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jamminvroomvroom · 1 year

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you bring blue lights. part 3

ln x fem!reader

read part 1: a golf swing and a trampoline

read part 2: karma rules!

FINAL PART! i hate it! what else is new? hopefully this wraps things up nicely. thank u for the luv on the other two parts, biiiiiig hugs from me to you MWAH xoxox note: heads up, the max in this series is max fewtrell lmao.

song: little freak by harry styles

in which lando goes back to work and takes you along for the ride. and max is there too. because why wouldn’t he be?

warnings: 18+ pls!! nothing major tbh, smut (mostly implied), bit of angst, bit of fluff, language, anxiety, the worlds most minor f1 incident, max being a snarky little bitch (affectionate)

4.8k words

the colour blue can symbolise many things: bravery and healing. the calm. wisdom and depth. sadness and serenity. permanence.

you weren’t sure what to make of the weather in bahrain. it wasn’t too hot, nor was it cold, but lando was still wearing a hoodie nonetheless. you sat in the passenger seat of the rented volvo, the mild temperature unable to reach you here, especially not with the quadrant hoodie draped over your shoulders. you wanted to shrug it off, the material that once symbolised an unbreakable friendship now resting uncomfortably, a weight, a reminder, but you were there to support your boyfriend, in his every endeavour.

your eyes could have watered, but you blinked, uncontrollably almost, refocusing your gaze onto the centre console, where lando’s large hand held yours. he squeezed once, twice, drawing your eyes from your laced fingers onto his.

you realised then that he’d been murmuring your name, his eyebrows furrowed, concerned. the last thing he needed to worry about today was you. it was quali day in bahrain, the first of the season, and you were sat next to a man on a mission. pull yourself together, woman. you smiled, your lips stretching unconvincingly, the corner of your mouth twitching. this couldn’t be classed as anxiety anymore, it went far beyond that. he sighed, deflated already.

“listen, if you’re not ready to do this…”

“i am. i am!” your voice was abnormally high pitched, and lando wondered where his cool as a cucumber girlfriend had gone. you hated the worry that clouded his sky-grey eyes.

it was your first time in the paddock, and naturally, you were a wreck. a picturesque mess. you’d picked out a nice outfit, something that made you look put together without trying too hard, classy without looking like you were leeching off of lando. you knew what they’d say about you, otherwise. they were already saying it. he’d tried his hardest to keep you hidden but the internet was ablaze with theories and questions and lies and judgement, so he’d suggested that you come to bahrain, viewing it as a perfect opportunity to break the ice with the media and the fans.

it had been finalised and you’d been mentally preparing yourself since the moment you’d decided to attend. but when he turned up to your apartment one day after a meeting, an anxious, babbling mess, you wondered if you’d made a mistake.

it turned out that the bahrain grand prix was a team quadrant event.

with your ticket booked, you’d chosen to suck it up, business as usual, but the idea of a weekend caught between two men that hated each other was not your idea of a good time, especially not when you were the problem. the morning that max had caught you, bare legged and lovesick in lando’s kitchen, would probably haunt you as long as you lived.

lando was angry and max? max was furious. now, they’d both just gone cold.

there was a stillness in the kitchen, ice cold all of the sudden, all of the warmth of you and him gone. you felt like a child caught in the act, nowhere to run. lando looked pale, afraid, utterly distraught. your eyes flicked between him and max, waiting for the dam to break; who would crack first? you couldn’t bare it, lips parting in a whisper.

“max-“ you barely heard yourself but max heard you perfectly, melancholic disgust in his eyes as they flitted to you. you felt small. you felt sick.

“don’t.” he barked. you sunk into yourself, shaking slightly. lando didn’t like that, stepping forward.

“listen to me, we-“ lando started.

“don’t you fucking dare.” max took a deep breath, shaking his head as if to compose himself. it wasn’t working. his eyes glazed over. “you’re not even sorry, are you?” he was looking straight at lando now, as if you weren’t even there.

lando’s lack of response spoke volumes. max cracked, a mixture of disbelief and disappointment shining through the rage. you held your breath. max turned to you, searching for solace, remorse, anything. you looked away.

“you two deserve each other.” max spat.

the slamming of the door made you wince.

lando felt selfish the second you touched down in bahrain. he watched your leg bounce on the plane, in the car, sat on the edge of the hotel bed, and wondered if this was all too much too soon. he needed you, but did you need this? the media, the fans? him? he ached watching you stare at your intertwined fingers sat on the centre console, your eyes glistening.

he was so, so selfish, a point proven over and over, and you were everything but. you were here, living proof of the fact.

the quadrant hoodie you wore, the bright blue contrasting with how you’d paled the second he’d parked the car, reminded lando of his crimes. you were blue, too, his calm amongst the chaos, an ocean that he thanked every god he could think of that he got to explore. you were a serenity, a serendipity, his bright blue light that kept him grounded.

if he’d ever doubted it before, he knew he loved you, completely and utterly, when you took a deep breath and got out of that car.

you let lando lead the way, a few steps ahead. you wondered if he could feel you shaking. you let go of him briefly, to scan your pass and slide through the gate, but he was reaching for you instantly. his thumb rubbed the soft skin of your hand, soothing you as the flashes of the cameras began to creep in the further you made it in to the paddock. you stared ahead, keeping your face as neutral as possible, letting him tow you along.

you stumbled when he stopped to take a picture with a fan, signing another’s hat, taking the moment to gather yourself. you became all too aware of your surroundings, the sheer amount of cameras pointed in your direction making you nauseous. as your hard exterior began to crumble, you felt his arm hook over your shoulder, a firm kiss planted on your forehead as you fell into step beside him once more.

“you got this, baby.” he murmured. you couldn’t help but smile up at him, finally feeling a small sense of ease. lando smiled back at you, and suddenly you wanted to frame every single stupid pictures they were taking of you both.

“so do you.” you grinned. he smiled bashfully. you knew how much this weekend meant to him.

you made your way into the mclaren hospitality, keeping close to lando. you sighed, relieved to be away from the cameras, and he introduced you to some members of his team, letting you make small talk while he spoke to his engineers.

you were intrigued watching him fall into the zone, calm, at ease, immersed into his world. you didn’t miss the way he kept an eye on you as he made his rounds. he ushered you over, pulling you deeper into the building, greeting people along the way. soon, you found yourself being led into his drivers room.

lando placed his bag on the table, small smile on his face as he moved around the room. you hoisted yourself up onto the massage table, swinging your legs, content in just watching him in his natural habitat.

“what are you smiling about, hmm?” you asked, eyebrow quirked.

“just you, being here. it’s nice.” he crossed the room and closed the gap, hands smoothing over your thighs as he parted them to stand between your legs.

“i like seeing you like this, you know. like watching you.” you placed your hands over his.

“oh, i know, love. always catch you staring.” he smirked.

“in that case, maybe i’ll just go back to the hotel.” you turned your head dramatically, leaning away from him.

“don’t be like that, you’d be lonely in that big bed without me.” he teased.

“i’m sure i could find a way to entertain myself.” you smirked at him, a frustrated groan emitting from the back of his throat as he grinned down at you.

“you’re cruel.” he murmured, giving into his desire and closing the gap.

you smiled against his lips, gripping hard at the material of his hoodie to pull him closer. his hands moved over the crease in your thighs, pulling at your hips as he kissed you harder. you threaded your fingers through his curls, tongue brushing his bottom lip. you enjoyed the noises he made, the low hum that vibrated against your mouth. your flushed body ran cold at the sudden rattling of the door handle.

you had no time to react when the door swung open, jon nonchalantly walking in, talking over his shoulder to a tired looking max and niran. your blood ran cold, hit by a sickening sense of deja vu that had you burying your face in lando’s chest. you felt lando vibrate as he cleared his throat, jon stopping in his tracks.

“shit.” jon grimaced, realising. “sorry, i- we didn’t know you were in here, someone said you were in the garage, didn’t mean to walk in on you like, uh, this.” he rambled awkwardly. a scoff from somewhere behind him made lando tense up, your eyes squeezing shut in discomfort.

“not like it’s the first time.” max muttered.

“i just came to pick up your schedule, sorry mate.” jon quickly cut in. you dared to look, peeking out from lando’s hoodie. niran was staring at the ceiling, quite clearly wishing he was somewhere else. you wished you were there too. max had his arms crossed, looking around the room. you couldn’t work out why he’d come in here.

max caught you staring, eyes hardening immediately as he took in the way your fingers curled into the material of lando’s hoodie, of lando’s hands on your hips. you could visualise the flashbacks he must have been having. he turned on his heel, leaving without another word, and you sighed. niran threw you a sympathetic smile, awkwardly waiting for jon who’d finally found the paper he was looking for, and then you and lando were alone again.

you looked up at him, noticing the way his jaw was tensed, the way his eyes had darkened, cold all of the sudden. he didn’t need this kind of stress, not when he was hours away from getting in the car. this season had no room for error, not when his new teammate was tipped to perform well, not when he was the new leader. you wondered if your being there was right.

“hey, its okay. maybe i should just go back to the hotel today, hm?” you suggested softly. his dark expression switched to one of vulnerability.

“no, no. you shouldn’t have to leave because he can’t be a grown up.” lando shook his head, frustration evident in his tone.

“you’ve got an important day ahead, babe. last thing we need is you being surrounded by all this,” you gestured around the room. “negativity.” you reasoned. his face fell further, hands moving to cup your cheeks.

“none of this is your fault, okay? you’re the only one i want here. let him sulk. i tried to fix it and he wouldn’t have it.”

“we hurt him, lando. it is my fault.” you averted eye contact as you spoke.

“hey, look at me. look at me.” you met his eyes again, which had warmed up significantly as he gazed at you. “i want you here. i need you here. don’t let him get to you. he’ll be doing work stuff anyway, you’ll hardly see him. i want you to be a part of his, okay? try and have some fun.”

you sighed, realising that your desire to be near lando, to support him, outweighed the guilt you felt towards max. after all, as cruel as it may have been, that’s why you’d chosen lando. that’s why you were here, every discomfort that you felt pushed aside. you nodded your head, wrapping your arms around him in a hug. he pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“now, i need to get changed. try not to stare too much, darling.” he pecked your lips, tension melting away as the smirk returned.

you pushed him away playfully, choosing to scroll through your phone as he started to prepare himself, letting your eyes wander occasionally. he’d wink every time he caught you looking.

despite the blush on your cheeks and the smile you couldn’t contain, you couldn’t help the bad feeling that crept in, lurking at the corner of your happiness. this would be a long weekend.

lando busied himself with his race suit, changing quickly. every time he looked up, throwing you a wink, he pretended that he wasn’t spiralling. he could see you thinking too hard, worrying, acting like you weren’t. all he wanted was for you to have a nice time with him, experience something so important to him, and already that idea, that visual of you becoming a bigger part of his world, it was crumbling all around him.

he let himself be angry at max sometimes, framing him as the source of your anxiety, but that was just a pitstop he made before he placed the blame back where it belonged; this was all lando’s fault. but this mess, this chaos, this love? he was willing to pay for his mistakes forever if it meant that every race weekend started and ended in your arms.

and so, lando did what lando did best. he kissed his girlfriend, got in his car, and made his way into Q3.

lando had qualified well, better than what had been expected, hugging you right when he’d bounded into the garage. you’d been surprised at how nervous it made you, watching him drive out of the garage and onto the track. you found yourself unable to take your eyes off him on the screen ahead of you, nails chewed down anxiously for the entire session. you clung to him, letting out a breath you didn’t know you’d been holding. you allowed yourself to kiss him, just a quick peck, settling.

you let him leave once more, comforted by the fact that his biggest danger now was the media that awaited him, and navigated yourself out of the garage. you couldn’t pretend you weren’t a little bit lost in the winding corridors, but finally you stumbled out of the tunnel, the one your boyfriend always tapped the top of, a superstition, and into the sunlight. you hovered in the entrance, staring out at the bustle of the paddock.

it felt so surreal, overwhelming to be here for lando. with him, at last. you just couldn’t seem to shake the fear you felt watching him get in the car. the thought of the impending race made you nauseous.

as you stood there blocking the entrance, lost in your thoughts and the complexities of your relationship, you were reminded of the only hurdle it faced, at the unimpressed clearing of someone’s throat.

you turned quickly on your heel at the noise, snapped out of your thoughts. you gulped.

“can i get past, please?” max asked, refusing the eye contact that you were desperately trying to make. you didn’t miss the way his eyes rolled at the sight of the blue quadrant hoodie covering your frame.

“i should probably let you, shouldn’t i?” you smiled, weakly, a feeble attempt at breaking the ice.

all max did was nod ever so slightly.

“will you talk to me?” you took note of just how pathetic you sounded.

“i can’t, i have somewhere to be.” he said, quiet with emotion, careful with his tone.

“just a minute, please max.” he flinched at his name falling from your traitorous tongue.

“i can’t do this right now.” he tried to side step you, but you blocked him.

“i’m sorry. i’m so, so sorry. if you believe anything, believe that.” you begged.

“i don’t know what to believe anymore.”

you didn’t fight him again, defeated as you watched him walk away.

you seemed different when lando found you later after the media rush, in the quiet of the paddock. you seemed sad, although you kept it carefully concealed. he noticed the way you held his hand tighter, kissed him softer. he wanted to get you out of the paddock, away from it all, take you back to the hotel where he could touch you and hold you and take away this dull pain.

he prayed that you weren’t getting too blue, that you wouldn’t go cold in his presence, the more you adapted to the bittersweet realities of his lifestyle.

he wondered if his anxieties were misplaced when you kissed him with everything you had and tumbled into the white bed linen with him, burning for one another.

lando reminded himself that you were still here. he knew all too well that you didn’t stay for just anyone.

lando looked beautiful when he was asleep. he was always so busy, always on the go, so you cherished these mornings dearly. a stream of sunlight made its way over the sheets, creeping up his body, bathing him in warmth. you hadn’t shut the curtains properly, urgently falling into bed with him, but you were thankful for it now as he stirred. the only thing better than watching the soft rise and fall of his chest was watching him wake up.

his eyes fluttered open, his arm stretching out and over your waist. you gazed at the blue-green of his eyes, rolling over and into his side. you pressed a kiss to his shoulder, engulfed by the heat of his bare skin pressed against yours. you stayed there quietly, letting him wake up.

suddenly, he let out a groan, rolling on top of you, curls falling in his eyes. you’d told him one night in dubai, after a cocktail too many, that he should grow his hair out. you’d whispered something seductive in his ear about having more to pull on. he’d quickly taken you back to your suite, and happily obliged with your request ever since.

you’d spent last night in a similar situation, pouncing on him immediately when you’d gotten back from the track. a day spent watching him drive had riled you up, and paired with your neediness, you were gagging for it by the time you got him alone. lando pulled you out of your daydream with a kiss, his body melting into yours.

