned in and kissed her. This kiss was soft and full of love, nothing like their first kiss. Harry was gentle with her, like if he was rougher, she’d break or disappear. Y/N lets herself fall into Harry as he explores her mouth, their mouths moving in perfect unison until he breaks away, giving her a chance to catch her breath. Even then, he doesn’t move far away; he kisses every inch of her face until Y/N breaks into a fit of laughter due to the brush of his stubble on her skin, something he was letting grow during his time here.

“I love you,” Harry tells her. It’s the first time he’s said it out loud, but it doesn’t feel like the first time, not when he’s loved her for years. “I have loved you from the very first day.”

Y/N slaps his shoulder playfully, “shut up, Harry.” She doesn’t believe him. Why would she? Y/N was a stranger, but the first time he saw her, Harry felt like he had arrived home. He was united with someone who had been missing from him all his life.

“Will never shut up,” Harry promises. “Not when I get to tell you I love you every day, every hour, every minute.”

“I’m sorry for the wait,” she holds his face in her hands, taking in his beautiful green eyes staring at her with so much love that she feels she might explode.

“You will always be worth the wait. Always, Y/N.”

December 13th had finally arrived.

“Are you really doing this?” Harry asks nervously on the chair next to her.

Y/N rolled her eyes, “I told you I would.”

“Tattoos are forever,” he reminds her.

Mateo, her tattoo artist, places the stencil on her ribs as Harry checks in for the tenth time to see if she really wants to be tattooed. “The cherries on my ass are a good reminder I know what I’m doing.”

Harry sinks back in his chair, defeated. “It’s just this is permanent. These are my lyrics going into your skin forever.”

“Oi, give me some credit, would you? Worked on these songs with you. This one is special. I want it with me forever,” Y/N vows.

Today, his second album Fine Line was released for the world to hear. Every time he released music, he gave a bit of himself away from Lights up to Cherry; these were his stories on love, identity, and heartbreak. Harry knows he didn’t do it alone, but his fans don’t care for the process; they want the stories and meanings of each song. He won’t give them that, not now, not ever. Y/N, his guitar player and now also his girlfriend, was getting a tattoo in honor of the second album they have written together being released.

“I thought you’d get a sunflower tattooed or even a watermelon,” he smirks at the last suggestion.

Y/N scoffs, “you dirty-minded lover.”

“You love it,” he tells her.

She does. She really does. “Doesn’t matter. I love you. I want to know that no matter what, we’ll be alright. I would go through hell and back for you, so what better way than to get those words that mean so much to me.”

Harry knows there’s no chance she’s leaving without the tattoo, so he relents letting Mateo begin. “I love you.” And that’s enough for now. It seems he will have to get a new tattoo for her seeing as she’d have his handwriting etched in her skin forever.

He was going crazy and set to go on stage in twenty minutes, yet no one could find Y/N. Harry had called her again and again, yet no answer. He knew she hadn’t left the venue, but somehow everyone on staff could not find her. It wasn’t until he found Y/N in a small green room sitting with his special guest of the night, Stevie Nicks. They were lost in conversation and didn’t even hear him come in.

“Y/N,” he breathed out, relieved. He shoots a text to Jeff that he found her.

Y/N grins up at him, and simple as that, all his worry evaporates. “Hi, pretty.”

To no surprise, Harry’s face heats up at the compliment. “Poppet went crazy searching for you.”

Stevie stands up, “oh, that’s my fault. I just had to steal her away. It’s been some time since we’ve been able to catch up. Nice to know you took my advice.”

“Actually, Stevie–” Y/N begins, but Harry interrupts her.

“Nothing. Absolutely nothing. We’ve got to get Y/N ready to stage soon.” Harry pushes her towards the door.

Y/N makes a show of rolling her eyes and sighing dramatically. “Bye, Stevie, always an honor.”

Harry promises Stevie to see her soon, all while Y/N mutters how she can’t believe he embarrassed her in front of Stevie Nicks. He knows she’s joking but never makes anything easy for him.

“Hey, Y/N?”

“Hmm…”

“I love you,” and like magic, she melts into him, allowing him to take her towards his dressing room as he grabs her in-ears and prepares her to head out on stage.

“Love you, Harry. Proud of you. It’s your big day.” She’s been telling him all week, from listening parties to the Spotify event to last night at 9pm when the album dropped on the West Coast to this very moment.

“Our, our special day,” he reminds her.

Y/N waves him off, “your album. I’m just the guitar player.”

Harry won’t have that. He approaches Y/N, gently lifting her face to look at him. She’s staring at him with those glimmering eyes full of love. “You’re the muse of this album, but you’re also the co-writer. You play a killer solo in She that Mitch is begging for you to let him play. This album is ours, but it is also entirely yours. I am entirely yours.”

Y/N’s eyes welled up with tears. “Ours,” she repeats.

It ends up being a perfect night. A show they’ll go on to share with friends, family, and future generations for years to come.

Gearing up for tour after a successful album had everyone buzzing, except everything came to a halt because of a pandemic affecting the entire world. Everyone was taking the needed precautions to keep the safety of others in mind. Harry and Y/N decided to stay with Mitch and Sarah because it was better to be with others during this challenging time.

As awful as everything was in the world, Harry was grateful for the time to flourish his relationship with Y/N.

It gave them a chance to fall more in love with each other. He learned all her childhood stories, and she learned that he was an early riser and liked his coffee dark. They used this time to write an album full of love, longing, and heartbreak. It was their love story in the strangest of ways. He knew the album might not be well received, but he loved it. Most importantly, Y/N loved it, and that’s all that mattered.

They stayed in California with friends for nearly a year until it was safe to fly home. It was then that they knew they would have to split a way to stay with family. Harry was not ready to let her go, not when he had her for all this time. Instead, he followed along to where she called home. Her baby sister was overjoyed to have Y/N home. Lila got to show Y/N all the knitting supplies she had gotten. Even all the plushies she made Y/N because they reminded Lila of her. (The bunny was his favorite, he got to keep it because he asked nicely.) Harry would never forget meeting Lila for the first time, seven years old, and worshiping the ground Y/N walked on. He understood the feeling very well. Y/N had brought her along for a rehearsal and, by the end of the day, had a meltdown because Harry mentioned them leaving for months. Lila begged Y/N not to go, to quit saying that she’d be able to take care of her if she stayed. Harry saw Y/N’s heartbreak and was tempted to step in, but he knew it wasn’t his place.

“I hate you,” the young girl whispered when Y/N rushed off to get tissues. His heart broke knowing he was the reason she was hurting so much. “Fire her, fire my sister,” she pleaded.

Y/N returned with sympathy in her eyes, and Harry knew nothing he could say would make her feel better. “Poppet, you know those are harsh words. We don’t say them unless we mean them.”

“I do. I mean it,” Lila sniffled.

Y/N shook her head, wiping her younger sister’s tears away. “No, you don’t. You know how I know?” Lila shook her head. “Because you’ve got the biggest heart in the entire world. I know there is no way you can hold any darkness in there.”

Lila wraps her arms around Y/N’s neck, and Harry knows he should leave and give them space, but he’s in awe at how well Y/N is validating her sister’s feelings. There’s no telling her to stop crying, only trying to make her understand.

“I’m leaving, poppet. It’s my dream,” Y/N whispered. “I told you stories about being on stage that it’s my second favorite thing to do.”

“First is painting with me?” Lila questions.

Y/N laughs, “you know it.”

“Okay,” Lila hides her face in Y/N’s neck. “I love you.”

Y/N kissed her sister’s cheek. “I love you too.” They squeeze each other tight, relishing in being together. “Now I think you owe someone an apology.”

Lila sighed but did as Y/N requested. She walked towards Harry with Y/N standing behind her. “I’m sorry, Mr. Styles. You have to promise to care for her. She loves tea in the morning with lemon poppy muffins.” Lila shares making Harry and Y/N laugh. He keeps a mental note to make sure it’s always available for her during tours and meetings.

Harry kneels down to be at Lila’s level, knowing it will make them at an even level. “I promise to look after her. If you ever need her home, all you have to do is call, and I’ll have her on the first flight back to you.”

Lila's eyes widen in surprise, “you can do that?”

“I’m the boss,” he whispers.

Y/N rolls her eyes at him, but mouths thank you.

Harry kept true to his word, there was only one time when Lila called, and that’s all Y/N needed to say for him to assure her that it was okay to go. He went as far as buying her a first-class plane ticket. Lila fell, broke her arm, and needed her sister home. She was gone for five days, the longest days of his life, but when she returned, Y/N gave him the most beautiful smile he had ever seen. It’s something he will never forget.

Now at twelve years old, Lila “tolerated” Harry. Y/N told him Lila was joking, but a part of him knew it was true he had taken her favorite person away. Harry knew he’d be heartbroken having Y/N leave him and hated that he made Lila experience that time and time again.

“You break her heart, Harry, and I break you,” she threatened with her fist in the air.

“Woah, there, Rambo. No need to defend my honor,” Y/N giggled. “Just because you’re doing kickboxing classes doesn’t mean you need to go punching anyone.”

“I will if he makes you cry,” Lila tells her while keeping her eyes on Harry.

He found this amazing because Harry was the younger sibling. He knew what it was like wanting to defend his older sister, not that she ever let him. He knew Gemma didn’t need protecting. “If anyone will do any crying, it’s Harry,” Y/N tells her sister. Y/N winks at him before turning her attention back to Lila. “He cries at The Lion King.”

“He does?” Lila says in disbelief.

Harry scoffs playfully, “that was a secret.”

Lila steps forward and taps his hand twice in what he assumes is her way of showing sympathy. “There, there. I understand. Scar is the worst villain. Let’s watch it now.”

She pulls him away as Y/N mouths for him to remember to cry. Harry knew Y/N wanted her favorite people to get along, and if he had to cry during Mufasa’s death to get on a young girl’s good side, then so be it. Harry knows he would do anything for Y/N.

After a few months with Y/N’s family, they traveled to his family. When his mum saw him, she burst into tears and did not let him go for over ten minutes. Y/N got reacquainted with the cats then it was her turn for a long cuddle. His mother was in good hands, but returning home always made him realize how much he has missed.

“Gems has gotten into a puzzle,” Anne shares as she serves them.

Harry laughs, “not surprised.”

“H got really good at poker,” Y/N chimes in.”

“And you miss paint by number,” he teases.

Anne smiled fondly, seeing them tease each other as she took in the love clearly displayed on his face. “I can’t believe you’ve filmed movies.”

Y/N rolls her eyes, “oh, Anne, he’s such a drama queen. Oh, that’s not what I ordered. It was a green smoothie, not pink,” Y/N mimics his accent awfully, making Anne burst out laughing.

“Mum, you’re supposed to be on my side.”

Anne shrugs, “she’s always been my favorite.”

Y/N sticks her tongue at him, happy to return to conversing with Anne. Harry knew his mum was right; she had always been his favorite too.

With filming complete and the world a bit safer. It was time to get back on the road. Harry had a completed album that he was not ready to share yet. He wanted to enjoy singing songs from Fine Line before adding more to his setlist. Prepping for this tour, there were many new changes. For one, he hired Pauli Lovegood as his musical director, and the band had never sounded better.

Harry was not surprised to see how well Pauli and Y/N got on. They were two people who instantly clicked when first meeting. Harry had many conversations with Pauli about the band and the chemistry and trust he liked to have on stage. Pauli stated that Y/N was the heart of the band and didn’t even realize it. Harry knew every time he got on stage because she kept him calm and safe each night. Sure, everyone raved about Sarah calling it Sarah’s band, and he didn’t doubt it for a second, but there was a special energy Y/N brought that no one was able to replicate.

“Y/N goes out on stage every night like it might be her last,” Pauli shared after a rehearsal. They just didn’t realize Y/N was behind him listening.