“what’s on your mind?” his voice was low, gravelly from where he’d just woken up.

“nothing, just thinking.” you mused. he leaned in closer, lips brushing yours.

“about what? because i’m still thinking about last night.” lando murmured. you smiled coyly up at him.

“why? what happened last night?” you faked confusion, eyebrow raised.

“this beautiful woman could not keep her hands to herself.” lando feigned shock.

“that must have been so difficult for you.” your voice oozed sarcasm.

“it was very hard.” he grinned, devilish, leaning down to kiss you again.

you could feel the press of his body, every inch of his warm skin against yours. your hand slid softly across his face, brushing his curls back, tugging gently at the strands as his lips left yours and trailed down your jaw.

the air got hotter, charged, when he nipped at your neck, your collarbone, and dug his fingers into your hip, kneading your soft edges. your mouth hung open, panting slightly in anticipation, skin alight as his hand worked across the crease of your thigh. lando gripped your inner thigh, spreading you open, letting his fingers run rampant.

he continued to mouth at your shoulder, biting down gently as he found your clit, the medley of pleasure and pain making your eyes roll back. the rest of your morning was a blur.

lips on yours, fingers working you open. his name, a prayer. your legs, wrapped around him, numb. sweat and bliss, you and him. your legs shook, vision bleary.

lando was all yours, belonged to you, your name tearing sweetly from the depths of him as he let himself get lost.

you stared up at him, breathless and grinning.

lando had one singular thought when he managed to pull himself from the crook of your neck, languid and tingling. between the chaos and the quiet, you found a way to bring him back to earth, gleaming blue.

i love you.

“are you looking forward to the race?” you’d heard him ask.

it had been quiet for a while, your unrelenting bout of morning sex leaving you a tangled, sleepy mess.

“i don’t know.” brutal honestly seemed to be your forte.

“ouch.” he teased.

“i don’t know how to be okay with watching you.” it was the realest thing you’d said to lando all weekend, mumbled into his collarbone where you hid your face.

“you’ve seen me race.” he shifted, as if he was trying to find your face, your eyes, voice laced with confusion.

“yeah, but that was before.”

“before what?”

“just…before.”

before i knew what you meant to me.

before i broke your best friends heart.

before i fell in love with you.

you spent the duration of the formation lap looking for the nearest exit, telling yourself that you were being ridiculous, and wondering how every other loved one coped every race weekend. to your surprise, max was stood on the other side of the garage. you figured he would have chosen to be anywhere else, but his fingers drumming against the countertop, in an identical fashion to yours, made you wonder if he shared the pit in your stomach.

your eyes flitted around nervously, taking short breaths as the cars lined up on the grid. five lights went on, and then out, and you held your breath.

lando made it through turn one, turn two. through lap one, lap 17, lap 34. he was having a good race, a great one even, the byproduct of a strong start, his race craft and a calculated strategy. you made the mistake of starting to relax.

you gasped when an alpine tagged his car. one hand flew to your mouth, the other gripping the wire of your headphones in sheer, gut-twisting panic. your eyes fixed on the screen, watching him spin, spin, spin across the track. you were frozen, utterly unmoving, time stopping around you until his car suddenly did out on track.

he was fine.

he skidded to a halt, making his way safely back onto the track, carrying on as normal. he was completely, totally fine.

you burst into tears.

you heard the headphones clatter gently against the surface top, a blur through your tears, and quickly left the garage. you blindly made your way through the stupid, little corridors and back into that tunnel that led to the paddock. you slumped against the metal wall, sobbing, no use in wiping your free flowing tears. how were you supposed to do it, to live this life, holding your breath every time lando went to work?

you heard footsteps approaching, a pang of embarrassment flashing in the pit of your stomach that made you want to disappear. you took a shaky breath, wondering how you could possibly escape, when you heard the footsteps coming to a halt, the mystery person stopping. you looked up shyly, blinking away tears. you were shocked to see max was stood opposite you, leant against the wall behind him. he sighed.

“stuff like that happens. he’s fine, you know?” max reassured you. you couldn’t quite believe that he was here, let alone offering you some shred of comfort. the tears made a comeback.

“how do people do this? i barely made it through turn one.” you sniffled, voice cracking.

“you just learn to live with it. that fear that you’re feeling, it never quite goes away. but watching him succeed? it becomes worth it.” max spoke with a quiet admiration, one that made your heart ache. you were reminded of just how human he was.

“what if i can’t do it? the idea of something happening to him…” you trailed off, shaking your head.

“i can’t believe i’m about to say this but,” max sighed once more, reluctant to admit what he’d come to realise. “he needs you here. and i know you, you wouldn’t be doing any of this with him if you didn’t want to. if i believe anything, it’s that.”

you looked down at his words, the echo of yesterdays run-in ringing in your ears. he knew all too well that you wouldn’t be in a relationship that you didn’t want to be in. the guilt crept back in.

“i didn’t mean for any of this to happen the way it did.” your voice wavered.

“well, you can’t help who you fall in love with.” max shrugged.

“what?” your head snapped up to look at him, blindsided by his words. was it so obvious?

“what? you do love him, don’t you?” max asked, confused.

“i, well, we haven’t- i mean, i haven’t-“ you rambled.

“don’t tell me you guys fucked me over for nothing.” max teased. you looked up at him like a rabbit in headlights. he laughed at your expression, and you felt a weight lift off your shoulders. you joined in, laughing with him as the tears finally dried up.

“you should tell him.”

“if i do that, are you gonna hate me even more than you already do?”

“i don’t- i could never hate you.” max’s gaze softened. “and as much as i’d love to right now, i could never hate him, either.” he rolled his eyes.

“talk to him?” you suggested, cautious. max smiled.

“don’t push your luck this weekend.” he grinned. “you ready to go back in there? the race is pretty much over.”

you nodded, smiled, walking alongside him in comfortable silence back into the garage. the team were elated, a decent recovery made after the shambles of last season, but all you could focus on was how desperate you were to see lando. max walked back to the desk where he’d been watching the race, throwing you a reassuring wink. you smiled softly.

max was the first person that lando really saw when he entered the garage. the air seemed to have thinned out, lighter, somehow. he’d ask questions later.

max smiled, small. lando could barely contain the grin he returned the olive branch with.

something clicked, somewhere deep in his chest, and the healing process began. in progress, finally, slowly but surely.

lando inhaled, and for the first time in forever, it felt easy. he almost couldn’t remember what that felt like.

then, lando saw you, a bright blue light, starlike, his beacon, waiting for him in the corner of the garage. he weaved his way through the sea of people until he was secure in your arms.

oscar walked in first, the team cheering him on after his first race. lando followed soon after, getting his own celebration. you watched on, a warmth filling your chest; you knew max was right. you watched lando walk through the garage, met with slaps on the back, ruffles of his messy curls. he smiled wide, wider somehow when his eyes landed on max. it was a welcome surprise, one that drenched you in relief.

lando’s eyes darted around until he found you, catching you staring from the back of the room. he made a beeline to you, engulfing you in a hug. his eyebrows furrowed, confused, perhaps, at your puffy cheeks and red eyes, but your hands flew to his cheeks, lips meeting his. he kissed you back, smiling against your lips. you pulled back, grinning up at him.

“are you okay, sweetheart?” he whispered.

“i’m just so proud of you.” you murmured.

“i’m so glad that you’re here.” he gently squeezed your waist, nose bumping yours.

“i need to tell you something.” your stomach twisted, this time in excitement; butterflies.

“what?”

“i love you, lando.” his whole face changed, his smile bigger than you’d ever seen it.

“i love you.” he replied, cupping your face. his thumbs grazed your cheekbones. “god, you have no idea how much i…” he trailed off, searching your eyes for a moment before he kissed you again, deep and slow. the tears that hit your cheeks weren’t your own, and you held him even tighter.

you broke apart, his head falling into the crook of your neck, hot kisses pressed to the exposed skin. your fingers ran though his hair, toying with the curls at the nape of his neck.

over lando’s shoulder, you could see max, hint of a smile on his face. your eyes watered again, meeting his across the garage, and he smiled, properly.

all the pieces fell, messily, into place.

max watched on, aching at the way you clung to lando, your hands in his hair, lando’s lips pressed so intimately to the delicate skin of your neck. max felt a dull sense of happiness sneak in; you and lando were the picture of what love was supposed to look like. you’d never looked at him the way he’d always caught you looking at lando.

it didn’t hurt any less yet, but he was starting to realise that it would.

thank fuck that’s over

taglist

@boysthatgovroomvroom @thegirlinthefandoms @welld0nebaku @mcmuppet @japanesekel @vinvantae @ggaslyp1 @dr3lover @smiithys @turningxstrange @rachstash @infinitebells @multilovebot @fizzpopsnap101 @gaily19 @icecoldtires @mysticalnightenthusiast @thatchickwiththecamera @oyesmendes @disneydaydreameralways @yeolsbubbles @canyouseethesainz @ferrarifwendvale @fcbformulaeri @tony-stank3 @maih23 @nokiaholland @soleilgrec @carolineworld @anthonykatebridgerton @allywthsr @iamasimpingh0e @ophcelia @lovelynikol16 @coffeehurricanes @jennx03 @organasith @micks-afterglow @blueflorals @juno-1610 @lqvesoph @wilmasvensson @sidcrosbyspuck @better-dead-than-smeg @buendiabebeta @h0e-xoxo @mattxxamryli @pjofics

(i’ve removed tags that weren’t working - lemme know if you wanna be added or removed xoxox)

#lando norris #lando norris fic #lando norris smut #lando norris fluff #lando norris angst #lando norris x you #lando norris x reader #f1 fic #f1 smut #f1 #f1 fluff #f1 angst #f1 imagine #lando norris imagine #max fewtrell #max fewtrell fic

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deathlieteez · 7 months

Text

ATTENTION (4/5)

yunho x reader

♡ attention series masterlist ♡ ┋chapter 1┋chapter 2.1┋chapter 2.2┋chapter 3.1┋chapter 3.2

chapter 4: heaven and back. when you finally met yunho that Saturday night, he confess the reason why he's acting that weird, and it is not going to be a bliss to your heart. feeling more lost than ever, you let yourself be drawn into whatever the night has to offer, though it seems to end up being much more than you can control.

appears: yunho as your exboyfriend x femb!reader + choi seungcheol (seventeen) x son chaeyoung as ur bests friends + yoon jeonghan (seventeen) as ur friend + chwe hansol vernon (seventeen) as seungcheol's friend

genre: angst. college au.

warning: cursing, mean/heartbroken reader, mean/heartbroken yunho, petnames, using/abusing of drugs (don't!!!!!!!), cheating.

word count: 9.1k (oops)

intentional use of lowercase letter

english is not my mother tongue

the chapter is called heaven and back because is sighly based on the chase atlantic's song

songs i get inspired by: heaven and back - chase atlantic + you broke me first- tate mcrae + the grudge - olivia rodrigo + falling - harry styles + creepin' - the weeknd + if you want love - nf + sorry, i love you - stray kids + we go down together - dove cameron ft. khalid + remember that night? - sara keys

the one i recommed the most to read it is the loneliest by maneskin

it is not meant to be representative of jeong yunho's personality or any ateez or another groups' idols who appeared ♡

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘♡⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

see you tonight.

yunho's absence and message made your morning into something infinite. got out of bed as if you had spent the whole night drinking, but what actually felt was a terrible emotional hangover. the memory of yunho haunted you as if he had never left, and almost had the damn sensation of his lips going all over your skin, as well as that sweet smell of his still stuck in your nostrils. his attitude was strange enough in itself to leave you thinking all day, but if you added the idea that he had been with another woman close enough to leave her scent on him, and the fucking fact that he had left you alone in bed after you let him spend the night for the first time after so many pleas, it was going to drive you crazy. was literally all you could think about all morning. it was, in fact, what you were thinking about when your doorbell rang, being so immersed in the memory of your fucking ex that the fright was such that you threw the coffee cup, which you'd been stirring for twenty minutes now while leaning against the kitchen counter, onto the floor. "shit!" you grunt for a moment before the doorbell rings again, and several times in a row "coming, i'm coming!" had absolutely no idea who it was, but it did nothing but fuck your mood even more.

you were very surprised to see that it was chaeyoung. well, an exaggeratedly angry version of chaeyoung. if thought you were in a bad mood, you were a puppy next to your best friend at that moment "i didn't come in just in case that asshole's still here. you better hide him, because i'll chew him up and spit him in the toilet, and u're next" she said pointing her index finger at you, still not crossing the threshold of the door. you sighed, stepping to the side to let her know she could come in.

"easy beast, he's not here." she snorted, entering your house in a bad temper. you couldn't blame her, but she had a lot of things to blame you. followed her into the kitchen, feeling slightly anxious. the only times you had ever seen chaeyoung like that was always when was involved with yunho, yunho's friends or the university. you had never been her target. you knew for a fact how much she loved you, in a practically sisterly way, so you understood perfectly why she practically left a trail of flames wherever she passed by. you would have appeared the same, or worse "careful, there's glass on the floor" you warn, she automatically grabbed several paper napkins and bent down to wipe the huge coffee stain on the floor. you imitated her.

"i've called tons of times, and left lots of messages." she accused, you sighed "the least you could do is call me back" looked at her with a mixture of shame and embarrassment building up in the pit of your stomach. you couldn't say anything, because she was right. not only had you blown them off the night before, but ignored them all and with no reasons. that's probably why seungcheol wasn't with chaeyoung to find out what happened after he left. he was too upset to show up at your house, and it was more than clear that he would have told chaeyoung why you didn't go to the club.

"m so sorry" you mumble, "wasn't in the mood. know that's no excuse, but…"

"but nothing. it's already awfully wrong for that guy to show up at your house at night, but to be ignoring us for him? girl, it sucks" she accuses again and you nod, as if you were being scolded by your older sister "i don't understand how you could even let him into your house, after everything that's happened".

"you know we've been seeing each other, chae" you swallowed after materializing it in words for the first time to someone other than yourself or yunho himself.

"yeah" she groaned in annoyance "but thought u guys fucked at parties or something, not that you let him get into your house?"

"we're all grown up now, chaeyoung" you sigh, picking up a few pieces of glass again, trying not to cut yourself and in the process avoiding her gaze. she stood up, throwing away a handful of soggy papers and picking up a few more to continue drying the floor.

"oh really? well doesn't look like it" she then growls "look, u can fuck whoever u want, but be consequent. u can't just disappear the whole night and leave us all worrying"

"i'm really sorry" repeated "it was a bit of a weird night" you confess once finished collecting all the crystals, cutting a small awkward silence "did u have a good time at least?" chaeyoung denied.

"cheol came in pretty upset, he told us what happened and we tried to call you several times after a while. still were going to stay, but then we saw yunho's little friends and seungcheol didn't want to continue the night. he and han went home together and i went home with jihyo" she related, making you sigh again.

"they didn't say anything to any of you, have they?" she denied, you nodded in relief.

"you know how overprotective he is with you and the whole thing with those guys" threw away the last handful of papers once the floor was finally clean, grabbing another cup from your cupboard and a capsule of coffee "at least tell me what's going on, and what happened last night".

so you did. recounted in detail everything that had happened, from the episode at the emergency exit, to yunho dumping that girl for you, and ending with the night before. you put special emphasis on one detail "he smelled like another chick!?" she practically shouted, you dropped your back on the back of the couch and nodded "he finished being with some chick and came to see u?" he snorted "i thought he couldn't, but he get even more scraggly. he must have been training"

"he's coming tonight" you confessed, causing chaeyoung's eyes to practically pop out of their holes.

"and you're even dumber, i see."

"wanna see him, chae."

"that's the first sign why you shouldn't do it. never again. fuck him. but no literally!"

you'd love to say that the conversation with your best friend did some good. that you took matters into your own hands and wrote yunho to tell him you didn't want him around, that he should stay the fuck home. but the reality was much different, much sadder and, from chaeyoung's point of view, ridiculous. your friend didn't understand what it was about this guy that kept you so interested, and you didn't exactly know either. but if there was ever a time when you really felt the need to see him, it was that night. his attitude and that message had to mean something, and it's not like you were able to ignore everything you felt while being with him.

luckily, now that you had finally been completely honest with her, chaeyoung decided she wouldn't leave you alone and tried her best to keep your mind off yunho, almost like the first time she had to deal with what he left of you when he cheated. it worked for a few hours, but as the time approached when you had to get ready to leave, it became clear how the anxiety was eating away at your confidence. you checked your cell phone every few moments, feraring a message from him, or maybe even hoping for one. chae watched you worriedly. she knew for sure that the time when you would relapse would come. yunho would be a problem again, because you two were in love and it didn't end well. one of you would come crawling back, but she hoped it wouldn't be you and that when he did, you would kick him back to his house.

"so can i borrow the black one then?" she asked with her head dipped in your closet. you laughed again, affirming with a guttural sound while trying not to go too overboard with the lip liner "great! i was looking forward to trying it on. it's so pretty!"

"just had to ask for it" you tell her once you finish filling in your lips in a gorgeous burgundy shade matching the dress you wore that night, and which didn't go unnoticed by your friend.

"how is it possible that u been looking like shit all day and now you look like you came out of a magazine?" she grunts, making you laugh again "it's cute" commented, sitting on the edge of the bed and looking at your reflection in the glass of the dressing table. you were doing the same, trying to gain confidence in your image. knew you looked pretty, but didn't feel particularly well. "haven't worn it in a while, have you?" chaeyoung asked, getting your attention. you look at her a little confused "the dress" you smile faintly at her, nodding.

didn't really wanted to have to explain it to her, but the outfit you were wearing that night was a real statement of intent, because it was exactly the same one you had the night you met yunho. it was still quite nice, a little less revealing than what you've been wearing lately, but sexy enough to fit a night like that. telling chaeyoung something like that would end up driving her crazy, but the truth is that you were wearing it hoping yunho would remember the dress. as you looked at yourself wearing it in the mirror, remembered all the times he told you how beautiful you looked and how much he loved the dress. he even asked you to wear it again several times throughout the relationship, but saved it for a special occasion because it meant so much to you. didn't know why, but that night you needed the confidence that dress gave you. it was probably a mistake, but you would do it anyway.

it wasn't too long before you arrived at the same place that had already visited countless times, and where the story with your ex was awakened with a fuck at the emergency exit of the reserved area. you felt a little better when you let the lively atmosphere captivate you, letting yourself be carried away by the incredibly cheerful and energetic attitude of your best friend, who guided you to the same place as always, where your friends were already waiting.

the first thing you did was apologize to all of them, and especially to seungcheol, who didn't take more than a few seconds to fall for your charms and your puppy face to hug you and kiss your forehead, even though he made you promise not to do something like that to them again "a message is enough. just want to know you're okay". the way it had started, the night had potential. and you could have taken advantage of it; you could have drunk, danced and laughed with the amazing friends you had at your disposal. you could have even tried to meet someone new, like the guy at the bar who had left his number on a napkin he shamelessly gave you, because didn't need one and hadn't asked for, during one of the many times you visited the bar in such a ridiculously short period of time. just like went to the bathroom, to smoke with jeonghan -when you didn't even smoke- and any excuse that was plausible enough and allowed you to browse the place as many times as possible, in search of a single person. of course, your friends asked you if everything was all right, but with the help of chaeyoung, who knew what was going on and didn't want to worry them, you distracted them. it was about one in the middle of the night when you finally saw him appear in the crowd, looking particularly handsome that night. he wore a white yarn sweater, the collar quite wide, revealing his collarbone, beautifully decorated with a couple of necklaces and highlighting the width of his shoulders. his hair was apparently messy, but you knew that he had probably spent a long time in front of the mirror checking every strand, and it had certainly paid off.

you didn't even try to find an excuse to meet him that time. just jumped up and left the reserved area, not listening to any of your friends' questions. from the stairs you could see him reaching a table at the down floor, where a couple of girls were sitting that you didn't remember seeing before. noticed him greeting one of them with a kiss on the cheek, bringing that smell back to your memory, but made sure to ignore the idea that crossed your mind and faded as soon as you saw him looking for you in the reserved area himself. he approached the stairs as you went down, so you decided to wait at the end of them "finally!" you said almost without breaking, sounding a little - too - excited to see him. yunho was about to speak, but your impatience interrupted him with a soft kiss on the lips that was confused to say the least, swallowing his words, not even sure what he wanted to say to you. with a sincere smile, you pulled his wrist to a corner a little further away from his friends and yours, a little further away from the crowd, and while he was still silent, you allowed yourself to kiss him again, leaning your back against the dark wall of the room. took a few seconds for yunho to react, feeling a slight panic sweep through his body, but deciding to surrender to you again. it was much easier to be carried away by your lips, so he brought one of his hands to your waist while cradled your neck with the other to deepen the kiss. felt as if the night before had not ended, as if the truce you had happily signed yesterday had continued to stand against all odds. "took a long time, yuyu" said to him as you separated to get some oxygen. he didn't even open his eyes before kissing you again.

he pressed his body closer to yours, breathing into your lips and making you feel like you're in a damn cloud9. buried both hands in his hair, stroking him as if to calm him, "hi" mumbled over your lips. actually, you didn't even hear it, you guessed it.

"been waiting for you" you confessed, not even thinking about how your attitude let yunho look a little deeper into you. "thought you wouldn't come" he remained silent, looking into your eyes like trying to find something. in fact, he was looking for some sign of remorse, of hatred, of resentment, of anger. some trace of everything you were giving him all this time, but he found in you nothing more than a honest desire to see him. he sighed heavily and took some distance from you, though his hands never left your body, going up to your face to cradle it once more. you held his wrists and smiled sweetly, "don't have a very good face, yuyu" you stated, looking genuinely concerned, "u ok?" yunho felt his chest shrink as the sweetness colored your words.

it was like you were doing it on purpose, as if you were fighting with your last ace to keep him close. he had worked hard to get to this point, he had fought against everything he felt so that would be moderately comfortable with what was about to happen. but it would only be fine if you continued to be a fucking bitch to him, one who didn't seem to care about anything. now that you looked at him as if you really wanted to be with him, as if you cared about his well-being and kissed him so lovingly, how could he say something like that to you? how could he not grab the last burning nail that was your relationship?

"no, i'm not well" he confessed. you took a careful breath and gently changed your sweet expression to a worried one. something was really wrong.

"here, let's sit" you suggest, pointing to the high chairs a few feet away "and maybe i can help you" if he didn't know you well enough, yunho would swear that you were trying to torture him playing with his feelings to trap him in your web so he would never leave you. but in actual fact, you were genuinely concerned about him and wanted to help him. reaching the chairs, without letting go of his hands, you sit facing each other. legs are intertwined, you only have to move a little closer to kiss him again, which you did, "come on sweetie, tell me".

"why 're u treating me so well?" he asked suddenly, almost burning with the torture of having you so close again.

you pursed your lips, tilting your head with a shy smile, "don't know" confessed this time, "yesterday was a nice day, i guess" yunho sighed with the memory of your naked body hugging his all night, making him feel like the fucking worst person in the whole earth.

"i have been waiting for you to look at me like this for a long time" with a weak and deep voice, it comes out almost in a wail "it is not fair that you act like this today" you looked at him with some confusion while he avoided your eyes as much as he could. instead, he look at your body without taking a second to notice what you're wearing. a grimace of sarcasm crossed his face, and he couldn't help but think that what you were trying to do to him must be some kind of heavy joke.

"today? what's happening today?"

"i've been doing the best that i can for about, how long, maybe a year?" his voice rises slightly and you can hear some bitterness in it. by contrast, yunho never lets go of your hands, making the grip harder and focus all the attention on them laying over the dress you are wearing "i have respected your space and accepted all the times you kicked me away" he said, you parted your lips without knowing exactly what to say, feeling more confused by the moment "gave you love whenever u were around, just to make u feel wanted and wash away what i did" you blinked several times, trying to pull your hands away, but he held them firmly, "went where you wanted, when you wanted, even when i knew you were doing with other guys" he sighed heavily, sharpening his gaze and finally looking at you. "needed to see me so fucked up to empathize with me a little? or did you realize that you still love me?"

when he looked into your eyes, you didn't like what you saw. no clue if all that anger and pain had always been there or if something you are missing had happened and yunho was actually in pain. the only thing you were sure about was that your patience was too thin to keep listening to him, and the sarcasm of his words didn't help at all. or did you realize that you still love me?

you yanked hard from his hands, surprising him but managing to escape his grip. denied with a bitter smile before said "let it go, it was a mistake", you said it out loud, but those words were more for you than for him. wanted to leave it there now that you still had some will to have a good night, but suddenly yunho realized he couldn't let you go that easily. the pride he had been swallowing all this time returned all at once and he was not willing to let you be the one to decide the course of the conversation again. yunho had come to this place with a damned purpose, and he was going to fulfill it whether you wanted or not. he stopped you down impulsively, grabbed your wrist and pulled back towards him. almost crashed into his chest, but you reacted quickly and put a hand on his shirt, pushing him back "what's wrong with u?"

"with me!?" he opened his eyes as if you had told him the most savage thing he had ever heard in his life, "the problem here is you!" suddenly yunho grabbed your shoulders and pushed you back against the wall, surrounding you with both arms into a corner so he can look down on you. it felt like you were tiny, and that wasn't what you needed that night, "come to me like you need to see me, kiss me, care about me, and in that fucking dress!" you looked away from him when his breath crash into your face so aggressively, because yunho was yelling, almost out of control and too close for your comfort. caught your breath to regulate the tension in your chest, feeling slightly dizzy. you looked like a prey, trapped under your ex's harsh and unforgiving voice, full of resentment "am a joke to u? wearing this on just to hurt me, yeah?" he growled. despite the toughness of his words, yunho was far from feeling tough inside. he was pushing himself to the limit, trying to contain a huge amount of emotions that he did not know how to handle at a time like this, when he had you in front of him and the person he decided to commit to just a few steps away, waiting for him.

when he got up in the morning next to you, had a feeling that he holds the world in his hands again. he barely slept through the night and made sure to stay close to you as long as possible, watching you as you rested, with your chest rising and falling gently, your peaceful face and your body completely relaxed. no tension, no fighting and no bitterness. you were an angel - his angel -, and he told himself he was the luckiest man in the world to be able to watch such a spectacle. yunho also realized you still had some habits, such as sleeping on your right side - which made yunho get used to sleeping on his left side so he could hug you -; you still talked a bit at night, and still hadn't given up your eagerness to steal his blanket whenever you had the chance. but his favorite, which he treasured as a precious memory, and which he loved to see you kept, was your adorable need to cuddle at night. he wondered more than once if you'd gotten over it because didn't have him anymore, or if you were holding plush animals like you once told him you did before living together. now that he had you there, tied to his torso as if you never wanted him to leave, he was afraid to even breathe too hard in case you moved and let him go. it was hard for him to give in to sleep, but was overly nice to see you again when he woke up. sure, you moved and were no longer holding him, but you were holding his hand. really seemed that you needed any contact with him as much as he needed you to do it.

knowing he must go while you were still asleep, he tempted his fate and stayed for almost an hour. the thought of leaving you was killing him, and his tears were the only witness, but it was better to go for himself than to let you push him again. was certainly sure he couldn't take it after having you this way again. he worked hard to convince himself that it was best to get away from you and trust her. she was good for him, but you weren't, because you could offer him nothing but nostalgia and the ghost of the woman he fell in love with. yunho told himself that the last night you spent together was almost a mirage, a kind of truce he had signed with you, but that it expired as soon as the sun rose on the horizon. so you wouldn't want him there anymore then, not knowing you haven't forgive him yet. he needed to stop blaming himself because you didn't want him anymore, to stop punishing himself with your kisses and your fleeting caresses, no matter how sweet they were. she looked like a white promise at the end of all this agony. couldn't even believe that she was giving him a second chance after what he had done to her for you, but he told himself he wouldn't mess it up this time, that would let you go and that you wouldn't suffer because you were really just playing with him. yunho wouldn't have to see you cry and he wouldn't cry for you anymore.

what he did not expect was to see you the next day in that dress that meant so much to both of us, taking him back to the night you met, while your eyes showed him a genuine illusion to see it again. he could even see the pain in your pupils as his voice, against all odds, became much harsher. he should hate you, but he hated himself instead "yunho, enough. wanna leave".