“Is that a bad thing?” Y/N asks.

Pauli shakes their head. “Not at all. It makes your performance special.” He points back to the stage. “Because that was sound check. You played as if the crowd was already here.”

Y/N ducks her head, flustered, not realizing that Pauli was complimenting her.

“Does that mean he won't ever fire me?” Y/N laughs, knowing it’s a dumb question.

Harry swings his hand over her shoulder, pulling her into his side. “I’d be an idiot to let you go. You know the only reason you’ll leave this job is if you decide that.”

His words are true. Y/N has had many opportunities and offers to join another band or become a songwriter working with different artists, but it’s not what she wants.

During the tour, Y/N and Harry celebrate two years of dating. It’s a significant milestone for both of them because they had always had a slight fear of commitment, but together forever doesn’t seem long enough. It’s a cold day in November for Los Angeles, but Y/N doesn’t seem to mind since she dragged Harry to Malibu beach with her.

They held hands as they walked down the shore, seagulls flying high and the beach vacant. No one is brave enough to visit the ocean during this cold season. Y/N had told him that water calms her; it reminds her there is so much more to life, and though she might never have the chance to learn about it, the world keeps turning.

“We’re almost going home,” Harry comments.

Home is London, in her small flat, while Harry goes to his large mansion. There are small details they have to work through, seeing as during this entire tour, they have never slept apart, even when Harry manages to push her buttons.

“I’m excited to see Lila,” Y/N tells Harry. She talked to her sister as much as possible, but time zones made it difficult. “She’s grown two more inches, mum said.”

Harry kisses her temple, there is so much they sacrifice for the life they live, but he wouldn’t change it for the world because it led him to Y/N.

“Soon, you’ll see her soon,” he promises. Little does she know that in a few days, time in New York, Y/N will be hugging her sister, and Harry will happily share her because nothing makes him happier than seeing her happy. “I love you, Y/N.”

Y/N nudges his shoulder playfully, “alright, you sap. I love you too. Come on, I'm getting hungry.”

Harry stops walking. She doesn't notice until he has let go of her hand. She looks back at him confused but finds him kneeling on one knee, a small velvet box in his hand. Y/N doesn’t give him a chance to open it when she’s jumping on him, knocking him back into the sand. She’s crying against his chest, whispering yes over and over again.

He laughs, “I haven’t even asked, love.”

She sniffles, “what are you waiting for?”

Harry sits up, but Y/N doesn’t move from her place on his lap, sandy ring box back in his hand. He knows her answer, but his nerves are back, making his hands shake. Y/N notices and grabs his hands, pulling them to her chest. “Y/N, meeting you in 2015, I knew you were special. From our first conversation, I knew I could fall in love with you, and fall I did. It seems I’m still falling even now. You’re the reason the sun rises every morning and why the moon shines bright at night. You’re the reason why I wake up with a smile every day. You make the hard times bearable and the good times memorable. Y/N Y/LN, will you do me the biggest honor and marry me?”

Y/N has endless tears running down her face, but her smile is bright. “Yes, Harry. I will marry you. Forever with you is all I want.”

Harry leans in and kisses his fiancé.

His fiancé.

Y/N is his fiancé.

Anthony and a few friends gather somewhere in the distance, taking photos and videos for them. Y/N lets herself get lost in the feeling of his lips against hers. It’s slow and passionate. They are pouring every ounce of love into each other. This is the start of forever.

“We’re getting married,” she laughs against his lips.

“We are. Today, tomorrow, in a month, a year. Whenever you want, I will marry you,” Harry promises her. He hopes it’s sooner rather than later.

“Let’s go home. I want to celebrate.”

Their family could wait on the news. Tonight was all theirs.

On April 29th, 2022, Harry married the love of his life in a private villa in Italy with their closest friends and family. It was the perfect day, the sun shining bright, and the Amalfi ocean gave them a wonderful breeze.

“Today’s the day,” he whispered as Y/N sat in his lap out on the balcony of their room. Everyone told them it was bad luck to see each other before the wedding, but Y/N didn’t believe in superstitions, and Harry couldn’t bring himself to say goodnight to her after their rehearsal dinner.

Y/N sighs, leaning back into him. “Feels like I’ve been waiting for you all my life.”

Harry laughs, “I think I did all the waiting.” From the start, he always thought she’d never see him as anything more, but he is hours away from making her his wife.

“Mhm…you’re right. Sorry for the wait.”

Harry kisses her exposed shoulder. “I’d wait forever for you, my heart.”

Y/N turns, taking in his expressions. Glimmering eyes and a shining smile, he was about to become her husband. “Let’s go get married, Mr. Styles.”

“After you, Mrs. Styles.”

Mr. and Mrs. Styles, it was music to his ears.

After getting married with Sarah as their officiant, and Lila as their flower girl, they had a beautiful reception. There were speeches from Jeff quoting that Harry knew he would marry Y/N from the minute he set eyes on her to Y/N’s mum, Roslyn entrusting Harry to make her little girl happy for the rest of their life. Even Lila got up to the microphone making Harry promise to share Y/N with her still because she was her’s first. Harry assured the young girl he'd do anything Lila asked of him if it made Y/N happy. It was the most beautiful day, one he would never forget.

They went on a month-long honeymoon and returned blissfully happy, ready to perform to thousands of people each night.

The tour began in Glasgow. A sold-out stadium all for him. Harry was ready to share the stage with his wife and best friends. He was prepared to go out and have the time of his life with his fans, but he could not stop crying. Y/N tried her best to comfort him and was doing well, but she was buzzing, wanting to take it all in. He had done this many years ago with four other boys, his brothers. Harry was okay never doing anything at that level again, but here he was about to play his first stadium of many in Europe.

“Y/N does not want to leave the stage,” Luis rushes in, exhausted, knowing it’s a bit of a walk from the dressing room to the stage.

Harry laughs, shaking his head. She told him she loved the stage and didn’t want to be elsewhere. He didn’t really believe her, but Y/N kept true to her words.

“Let’s go get her.”

It turns out Harry had to carry her out. He threw her over his shoulder as she screamed to let her stay. They knew it wasn’t possible with fans about to be let in and the opener set to perform in a few hours. Harry was happy to share these moments with her.

They were preparing for their third sold-out night in Wembley, and Harry was happy because he and Y/N had many friends and family coming out to support them. Harry knows that through the years, the audience has come to love his band, also known as the “Love Band,” while Mitch and Sarah were crowd favorites, and Pauli’s dance move always had the fans screaming it was Y/N who managed to steal everyone’s hearts. She didn’t have to try hard. Y/N had that charm about her, from smiling at fans who locked eyes with her to signs made for her to pose for a fan's camera and especially when she handed out guitar picks at the end of the night. Y/N loved walking down the side to reach the middle, and Harry got to see how each interaction she had with a fan only made her shine brighter.

Today was different; Y/N and Harry sang together during soundcheck. Lila was there and begged for Y/N to sing, then two sisters with similar pouts stared at him, begging him to say yes. There was no telling them no, and Harry sang Sweet Creature with his wife to a young girl who could not stop smiling. Harry was thankful to have Anthony here capturing everything because he knew he wanted to remember this for years to come.

“I’m pretty sure fans heard us,” Y/N tells him as she plays with her ears.

Harry shrugs, “they’ve never heard you sing before.”

“Heyy,” she frowns. “Be nice to your wife.”

He smirks. He will never get tired of hearing that. “My dear wife, I apologize for hurting your feelings. Will you forgive me?”

She taps her lips twice, “kiss?”

He leans in, happy to comply with her wishes. She hums against his lips. Harry is tempted to take it farther but knows there is no time for that now.

“Love you, Y/N. Thank you for sharing the stage with me,” he whispers, feeling overwhelmed.

Y/N grins, “thanks for paying me the big bucks to be here,” she teases.

Harry groans, giving her a loving tap on her butt. “You’re a menace.”

“Yeah, but you love me,” she sing-songs.

“I do. I always will.”

He doesn’t know where life will take him and Y/N, but he knows it will all be alright as long as they are together.

A year ago, he played at Wembley stadium and was freshly married. Now he has celebrated his first anniversary and was back to play four sold-out nights. Harry’s House is out to the world and has received so much love from fans to the Grammys. He remembers winning album of the year, the most prestigious award of the night, and how tempted, he was to kiss Y/N there because this album is a love letter to each other. The new album gifted him so much, but there will be nothing better to Harry than sharing the stage with Y/N as he sings songs they wrote together.

“Wembley, the last time I was here wasn’t long ago, but things have changed in my life.” A dramatic pause. ��For the better,” he assures the audience. “Thank you for having me back. Now let’s dance.”

The night moves on with Harry coming to bother Y/N more than ever, but she doesn’t mind. She gives it right back before sending him off to bother Mitch, who stays stoic, not letting Harry’s antics bother him. “Now, Wembley, you have been the most amazing crowd tonight.” The screams get louder as they listen to him talk. “But I couldn’t have done this alone.”

Harry introduces the band, going through everyone, purposely skipping Y/N. The band looked around, confused, but Y/N did not take her eyes off Harry, who was stepping closer to her. “Now you all know and love her, give it up for Y/N Styles!” Harry kneels down on a knee gesturing to Y/N.

Y/N smirks as the crowd falls silent, taking in the confession Harry dropped on them. The cameras pan over to her, and she gives a wave with her right hand, her left stays resting on her guitar where she’s sure the fans can see the engagement ring and wedding ring resting on her fourth finger, no longer on a chain around her neck but on display for everyone to see. Harry talked to her about the plan earlier in the day and decided to wear it to show it off.

After a moment, the fans seemed to have processed his words and began to scream and cheer. It’s louder and overwhelming, but Y/N takes it in stride as Harry laughs, looking out at the crowd. Harry brings his microphone up to speak, but the screams get even louder. Y/N shakes her head in disbelief, unable to understand if it’s excitement or shock.

“Sorry,” Harry giggles into the microphone. “I know her as Y/N Styles. Give it up for Y/N Y/LN. But please address her as Y/N Styles. The paperwork was endless,” he jokes to the audience of 90,000.

Sarah gives Y/N a crazed look, but Y/N shrugs. It was bound to come out, but she was glad they had the power to choose how and when. No better place than on stage doing what they both love.

“Alright, alright,” Harry begins trying to settle the cheers, but they are not stopping. It’s been going on for minutes, and Y/N’s just taking it all in, loving the support they are receiving. “Thought you came here for me,” he tries.

Y/N laughs into her microphone, making Harry look at her with a fake pout. “Oh, enjoy this, Y/N. You’re fired.”

She rolls her eyes, knowing he’s joking. The entire band knows he wouldn’t dream of doing this every night without her.

“Do you want a song?” Harry asks his crazed fans.

“Together?” Y/N asks into the microphone. The fans have no idea how to react anymore. This show will be going down in history; that’s all Y/N knows.

She steps close to Harry, who welcomes her in a hug, careful with her guitar.

“Which one, love?” Harry inquires, even though he already knows the song she will pick.

Y/N flashes him a pearled smile, “love of my life.”

Harry looks out at the audience and then turns back to Y/N. He takes her ring hand and kisses her wedding band. “Seems only fitting.”

liked by mitchrowland, harrystyles, and 233,804 others

pillowpersonpp she’s a rockstar and a wife

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yourinstagram I LOVE YOU! Thank you for marrying us

pillowpersonpp its the least i could do since you're the reason i met my husband

harryfan1 pause…i did not know this

harryfan2 i would marry her too

mitchrowland the best guitarist!

harryfan3 I love her friendship with y/n

liked by yelyahwilliams, harrystyles and 4,534,266 others

yourinstagram officially the better styles

view all 34,554 comments

annetwist a wonderful addition to the family

gemmastyles you know what…you’re absolutely right.

_basselin oh my friend! Lovely photos 💗

fan1 wedding photos dropping! pray for me

fan2 the most beautiful couple congrats

fan3 rockstar marries rockstar

harryfan I really thought he was never going to marry 😭

liked by anthonypham, harrystyles, and 322,456 others

lloyddddddddddddddddd the (not so) newley weds 🤍

view all 344 comments

annetwist I have these framed at home

anthonypham had the absolute joy of capturing our friends wedding with you

yourinstagram forever grateful! h and i love you boys

yourinstagram 🫶

harrystyles thank you for capturing our special day

jefezoff they really spent the entire day in their own bubble

fan1 STOPPPPPP he shot the wedding! Oh i'm so jealous

liked by niallhoran, shaniatwain, and 9,672,655 others

harrystyles every moment on stage is special when i get to share it with you, my heart

view all 43,667 comments

glenne_azoff the prettiest girl!

yourinstgram i love you! thanks for falling in love with me back in 2015, baby

harrystyles thank you for joining my band in 2015

paulithepsm y/n the heart of the band

jefezoff I'll take credit for introducing you to y/n by you naming your first born after me

harrystyles fuck off

liked by fan1, fan2, and 42,333 others

lovebandupdates HARRY AND Y/N SINGING LOML AT WEMBLEY AFTER ANNOUNCING THEIR MARRIAGE

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fan1 all i can do is cry

fan2 it really is the love band *cries*

fan3 how long do we think he’s been married

fan4 I was there tonight 😭😭😭 harry is so in love

fan1 spill babes spill

fan4 okay so they sing right and it's the most perfect duet. y/n has a perfect voice that fits harry's perfectly. the song finishes and harry holds her in an embrace for a long time. they come back out and harry has a new ring on his left hand but he basically spends the last of the show kissing her cheek and dancing with her. harry is so in and y/n looks at him with so much love in her eyes. a perfect match

fan3 why you got to say all that. 🥺😭 I am never recovering from this

#harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles #harry styles x y/n #harry styles fic rec #harry styles angst #harry styles fluff #harry styles one shot #harry styles x fem!reader

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hsficrecommendation · 4 months

Text

a/n: lol hiii so i listened to fine line drunk the other night and just started writing this oops

thank you thank you thank you to @harryandhockey for beta reading this for me! clara i adore u v much <3

what it is: harry plays u fine line for the first time and some things get said…also smut

word count: 7k

let me know what you think :)

MASTERLIST

“Okay, I love it.” You said as Golden began to play. Your hands were flat on your cheeks, cupping your face.

“It just started.” Harry laughed.

You shook your head, your hands still planted in place, your cheeks warm from the two cosmos Harry had made for you. “It’s so fucking good.”

When it got to the bridge, your heart ached. “Oh—“ You grabbed his hand, which was hanging. He was sitting with his knees pulled to his chest, his left hand holding his right wrist, keeping his knees up. “You’re not alone.”

Harry rolled his eyes.

“Oh, my god. You’re so open!”

“I shouldn’t have played this for you while you’re drunk. This was a mistake.” He went to hit pause on his iPhone, but you shook your head vehemently.

“Don’t you fucking dare. I’ve been waiting all year for this.”

You and Harry had been friends for a little over three years and he had made you wait until the record was done for you to hear it. Now that you were, you were way beyond excited. You had hyped it up so much in your head that, no matter what, every song would be legendary.

“Is this the pussy song?” You asked halfway through Watermelon Sugar.

He laughed. “I mean, yes…but, like, that’s a bit much, yeah? Like, you haven’t got to say it like that.” He was trying to hold in his smirk.

You rolled your eyes playfully. It wasn’t a secret how much he enjoyed it. The last time he ate you out, he wouldn’t shut up about how good you tasted; he always felt the need to make it known just how much he enjoyed himself.

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hsficrecommendation · 4 months

Text

Delicate

Mentions: Angst, Fluff

Harry has a bad past with relationships and is waiting for when Y/N decides to leave him.

Harry has grown insecure with love. He’d had so many women come and go, all claiming they were in love with him, and he thought he was in love with them, but then they were gone after he’d spent enough money on them, after he’d bought them a car or something. Then, he met Y/N. She’s soft and kind and funny, a sense of humor that it took him a bit to understand, but eventually, they developed their own special sense of humor together, one only the two of them really understand.

Harry was scared though. He was absolutely terrified. They’d been together 2 years, longer than any real relationship he’d had. She was still with him. He was waiting for her to pick up and leave, any second now. Every time she wasn’t there in the morning when he woke up made his heart stop, every time she asked him if they could talk, though normally it ending up just being about what outfits she should wear, if he wants one or two slices of butter on his pancakes, or if he knows where he put his boxers so she could put them in the wash. Harry was so on edge, he found himself hardly paying attention to anything else anymore.

Y/N, on the other hand, couldn’t believe it. Finally, she was with him. She had found the one, the love of her life, and she was so, 100%, undoubtedly certain that it was Harry. He was the one she was meant to spend the rest of her life with, grow old with, the one she’d be smiling softly at when they’re wrinkly and grey and sat on the couch watching their grandchildren grow up. She knew him inside and out, as he did her, and there wasn’t any other person on earth that she could picture herself with.

If only Harry’d known that.

It was when he woken up one morning that changed everything. He’d had a nightmare that she left him, that she drove off in some car he’d bought her, right after telling him she didn’t love him anymore. She was the only woman that he had said “I love you” to who had said it back with just as much certainty. Harry woke up sobbing, chest heaving, causing his eyes to shoot open and a little startled gasp leave his lips as he looked around the room. Then, when he’d caught site of the bed beside him, an empty spot there, his brain did a flip. She was in the kitchen making pancakes, he tried to calm himself. So he shakily climbs from the bed, rubbing sleepily at his eyes as he tugs on his boxers, then sliding a baggy sweater over his body, one that Y/N wore often and smelt of her vaguely. The soft, flowery scent has his hand nuzzling the fabric up to his nose to inhale it fully, let the scent wash through him like medicine. He shuffled through their shared house, pittering down the steps and walking into the kitchen.

“Lovie?” He mumbles sleepily, stepping into the large kitchen. As he looks around the room, the sunlight streaming in through the large glass wall that outlooked their backyard, the black marble island clean of any cooking, the kitchen pristine, all the white wood drawers tucked away and as if they were washed with a toothbrush. Harry and Y/N always loved a clean home. But normally she’d be up by now making breakfast, but the kitchen looked untouched.

His heart rate picks up again as he rushes to their living room, seeing nothing. The fire isn’t even lit in their fireplace, as it normally would be since Y/N and Harry would curl up in the big leather couch in front of it and eat their breakfast together, just cuddle up together and sharing their food, talking about what they needed to do that day or what they had dreamt of last night.

There was nothing, though. No plates, no cuddle up Y/N on the couch reading one of the many books from her collection as she awaits Harry to join her, no crackling fire or big fluffy blankets to snuggle up in. It was empty. Harry has begun feeling empty.

“Y/N?” He called a bit frantically, running upstairs to check their bathroom. She would’ve responded by now, yeah? She’s normally never out, and if she is, she leaves a little note. He bursts back into their room, running across the large expanse to their bathroom, but something catches his eye. Her dresser is open. He scrambles over, tearing it open to find a majority of her clothes gone, only a t-shirt or so left scattered. His chest is heaving again, little pants escaping his lips as he looks around. Harry is breaking down. He can’t breathe. He’s wheezing by now, stumbling on the bed as he’s hit by the realization: She left him.

Finally, she’s had enough and packed up. He can’t believe it. Or maybe he refuses to. No, no, no, she was supposed to be the one. She’s it, Y/N is all Harry had left in him. He had given his all to her, so much so, he’s not sure he’d ever be able to date again. This one hurts much more than the others. Y/N was the one, he’s certain of it. He remembers how it felt to be with Kendall and Camille and stuff, but she felt different. She felt right.

Harry remembers when she suggested they move in together. He was a bit shocked, since they’d only been dating a year and a half then, but ecstatic nonetheless. So they went house shopping. Money wasn’t a big thing for either of them, as she was very succesful with her company, so they went through the most secure houses, ones with gates and such in safe neighborhoods, not really looking st prices, but the feel of it. They both wanted nothing too extravagant, but both were a bit geeky when it came to nice houses, so they picked the perfect one and had some little special touches done to really make it home.

Yet no one knew a thing. No one in the media had more than rumors about them as neither had confirmed anything yet. At least Harry could hide away and sit in sorrow for the next couple months without people knowing it was over a girl. But she wasn’t just any girl. She was a woman, and the love of his life. And she’s gone. He doesn’t even want to be in this house. Too many memories. Their first night in this bedroom after they’d bought it, making love all night within the California king sized bed. When they got into a huge fight and Harry almost slept on the couch, but Y/N got pouty and said she couldn’t sleep without him, which, Harry can’t sleep the best without her either; How they’d woken up the next morning and just went downstairs to make breakfast together, the morning spent with Harry peppering soft kisses down her neck and mumbling apologies. Then, a few times, on that exact counter, he’d fucked his lovie into headspace, had her whimpering and cuddling into him as he slid his fat cock in and out of her.

And then this exact moment. When she left.

Harry doesn’t know how long he stays there, but his chest hurts and he’s wheezing, and his eyesight is getting blurry because he’s trying so desperately to catch his breath, but he can’t and he doesn’t know where his inhaler is because Y/N normally carries it around for him because he always swears he doesn’t need it, but she’s know better. He fumbles to try and find his phone, but his vision is blurred by tears.

That’s when he hears a muddled gasp, his ears ringing and chest feeling like it’s collapsing. Then, as he blinks, his tears falling down his face and out of his eyes, he sees her. Y/N is knelt in front of him, frantically searching through the bedside dresser, pulling out his inhaler and shaking it some. He can’t comprehend anything, just watching dazedly as she brings it to his lips and nods her head a bit in assuramce that everything’s gonna be okay. Then, she’s pressing down, releasing the medicine, making Harry breathe in deep.

As she pulls the inhaler away, she waits a bit, hearing his breathing calm slowly, until he’s just panting softly. “Hazza, what happened?” She mumbles softly, cupping his face, her own heart racing as she was just scared to death. He shakes his head, reaching out gently run his thumb across her lip.

“Y-Y’didn’t leave?” He hiccups softly, sniffling.

She furrows her brows, “Wha-“ Then her face drops, realization coming over her. “Shit, I’m so sorry, bubsy. I should’ve left you a note or something.”

Harry gulps as she straddles his hips, him eagerly wrapping his arms around her and burying himself into her hold. “Thought y’left,” He sobs, his raking chest only making her hold him tighter, “Thought y-Y’got enough o’me and went y’own way.”

Y/N frowns, pulling back to cup his face, “Hey, you think I’d leave my little baby honey? What, am I crazy now?” She giggles softly, running a hand through his curls to calm him, “y’the love of my life, Hazza, y’stuck with me forever.”

He sniffles, looking up at her as she’s sat on his lap, “Yeah?” His voice cracks a bit, so vulnerable, a side of him less than 3 people probably had ever seen. Y/N hates to see him so broken.

She nods quickly, kissing him softly, “Yes, always. I love you more than anything in this world, y’pretty lips,” She places a gentle kiss to his lips, “Y’nose,” Another kiss, “Y’lovely eyes,” A gentle kiss to his eyelids. She finds herself smiling at her sweet love, “Every little thing just drives me mad how much I love it all, I love you, Harry. Please, don’t ever believe I’d even think about leaving you. Not now, not ever.”