"oh, u want to go now?" he insisted, making you swallow hard while see him shocking his head many times "please tell me what you want from me" you looked him in the eyes again, an uncertain gaze locked with his. could barely make out the colors of his face in the dim light of the room, but you could clearly see the damage in his look, "can't take it anymore" he almost sobbed, dropping his head down to the floor "i can't keep paying for what i did. need u to stop punishing me, it's not fair to either of us anymore" locked out, the air was missing and could only feel the strong fragrance that yunho wore that night clouding your senses. you tried to concentrate on his words, but they only hurt. it was as if he had hit you so hard that all you could hear was a hollow and annoying sound. yunho kept talking to you, becoming more and more impatient with your silence, and in the midst of all the dull noise, your face began to fall as his words began to sink in. you thought coldly about what he was really telling you and a sour taste grew in your throat. you'd swear you'd fall to the ground if yunho hadn't left you barely space to breathe, intoxicating you with his accusations.

"yunho" mumbled, sealing his lips so he could hear you after trying to get your attention so much "if u don't like it, just leave" your head remained a little bowed, as if the neck couldn't bear the weight, so you looked at him from below "fair, you say?" snorted in denial as you closed your eyes again "know what's not fair? your boyfriend cheating on you, and knowing about it by a pic that someone sent of him kissing that fucking chick. that's not fair" yunho was going to say something, but you cut him off "it's neither fair that you came home the next morning and covered yourself with a lie, not fair that you kissed me with the same mouth that you kissed another girl the night before. that you came home every morning of every weekend without feeling the slightest bit of guilt until i discovered you, that's not fucking fair" yunho stepped back a little, letting you breathe a bit easier "it's also not fair the fact u forced seven fucking people who were also my friends to lie to me to cover up your fucking betrayal" looked at him again "know what it was like for me to lose u and all of them at once? that. is. not. fair" you spitted bitterly, punctuating every word "i saw the person i trusted the most taking away those we considered our friends, and yet you also took away my first love, my home, and everything i felt for u" here they were again, the tears piling up and threatening to wet yunho's cheeks, while you felt like tearing out every piece of yourself, every single night you spent awake missing him. you were now throwing them out in the form of all the conclusions you came to between cries and tears "so if you think what's happening is unfair, you'd better go and leave me alone for good" you were angry, and your words were not what really was in your heart, but weren't able to control yourself in the same way that he wasn't able to. however, also failed to calculate the consequences of what you just said.

"that's exactly what 'm trying to do" he replied, now at a safe distance from you.

"how do u say?" despite the word just spitted, you were incredulous.

"'m leaving you, leaving this" his cold gaze froze your body "i am tired, tired of you" he confessed. didn't even know how you felt at that time, but yunho wasn't finished with you yet "i've met someone, and i think i like this girl, but need to be away from you to find out" that was the masterstroke. the last words he needed to end you, with everything you had built since decided to focus on yourself, everything you had risked to bring him back into your life. even though you had managed to recover from all the hits he had soothed you with his words, there was no turning back from what he had just said so easily.

words sharp as blades pierced your whole body mercilessly, straight from the same lips that kissed you so lovingly just moments ago. you clearly heard something inside breaking again. i'm tired of you. his voice echoed in your head, as if he would never stop shouting it in your ear, over and over again, like a damned mantra he'd decided to tattoo on your skin. yunho knew for real he was being cruel, he watched almost in slow motion how your pride faded away as the light in your eyes started to dim, but he couldn't help his mouth breathing away what his broken heart was crying out.

the strident music fades and instead you only hear this one sentence and a high-pitched sound drowns your eardrums, you have the feeling that they will even start to bleed if you try to say something else, but all your pride has vanished with your breath. you have nothing more to say, and even if you tried, would not be able to hear a single word, so you close your eyes and try to erase yunho from your mind, but of course, his silhouette appears in the darkness of your eyelids, smiling and laughing at you, reminding the horrible person you are. felt so out of place, so confused and lost in a feeling of incorrigible pain, even greater than the first time yunho left, that don't even know how you have returned to the side of your friends. when you figure it out, you're sitting next to them and they're talking to each other as if you weren't there. inside, everything fell apart. on the outside, your face remained blank, almost serene. you craved to scream, wanted to find yunho again and shout him that it was all his fault.

the image of your boyfriend, with whom you even shared an apartment, kissing another girl, along with the certainty that he had been hiding it for god knows when, still burning inside your eyes and were not exaggerating when you said that it was the first time you felt the pain of a betrayal, added to the pain of a broken heart and the sudden loneliness. well, if you had to be completely honest with yourself, you hadn't handled what happened right, and had to admit that you were cruel. but within the pain you felt at that moment, the idea that it was yunho who had broken you to such an extreme, that it was yunho who was wrong first, who broke you and all that you were, shone more brightly in your head.

your gaze wandered from one side to another. the floor, the ceiling, the round table in the center of your seats, filled with full and empty glasses, the distand and happy faces of your friends, seungcheol holding one of your hands and giving you a loving grimace… the neon red of the exit sign where you fell into yunho's arms again.the light soon blinded you slightly, feeling your gaze begin to unfocus as the bright red dazzled you and tears unconsciously welled up at the edge of your pupils. memories of your ex filled your blurred vision, pulling you away from reality and back to the image of his lips on yours, begging you to stay a little longer. his hands craving around your skin, trying to keep you close. now all that was gone. i think i love that girl, but i need to be away from you to know. and to think that you had stayed devoted to his arms, while he sought solace in another girl.

when you were able to refocus your gaze, found yourself looking at yunho's table in the distance. everyone seemed perfectly happy, including your ex, who was hugging who you assumed was the girl that took him away from you, who was winning his heart, the same heart had been your home " honey, is everything okay?" when you heard seungcheol's voice, suddenly realized you are already truly crying, feeling the happiness of those boys as a direct attack on you. why, if you were the victim, were the only one still suffering? "baby, look at me" seungcheol quickly located where your gaze was heading and gently picked up your chin to force you to stop hurting yourself, trying to comfort you with a warm smile and a kiss on the forehead.

"guess 'm not at my peak" you let out a chuckle far from funny and wiped away your tears.

with his thumb, seungcheol caressed your wet cheek and raised both eyebrows "we have two options. i can take you home, you'll take a shower, we'll watch anything on tv and i promise i'll play your hair until you fall asleep if it'll make you feel better" the smile grew natural on your lips, provoking a similar one on his face. he couldn't help it even if he wanted to and he wouldn't; sex or not, you were his best friend and one of the most important person in his life since you both were able to open up to each other, understand each other, support each other and care for each other. he had met many people in his life because he was someone of a social nature, but with you it was a crush in any sense you wanted to take it. he was sure that whatever you could offer him would be enough, because loved you sincerely and would prove it "or you can stay here with all of us, try to enjoy the night and not let anything or anyone else get the better of you" knew perfectly well what his words meant, because he wasn't stupid and no matter how much you had tried to hide it, he clearly saw something big going on with yunho, and confirmed it as soon as he saw you unable to take your eyes off him and that beautiful girl he wouldn't let go even for a stand second "both options are valid and in both i promise not to leave you alone at any time. it's up to you" you took a breath with lips sealed, biting them slightly at your pathetic image going home early for a fucking cheating guy, who was also happily a few meters away enjoying himself after breaking your heart for the second time.

you wondered if you were too naive, if you really didn't know him that well and those looks full of love and pleading he so often gave when you were together were nothing but pure show, a fake better than yours designed to fuck up your life even more. was yunho so cruel, so cold and manipulative? that night, you needed to believe that he was.

"think i can give this place a second chance today" you spoke unsure of your decision, but willing to at least give it a try. yunho couldn't stop you, wouldn't let him, and you knew that seungcheol was ready to help with that.

"that's my girl" he said, kissing your cheek "in that case, i have something for you" you watched as he pulled out his wallet from his denim jacket, showing you a small black baggie that brought a new smile to your face "are you in?"

"sharing is for pretty people" chaeyoung appeared at your back, holding out her hand to seungcheol, who laughed and didn't fail to leave a small white pill in the palm of her hand, but to you he put it straight into your mouth, with a greedy smirk that you were quite used to and that made you slightly fall into his game. you stuck out your tongue slowly, where he left the pearl while looking at your eyes, brushing your tongue with his fingers and listening to him saying again that's my girl but, this time, several octaves lower.

however, cheol didn't move any more cards in that direction with you afterwards, again respecting your boundaries, which you were extremely grateful for. if you had to take it out on your best friend, you didn't want to do it. it seemed like playing dirty, even though you knew for a fact that he'd be more than glad to offer himself to the cause. it wouldn't happen, but his attitude helped to immerse you in the night.

while you waited patiently - as long as you could - for the substances to take effect in your system, you tried to distract yourself with literally anything. smiled, talked to all your friends at the table, joked even with them and tried to laugh heartily when the others did, but your attempts were not enough to contain your fucking curiosity and the inertia to satiate it by looking back to yunho's table.

sometimes, he wasn't there and you could only see his friends, because she was never there if he wasn't. you'd even swear that, on a couple of occasions, yunho looked in your direction too, but couldn't say for sure because, when you got that feeling, you looked away like a fucking coward. the last time it happened, your eyes ran to the bottom of your empty glass, and the need to cover your shame with alcohol fills your patience. obviously, you asked cheol to come to get another drink, and fulfilling his promise, he took your hand and walked with you downstairs to the bar. the crowd was heavy that night, which wouldn't bother you on any other occasion, but on this one felt the anxiety fill your lungs and keep the oxygen out. to make matters worse, a guy a little shorter than cheol walked up to him. you saw them hugging and understood immediately that they hadn't seen each other for a long time "babe, give me a minute. pay for the drinks, today it's on me" he took out his wallet again and put it in your hands "you'll be fine" you nodded with a smile, knowing would be very selfish if you told him otherwise "i'll be right back" cheol kissed your hand lightly before disappearing into the crowd. the thought of running into yunho, that girl or one of his friends hit your mind immediately afterwards, and had to take a deep breath not to run upstairs, because you didn't feel confident enough to face any of them, especially not your damn ex. luckily, you were served quickly and soon had full glasses in hands, so you opened cheol's wallet to pay the bill. that's when you met up again with the little black baggie.

the idea inevitably crossed your mind. looked around to find the people and the music were thick and mingled inside you with heaviness, feeling genuinely overwhelmed and the night didn't seem to be getting any better. although you'd already had one, this time it hadn't had any effect, so maybe… a second pill wouldn't be such a bad idea, would it? before you could think clearly - and realize that it was a terrible idea - you had the pill in your teeth, putting the bag back in seungcheol's wallet, who appeared seconds later accompanied by the same guy from earlier. you sighed, honestly a little uneasy because it was the first time you'd taken two pills in one night, but were too sober to stay on your feet. had run out of any strategy to keep you distracted and your gaze kept coming back to yunho and that damn girl over and over again. you were afraid of being too obvious, starting to cry again, or that some guy in that fucking group would notice you staring at them. "vernon, meet my favourite girl" the presentations were short, but pleasant. you soon find out that he's actually american and has been living there for a while, so it was great to see cheol again, a feeling that soon rubbed off on you. he was a really strange guy, but funny and very, very nice.

after talking to vernon for a while, which really kept you distracted - wouldn't be lying if you said that meeting him was almost a promise that the night could get better - it wasn't long before you finally felt your body react chemically. no clue if it was the fact that you were a little more relaxed, or that the dose was already high enough to have an effect on someone who was already used to a single pill, but suddenly, felt energetic and some kind of adrenaline rush hit you, along with the urge to expend that shot of electricity by partying for real. pulling your new friend along towards the same destination, the rest soon followed, tired from sitting on those leather couches all night. when finally made your way through the crowd of people, the music vibrated through your body, causing you to crack a smile that felt like it would tear at the corner of your lips. you knew yunho was close, but at that moment, didn't give a shit, focusing on nothing but your breathing becoming heavy in your chest as you jumped on the track, your heart pumping so fast that couldn't count the beats even if you wanted to.

at the height of the ecstasy you were experiencing for the first time, it felt like hours had passed, but in actual fact it only took two or three songs for the situation to change radically. in one of your little hops to the music, you clearly felt your knees failing to break your fall, and if it hadn't been for vernon and seungcheol's quicker arms, you would have crashed to the floor along with your glass, which shattered into pieces. it wasn't a big deal, and if you were in your senses, would have laughed at the situation and the fact that had already broken two glasses in one day. but not right then.

right then, you felt like every single look in thet club was falling on you. the hollow sound of glass crashing on the floor deafened you for a moment, and you could only focus on all those judgmental stares on your body, as if they knew you had just fucked up. as if they knew you had been dumped for someone else, that you were high and that, in reality, you would rather have taken cheol's first offer and gone home to rest and cry all the broken feelings pouring out of your heart. your breathing, once heavy, now became scarce. you had to hold on tightly to vernon's arm, who brought both hands to your sides to give you balance "beautiful, are you okay?" cheol asked you and you looked him practically panic-stricken in the eyes. you wanted to say no, that your heart was going too fast but you had no strength in either leg. you then tried to speak, but sickness built up in the pit of your stomach, causing a gag and forcing you to cover your mouth with a hand and only deny it.

seungcheol's reaction was, thankfully, fast. he whispered something in vernon's ear that you couldn't hear and gave you a quick smile before he disappeared running, or trying to, into the crowd. so far, you had been drinking quite a lot and quite possibly too much, so he opted not to waste a second trying to help. you wanted to follow him, confused and increasingly dizzy, but vernon held you tightly and forced a hand around his waist for a better grip "he'll be back. come with me upstairs" spoke in your ear. he broke away, looking at your legs slightly bent under your own weight "can u walk?" you nodded, gripping his waist even tighter before starting to move.

you had never experienced this feeling before. your legs were not responding and could clearly feel your body getting heavier by second, along with the involuntary bouncing of your head, like you had been drinking uncontrollably all night. it got worse as you approached the stairs, each step becoming a world, "there is not much left" vernon said, trying to cheer you up. you could see how was struggling not to fall down the stairs pulling your weight up, and couldn't help but feel stupid and helpless, because your head seemed to be working quite fast, with some clarity, but no part of your body wanted to cooperate. it was only when vernon finally managed to drop you into one of the couches in the reserved area that the fear really took over. every muscle in your body was so numb that you barely felt it, "easy, stay easy, you're fine" vernon knelt down in front of you to be at the height of your face, holding your hands and trying to comfort you. then he approached your face, looking closely at your pupils, trying not to be too obvious. didn't want to think about it, he wanted to be wrong. but either fortunately or not, vernon was quite sure of what was happening to you, and even though he tried to calm you down, because he also knew that it would be much worse if you found out, he was scared, and the deep black that suffocated your iris did not help.

seungcheol finally arrived with several small bottles of water and a tiny towel he had to ask for at the bar. you listened with a certain distance as vernon explained that your body was practically dead and you swore that you could hear your friend's heart racing as he realized how bad it really was at that point. you wanted to ask what was happening, but couldn't find any voice and only had the ability to cry, which you did when you saw cheol giving you a look of panic. he sat down on a chair in front of you and took both of your hands "hey, don't cry, don't cry" he began "i've called chaeyoung, we'll be leaving soon" you nodded in tears "but first u have to be honest with me, okay?" nodded again "did u drink something u didn't buy yourself? or any of us?" you denied this time, cheol sighed in relief "so you drank a lot then?" denied again. well, you actually drank a lot, but not enough to have you that bad.

"cheol, it's not alcohol, she's high" the music still raged in your ears and your senses weren't working properly, but you could hear vernon clearly. his words hit you like a bucket of cold water, making you cry even harder.

"high? like, drugged?" cheol repeated, notoriously confused. he was dead sure he had only given you a single pill, nothing you hadn't done a thousand times before.

"did u give her anything?" vernon denied, "nothing" he spoke honestly, "but these symptoms are not from drinking too much alcohol" vernon's voice was also full of concern, but he spoke with much more confidence than seungcheol. you opened your mouth to say sorry, wanted to tell the truth and apologize for being so stupid and irresponsible, but once again a gag forced you to shut up, sobbing in your seat in defeat as you tightened the grip of cheol's hands.

"what happened!?" you immediately recognized the voice of your friend nearby, and soon the left side of the couches sank, "u okay?" she cradled your face with both hands, getting a bad surprise when she saw the paleness of your skin soaked with tears.

"think it might be an overdose," Vernon spoke, "she've taken something, hasn't she?" your friends nodded.

"but we've done it many times, nothing like this has ever happened before." chaeyoung's voice cracked as she tried to talk to vernon.

"she must have taken something else" he approached your face again, lighting you up with his phone to see that your pupils, which turned your irises practically black, barely reacted to the intense light of the flashlight "for the moment she is awake, but it might be a matter of time before she collapses"

"don't mess with me, man" cheol complained, "we have to call an ambulance"

vernon took a deep breath before he replied "if you do, remember that this is punishable in korea" his voice seemed much more loaded with anxiety "she is not going to get rid of his drug use easily."

"and what should we do? expect the worst!?" chaeyoung was crying. you heard it clearly in her voice, and you felt your heart break for the second time that night, guilt and fear paralyzing any little sense you had left in your body, hating yourself for bringing yourself to such situation.

"of course not!" you felt the other end of the couch sink way, "we need to try getting her to vomit while she still awake"

"are u sure about that?" cheol insisted, but vernon shook his head.

"i'm not, but given the sympthons and her dilated pupils, it might be."

the next event was something you wished with all your might you could wipe from your memory, but clearly it would stay with you forever, as a lesson. the three of them accompanied you, practically dragging your body, to the toilet upstairs. it was chaeyoung who helped you vomit using her own fingers, succeeding after several attempts. the bile and tears stained your face, making you feel miserable in the cheol's arms, who tried to comfort your sobbing. when they succeeded, they sighed with a sigh of relief. chaeyoung hugged you after wiping her hands, and you felt guilty again because you could still smell the stink of your vomit on her. the crying increased as they tried to comfort you, and the worst part is, as you sat on the white bathroom floor, with your head resting on cheol's chest and your other two friends trying to soothe what was obviously pain, the only person you could think of was yunho, hoping that he would somehow find out what was happening, and come to take care of you. "i'm gonna get the water from the table, try to rinse her face while" vernon spoke again.

you heard the door close, and soon after, chaeyoung closed the lock to prevent anyone from seeing you in that situation. cheol tried to lift your body, but, oddly enough, it was even heavier than before. sure you had vomited, as vernon suggested, but you didn't feel any better - the nausea was still there and all the strength in your body was just a memory. all you could do was cry "chae" he called her "chae, it's not okay" the trembling in your friend's voice finally confirming reality, was the last push before anxiety, or panic, or maybe both, took over. you began to hyperventilate, the little air that filled your lungs left and felt a horrible pressure in your chest. your legs were shaking involuntarily and although you could feel your friends holding you up, had no stability at all. you were falling. their voices were still present, calling out to you in sheer terror, lightly patting your face as the lights dimmed. until you could no longer open your eyes. it was barely a couple of minutes, seconds for you and an eternity for your friends, but your consciousness faded for a moment, and your body became completely lifeless. by the time you opened your eyes again, the white light blinded you slightly before could clearly see the face of your friends surrounding you again, swollen and drenched "fuck, she's awake!" cheol practically shouted. you quickly pulled yourself back up, taking a big breath of air before running back out to the toilet to vomit. chaeyoung followed, brushing your hair away from your face as she patted your back. you could still hear her sobbing.

"let's go home" you mumbled, relieving a little more of chae's fear, who was yet to come out of shock at how you had ended up. you, who had always been an angel, who once trembled at the thought of taking something illegal or dangerous, were now slumped over the toilet bowl, messed up and on the verge of something she would have regretted for the rest of her fucking life.

didn't have to ask twice, all of your friends without exception, even including vernon, never left leave your side for a second -genuinely scared after seeing you in such a situation-, left the place. as you dodged the crowd, you thought about what could have happened, and you couldn't even have asked for medical help without ruining your record and destroying your working future in the country. you thought about what had done to your friends, who felt helpless and lost without knowing how and when you had consumed so much as to push yourself to the limit. but most of all, being infinitely selfish, you thought about how the only person you would really want to walk you home that night, to comfort you, to hold you and not let go until the next morning, was yunho. but the only, and the last, thing you got from him after all, was a last glimpse of his arm around that other girl you had been seeing him with all night, without him even giving you a single glance as you left that fucking club.

as you walked away from his figure, blurring through the salt that irritated your eyes, realized something that clicked in your mind like the piece of a puzzle you had been trying to complete for too long, and it is that the bitter taste of failure that agonized in your head and that did not let you breathe was actually the certainty that you had lost the only thing you thought you could still keep from yunho after he betrayed you in that way, after confirmed that he did not love you by doing something like this, that he was not faithful to you, that he was not yours. you had lost the one thing you could still treasure as your greatest and darkest obsession, you had lost his attention.

and with that, you had lost him forever.

OKAY ITS HERE!!! i struggled too much with that part because, although i had been thinking about it for a while, i had no idea how to write it to try to convey a sense of real loss and despair. i hope i succeeded at least a little bit!!! and above all that you enjoyed reading it ♡ although it is the last part, there is still the epilogue!!!!! and i am seriously thinking if it should be a good or bad one... anyway, thank you very much for reading me and giving love to my work, i am infinitely grateful ♡

all the loveeeee

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘♡⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

☆tags☆ @yeosangsbbg @atinyluv238 @livingdeadlisa-blog @kunikku @yzaeseong @pearltinyy @txt-yaomi @tunaasan @honeyhwaaa

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chrisevansonly · 1 year

Text

The Phone Call

Pairing: Harry Styles x Female Reader (Harry's Angel AU🦋)

Summary: The first weeks of your flower shop opening was supposed to be filled with happy memories, not the past coming back to drag you back down...

Warnings: These TW should be taken seriously. Abuse, violence towards reader, mentions of sexual assault, toxic behaviour and foul language towards reader, potential warning of attempted sexual assault, slight? mentions of self-harm, extremely angst filled, will end with comfort and very soft Harry, but majority of this fic is not to be taken lightly

A/N: this fic was intense and hard for me to write, as someone who has been a victim of domestic violence, and sexual assault as well as r*pe, I do not write this with ill intention or to be fun and add a spin to this AU I had to pause a few times which is why this is late, but it brought up memories I didn't really want to remember. Angel although a nickname for female reader, feels like she is a part of me, I feel the pain she experienced first-hand through my own eyes. Her backstory is dark but that doesn’t mean she is bound by it if anything she is a fighter and she is strong. Albeit this was hard for me to write, it was time people got to know her deeper and to know the struggles she went through. I ended up taking out a few really dark parts because I just couldn’t publish it. Anyway, I am here if anyone ever needs anything at all, thank you for the endless support xox – rue

Word Count: 2K+

Standing in front of your own business, the one you’d been planning to start for years was almost like a fever dream for you, it took hours of hard work, long hours, and the dedication you threw into the project from the start. You were blessed to be surrounded by not only an extremely supportive family, but your partner in crime and ever so sweet boyfriend Harry. He would do anything in his power to help you and to see you achieve your dreams, even if it were dreams that reached as high as the stars, he would give you the entire universe to show you how much he loved and cared for you. It was a stark contrast to the love you though you received from Sam your ex-boyfriend, whom you split up with two years ago. Despite the split he had continued to find ways to haunt you whether it was repeatedly getting new numbers to text you, sending letters and gifts to your apartment, hell he even stalked you. When you met Harry that all seemed to stop and you finally found a sliver of peace you could allow yourself to bathe within, Sam’s hold on you dropping enough for you to begin to heal and find yourself after years of abuse.

It was a Tuesday when it happened, Harry’s range rover pulling up to the curb as he dropped you off at the shop, he had a few meetings today but those never stopped him from driving you to work and picking you up, you were his first priority, his angel. You smiled looking at the shop before turning to Harry and smiling

“Thank you for dropping me off love”

He squeezed your hand gently, a radiant smile on his face

“You’re welcome m’angel, I’ll be back to get you around three?”

“That’s perfect, I love you H”

He leaned over to press his lips to yours sweetly, his hands framing your face, one of the many things he did that had your heart pounding

“I love you more”

Unbuckling your seatbelt, you were sure to grab your tote bag with your lunch and the remained of the things you’d need throughout your day. Stepping out you blew Harry one last kiss before closing the door and heading to the shop, Harry made sure to wait until you were inside before pulling away and driving off down the road. The smell of fresh flowers and botanicals filling your senses which only added to your happiness, it was going to be a good day, you could just feel it.

The crowds had been steady throughout the day, people coming in and out, but also leaving enough time for you to get some work done in the back office, any bills you needed to sort out, or companies you had to email back regarding events or inquiries. You’d managed to get the majority of the things you needed done before the bell sounded through the shop, dusting your overalls off and letting out a tired sigh, you stood up and walked out only to freeze when your eyes locked on the man standing by the door

“There’s my firefly…”

It was almost as if someone had unplugged your body from a power source with the way you shut down, your hands tensed at your sides, calculating what your next few steps would be, and how you were going to get out of this situation. The button to press for emergencies like a fire, or burglary that the security company had installed which would also phone Harry, was too far from reach now, and you knew how Sam was, if you freaked and ran to it, he’d get to you first

“What? No words Y/N? I knew you were stupid, but come on”

“G-Get out.”

He nodded and when his eyes locked on yours it was like he was void of absolutely all feeling and emotion…had he always been that way? He said it was your fault. Was he just always this way? Your brain was spinning out of control, your breathing picking up.

“Hmm no, don’t think I will, you owe me.”

Owe him? What could you possibly owe him, the last time you’d seen Sam, he had beaten you within an inch of your life, you were placed in a medically induced coma for almost a month, he’d broken three ribs, fractured your arm and given you a concussion, amongst other things, you were essentially unrecognizable

“I-I don’t owe you anything get out!”

His jaw tensed and you knew he was getting angry; he’d always had a bad temper and that was enough for you to take off towards the far wall to hit the little purple button. The second your finger skimmed the wall you were yanked backwards, and your head smacked the concrete floor, obviously hard enough to fill your vision with black spots, a groan of pain escaping

“I wish you hadn’t of touched that sweetheart, I was here to talk amicably, now I’m not so sure you bitch.”

He straddled over your hips sending a smirk your way as you tried to wiggle enough to get him off, but being already disoriented was not helping you much

“Please, just l-leave me alone…get off me...”

“Aw come on firefly, you used to love this game…used to love when I’d hold you down and make you feel good? Remember? Yeah, you’d fight me so hard…it only made it more fun for me”

You shook your head thrashing as much as you could, you didn’t know if you’d managed to hit the panic button, but god were you hoping you did

“Fuck you Sam.”

His fist came down and slammed into the side of your head twice, the second one enough to snap your nose, evidence from the audible crack that filled your ears. You were gasping in pain at this point, your whole body on fire and screaming in pain

“You ungrateful bitch, I should have beaten you harder back then, maybe now’s my redemption huh? Been a while since that seemingly loud mouths made me feel good, maybe we should put you to work”

The grip he has on your wrists was terrifyingly strong as he continued to hold you there, you couldn’t even look at him, your right eye swelling and tears had started to blur your vision, or was it the throbbing pain in your head? You couldn’t be sure at this point.