Harry can’t comprehend it. He’d never felt this. He’d never been… loved, not like this, not this strongly and genuinely. This was a different feeling. He knew how strongly he felt for her, but it was as if having the confirmation that she loved him just as much… “Marry me,” He mumbles quielty, eyes locked on her mesmerizing ones.

Her eyes widen a bit, “What?”

“Lets get married,” He says again, “We’ll have a quiet ceremony, just us and some family, then we’ll run off, disappear for a little bit, yeah? Just you and I. That’s all I want anymore, that’s all I need from now on, Y/N: You. So, I promise I’ll get a ring sometime, but for now, give me your love, l-let’s share it all. We already share a home, and you already own my heart forever, so let’s make it official.”

Y/N feels tears brim her eyes. A little giggle leaves her lips, sniffling some, “Yeah? Y’wanna Marry me?”

“Would be a privilege, lovie.”

She nods, “Once again, ‘m not insane, so no way am I saying no to that. A lifetime with you, baby honey?”

Harry grins up at her.

“Sounds absolutely splendid,” She hums, leaning down to kiss him once more.

#harry styles fluff #harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x reader #harry styles angst #harry styles one shot #harry styles fic rec #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x fem!reader

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hsficrecommendation · 4 months

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Lonely this Christmas

summary: you and Harry broke up earlier in the year, but at Columbia’s Christmas party you see each other again, and you both realise just how much you miss each other

author’s note: ahhhh i don’t think i’ve ever been so excited to post one of my works as i am this one and i hope you all enjoy my baby. the reader in this is musician!yn and i have so many other ideas for the little story line, so if you’d like to hear them, please let me know!

word count: 11k of baso angst, really fluffy fluff and some of the best smut I think i’ve ever written. there’s deepthroating… face-sitting… really just the whole shebang.

masterlist | please speak to me about LTC here!

You truly believed that Christmas was the best time of the year.

You loved everything about the festive time of year. From decorating the house, to listening to the music. From spending time with your family, to cosying up on the sofa and watching Christmas films. It was a special time of year, where everyone seemed to relax and walk around with joyous looks on their faces because no matter the year they’d have, it was nearly over and it’s finally time to celebrate the best aspects of the time that had passed.

You found yourself thankful for the year, but also thankful that it was over. This year had been one of the best, but also one of the worst years of your life. The thing that caused the year to not be the best that it could was the split you had with your long-term boyfriend. It was messy, and absolutely heartbreaking on your side and because it was such a big part of the year, it became one of the memories that you wished to ignore but you found yourself struggling too. On a brighter side, you had won your first Brit award this year for Best New Artist. It was a turning point in your career, for certain.

One thing that you’ve never enjoyed about Christmas is parties. You would much rather stay within the walls of your own house and spend your evenings alone, but being in the industry that you are it becomes a little harder. The Columbia Christmas Party happen’s every year, but this was you first year signed to the Record Label, so the first year you had been invited. You were shocked to be invited, but found yourself to be excited and dreading the experience all at once.

The thing that you found yourself thinking and worrying about the most was what you were going to wear. You wanted to impress everyone there, since you had found this new stardom for yourself and you had created this name for yourself which you hadn’t had before. After consulting with your stylist, you settled on a custom Gucci dress that was made for you to wear specifically to this event. The dress itself was a Christmas-green velvet material, which landed to about your mid-thigh with a square neckline. Attached to the square straps of the neckline, were tulle sleeves of the same colour that bunched at your wrists. It hugged your curves perfectly and once you’d added your black scrappy heels you really felt beautiful. Your natural features are accentuated, and you, for the first time in a long time, feel beautiful within your own skin.

That all changed the second you walked into the party.

You felt as though all eyes were on you, as though everyone was watching every step that you took to see what you’d do. It made you feel uncomfortable and immediately feel as though the dress you are wearing wasn’t right, it was too short and you needed to cover up. You were maybe 98% certain that they weren’t thinking about what you were wearing, but more so who you’ve just clocked eyes with.

You knew he was going to be here, and you had prepared yourself for the inevitable, but seeing him stood there completely changed everything that you had prepared for. You both were signed to the same record label, years after the two of you had met though, so it was no surprise that he was sat at one of the tables with a group of people around him as he spoke and laughed at what they were all taking about.

You tried to ignore the pinch within your heart, but it was hard. You weren’t the one who broke it off, and if things had gone according to your plan, you would still be together right now.

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hsficrecommendation · 4 months

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in which you study in a different country and meet someone along the way.

hi lovelies! this is my fic for miss olivia’s @bfharry boyfriendathon! i’ve had this concept for a year now, and i’m so happy i was finally able to write it!

thank you to @bopbopstyles @stellarboystyles & @avhrodite for beta-ing! <3

enjoy 7.5k words of friends to lovers & uni!harry & boyfriend!harry !! also the story is supposed to go semi-fast since it is mostly flashbacks, the sparkly breaks will tell you when the flashbacks start and end!

i’ve made a playlist for this fic! if anyone would like to listen while reading click here

please please leave feedback! super excited for this because it’s probably a fav of mine and i’m really proud of it, so i would love to know what you think! a reblog, comment, and/or ask would mean a lot! <3

The birds were chirping and the sun was beaming on you, leaving a glow to your skin that had shined ever so brightly, giving you a healthy and lovely tint to your skin. It was a lovely day that there was not an ounce of complaint in your mind because of the beautiful weather Mother Nature decided to provide you with, knowing that you hadn’t gotten perfect weather for the past few weeks. The trees and grass were as green as ever as slight wind rustled between the leaves, making the sound of the crisp leaves loud.

It was a moment like this where you felt so happy and grateful to be in a beautiful city; that you had made the right decision. The London view and atmosphere does not compare to any other place in the world, aside from the fact that you haven’t been to many places in your life. But you’re a bit biased on your opinion because London graced you with your boyfriend, Harry. You remembered the first time you came to London just two years ago, and you never imagined how your life had planned out until this very moment.

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hsficrecommendation · 4 months

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in which harry is the right person at the wrong time.

a/n: hi lovelies! here is my christmas fic for @goldenbluesuit ‘s xmas challenge! i chose the song ‘baby, it’s cold outside’ and it’s my FAVORITE xmas song, so i’ve included bits and pieces of the song throughout the story! hope you all like it, and happy holidays! pls rb and send feedback bc they’re very helpful :)

WORD COUNT: 9.6k of ex lovers to lovers, teacher!harry x lawstudent!yn filled with slight angst, missing someone dearly, and fluff

WARNINGS: mentions of alcohol consumption

COME INTO MY INBOX AND LETS TALK ABOUT ‘BABY, IT’S COLD OUTSIDE’ i’d love to know your thoughts!

pls rb to share! <3

17 December 2020

A chilly and snowy night was upon you as you took a shot of hard liquor. The face of disgust appeared on your face as the liquid slowly went down your throat after you hammered the shot of tequila.

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#harry styles fluff #harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x reader #harry styles angst #harry styles one shot #harry styles fic rec #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x fem!reader

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hsficrecommendation · 4 months

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halo. | harry styles.

summary: Harry doesn’t believe in love and Y/N tries to figure him out.

pairing: harry styles x fem!reader (college!au)

wc: 10.6k+

warning(s): fluff, angst, cursing

a/n: (disclaimer: gif belongs to @harrywavycurly ) hello! enjoy this word vomit of a fic that i thought of months ago and finished it like yesterday. i kinda like it so i hope you all do too. please lmk what you think of it, what you like about it and all, comment and reblog bc it helps me improve my writing too. consider donating to my ko-fi to support me too! all my love <3

Harry didn’t want to believe in love, or the concept of falling in love, to be more precise. He always thought love was bullshit.

Since his late years in high school, he built a wall around his heart and shut people out when they got too close with him. It probably seemed unfair of him to treat people like that but he had his excuses. Though, his heart did make a few exceptions for a few people, some of whom became his best friends in college.

But he acted cold towards other people and was never one to have an attachment to someone. He’d do one-night stands occasionally, but never more beyond that. He’d cut people off when he felt they were getting close to him and even thought something more might blossom out of it. People would sometimes avoid looking at him, just scared he might snap at them. No one really knew the real reason he was the way he was. They just accepted it and moved on, not bothering him.

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#harry styles fluff #harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x reader #harry styles angst #harry styles one shot #harry styles fic rec #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x fem!reader

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hsficrecommendation · 5 months

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Hello everyone! This is masterlist #4, #5 and #6 (Cont. Of June, then Sept, and Oct 2023!) for all the fics I have reblogged on this side blog I hold super close to me. Remember to leave feedback and reblog all the writings below!

Also, a huge thank you to all the writers mentioned, I adore you so very much and I hope you keep writing for yourselves <3

••• JUNE (Part 2!) •••

Stablehand!Harry x Princess!Y/n | Part 2 | Part 3 | Harry loathes Y/N and she's just a little tease. - @angelsanddaisies

Poetry In Your Mailbox | Part 2 | Part 3 | Y/N and the rest of her nosy neighborhood friends ogle at the man who just moved in next door — a man of mystery, silence, and someone who seemingly doesn’t want anything to do with his neighbors… until Y/N begins to receive anonymous mail. - @episkystyles

Changes | ♡♡ Harry returns home. Based on- Changes by Cam. - @hes-writer

Prince!Harry x Princess!Y/n | Harry is a prince, Y/N is a princess, and Harry is insufferable. - @novelistrry

A Dream is a Wish Your Heart Makes | Every Rose has its Thorns | Petals and Prompts | Harry’s a prince looking for his princess… but perhaps she isn’t inside the ball. Includes: flowers and gossip and promises and true love’s kiss. - @jarofstyles

Out by the Docks | Underneath the Stars | ♡ A story of clandestine meetings, conspiracies, and stolen glances by the sea. (Princess!Y/n x Spy!Harry) - @fishnets-fingers

Dentist The Bad Boi | ♡ Harry’s a med-student and Y/N’s an art student, being neighbours with Y/N was already a living hell for Harry but when she fusses over his cat getting her cat pregnant – he mighty looses it. - @muffindaddystyles

The Empowering Hearts | ♡♡ In which you're a lonely model until you meet a baker. - @havethetimeofyourstyles

••• SEPTEMBER •••

Say It | in which a new relationship sparks up in the restaurant. - @havethetimeofyourstyles

The Joker and The Queen | In which Harry is a florist, has a crush on the baker next door and dreads his Birthday. - @harrysonlylover

Breaking the Ice | It's no secret that as a figure skater, you're fed up with the local hockey team being treated like royalty... and your ex's status as a player isn't helping much either. - @purplekiwis

Harry is a young professor and Y/N has never felt this kind of attraction before - @novelistrry

••• OCTOBER •••

Stop Thinking so Much | In which Harry teaches english and some poetry is hard to pick apart. - @meetevieinthehallway

Dog Days are Over | ♡ In which Y/n and Harry walk their dogs in the same park. Though, over the course of time, buying each other coffee turns into something more. - @nationalharryleague

The Witching Hour | ♡ Despite Harry being the witch in this situation, maybe his crush on gemma's new friend was going to be the most bewitching thing he ever encountered. - @moonchildstyles

Nest | Harry is y/n's best friend. He also happens to be an alpha. Spending a week at his place has her brain doing weird things. - @moonchildstyles

Pebbles and The Scarecrow | ♡ In which Harry doesn’t like Halloween until a certain pair of trick or treaters knock on his door. - @havethetimeofyourstyles

Banana Pancakes | Nanny!Harry falls in love with his little girl, and the mother of his little girl. - @ill-be-your-honey-bri

Golden | In which Y/n's life is dark but the Harry, The Fae King, sees she's golden. - @angelisverba

Better man - Harry and Y/n are famous and dating. Now, Harry is attending a party just 'cause he knows that Y/n would surely be there, and Y/n seems to be escaping her date so hard that she meets Harry outside the bathrooms. - @bopbopstyles

Masterlist for more recs! My Writing account - @0oolookitsme

#harry styles #harry styles one shot #harry styles fic rec #harry styles x y/n #harry styles smut #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles angst #harry styles x fem!reader #harry styles fluff

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hsficrecommendation · 5 months

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athens

harry’s in his fourth year teaching university, and he knew he was bound to have a favorite student but he didn’t know he would meet someone like y/n

this is a patreon exclusive piece, with this first part being the only publicly available part.

wordcount: 10k+

—————

“Class is dismissed. We will start the next assignment on Wednesday.”