“Stupid bitch.”

Sam got up walking around the shop before you started to hear things smashing against the floor, his yelling going unnoticed by you as you weakly pulled yourself into a corner between two workbenches, the flashing purple above you let you know you had in fact hit the button, but you weren’t sure how long it would take anyone to get to you. It sends an alert to Harry as well, but you hoped he wouldn’t notice or wouldn’t come until Sam was long gone. The shouting had stopped for a few seconds before a hand grabbed your ankle and you let out a scream kicking your legs, that only landed you back against the floor with his hands at your neck.

His eyes dark with murderous intent, and in this moment, in this exact second you wished he would kill you, you wished he’d take the life out of your heart. Take the pain from your mind, your body, pull the night terrors you still got out of your head, put your body to rest, where you could find peace for once.

“J-just kill me a-already…”

You had given up in this moment, you were done, you had come to terms with the fact that you might not ever see Harry again, and if the memories you began to think about were the last thing you saw as you took one last breath, then so be it…he had made you so happy in the almost two years you had been together than anyone had ever made you feel within your lifetime. He had added sunshine to your dark days, light to your shadows and warmth to your once frozen and nervous heart, he was the safe space you’d struggled so hard to find, and if you never had that again…it was your time to go then.

Sirens and talking back and forth filled the open space you were sat in, a blanket around your shoulders, your stare on the far wall, only it was like you weren’t there, it was like you were empty. Memories of being so low you’d turn to alternative ways to heal whether it was showering with the water too hot, not eating or leaving marks where no one could see. You never thought you’d fall back into this dark place you clawed your way out of, you don’t even remember when the paramedics or police showed up, and you can’t remember what happened to Sam, but you didn’t care

“Let me through! No-NO I need to see her, please! That’s my girlfriend!”

Harry had just gotten to your shop after receiving the alert on his phone, and the minute he pulled up and saw the first responders he felt his heart fall, he knew something was wrong when you didn’t answer the phone any of the times, he spammed you on the way over. He fought with the police for a while before moving around them and bolting for you, pausing when he kneeled down and noticed just how in shock you were

“Y/N? Angel...? Hey, can you hear me?”

You remained quiet despite your brain yelling at you that Harry had come, that he was here, that you were alive, trying everything to get you to snap back into yourself. Harry had seen this once before, and he thought before gently taking your hands and holding your index fingers to the pulse points on his wrists, noting that you didn’t pull away which was a good sign

“Harry…?”

Your eyes slowly moved to him and despite the blurred version of him, you knew it was your Harry, he was here, holding onto your hands, his eyes filled with traces of panic and worry as he watched you carefully

“I’m here baby, I’m right here, I’ve got you angel, promise”

You couldn’t help the sob of relief that left your lips, the floodgates of emotions finally spilling over after shutting yourself down, despite the pain you still felt you leaned forward, and Harry took you into his chest, holding you tight to his chest, still remaining careful not to hurt you

“I know, I know baby…I’m so sorry, you’re safe now”

“I w-was gonna d-die”

Harry pressed a few kisses to your head, his hands rubbing your back

“You didn’t, I’d never let that happen, I’ll never let anything like that happen again, okay?”

“Promise me…”

“I promise angel, I promise.”

You remained on the floor with Harry, your hands holding onto his sweater tightly before the paramedics advised the two of you to head to the hospital, upon fighting with the medics Harry said he would take you, knowing you needed him now more than ever, and he wasn’t going to let you out of his sights. Seeing you sitting there on the floor with a black eye and blood over your faces, the bruises that littered your once clear skin, sent him over the edge, and he made a promise to himself to never ever let anything like this happen to you again.

If you had of been okay, you would have noticed the blood on his knuckles from punching Sam a few times as he wandered out of the shop with the police, thankfully who let Harry off with a warning. He would have killed him for you, but now his one and only goal, was getting his love healthy, getting her home to where she would be safe, and being there for her in any way I could. Poppy your older sister was already on her way from London but knowing you wouldn’t want your parents to know he told Poppy to handle that, which she was more than happy too. You were his whole entire world, and seeing you fall asleep in the passenger seat as he sped to the hospital, and knowing the pain you were in, was something he would never forget, it was a memory even to this day that harbours his thoughts.

He knows if he’d have lost you that day, his world, his universe, his everything would have come to a halt, and he wouldn’t have known what to do. Which is why he loves on you every second he gets, checks in every minute he can, and fills your life with as much sunshine and warmth as he can, because he’d do anything for his angel.

#harry’s angel au🦋❤️‍🔥#harry’s angel🦋❤️‍🔥#harry’s angel headcannons🦋❤️‍🔥#harry styles x angel 🦋#harry styles & angel 🦋#rueswrites #ruesanswers #ruesfriends💙#harry styles x reader #harry styles x female reader #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles #harry styles x y/n #harry styles angst #harry styles x girlfriend reader #harry styles x fem!reader #harry styles x florist reader

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fear-less · 2 months

Text

Taylor Swift song master-list

info: i write fics inspired by Taylor’s songs, i’m planning on making most, if not all, of her songs into fics.

feel free to request for any song:3

——————————————————————————

taylor swift (debut)

tim mcgraw

picture to burn

teardrops on my guitar

a place in this world

cold as you

the outside

tied together with a smile

stay beautiful

should’ve said no

mary’s song - fred weasley x reader

our song

i’m only me when i’m with you

invisble

a perfectly good heart

——————————————————————————

fearless

fifteen

love story

hey stephen

white horse - sirius black x reader

you belong with me

breathe

tell me why

you’re not sorry

the way i loved you

forever & always

the best day

change

jump then fall - harry potter x reader

untouchable

come in with the rain

superstar

the other side of the door

today was a fairytale

you all over me

mr. perfectly fine

we were happy

that’s when

don’t you

bye bye baby

if this was a movie

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speak now

mine

sparks fly

back to december

speak now

dear john

mean

the story of us

never grow up

enchanted

better than revenge

innocent

haunted

last kiss

long live

ours

superman

electric touch

when emma falls in love

i can see you

castles crumbling

foolish one

timeless

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red

state of grace

red

treacherous

i knew you were trouble

all too well

i almost do

we are never ever getting back together

stay stay stay

the last time - james potter x reader x regulus black

holy ground

sad beautiful tragic

the lucky one

everything has changed

starlight

begin again

the moment i knew

come back…be here

girl at home

state of grace

better man

nothing new

babe

message in a bottle

i bet you think about me

forever winter

run

the very first night

safe and sound

all too well (10 min ver)

——————————————————————————

1989

welcome to new york

blank space

style

out of the woods

all you had to do was stay

shake it off

i wish you would

bad blood

wildest dreams

how you get the girl

this love

i know places

clean

wonderland

you are in love

new romantics

“slut!”

say don’t go

now that we don’t talk

suburban legends

is it over now?

——————————————————————————

reputation

…ready for it?

end game

i did something bad

don’t blame me

delicate

look what you made me do

so it goes…

gorgeous

getaway car

king of heart

dancing with our hands tied

dress

this is why we can’t have nice things

call it what you want

new year’s day

i don’t wanna live forever

——————————————————————————

lover

i forgot that you existed

cruel summer

lover

the man

the archer

i think he knows

miss americana & the heartbreak prince

paper rings

cornelia street

death by a thousand cuts

london boy

soon you’ll get better

false god - harry potter x reader

you need to calm down

afterglow

me!

it’s nice to have a friend

daylight

all of the girls you’ve loved before - james potter

——————————————————————————

folklore

the 1

cardigan

the last great american dynasty

exile

my tears ricochet

mirror ball

seven

august

this is me trying

illicit affairs

invisible string

mad women

epiphany

betty

peace

hoax

the lakes

——————————————————————————

evermore

willow

champagne problems

gold rush

‘tis the damn season

tolerate it

no body, no crime

happiness

dorthea

coney island

ivy

cowboy like me

long story short

closure

evermore

right where you left me

it’s time to go

—————————��————————————————

midnights

lavender haze

maroon - fred weasley x reader

anti hero

snow on the beach

you’re on your own, kid

midnight rain

question…?

vigilante shit

bejeweled

labyrinth

karma

sweet nothing

mastermind

the great war

bigger than the whole sky

paris

high infidelity

glitch

would’ve, could’ve, should’ve

dear reader

hits different

you’re losing me

——————————————————————————

the tortured poets department

fortnight

the tortured poets department

my boy only breaks his favorite toys

down bad

so long, london

but daddy i love him

fresh out the slammer

flordia!!!

guilty as sin?

who’s afraid of little old me?

i can fix him (no really i can)

loml

i can do it with a broken heart

the smallest man who ever lived

the alchemy

clara bow

the black dog

imgonnagetyouback

the albatross

chloe or sam or sophia or marcus

how did it end?

so high school

i hate it here

thanK you aImee

i look in peoples windows

the prophecy

cassandra

peter

the bolter

robin

the manuscript

#fear-less

4 notes · View notes

ladyvesuvia · 3 years

Note

babe- yes. nobody's stopping you. do it. oh your asking me who? harry. him and you like this in ootp/hbp. ootp were he's tired of everything and snaps at you, and or hbp were he unintentionally ignores you because of the book and you get tired of his 'strange' behavior and you snap at him for not being a good boyfriend- i'll leave it there, you finish it <3

Letdown Countdown

PAIRING: Harry Potter x Fem!Reader

SUMMARY: When loving becomes tiring. || kinda based on this scene and this.

WORDS: 4.1k

WARNING(S): cursing, arguments, angst

A/N: lyn, baby, thank you for this request. i needed angst. i’m so sorry this took long but here it is jsjdiw i hope it’s what you had in mind ;)) || also experimenting with a different writing style kfjrieiw

[NAVIGATION] [MASTERLIST]

It’s ten o’clock in the morning.

It’s a good day. She sees the disheveled boy in the doorway, his eyes watching everyone in the room curiously and all logic goes out and her arms are around him, tears of relief streaming down her face as she laughs more to herself than to anyone in particular. He’s angry, his eyes filled with something far from tears — he is furious. Angry, even.

But it’s still a good day, it always will be if he’s within reach. It’s still a good day even when he’s mad. After all, he has every right to be; the luxury of feeling is what the world owes him if not the truth. She could only watch as he said everything he’s been keeping to himself.

It was hard to get him alone the next couple of days, but she finally had the chance on one late night when they both found themselves seated in the table, glasses of water right in front of them.

“You’re a year older,” she says, not wanting to throw him off with the same worried questions everyone’s asked the days before. “I think that’s cool.”

“It’s haunting, really,” he says with a laugh to relieve whatever tension sat between them. “Sorry I was a bit — you know — when I first came back.”

“A bit salty? Yeah, that’s alright,” she says as well, and soon the two laughed together. For her, it wasn’t hard to love Harry. Not when he looked at her in the way she had always wanted to be looked at; not when on the off chance that he does smile, he happens to be the only thing she wanted to see. “Sorry I didn’t write to you — not that I didn’t want to. We weren’t allowed to tell you much, you know.”

She looks at her wristwatch. Surprisingly, nine p.m. has long passed.

“I know, I'm sorry.”

Silence again. She reaches out to hurriedly sip on her glass of water, watching him through the glass end of the cup. He’s staring at the fireplace, seemingly oblivious to her gaze and so she sets down her glass and turns to him with a smile.

“Hey, what’s bothering you?”

He only shakes his head in response and tells her it’s nothing.

“Come on,” she says, digging her hands into her pockets. A lint comes out, and so she searches her other pocket. “Listen,” she starts again, “I’d give you a penny so I could say ‘penny for your thoughts’ and the next best thing would be ‘nickel for your thoughts’ but I only have a sickle so . . . sickle for your thoughts?”

That smile again.

“That surely sounds better than a dime for my thoughts and I normally don’t take prices for my worries but . . . I’ll take it.”

“Perfect,” she says, tossing the tiny coin she got from her pocket to the table. He puts his hand on the coin, sliding it off the edge of the said table and slipping it into his own pocket. “Shoot.”

He talked and she listened — it’s a good day.

She’s there for him, she always is.

Harry and [Y/N]. It’s always been this way for as long as she can remember. Despite the defeats they constantly face, she loves him just as she loves the first time they shared that knowing look in a room full of people. She loves everything, especially the day they became each other's on that one fated night of the Ball, young love being more than just young love. It is love; it is love whenever she catches him looking for no valid reason at all. Love is everything in between.

She loves that he constantly looks after the people around him. She loves that he's spontaneous, that you never know what he's going to do next. She loves that he's hers, just as she's his.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

“How many dreams now?” she asks him.

“Eight, give or take.” Harry shifts in his seat, adjusting his glasses to have something to do. She knows it’s more than that.

“You have to keep taking Occlumency with Snape, you have to tell Dumbledore!”

“I always have to do things, don’t I?” he says, but he’s staring at the fireplace, eyes unfocused. There’s no answer to that. At least, none she could answer.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

“Maybe it's just a trick,” she says in panicked breaths as Harry rummages through his trunk for his cloak. He isn't so fond of this suggestion, and she knows it. “Harry, listen to me.” She reaches out to touch his wrist, but he only shakes it away.

“A trick?” he spats bitterly, facing her with a scowl on his face. “My godfather could die, [Y/N]. Think about it! He might be. . .” She knows what he's worried about. “I just need to check, alright? I need to check. I need to get to that fireplace now. What, I’m s’pposed to let seven days pass and be a helpless child? Just — for once, could you please just let me be? Can you do that just this once?”

She loves that he constantly looks after the people around him, loves that his loved ones are his topmost priority.

There's nothing else she could do, and so she nods. She wants to tell him to not do it, that she could see all the many ways this could go wrong, but she knows he has a clear idea of what he's getting himself into. “Okay,” she says under her breath. “But I want to help.”

He looks like he's about to argue, but he eventually gives in and nods, albeit hesitantly. She could've sworn she saw a shadow of guilt cross his face as they left the common room.

Then came the time for them to ride the thestrals. She could feel all the hair stand up on her neck, but she looks at him and a bit of her fear melts away. She’s beyond terrified, but she trusts him. They exchange a knowing look before leaving, and it was enough to give her the push.