Harry’s final class of the day all shuffled out of their seats and passed him by as he lent against his desk at the front of the room. Right on cue, the voice he hadn’t been able to get out of his head all semester piped up.

“Bye, Mr. Styles. Have a nice rest of your day,” she said as she walked past. Harry softly smiled at her as she reciprocated the gesture before passing over the threshold and leaving the room. The last glance he caught of her was the hem of her oversized, sky blue sweater following behind her.

Harry breathed a longing sigh as she left his sight, already missing her presence in the back of his auditorium style classroom. He had been feeling this way since she had joined his class for the spring semester. He had always been into poetry and connected to it on a deeper level than regular novels—hence, why he taught a poetry based literature class—, but it wasn’t until she had walked into his class did he realize why poets prosed so highly over their muses.

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hsficrecommendation · 5 months

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Knockout*

Summary: The one where Harry is a handsome stranger who always comes to your diner covered in bruises.

Word Count: 9.4k (jeepers, sorry!)

Content Warning: 18+, smut, slight exhibitionism, very brief violence

Your stranger is here.

He’s sitting in his favorite booth, fifth one down from the first row, directly next to the window.

He’s got his usual hoodie pulled over his head, obscuring any view of his face. His clothes are dark and seem to cover nearly every inch of his skin. His knuckles are wrapped in white gauze, but are stained with streaks of red.

And he’s looking down. Staring at the menu on the table as though he doesn’t order the exact same thing every time.

A cup of coffee – black – and a slice of pie.

He’s like clockwork. He comes in exactly five minutes after midnight, takes a seat in his booth, and orders his usual.

Then, he pays his bill, and he leaves.

You’ve grown used to him. Comfortable with the idea of his face and his voice and the strange, but unsettling presence he brings with him.

You find that it’s more unnerving when he’s not here than when he is.

“Hi, Cherry.”

Your stranger’s voice cuts through the quiet diner and forces your attention from the mug of coffee you’re pouring.

You glance up, finally able to see his face now that he’s lifted his head. His skin is littered with deep cuts and vicious scratches. There’s a bruise just by his eye that’s dissolving into an unsettling shade of purple and his bottom lip is split down the middle.

Even still, he’s smiling. A gentle upturn that looks almost painful given the cracked fibers and dried blood.

“Hi,” you reply softly, feeling your heart race beneath your chest as his eyes find yours. “Would you like your usual?”

Somehow, his grin gets a bit brighter. As though he’s touched by the question. “Of course,” he answers calmly, in a voice you imagine you’d recognize anywhere. It’s deep and sultry, but it crackles like lightning. Sensual in a way you can’t exactly explain. “What have you made tonight?”

“Chocolate,” you tell him, glancing back toward the counter where the pies are displayed. “With extra whipped cream.”

“Mm.” His hum is playful, and it matches the glint in his eye. “How much extra?”

“As much as you want.”

He laughs, and you swear fairies are born. “Then I will have a slice of your chocolate pie, with as much whipped cream as you’ll allow.”

You feel your cheeks warm as you nod and turn on your heel to grab his order. Setting the coffee pot down before grabbing a small plate.

Once it’s ready, you return, sliding it across the table beside his mug. “Is that all?”

“No,” he says simply, gesturing now toward the seat across from him.

And just like every other time, you feel your pulse jump. “I’m…I need to get back—”

“You don’t need to go anywhere,” he interrupts with a wry grin. “Please?”

Your lips roll into your mouth, and your heart lands in your throat. Your stranger has always been good at getting you to do what he’d like, and it seems tonight is no different.

So, with a sigh, you glance back toward the kitchen. Checking to make sure you aren’t needed too direly before you slip off your apron and slide into the booth.

“There,” he hums, placing his arms on the table to learn forward. “S’much better, hm?”

And you can’t help but smile as you nod and glance toward your cuticles. Avoiding that vivid green that always seems to send your stomach into a frenzy.

“How are you?” he asks next, and his voice is soft, as if attempting to draw your attention back.

Braving a glance, you lift your head, and meet his eye. “I’m all right. How are you?”

“Good. Better now.”

The flirtatious remark sends a rush of heat to your cheeks. But you don’t respond, instead reaching out your hand toward his. Allowing your fingers to dance along the gauze that’s wrapped around his knuckles.

“It’s bad again,” you whisper, and you feel him study you.

There’s a gentle pause. And then, “Not by much. It’s been worse.”

You suck in a quiet breath and hold it deep within your lungs. Turning his arm around in order to inspect the wounds painted near his wrist. “You promised.”

Even without seeing the full of his face, you catch his expression fall.

“I know, Cherry,” he murmurs. “And I’m trying, I promise. S’just…not that easy.”

Your throat constricts, growing dry from the implication. “I know.”

It’s almost inaudible, but your stranger still hears it, and he sighs as he slips his fingers between yours. Pulling your focus back to him.

“You know you don’t have to worry about me,” he says, squeezing your palm as if to cement the point. “M’gonna be okay.”

“Are you?”

He looks gutted. Ashamed of your disappointment. “It’s just something that I have to do.”

“Why?”

He considers this before shaking his head once. “I don’t know.”

It’s the same answer every time. You ask him who does this to him. Why he does this to himself. Where he goes, why he keeps going back.

But he never offers anything concrete. Just enough to keep you hoping.

He leans closer. Desperate to make you understand. “I’m gonna be all right, Cherry. I promised, didn’t I?”

“But this isn’t ‘all right,’” you argue quietly, once again studying his scars. “You hurt yourself. Or you let somebody else hurt you. And I don’t know why.”

He takes in a breath before setting it free. “I don’t know why, either. But it’s not forever. And I promised you I would be okay. So, I will be.”

You release him and pull yourself from his grasp. Creating a physical distance much like his emotional one.

“I have to be,” he adds, and that charming smirk reappears. Popping a dimple from his cheek. “I’d miss your pies too much.”

Even if your insides have twisted, you can’t help but laugh. “I suppose they’d miss you, too.”

“Good, I would hope. Might be my second-favorite sweet thing here. Only after you.”

Again, his coy remark leaves you entranced. Hands gathering on your lap as you look out through the large window beside you. “You’re quite forward tonight.”

“M’forward every night. You just don’t notice.”

“Is that right?”

“It is. Can’t really help myself, Cherry.”

The familiar nickname feels like home. It was coined after the first night he’d come in. He’d sat in your section – this very booth – and made small talk while you served him.

He asked for your recommendation, and you suggested one of the desserts. The pies were your specialty, and you made a new one every evening. He seemed charmed by this and ordered two slices.

That night was cherry. He ate every bite between sips of his coffee and compliments to you. Leaving nothing but crumbs once you came to collect his plate.

He told you he loved cherry pie. It was his absolute favorite. But he’d never had a pie as good as yours.

And from that night on, you became his Cherry.

He never asked for your real name, and you never offered. You supposed this was intentional. A way to protect you from whatever life he led outside the diner doors.

And in the few weeks he’s been coming back for yet another slice of your pie, you’ve learned only three things about him:

He always pays with big bills.

He drives a vintage, black ’69 Mustang.

And his name is Harry.

Anything past that you suppose isn’t yours to know. Yet despite that, you feel drawn to your stranger. Even if he only seems to exist after midnight.

“You weren’t supposed to be working tonight,” he says, calling your attention back.

You glance away from the window just in time to see his frown. “Joshua asked me to cover a few of his shifts,” you explain. “I’ll be here through the weekend.”

“You covered him last week,” he reminds you, with just a touch of disapproval. “And a few weekends before that.”

Your stranger is right, but you merely lift a shoulder and let it fall. “I don’t mind. The extra money is nice, and the night shift is always quiet.”

“Not always,” he retorts, and you notice the pull of his eyebrows. “Not everybody is as kind as you, Cher. Not in this part of town. Or this late.”

You can’t help but smile at his need to shelter you. “I know. But Owen is here, and he makes sure to check on me from time to time.”

However, Harry’s expression seems to settle into something hard and unnerved. “And what if he gets distracted? What if he doesn’t see some loser trying to grab for you? Or talk to you? Or take advantage of you?”

His voice is rising, a gentle but obvious crescendo that turns the heads of the few patrons scattered about the diner.

You reach for his hand once more, squeezing it hard to implore him to listen. “Then I will use my extensive training as a waitress and kick their ass.”

You can tell he doesn’t want to, but he smiles. Brushing his thumb along your wrist before looking down. “I’m only trying to protect you.”

“I know,” you whisper, dipping down in order to find his eye. “But I’m not the one who needs protecting.”

The air is charged with a sort of tension you can’t explain. He feels so close and yet so very far away. Your heart aches for your stranger, and for his scars that never heal.

“Hey,” calls a loud voice, ringing through the small diner until you and Harry both turn. You find a man sitting near the counter, wearing a camouflage baseball hat and flannel shirt. His beard is long and scruffy, and his expression is wildly annoyed. “Do you fucking work here or not? Been waiting on a refill for ten goddamn minutes.”

Feeling rather embarrassed of the way you’ve neglected the other customers and deserted your post, you quickly slide out of the booth and stand. Cheeks warm and heart racing. “Yes, of course. I’m so sorry, sir.”

You rush to check on the coffee pot near the counter, making sure that it’s hot and fresh before you approach. Then, you tip the spout into his mug, and refill his drink that’s already three-fourths of the way full.

You can see Harry watching you from his spot. A similarly irritated look behind his eye as he studies the man sitting before you.

Once the coffee has been refilled, you nod an apology, and begin to retreat.

“Not so fast,” the customer grumbles, clearing his throat as he straightens up. Forcing you to hesitate. “I want my check. And a slice of pie on the house. For my troubles.”

Your heart leaps into your throat, but you nod again. The Starlight Diner doesn’t exactly offer free pastries, and anything that a staff member has to comp comes out of the employee’s paycheck.

Granted, one slice won’t set you back too far, but the shame will. The idea that you left a customer waiting while you chatted with a man you hardly know. It’s unprofessional and not at all how you’d like to be perceived in the workplace. As a mindless girl who merely doddles her day away. Fawning over handsome strangers and daydreaming about a life she can’t have.

“Absolutely,” you tell him, rushing to grab him a fresh piece just as Harry begins to stand from the booth. “Will that be all?”

“Don’t be stingy with the whipped cream,” he instructs. “In fact, I’d like to see you put it on in front of me. So I can make sure you aren’t trying to fuck me over.”

The blood drains from your face. You feel humiliated under the warm hue of lights strung up around the restaurant. Grabbing the can of whipped topping in a desperate attempt to please and end the interaction all together.

“Why don’t you watch your fucking tone,” Harry grits, approaching the man from his left.

But the customer merely scoffs, refusing to offer him even a disinterested glance. “Yeah, and why don’t you mind your own business?”

Suddenly, Harry’s hand smacks down onto the counter beside him, inches from his plate while the coffee inside his mug trembles.

You can’t help but jump, arm recoiling away from the pie while the entire diner grows quiet. Everybody’s attention has turned to your stranger. Watching him closely as he leans forward, and dips down to catch the man’s eye.

“Wasn’t a question,” he murmurs darkly. “You watch your fucking tone when you speak to her. Or I’ll watch it for you.”

And you can tell the older gentleman is a bit off-put by Harry’s distressing demeanor. Yet he remains rather calm, clearing his throat again before leaning back. “And what are you gonna do about it, cupcake?”

Harry’s head cocks to the side. “Would you like me to show you?”

“Harry,” you whisper, just loud enough to force his eyes to yours. “It’s okay. It’s fine.”

“Yeah, she’s fine, buttercup,” the customer snorts, spinning around to face you once more. “Now let’s go, princess. I don’t have all fucking night.”

His fingers snap together before he points toward the pie. Instructing you to continue applying the fluffy cream until you hesitantly continue.

The whipped desert sprays out of the can in a steady stream, piling higher and higher atop the pie until it begins to spill over onto the side.

Yet he doesn’t stop you. He simply nods and mutters for you to keep going. To fill the plate until he’s satisfied.

And you know exactly why he’s doing it. Not to satiate a sweet tooth but to demean you. To force you under his cruel, sadistic stare until you fold like a house of cards.

Your stranger fumes from his place a few feet away. You can tell he’s desperate to intervene, but he obeys your look of frantic insistence. Remaining quiet while you oblige the customer’s request.

Soon, the can runs out. The last few drops spewing from the nozzle until you’re left with nothing but air and an empty bottle.

With a hitch in your breath, you begin to withdraw your hand. He’ll have to drop this degradation act now, and you hope that he only demands the rest of his check before going about his night.

However, before you can fully retract your arm, a collection of grimy fingers dart out and curl around your wrist. Keeping you in place while the man’s eyes narrow and he hisses, “Did I say you could stop?”

But the moment his palm touches your skin, Harry is stepping forward, grabbing a fistful of his collar, and hoisting him from his seat. Then, he shoves him back against the tile wall just behind him, the connection so forceful, it knocks the gentleman’s hat askew.

The other customers, including yourself, gasp from the sudden act of violence. Watching as Harry steps up to him and sneers in his face with the vilest look of disdain you imagine you’ve ever seen.

“Don’t ever…” he seethes through deep, even breaths, “…put your fucking hands on her…again.”

And he’s terrifying. So utterly terrifying, with his busted knuckles, his cracked lip, and his bruised jaw. It’s clear he’s a threat, and the man he’s holding goes deathly pale as Harry keeps him trapped against the wall.

All he can do is nod his understanding, choosing to end the fight before it can begin while Harry – after a very long moment – finally lets him go and allows him to flee from the diner.

There’s a stillness in the café that makes your heart race. The few regulars that are left watching on with a mixture of sympathy and embarrassment. It’s not until Harry shoots them their own venomous glare that they quickly turn away and continue on with their meals.

You slump into the counter, letting the can drop to your side while the sound of a door flinging open echoes from somewhere behind you.

“The hell…is going on?” Owen calls, exiting the kitchen in order to get a better look around. He finds you first, raking his stare up and down your frame before looking to Harry. “What happened?”

“You fucking left her out here, alone,” Harry barks. “That’s what fucking happened.”

Owen’s eyebrows raise as he moves his attention to you. But you quickly side-step into Harry’s path, attempting to end another confrontation before it can begin.

“Just…a customer,” you finally answer softly, reaching for the plate in order to clear your regret away. “It’s fine. He left.”

Your boss nods once. “But he paid first, yes?”

Again, your heart sinks into your toes. Lashes fluttering when you realize his bill will be coming out of your paycheck. “He…um, no, he…he left before I could collect it—”

“Darling,” Owen sighs, and it’s heavy with disappointment, “what did we talk about?”

“I…I know. I’ll…I’ll pay for it—"

Harry’s palm suddenly smacks down onto the counter for a second time this evening. Yet now, there’s a wad of cash beneath his hand. From the looks of it, well over a hundred dollars.

“This will cover it,” he mumbles, turning his unforgiving stare to your boss. “And it’ll cover the rest of her shift, too. She’s done.”

With that, his fingers are wrapping around your upper arm before you can even wrap your head around his offering. Blinking wildly while Owen glances from the cash to you in an effort to piece together Harry’s instruction.

But your stranger leaves you no room for questioning or bargaining. He’s pulling you out the diner door and into the dark parking lot before you can even bid your boss goodbye.

He strides between the cars before hooking a left around the building. Leading you toward the back alleyway where he normally keeps his car, the wet pavement squeaking beneath his sneakers.

And during this fervent stalking, his fingers slide down from your upper arm and into your hand. Grasping it tightly as if to make sure he won’t lose you.

Perhaps a part of you would like to feel miffed or ashamed of what just took place, but you can’t seem to fault him for his reaction. He’s always been nothing but kind to you – even if he doesn’t always lend that kindness to others. Expressing his desire to protect you, even if he doesn’t know you.

You wonder if this need to defend is part of the reason why you’ve only ever seen him covered in scars and bruises. If he comes to the diner in the dead of night in order to watch over you. Like a guardian angel or vigilante.

Right now, however, he disappears into the shadows, gently pulling you along with him until you see his car only a few feet away. He releases you at the same time that he releases a heavy sigh, running a hand through his dark curls as his hood is pushed down.

“Harry…” you begin quietly, tentative of startling him.

“I’m sorry,” he says before you can even finish. “M’sorry, I lost my temper. I know.”

You watch the way he turns away from you. Bracing himself against the hood of the Mustang while dropping his head in what you only assume is remorse.

And your heart aches for him. For the gentleman that lives beneath the outlaw. “Harry,” you whisper again, stepping closer in order run your fingers down his back. Feeling the way his muscles tense before melting beneath your touch. “I’m not mad, I promise.”

“I know you don’t like it when I interfere,” he mumbles, and it’s almost swept away by the cold, early morning air. “But he fucking touched you, and I—”

“I know,” you interrupt tenderly. “I know, and I’m not mad. I’m glad you did it. I’m glad you were here.”

He hesitates, face turning toward his shoulder. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” You allow your chest to meet his spine. “Always feel safer with you.”

He exhales deeply, releasing something heavy before he’s turning around, and reaching for your cheeks. The soft, stained gauze slides against your skin, and his touch is firm. Keeping you in his embrace while he gazes at you warmly.

“Are you all right, Cherry?” he asks now, thumbs sweeping beneath your eyes. “Did he hurt you?”

Your head shakes. “No. Scared me a little, but I’m okay.”

It’s clear he doesn’t like this, that familiar frown reforming as he holds you a bit tighter. “He never should have spoken to you like that. Much less put his fucking hands on you—”

“I know, but it’s okay,” you interject again, hoping to ease his stress. “I’m okay because you were here.”

And this is the only thing that seems to calm him. That familiar smile of his the perfect remedy for such a strange night. You don’t want to tell him how often this happens. Especially during the later shift. But that’s what you get for working at a 24-hour diner, and you’re starting to think this is merely part of the job.

And truth be told…you think he already knows.

His forehead meets yours, and you can’t help but grin yourself. Grateful for the comfort he provides – stranger or not.

“Speaking of which…why are you here?” you ask gingerly. “I thought you didn’t come in on my days off?”

“I don’t. But…I saw your car.”

“Oh…how?”

His smirk transforms into something coy. “I was driving by.”

“Oh, really?” you tease. “On purpose?”

The smile slips now, a more reverent look in his eye as he nods. “I like to check on you. Make sure you’re okay.”

And maybe in any other universe, this would strike you as odd. Perhaps even unsettling or disconcerting.

But even if you don’t know him, you know him. You know his intentions have only ever been pure, and even without having much more than his name, he has always made you feel safe.

You choose to believe in him. In the goodness of your stranger and the care he provides. Inside and out.

“You do?” you murmur, allowing your hands to rest on his chest. “How often?”

A beat. Then, “…every night.”

The alley grows quiet. Scattered streetlamps reflect off the pools of water that are sprinkled across the cement, warming the dark night with their sepia-toned beams.

And you stand there, just you and him, while the weight of the world seems to rest on his shoulders.

But instead of chastising him or asking any further questions, you push yourself up onto your tiptoes…and kiss him.

It’s not the first kiss you’ve shared, and you know, undoubtedly, that it won’t be your last. Your stranger has been stealing your kisses for weeks now.

And you suppose stealing isn’t exactly a fair comparison. After all, you’ve nearly pleaded with him to kiss you every time he’s come in.

Not that there’s much need for begging when he’s so willing to offer them to you. Sneaking you away the moment your shift is through. Chasing you through the parking lot…pulling you into the backseat of his car.

It makes you giddy. You feel like a schoolgirl with a crush on the handsome senior. Slipping into the shadows where he waits. Letting him hold you, kiss you, touch you.

It doesn’t matter if you don’t know more than his name or what he does behind closed doors. You choose to share these special – albeit somewhat scandalous – moments with the mysterious gentleman in booth 505.

“My sweet girl,” he breathes against your lips. The wonderfully delicious nickname melting on your tongue. “Missed you.”

You want to remind him that it’s only been about two days, but you can’t. Because you missed him, too.

“And m’so sorry,” he says next, trailing his quick but fervent kisses down your neck. “So fucking sorry for being so bad. Never wanna scare you or make you anxious.”

A soft, delicate noise bleeds from your throat, and you cling to his much stronger frame as though you’re afraid you’ll simply disappear without him.

“Wanna make it up to you,” he whispers. “Will you let me, Cherry? Let me be good again?”

You nod, needing him to keep himself as close to you as he’ll allow. You want to settle him in your lungs, keep him snug inside in your chest. Against your heart.

And a large part of you just wants to keep him…always.

“Let me make it better,” he says, hands dropping to your hips in order to push you toward his car. Placing you against the door in order to trap you and deepen his kiss. “Let me be good, sweet girl. Be good for you.”

And he’s always good. Good to you, good for you. It doesn’t matter how he is with everybody else.

“Please?” he asks again, leaning back just far enough to catch your eye. “Will you let me?”

He wants your explicit consent. Wants you to say the words before he continues, and you appreciate this stricter habit.

“Yes,” you manage to answer, exhaling the word with the little strength you still possess. “Yes, please—”

He takes your hand before you can finish, guiding you over toward the backseat before swinging the door open and stepping aside.

“Lay down, baby,” he mumbles gently, pressing a kiss to the side of your head while guiding you in. “On your back, okay? Want you comfy.”

You do as instructed, dipping down into the vehicle before settling into the soft, leather seat. Flipping over until you can find a position you like.

Harry is quick to follow, landing between your thighs before pulling the door shut. You both maneuver until he can hover his body above yours, keeping you beneath him as he runs a palm up the side of your leg.

His warm hand feels good against your bare skin, the dress you’re required to wear as part of your waitressing uniform bunching just at the top of your knees from the new position. But it’s like ecstasy, heating up your goose bumped skin from the nippy air outside.

“How’s this, hm?” He squeezes your hip. “You all right, Cher?”

You rest your head against the door and nod, fingers already itching to reach for him again. “Yes, I’m okay.”

“Promise?”

“Mhm. Promise.”

The side of his mouth curls up, and it makes your stomach flutter. “Good girl. Gonna go slow, okay? Earn my forgiveness.”

He continues the lazy strokes to your thigh, falling all the way down to your ankle before going back up. It is slow, and it almost drives you mad. Because he knows what you want. And he knows just how badly you want it.

Things with Harry never go further than you. Something you’re almost tempted to find odd, but he’s a giver. That was made clear from the first time. He derives more pleasure out of your orgasms than he apparently does his own. He only ever wants to touch you, taste you, feel you. It’s never about him.

You often wonder if there’s a deeper reason for this. If he’s denying himself release on purpose or if he’s merely terrified of getting close. And occasionally you wonder if he simply just doesn’t want to fuck you, but something tells you that’s not the case.

Maybe one day you’ll be brave enough to ask.