She loves that he's spontaneous, that you never know what he's going to do next.

And they kick off the ground.

They were going to what could possibly be their own deaths, but he isn’t scared, so why should she be?

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

It's a good day again. He's playing with her hands in the comfort of the Burrow as she talks about all the things they couldn’t fit in this different world. She kisses his hand in return, laughing at how his glasses rests askew on the bridge of his nose. He doesn’t want to talk about the events that transpired months ago, and so they do not talk of what happened in the Ministry. He doesn’t want to, and she respects that.

She loves that he's hers, just as she's his.

Now they're in Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes. She's walking down the shelves with him for a minute, and he's gone the next. It's okay, she says to herself. He's probably with Ron and Hermione.

She finds it surreal that they're in the same place they’ve always been in years before, only that they’re here for their sixth year. They become older and older but today is similar to their second year; for in the length of Great Hall, he's nowhere to be found, and she's not sure if he wants to be. The answer to this was answered some time later when Harry slipped in accompanied by none other than Professor Snape, who appeared to be taking pride in the pathetic attempt at furtive glances being thrown in the young boy's way. He then takes his seat next to Ron, appearing to be disgruntled.

Later that night, she asks him what's wrong, but he only shakes his head in response. She leaves him be.

On the surface, they're alright. Some may comment on the lack of what was once there, but they appear alright nonetheless; he walks with her shoulder up to shoulder from this class to another, exchanging curt and brief words with each other. We are alright, she keeps telling herself more often than she should. We’re alright.

“See? I told you you’re meant to be an Auror,” she tells him after finding out about his success. “You never listen to me, Potter.”

He just nods, but she doesn’t mind. His head’s on her shoulder, and who is she to complain? She strokes his hair gingerly, feeling his breathing on her arm. She lets her hand fall down to touch his, and she plays with five of his fingers.

They’re the only people in the Gryffindor common room, and possibly in the whole world for the only sound she could hear was the steady flickering of the flames. It’s a good night.

It’s their first class with Slughorn, and she watches curiously as he hands Harry and Ron secondhand books. She thinks about the Felix Felicis and how little she could make out of it. Harry seems to think otherwise; she tries to catch his eye in hopes of asking how he’s doing but he’s only focused on his own cauldron.

She watches him.

She watches as he grins in triumph over his prize. Hermione doesn’t seem pleased, and Ron is curious more than ever, and so is she.

She wants to ask him about the book, but knew pushing it any further wouldn’t end up well. They’ve been together ever since that lovely fateful night of the Yule Ball, but they’ve been friends long before; long enough to know he wants to be alone.

Harry comes back tired in every time he returns from Dumbledore’s office, a weight on his shoulders always heavier than the last time. Maybe it’s far too heavy for him to do so much as smile. She lets this slide as she walks with him side by side on their way to Potions again.

“Didn’t you get your new book today?”

“Hm? Oh, er — yeah. Right here.” He holds up the book to her eyes. She sees the yellowed paper edges of the book, but doesn’t bother to mention it. If he wants to tell her, he will.

Whenever that is.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

“Sickle for your thoughts?” she asks, holding out a small coin during that dreadful night after the Katie Bell incident. Harry only shakes his head, staring at the fireplace. She drops the coin on the table, throwing a scowl at the book for Potions as she prepared to take her leave.

“Where’re you going?” Harry asks. “Are you mad at me?”

“No,” she answers. “Just tired.”

“I’m tired, too,” he says in a tone she assumes is accusatory. “I just want a break from all of this but I can’t.”

She wants to say more, but doing so would make it all real. “I know, Harry,” she says. “I know.”

She’s about to leave but he stands up from the couch to wrap his arms around her and press a kiss on her hair. “I’m sorry.”

“What for?” she says with a sigh, raising her hand to stroke his arm.

He doesn’t answer this question, possibly out of knowing it isn’t wise to do so, but she thinks it’s far from that. She knows he doesn’t know what he’s apologizing for, but she lets him talk. “I’ll make it up to you.”

“You don’t have to, it’s okay.” It isn’t. She could tell him right now that she’s tired of this and everything else in between, but she doesn’t. Her lips tremble as she talks, as if this alone is the most tiring moment of her life. She breaks away from him, not looking him in the eye as she bid him goodbye. “Goodnight, Harry. Sweet dreams.”

She tossed and turned in her bed until four in the morning when she realized there’s no hope in trying to sleep.

She keeps her eyes glued to the ceiling, but this is all for naught. It turns out telling yourself everything otherwise is a waste of good time, for it does nothing to keep her thoughts at bay.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

The days pass by quickly, and the only thing she finds herself doing is watching the three of her friends fall apart. Harry kept to himself, but never away from that book.

It’s alright, she tells herself for the umpteenth time. He needs space. But just how much does he need?

As Lavender Brown walks past, she couldn’t help but envy the girl. Her and Ron are always on each other’s faces, and although it isn’t pleasing to look at, she wishes to have what they have. She used to have that with Harry, maybe even better. Oh, for sure it was better, and it was always a good day.

When was the last time they talked?

No, she shouldn’t question anything. He’s just busy with his noble quests and all that.

She wouldn’t add up to his piles and piles of problems, and so she only silently glides into the couch occupied by none other than Harry himself, sitting down next to him. They’re staring at the fireplace as if it’s the only thing living in the world.

“Sickle for your thoughts?” she asks with a smile.

“Not right now,” he tells her, not even looking her way. He doesn’t see her eyes reddening, her throat locking, tears threatening to dance of their own accord down to her cheeks. He only sees her nod as she slips away once more, only this time he doesn’t call after her.

There’s no easy way to tell a story such as this: She cries; she cries for the young love she thought she had. She weeps for the fun they had. It’s death without a funeral, death of a love she had yet to learn. But then again, it’s only puppy love, is it not? Isn’t that what they call it?

The girl wipes her tears away.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

He’s running, sweat trickling down from his temple to his neck. He rushes to Ron, asking to borrow his book.

“Harry?”

He immediately stuffs Ron’s copy of their book for Potions inside his bag.

“Harry,” she says in an attempt to catch his attention.

“What now?”

She flinches, but she doesn’t stop. “What happened?”

“This spell, I tried it and — just — I can’t explain it!”

“Is this from your Prince guy again? Harry, I told you this was never—”

“Never a good idea. Yeah, tell me something I don’t know.”

“Harry,” she breathes, and Ron’s watching them uncomfortably. Harry doesn’t even spare her a look before leaving. He simply dashes out of the room, bag in hand, his cloak dancing behind him.

The next time he saw him was the night after Gryffindor won, and they were seated once again in the common room, just the two of them like always.

She’s doing an essay for Potions on the table.

“I just remembered it’s our anni—” He takes a seat across from her, and she immediately stands up, the chair creaking backward. He looks up at her with a confused expression.

She begins to pack her stuff: Her quill, her ink, her half-filled parchment paper, her—

“[Y/N],” he starts. “[Y/N], what’s wrong?”

She doesn’t respond.

Her wristwatch tells her it’s one in the morning. The number one; it’s quite possibly the saddest number to exist, not even zero itself could amount to how alone one is. To be nothing would be better than to be alone, and she was every bit as deserted as the number one is.

“[Y/N], what’s your problem? Tell me,” he says, following her as she begins to shut her bag close. He takes her copy of Advanced Potion Making from the table, for she seems to have forgotten about it. “[Y/N], you forgot your—”

She snatches the book from him. “I know.”

“What’s your problem? [Y/N], you’re making me look like a fool here. [Y/N], what? What do you want? What, you’re tired? You want out?” He continues to follow her, his voice raising. “Come on, tell me. Are you tired? Do you want to end this right now? Do you—”

“Yes!” she spats in a fit of anger, her eyes bloodshot. “Harry, I am very, very tired!”

“What, you think I’m not? I lost people I love, [Y/N]. This whole thing is bigger than us whether you like it or not — I DON’T. You think we could have a normal relationship in a normal world? Think again!”

“This is the problem with you — you never want to let people in because—”

“Because I feel responsible for them, [Y/N]! Don’t you see? They’re throwing this Chosen One crap on me and expect me to save everyone and if I can’t, I’m the bad guy. And my friends! You, Ron, Hermione — every single person I know isn’t safe! And I hate that I can’t do anything about it, now will you please just. . .”

But she’s not listening anymore. She only watches as he continues on talking until she couldn’t take it anymore. She raises her hand, slapping him across the face.

It was silent once more.

"You don't see this working out, don't you?" she breathes out.

She loved that he constantly looks after the people around him. She loved that he's spontaneous, that you never know what he's going to do next.

She hiccups, and she couldn’t catch her breath. She doesn’t know what to say, and her lips are talking on its own accord. “Why can’t you take care of yourself for once? Why do you always have to be the stupid hero? What, you can’t ask me how I’m doing, can’t remember what this day means to us but this!” Laughing mirthlessly, she waves the book in front of him and begins to hit it against the couch beside her repetitively. “You always have time for this — stupid — fucking — book! This stupid prince of yours! Now look where it got you!”

She throws the book onto the floor stomping on it as she cried. She doesn’t care if she looked like a mere child throwing a tantrum. She’d been holding this back long, long ago.

“That’s your book,” he says, pointing it out as he puts his hand up to his cheek.

“Of course it is, because you just had to hide your own, don't you? Because it’s so precious to you!” She couldn’t breathe.

She leaves her items on the floor and storms to the couch, her hands obscuring her face. It was silent for a long while.

“Are you tired?” he asks, gently this time.

She nods, sniffing.

“Do you want out?”

“Harry,” she chokes out, her breath hitching. “I feel like” — she coughed — “I feel like I’m wasting my time on this. Like it’s more of a chore than something I want to do.”

“You don’t love me anymore?” he says under his breath, still not moving from the spot from which she had slapped him. He's not sure if he wants to know.

She wipes the tears from her face, turning around from her seat to look at him. She looks back down on the floor. Merlin, she must be looking like a mess right now.

“I love you, Harry,” she says. It doesn't help that this is the first time she's ever told him this, and looking down on the floor in an attempt to avoid him doesn’t make it any easier. “I love you more than anything I’ve ever loved, but I’m just so tired. I loved that you're mine and I'm yours but Merlin's beard, nothing has ever been this tiring before. I’m tired of telling everyone we know that everything is well, tired of assuring myself that every time we see each other maybe by some miracle you’d try a little bit harder — just a little bit — but I'm just tired of. . .everything.”

“Are you tired of me?”

She doesn’t answer, but he has a feeling he knows the answer to this. He watches her curiously as her back shudders from the crying.

“Do you want to end this now?”

She’s doesn’t answer again, and he takes her silence as a yes.

"Do you want out?"

"Please, just go," she says in between her sobs. "Please go."

“Consider it done.” He bends down to fix her stuff on the floor and with one last look at her, he swallows the lump forming in his throat, making his leave, leaving her alone until she fell asleep with the dancing flames emanating from the fireplace her only company for the night.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

It's her turn to walk down the aisle and as she does so, she makes sure to not look at the groom's Best Man who, on the other hand, couldn't tear his eyes away from the girl approaching his end. He thinks of how different things could've been. . .

She stands not so far away from where Hermione will stand, and across from her is Harry himself. For once, she's glad Ron is tall enough to obscure him from view, but she keeps her eyes trained to the arch nonetheless, waiting for Hermione to walk in in a dainty and beautiful white dress. The Burrow's still, the tall grass dancing along.

Hermione walks the length of the dolled up lawn of the Burrow. It's a good day; everyone wears smiles on their worn out faces, for all the events that had occurred a while back has taken its toll on them, but here they all stand.

By the time Hermione reached the end, [Y/N] kept her eyes glued to Hermione this time, more than happy for her best friend.

Later at the reception, music played and as per request from the groom's mother, one of Celestina Warbeck's songs. All the people stood up to dance except for a pair in a certain table, both parties of which shifted uncomfortably in their seats.

And a sudden thought occurred to her: Maybe, just maybe, one doesn’t have to be a sad number. Their eyes meet for the first time in a long time, and it’s one of a kind; the now is not as unfortunate and bitter as it once was.

It’s just the two of them in the table, but it’s comfortingly familiar. He stands up from his seat to occupy the vacant chair beside her.

“Sickle for your thoughts?” he asks, a nostalgic smile playing on his lips.

“That sounds better than a dime for my thoughts and I normally don’t take prices for my worries but I’ll take it.”

He tosses a tiny coin on the table. She puts her hand over it, pulling it over the edge and holding it out in front of herself. “This isn’t a sickle,” she tells him, showing him the nickel.

“Well, ‘Nickel for your thoughts’ doesn’t sound right anymore because I got too used to the first one.”

“Me too,” she says. “I got used to it, too.”

“Well? I paid you a Nickel. Where’s my purchased thought?” he teases, and they’re both laughing just like they just did not so long ago. Just as they’re used to the sentiment of the Sickle, they’re used to each other; seeing the other smile, making the other smile, just. . .each other.

“Well, I was just thinking about how lonely it is to simply sit among a busy crowd."

He stands up, adjusting his tie as he did so. He then offers his hand to her. “Er — dance?” he says, quoting what he'd said long, long ago at the Yule Ball.

“Dance,” she replies, taking his hand without a second thought, and they just danced just like everyone else. From a distance, they'd only notice the main stars of the day — the groom and the bride. But between Harry and [Y/N], they're the only people once more. Nobody says anything, and both did not mind the other's company.

They don't speak of the times they almost lost each other, nor of the time they gave up on what they had, no. Because right now, as far as anyone's concerned, the only thing to say is that it's a good day — better, even.

And hopefully there'd be more to come.