Tonight, however, it seems he’s still determined to put the attention on you. Long fingers gently scratching at your leg until you shiver. It makes him grin.

“Can I see you, baby?” he asks softly, letting his eyes trail beneath the hem of your dress. “See how pretty you are?”

Again, you can only whine pitifully as you motion your head up and down quickly. Wanting to succumb to his strong touch. Only feeling grounded if he’s there to hold you.

“Thank you, sweet girl,” he breathes, using his scarred hands to push your outfit up a bit higher. Revealing your quivering stomach and the delicate pair of panties around your hips.

They’re nothing special. In fact, you imagine they’re rather embarrassing. A simple, tan fabric that does absolutely nothing to make your pussy look more desirable.

Perhaps it’s a little silly, but you like to look nice for him. On the nights you know he might be coming to see you (which has been every night you’ve worked since you met), you tend to pick prettier pairs.

Some with lace, some with little bows. Sweeter colors, sexier colors. Anything that might make him smile.

But you hadn’t anticipated seeing him tonight, and now, you almost want to shy away. Lashes fluttering as you look up toward the roof of his car.

But he doesn’t seem to notice. Nor does he seem to care about the color around your waist, his eyes growing wide as his attention glues to the mesmeric sight before him. Pink, bruised lips parting with wonder while he moves closer.

“Cherry,” he exhales, the feel of his breath sweeping against your bent knee, “missed you so much. Been forever, hm?”

You nod again, braving another glance just in time to see his hand lower. And then you feel him. Feel his thumb pressing gently into the front of your underwear, just above where your clit lies.

Your entire body seems to spark to life like the flicker of a flame. And you gasp, subtly bucking up into his touch in search of more. In search of him.

He smiles. “S’it feel good, honey?”

You let out a soft breath, chest nearly caving in as you whisper, “Harry…”

He looks up, eyes flicking to yours as that coy smirk grows. “What, baby? You okay?”

Of course you’re okay. He knows you’re okay, but you’ve noticed he likes to hear you say it. He likes to know he’s making it better for you. That he’s helping, that he’s doing good.

When you don’t answer, he returns to your pussy, fingers strumming up and down your covered cunt like he’s playing an instrument. Tuning your body to his needs.

“Can I touch you?” he asks now, dipping down to nudge his nose beneath your jaw. Pressing a soft kiss to your throat. “Wanna touch you…be good for you, Cher. Was so bad…just wanna make it better.”

He’s attempting to atone for what he did in the diner. To apologize, offer his remorse.

And even if you know he has nothing to apologize for, you can’t find it in you to deny him. Reaching up to tangle your fingers in his curls as you tug him closer. Kissing him fiercely.

He’s hard on himself. You know he is. You don’t know why. You don’t know what the cause is. But you can see the repercussions. They’re painted all over his body, and he wears them proudly.

He curses against your mouth, and you’re reminded then of his busted lip. Instantly pulling away while you mumble an apologetic, “I’m sorry. I forgot—”

“No,” he nearly groans, slipping his other hand around the back of your neck to keep you close. “No, it’s okay. I don’t mind, I promise. I like it.”

His kisses become hard again. Anxious, desperate, and rushed. As though he needs you in order to survive. His nose knocking into yours from the way he readjusts himself. Wanting to take you deeper, really taste you.

You’ve never been so happy in your life.

He only pulls away in order to slip your panties down your thighs, pushing them to your ankles until he can really see you.

His entire expression softens the moment his eyes find you. Filled with a certain kind of hope and indulgence as he gazes at you almost tenderly. Unable to resist reaching out and letting his finger brush down your folds.

You make another noise, but he doesn’t notice this one. Too content to be touching you. Feeling you. Spreading you open just to watch you drip.

“So fucking good to me,” he murmurs. “You know that, sweet girl? So perfect for me. Exactly what I need and far more than I deserve.”

You aren’t sure what he means, but the implication makes you frown. Pulling on his hair a bit harder while he moves to your clit and begins to press down.

The pressure of his thumb against the more sensitive nerves leaves you breathless. Squirming beneath him from the rush of pleasure that only serves in making you needier.

“Always so warm,” he muses quietly. Almost as if to himself. ��So soft. So sweet. Can’t ever get enough of you.”

It makes your head spin the way he seems to adore you. The way he talks about your body as if he can’t believe he’s lucky enough to behold it. To feel it, to get to indulge in it. Worshiping you like you’re his religion.

He begins to rub your clit in slow, teasing circles. Kissing you once more in order to taste your whines and feed off your desperation. Wet noises fill the car. Not just from your pussy, but from his frantic kisses that echo between the foggy windows.

It makes you shiver, loving the way he nips at your bottom lip just to leave you restless. The way he whispers your nickname before moving to your neck, pulling your skin between his teeth and smoothing over the mark with his tongue.

He goes faster. Chasing after your whimpers and the way you arch your body into his. Loving how excitable you get from only a few flicks of his thumb across your sensitive clit.

Then, he slows down. Exhaling a heavy breath as if bracing himself to edge you. Like it hurts him more than it hurts you.

And you mewl pitifully as you cling to his broader frame and tug him down into your arms. “Harry—”

“I know,” he coos, and it’s gentle the way he speaks. Sympathetic almost. “I know, sweet girl. But m’not done with you yet. Just wanna keep you a little longer. Is that okay?”

You bury your face in his neck and make another noise. Something akin to his name that gets lost in the way he curses.

“It’s okay,” he tries again, allowing you to use his body like a lifeline. “I’ve got you, baby. All right? M’right here, I’ve got you.”

He proves this by resuming his sweet torture. Circling the nerves a time or two more before moving down. Smoothing through your folds and lowering toward the pooling of arousal that waits for him.

You hear him hum. “So precious. S’this all for me, then? Mine to play with? Mine to taste?”

You whine, “Yes, yes, yes,” as quickly as your mouth will permit, and he chuckles.

The tip of his finger dips inside, presumably to collect everything you have to offer him before he’s lifting it toward his lips.

And you settle back against the door to watch. Enchanted by the way he places you on his tongue and sucks. His lashes fluttering and cheeks flushing from the taste.

You don’t imagine you’ll ever get used to watching him do that. After all, you’ve never been particularly…unbothered by the idea of somebody tasting you. Not even with past partners. You get too caught up in your own head. Worried about the taste, the feel, the smell.

Truth be told, most of the men you’ve been with before were never interested in you. They wanted what you could give them. And then they wanted out.

By all accounts, Harry is nothing like anyone else you’ve ever known. Not just because of the mystery that follows his persona, but because of his endless attention to you. To what you need, what makes you feel good.

He devotes every second to making you feel like you’re God’s gift to Earth. A gift to him. Praising you for simply existing. Indulging in your taste as though you're the sweetest dessert he’s ever had.

Like now, while a deep moan reverberates from the depths of his chest. Filling the car and your ears like music, making your thighs clench around his hips.

“S’why I call you my sweet girl, you know that?” he murmurs, sucking on his fingers until you’re sure there’s nothing left. And even then some. “So fucking sweet for me. Can’t ever get enough. Gonna get me addicted, baby. Might already have.”

The moment he takes his hand back out, you’re lifting up, and pressing your mouth to his. And you don’t even care if you can taste yourself on his tongue because all you really taste is him.

But the mixture of him, and you, and the slight tang of blood from the busted fibers of his lip is euphoric. Strange but lovely in a way you hadn’t anticipated.

He seems to understand this despondency, growing a bit more frantic in his need to please. No longer focused on edging as he drops his fingers back to your cunt while his other hand moves for the buttons on your chest.

He pops them free one by one until your equally plain bra is revealed to him. But again, he doesn’t take notice of such things. Instead swallowing thickly at the sight of your breasts that swell behind the cups.

He kisses you again. And again, and again. Then he moves to your cheek and down your neck. Trailing his tongue toward your collarbone and along your sternum.

You feel restless. Waiting for something – for him. You already know how magical his touch is. You already know the kind of pleasure he provides, and it nearly drives you mad to simply sit in anticipation. Stuck on his time.

Eventually he reaches your chest, lips moving for the curve of your tit before he’s making another noise and sucking into the tender flesh. Nipping at it, pulling it between hungry teeth. Smoothing over the marks with the warmth of his mouth while you reel.

Your hands disappear back into his hair. Stroking the curls almost fondly, nails lightly scratching at his scalp.

He’s always seemed to enjoy this. Instructing that you pull on him as hard as you’d like. That you tug and scratch. That you use him to inflict your pain and your pleasure. That you think of him first and foremost.

Now is no different. He nuzzles himself further into your breasts while simultaneously sighing with contentment at the way your hand feels against his head. The way you keep him close to your heart.

You’d keep him forever if you could.

You hardly even notice the way his finger has slipped inside. The way it strokes your delicate walls that flutter from the intrusion, tensing before relaxing in order to allow him in.

“There,” he whispers, pleased with the way your body obeys him. “S’okay. Gonna make it better. I promise.”

And you know he will.

“So tight today, baby,” he says, leaving another kiss to the swell of your chest. Open-mouthed and messy. “Has it been that long?”

You don’t know. You can’t remember the last time he touched you, although you’re almost sure it hasn’t been more than a week. The two of you have become rather insatiable for each other. Chasing after a kind of release you only seem to find within the hands of the other.

Those beautiful green eyes flitter up to yours, studying you closely. Benevolently. “Have you not been taking care of yourself, sweet girl?”

You take a moment to consider what he means before you feel your cheeks warm. Offering him nothing more than a quick shake of your head.

He frowns, brows pulling together. “Why not, hm? Thought you promised you’d try for me. Help make things better when I’m not around.”

You shrug, growing a touch embarrassed. “I know, but…it’s not the same. Don’t like it.”

“Is that right?”

Another shake. “Get bored.”

“Bored,’ he repeats, and there’s a certain glint in his eye. But instead of disappointed, he seems empathetic. “Cause it’s not the same, yeah? Your fingers too small?”

Now you nod, making a noise of agreement.

He nods along with you, beginning to smirk. “Yeah,” he whispers. “Bet it’s just so frustrating, isn’t it? Trying to find all your sweet, little spots, but just not quite being able to reach?”

You cling to him as he stretches you a bit further. Doing everything you can’t do for yourself. Effortlessly curling his finger into that one spot until you begin to shake.

“Just like that, hm?” he mumbles, pressing another kiss to your collarbone. “S’that what you can’t find, baby? S’that what’s so achy?”

And it is. It’s so infuriatingly sore that it almost makes you cry. Wishing you could chase after that feeling until your heart gives out.

“I bet.” More kisses to your chest. “Don’t worry. I’m gonna fix it, okay? Make it all better again.”

“Please?” you whimper, nails scratching down his broad back. Attempting to pull him closer.

“Mhm.” He leans forward and brings his lips to yours now. His kiss quick but full of promise. “Always gonna take care of you.”

He begins to thrust the longer digit in and out. Slow enough to work you up but fast enough to leave you wanting more. Coaxing the muscles open before bringing a second finger into play.

The sounds of your wetness being pushed and pulled by his hand are sinful. Sending a chill down your spine and directly into your cunt.

You moan when you feel them, writhing a bit beneath his body until he has to press his leg into yours to keep you still.

“Shh, it’s okay,” he mumbles. Leaving another kiss below your jaw. “Know you can take it, baby. You always do. Don’t you?”

And even if that’s true, you aren’t opposed to the slight sting. Instead invigorated by it and the way he uses great care with you. Wanting to make sure you’re all right so he can please you the way he wants.

Yet somehow, it’s still not enough. Even with the way he curls, and pumps, and thrusts those beautiful digits into your pussy, you feel empty. Barely scratching the surface of that itch as he presses his chest to yours to calm you.

Your noises are becoming more pathetic. Your entire being heaving with the weight of promised pleasure in a way you can’t seem to understand.

His thumb presses into your clit every few minutes, attempting to guide you closer to your release, and it works. The combination making your stomach coil until you nearly see stars. Every cell in your body tightening.

“You close, Cherry?” His free hand moves for your face. Palm pressing into your jaw as the bandage on his knuckles sweeps across your cheek. “Hm? You gonna cum for me?”

And you are. You are, you are. You can almost taste it. Can feel it bubbling up from between your thighs, ready to unravel like the seams on your favorite sweater.

“Yes,” you gasp, arching from the leather seat. “Yes, please…please don’t stop. Please—”

“Won’t stop,” he promises in a soothing tone, lips ghosting atop yours. “Never stop, I promise. M’gonna be right here until you do, okay? Go ahead. I’ve got you.”

And this is all you need. It happens suddenly and yet far too slowly. Pulling you apart from the inside out.

You moan so loud, your chest shakes. Eyes rolling back and nails scratching down his spine as it hits you.

Instantly, he moves his hand from your jaw to your lips. Palm pressing hard against your mouth in order to silence you as he whispers, “Shh, baby. Gotta be quiet for me, okay? It’s okay, you’re all right. Just let go—"

And you do. Allow your body to deplete itself of all energy as he works you through every goddamn second. Dragging it out as far as it’ll go. Increasing the speed of his flicks and thrusts. Pumping your orgasm out of you until it sits in his waiting hand.

“Good,” he breathes before finally removing his hand in order to kiss you quickly. Fingers squeezing the back of your neck as he brings you closer. “So fucking good, there you go. S’okay. Keep going, come on.”

And it’s so good, so wonderful. You feel like you’re floating, high up into the clouds. You decide then that he must be an angel, carrying you in his wings and setting you on a sunset.

But you’re still squirming, seemingly discontented, and he notices far too easily. “You okay, Cher?”

“More,” you whisper faintly. “More…please…”

“More,” he echoes. “My sweet girl wants more. More what, hm? What do you need?”

“More,” is all you say. Once again wiggling your hips down as if to sink his fingers in further. “More, Harry, please.”

“Oh. You want another one. Is that it?”

You nod silently, too strung-out to think in coherent sentences.

He chuckles again, kissing your other cheek before pinching your chin. “All right. Give you as many as you want, baby.”

Feeling incredibly grateful, you allow your trembling limbs to fall slack. Once again settling beneath him as he works to get you to your second.

But even as he resumes the languid but practiced thrusts of his fingers, you feel unsatiated. Eager for something else, but you aren’t sure what.

He realizes before you do. “S’not enough, is it?” he coos. “Need something bigger, don’t you?”

That’s what it is, and you nod eagerly as your nails scratch down the sleeves of his hoodie.

“Think you can take something bigger? Think you can take another finger, baby?”

Another nod. Faster, more fervent. Eyes pleading with him to give you anything he has to offer.

He obliges this, glancing down before lining his fingers up, and slowly slipping all three inside.

This stretch is a bit more prominent. He’s deliberately gentle, never giving you more than he assumes you can handle.

And he watches you closely. Searching for any grimaces or winces of discomfort.

When he finds none, he seems relieved, kissing up from your chest to your throat once more. “Good girl. There you go.”

You begin to writhe a little more ardently until he has to bring his other hand to your knee in order to press it down into the seat. Keeping you spread and still until you settle.

“Easy,” he coos gently, placing some of his weight onto your thigh. “Gonna have to be good, baby, and relax for me. Let me make you feel good, okay?”

You want to obey. You do, really. But the overstimulation and sensitivity from your first orgasm is almost too much. Making you choke on the heated air until you can hardly breathe.

“Like it when I take care of you, don’t you?” he asks you now. Licking a stripe along your jaw. “Like it when I steal you away from them?”

He’s right, you do. Perhaps you shouldn’t, but there’s something about the way he makes you feel as though you deserve more than this. As though you’re meant for more than the diner. He makes you feel invincible.

“Maybe one day I’ll take you away,” he decides. “Fucking take you from them and make you mine. Forever. For always.”

And you decide you like the sound of that.

Another moment of his strenuous torture passes before he leans back to watch. And you notice something in his face. Utter fascination and lust over the way your body bends to his will. Over the way it stretches around his fingers, the way he pulls it open.

He releases a deep, coarse groan through clenched teeth. Fixated on the way his fingers disappear into your pussy. “Taking me so well, baby. Know you’d take my cock, too, wouldn’t you?”

You whimper miserably, undone by the thought. You can’t deny that you’ve wondered what he’d feel like. All of him, stretching you open. Fucking into you while leaving you a panting mess.

You often imagine what he’s like in bed. In an actual bed and not in the backseat of his car or yours. What he might be like when he’s truly lost himself to the pleasure. Guiding his hips to yours, bending you into a hundred and one positions meant just for his indulgence.

You wonder if he’d be just as careful as he is now. Just as devoted to you. If he’d be hard and fast or soft and slow. If he has dirty kinks, secret fantasies. If he likes the lights on or off. If he likes the bed or if he likes it up against the wall.

You hope one day you get to find out.

“Think you would, yeah?” he continues, sliding his digits all the way to the knuckle. The fibers of the gauze brushing against your clit. “Know you would. Be so good for me. This sweet little pussy would treat me so well, wouldn’t it?”

You nod quickly, pouting at him anxiously.

“I know,” he tuts, finally leaning back over to kiss you again. “Know you’d be such a good girl for me. Let me work you open until you could fit me…let me stretch you just right.”

You reach out for his wrist in search of something to squeeze, and it makes him chuckle. Teeth sinking into your bottom lip until you moan.

“Might take a while,” he muses. “Might take hours. Days. I’ll have to just keep you in my bed until you can fit me, hm?”

He attempts to pull away, but you chase after him. Looping an arm around his neck in order to yank him back to you.

His smirk feels good against your lips. “M’not going anywhere, sweet girl. Just like to watch you. Bet it’d be fun to watch you take my cock, wouldn’t it? Watch it sink right into this tight little hole.”

He’s evil. Absolutely sadistic and it makes you groan against his tongue until he has to soothe you.

“I know, baby. One day,” he breathes. “I promise. M’gonna take you away and do it right. Make it worth it.”

The thrusting of his fingers becomes more poignant. Enough to drive a plethora of desperate moans from your chest as he nuzzles his nose below your jaw and simply breathes.

“Gonna worship you. Give you everything you deserve.” He sucks in a quiet inhale before dancing his lips along your throat. “Have you sit on my face until I can’t breathe.”

The image has your eyes rolling back. Even if you aren’t sure you’d ever feel comfortable doing so, you’re enamored by the idea. Of the thought of him holding onto your thighs, pressing you down to his mouth. Completely controlling you.

“Can never breathe when I’m with you, anyway,” he whispers, and you almost don’t catch it. You wonder if you were meant to. “M’gonna do it right, sweet girl. I promise.”

And this is the vow that pulls you through to the other side. Large digits curling up into that one spot that makes your legs shake and you’re falling apart for the second time.

But he still doesn’t stop. Stroking, pressing, pumping even after the tears have begun to slip from your eye.

“Keep going, there you go. Does it feel good? Feel so good, cumming all over my hand?”

And it does, but you can’t exactly answer. Can’t seem to do anything but cry out as you ride the wave and his fingers as though your life depends on it.

“Doing so good,” he murmurs gently, raising up to kiss you once more. Swallowing your pitiful mewling. “So fucking good, baby. M’so proud of you. Took me so well. So beautiful when you cum, Cherry, you know that? Could watch you forever.”

The sentiment makes your entire body grow warm. You’ve always wondered what you might look like when you orgasm, and truth be told, you imagine it’s not very pretty.

But to hear him say it now – so earnestly – makes your stomach wrench. Nails curling into the seat below as you lift off the leather and knock your chest into his.

He holds you as tight as he can before slowly pulling his fingers out. Relieving you from the overstimulation before putting you back in his mouth. Sucking until a string of saliva drips down his into the gauze on his knuckles. Painting it a much prettier picture than the red has.

After swelling every drop of you with a lewd groan, he finally pulls his hand out, and takes you into his arms. Kissing you through the remnants of the blissful rush.

“So good,” he says again, face burying back into your neck while stroking your thigh with his soaked fingers. “Always make me so proud.”

Your limbs tangle with his as you both slouch into the backseat. Allowing your heart beats to synchronize into one, steady rhythm.

And once they have, you begin to grin. “Harry?”

“Mm?”

“Thank you.”

He exhales a soft laugh before leaning back onto his knees to get a good look at you. “What for, sweet girl?”

“Just for…this, I suppose,” you mumble shyly. “For all of it. Tonight. Standing up for me and…you know, this part.”

His chuckle becomes a bit more smug. “Are you thanking me for making you cum?”

“I’m…trying. I think.”

“Hm.” His grin is playful and so damn charming as he dips back down to hover his lips near yours. “Don’t have to thank me, Cherry. Believe me. It’s my pleasure.”

His teasing remark makes you giggle, and you kiss him hard before he has the chance to leave you again.

You kiss for a while. A long while. Until you can hardly breathe, your muscles beginning to ache and your eyelids beginning to grow heavy from the lack of sleep in this early morning hour.

It’s not until you actually yawn that Harry finally remembers to pull himself away and reach for the panties around your ankles. “Shit, it’s late, isn’t it? Know I’ve kept you longer than I should have.”

With a quick shake of your head, you push up onto your elbows. “No. I’m fine, I promise. Just…cumming makes me sleepy, I guess. And you’re so warm. It’s nice.”

This makes him smile again, and that dimple of his makes your heart ache. “You know I’d keep you in this car until the sun came up if I could.”

“I know.” Your fingers outstretch for his hoodie, tangling into the material on his stomach while he guides your underwear back up around your hips. “Maybe one day, yeah?”

His expression softens, and you almost swear you see a flash of sadness behind that sage green. “Yeah. Maybe.”

It’s quiet as you rebutton your dress and pull the hem back down. And even quieter as Harry opens the door and slips out of the car, extending his hand toward you in order to help you out as well.

But once you’ve straightened up and turned to face him, you see that something has changed. A look of longing that hadn’t been there before etched between those scarred features.

His thumb brushes just beneath your eye and then down to your lips. Tracing the lines and dips before he sighs and cradles your cheek in his palm. “Are you gonna be all right?”

You place your hand over his and squeeze. “Are you?”

Another deep breath. Heavier and more forlorn. “You know I’ll try.”

“Promise?”

His forehead meets yours, and you both still. “I promise.”

And you choose to believe him.

You say goodbye, and regretfully let him go. Shaky legs carrying you back to your car as his eyes follow you all the way. Making sure you get there safely before you take off down the road and leave him behind.

A few nights later, you’re back for your next shift. And truth be told, you’re almost excited. Because having to go so long without him feels like a form of punishment. Like your days aren’t nearly as bright without him. And neither are your nights.

You can’t help but count the seconds as you go about your evening. Unable to distract yourself with the pastries no matter how hard you try. Thoughts drifting back to those chocolate curls and that devilish smile.

When midnight strikes, you feel relieved. Releasing a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding as you grab your notepad and slip out of the kitchen. Ready to greet him in his favorite booth.

But the moment you slip past the door, you find that the diner is empty. Not a single customer to greet you as you scan the floor in search of that familiar face. Even a glimpse of his shoes or the sound of his voice.

But the booth is empty, the diner is quiet, and it’s 12:06.

Your stranger isn’t here.

I know not too much has happened yet but we are building up to tons more smut and plot and angst and fluff, I swear!! 😭💞

Next Part:

~ Whiplash*

~ Main Masterlist

~ Blurb Masterlist

Amazing divider by @firefly-graphics! 💞

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