A/N: kvlsjlvjwwo omfg finally finished this!!! i hope y’all paid attention to the numbers hAHAHAHAHA u can kinda tell i rushed the ending i’m sorry

Taglist: @gingerale2017 @maybanksslut @hey-there-angels @mrzweasley @gwlvr @booksarealwaysbettersworlds-blog @greenlyblue @henqtic @badass-yn @meiitanoia @gaycatlord-stuff @awakendevildays @crazy-beautiful @mistress-riddle @adoreyou976 @catching-the-train-to-hogwarts @rowena-ravenclaws-diadem @sfdlm

#ves.writes #ves.writes harry potter #harry potter #harry potter x reader #hjp #harry james potter #harry potter x fem!reader #harry potter x reader angst #harry potter x y/n #harry james potter angst #hjp angst #harry potter angst #harry potter headcanon #harry potter imagines #harry potter x fem reader #harry potter x fem!reader angst #harry potter masterlist #harry james potter masterlist #hp

881 notes · View notes

hlficlibrary · 3 years

Photo

There are lots of great long fics in this fandom and it’s time they get some more appreciation from us readers! I’ve put together a list of fics that are from 150K up to 365K! (100K - 149K coming soon)

♡ Hiding Place by @alivingfire

Louis never wanted a soulmate, didn’t really care for the whole Bonding thing at all, really. Enter Harry Styles, who’s wanted to be Bonded for as long as he could remember. With one fateful meeting in an X Factor bathroom, Louis gets a dagger on his arm and the realization that just because Harry is his soulmate doesn’t mean it’s mutual.

From the X Factor house to Madison Square Garden, from the Fountain Studios stage to stadiums across the world, Louis has to learn to love without losing himself completely, because someday his best friend will Bond to someone and replace Louis as the center of his universe. Meanwhile, Harry begins to think that maybe fate doesn’t actually know what it’s doing after all, because his other half has clearly been right in front of him the whole time. All he has to do now is convince Louis to give them a chance.

Or, the canon compliant Harry and Louis love story from the very beginning, where the only difference is that the love between them is literally written on their skin, and there’s only so much they can hide.

365K / Soulmates / Canon Compliant / Slow Build / Friends to Lovers

♡ Relief Next To Me by Dolce_Piccante

What happens when a baker and a graphic designer meet via a very specific Craigslist post? Fate, friendship, food, and maybe more.

333K / Friends With Benefits / Friends to Lovers / Lots of Smut

♡ all we can do is keep breathing by @avocadolouie

“Harry, I-I’m so sorry…” Louis stutters out, trying to keep his voice level and even, to portray a depiction of strength, but with the way Harry is looking at him, staring at him like he has a personal passage way straight to Louis’ soul, it’s so hard, nearly impossible.

That simple opening phrase, that short introductory acknowledgement that is often rushed out so easily, painlessly, at a safe distance. Giving a doctor the ability to portray empathy without true emotion, without feeling the full brunt and sheer force of the underlying pain itself.

But Louis feels it, he feels the crushing agony laced behind the phrase, he feels the weight of the painful words slipping from his lips, the cause and effect that the three-word expression holds. The distantly empty “I’m so sorry” that doctors throw out in self-preservation, isn’t at all empty for him. Louis recognizes it, he understands it, he feels it.

a fated story of two broken and battered boys who barely survived the unimaginable and how the love of one little brave girl defies all the odds and somehow puts them back together.

310K / Greys Anatomy AU / Doctor Louis / Father Harry / Slow Burn

♡ Time Bomb by ThisSentimentalHeart

“Why exactly are you here?” Louis asked, feigning annoyance and failing pathetically at it. “My publicist told me I can't go anywhere near you.” Harry said, eyes still smudged with last night's eye liner. “That makes you my favorite person in the world.”

Or the one where Louis has everything: a lead role in a giant Hollywood franchise, a glittering new house with an entertaining Irish neighbor, and a steady, normal boyfriend who he probably loves. Louis never expected to become a household name among young Hollywood overnight. He also never expected to find something endearing about the enigmatic rockstar who keeps showing up on his back porch.

291K / Friends to Lovers / Actor Louis / Rockstar Harry

♡ Join Me In The Afterlife by @harryeatsburger

Harry looks at him, his eyes narrowing as an amused, coy smile creeps onto his lips. "They say it’s haunted. Loads of rumours are going around town," he chuckles and rubs below his nose, giving a single shoulder shrug.

Louis laughs breathily. "I mean…" he draws the word out, his gaze bouncing around the room, "I kinda get it," he settles on saying, recalling last night when it was quiet, his room shadowed and set in silvery moon light, giving it a haunted kind of appearance.

Harry’s eyebrows shoot up, perplexity colouring his pale face. "Do you?"

Or, the one where Louis is a simple guy - all he wants from his summer break is to spend some quality time with his mother, get to know her new husband, and learn to play the guitar. Nothing out of the ordinary, that is for sure. However, life has a funny way of working and when Louis finds a strange boy sitting on his bed one sunny day, his summer break takes a turn for the better (or worse) when he discovers a ghost has stolen his heart from the get-go.

262K / Angst W Happy Ending / Ghost Harry / Youtuber Louis

♡ pray for some sweet simplicity by @eeveelou

Louis is the only omega to ever make it in the cut-throat world of competitive motorcycle racing—that is, he would be if anyone actually knew about his identity. Now, his sights are set towards competing in—and winning—the European Grand Prix, the biggest and most difficult race of the entire year, so he can disappear underground for good. He’s close enough, too, until an alpha sports journalist is assigned to follow Louis’s every move as he prepares for the event of his career.

Or, an AU where motorcycle racing is the biggest sport in a heavily divided world, Louis is trying to take control of his own destiny, and Harry is in for more than he bargained for.

237K / A-B-O / Enemies to Lovers / Racer Louis / Journalist Harry

♡ Young & Beautiful by Velvetoscar

Louis, to his horror, attends an elitist university in which the name Zayn Malik means something, Niall Horan doesn't stop talking, there are pianos everywhere, and Harry Styles, only son of a drug-addled, clinically insane ex-rocker, has a perfect smile and empty eyes.

227K / Uni AU / Enemies to Lovers / Slow Burn

♡ Collision by @tequiladimples

Mythology/Fairytale!AU in which Louis is a dainty fairy with a temper who wants to be intimidating and Harry hurts people. Naturally, they hate each other.

(Featuring Liam, the big and not-so-bad wolf who’s got a thing for humans, Zayn, a human with supernaturally good looks, and Niall, the cupid who just wants his job to be easier.)

226K / Uni AU / Slow Burn / Enemies to Lovers

♡ A Little Love by felixandtae

Harry and Louis are best friends, and when Harry's boyfriend breaks up with him, he's instantly depressed. Louis hated seeing him this way, so one thing leads to another and they wind up sleeping together, which causes a lot of problems.

Or, where Harry gets heartbroken, so Louis tries showing him love, but a bump is in the road. Literally.

220K / Friends to Lovers / Mpreg / Pregnant Harry

♡ there’s no fair in farewell by @so-why-let-your-voice-be-tamed

When Harry and Louis, two Cupids who have been bringing people together for decades, are tasked with making Soulmates Liam and Zayn fall in love, it proves to be much harder than expected. But maybe, just maybe, that isn’t such a bad thing after all.

218K / Soulmates / Friends to Lovers / Angst w a Happy Ending / Slow Burn

♡ Stranger Stars by @sunshineandhisrainbows

Five years ago, Africa offered a grieving Louis Tomlinson an escape from an England he couldn't tolerate. Now it's become home as he leads overland tours across the continent with his best friend and driver Zayn Malik. What's meant to be just another ordinary six-week trip from Cape Town to Nairobi turns into anything but, when future lawyer/current photographer and songwriter Harry Styles and his friends join Louis' latest set of passengers.

212K / Road Trip / Slow Burn / Friends to Lovers

♡ Shake Me Down by @agreatperhaps12

Harry's new to college, fresh out of Catholic school and conversion therapy camp, and Louis runs the campus LGBTQIA organization.

208K / College AU / Insecure Harry / Protective Louis

♡ Cold Little Heart by @seduced-by-curls

Louis is a soft omega with an abusive past and an alpha child A few months after getting a divorce, Louis meets Harry, an ex-military alpha wolf that offers him something -odd.

In exchange for teaching him how to cook, Harry will babysit his son, Abraham Louis really could use the help.

194K / A-B-O / Single Parent Louis / Ex-Military Harry / Babysitter Harry

♡ Lucky Ones by @chloehl10

Harry doesn’t believe love is on the cards for him. Louis just wants someone to love him for him and not what he can do for them. Together they learn what love and trust is all about while having a little (or rather, a lot) of fun along the way.

188K / Famous - Not Famous / Famous Louis / Student Harry

♡ Three Days In February by @mercurial-madhouse

“We have to get out of here, outside,” Harry whispered, turning his hand in Louis’s grip to hold on and pull them both to their feet. “And how do we fucking do that?” Louis hissed, carefully rising and pulling Harry to his feet before Harry could do it. His gaze darted to the front then back of the arena. “None of the doors are where they’re supposed to be.” “What?” Harry looked around again too, couldn’t see any doors, only knew that they must be there, somewhere. “How do you know?” Confusion slid over Louis's features. “Because we’ve been here before, Haz. It’s the O2.” The show. It must be the first night of their tour. They were too late; they were out of time.

Louis is cursed after a night out with the lads and the five have just three days to figure out what happened and how to break it before Harry and Louis both lose their sanity and maybe something more. Louis can hear everything Harry thinks and Harry isn’t sure he can keep his feelings for Louis a secret from his own mind.

Ridiculous amounts of banter and angst, a lot of Harry and Louis alone together, a healthy dose of OT5 friendship, and one very magical weekend.

187K / Friends to Lovers / Magical Realism / Slow Burn

♡ Amsterdam With You by @chrysopon

In Louis’ opinion Amsterdam is so overrated, and now that he moved here he can see all its flaws: it’s always raining (even more than in London), he’s lonely and everyone he meets is unfriendly and distant; but, above all, he misses his family like crazy, confined here. Not surprising how being hit by a bike by a curly, pensive guy is the best thing that happens to him in three months (or maybe even in 27 years).

Or: how to fall in love in a city that you hate, featuring protests, lights, books, cuddles and a whole lot of growth (and tea).

182K / Strangers to Lovers / Angst W a Happy Ending / Slow Burn

♡ Something In The Distance (So Close You Can Almost Taste It) by magicalou

Louis was good. He was about to become the most successful racer in Formula 1. He had a clear path: break some records, win most races, then repeat it all again the next year.

Of course, that’s when Harry bloody Styles comes in.

OR, Louis is a Formula 1 driver for Scuderia Ferrari and Harry is a painter and sculptor, one of the most beloved from our time, and Louis's biggest pain in the ass.

180K / Racer Louis / Painter Harry /

♡ Bloodline by banana_louis

Louis doesn't know how to feel when his best friend, Liam, finds out about a brother that he never knew, who was placed for adoption before he was born and is bursting into his life at twenty-four years old.

Louis is very wary of the man who might replace him. He has always thought of Liam as his own brother.

What if Liam doesn't need him anymore? What if there's no room for Louis? After all, blood runs thicker than water.

Louis doesn't like Liam's new brother and he doesn't even know him. That's irrelevant, though.

He doesn't like him. He doesn't trust him. He doesn't want him hanging around. He doesn't want anything to do with him.

That is, until he meets him.

177K / Fluff & Smut /

♡ Your Mess Is Mine by @amories

Louis is the father to the most brilliant little boy in the world who is all Louis really needs, or at least that's what he tells himself. Harry is a gorgeous boybander fresh off a two year break and a massive scandal that's left him a little broken and more than ready to move on.

They fall in love.

176K / Famous - Not Famous / Single Parent Louis / Friends to Lovers

♡ A Love Like War by @downgoesanotherhero

“I want your help.” “Are you sure validation isn’t the right word?” Harry frowns. “Because, Louis, my professional opinion won’t change just because you’re being nice.” “I don’t want your professional opinion on my work to change. I wanna do better work, so you and everybody else can have a new opinion”, he states simply.

Or: the one in which Louis Tomlinson is a cliched rock star, he's got everything except for love. But then he meets Harry Styles; the man that, against all odds, saves him in every way a person can be saved, even when Louis didn't know he needed saving in the first place.

173K / Famous - Not Famous / Professor Harry / Singer Louis

♡ All Too Human by @gotthisniallthang

Louis has a 3 year old son and works at a daycare while getting his education degree.

Harry's a fresh face Popstar with the world in his hands.

They meet over applesauce and hide n' go seek.

166K / Famous - Not Famous / Single Parent Louis

♡ And Then a Bit by @infinitelymint

“We’d like to give the fans what they want.” Magee states, placing his hand on the table in front of him and leaning forward. “We want to give them Larry Stylinson.”

Or, take a parallel universe where Louis and Harry were never together, mix in a two year hiatus and an impending comeback, pour in a dash of lost fans, two tablespoons of strong friendship and a Modest! employee with a good idea. Add a squeeze of pretending to be a couple, lots of kisses and a tattoo or two. Stir. Serve: the mother of all publicity stunts.

(aka Harry and Louis fake a relationship for publicity. Eventually it becomes a lot less fake and a lot more real.)

158K / Fake Relationship / Friends to Lovers / Canon Compliant

♡ Nameless Night by @greenfeelings

For their 18th birthday, every person receives a letter that reads a simple date. That is the date you'll meet your soulmate. Harry and Louis have different beliefs, live in different worlds and have different dreams, hopes and fears. Yet, they're not so different from each other when it comes to love. When their paths cross, there is no doubt they belong together. Except for that one, essential difference: they didn't receive the same date.

Or, a fic about differences that make no difference at all: Harry and Louis are soulmates. In every way possible. Featuring Niall as a role model, and Liam and Zayn as a different kind of role models.

155K / Soulmates /

♡ Take My Breath Away by @realitybetterthanfiction

There is a prestigious school in the British Royal Navy classified as Premier Delta - or as it is known by its flyers, 1D. These select pilots are an elite set of Naval lieutenants who are trained in the skill of aggressive aerial combat. They are instruments of war, trained in times of peace. They are dogfighters, relentless and fearless in their mission to protect their beloved country. From their lofty vantage, they are always watching, waiting, and ready to lay it all on the line.

Lt. Harry Styles, call sign Sparrow, is a prodigy when it comes to flying. The owner of an unrivaled Naval pedigree, being a pilot was always written in the stars for Harry. With his trusty RIO, Lt. Niall Horan, Harry has made an unprecedented ascension in the ranks of the Naval aerial combat elite, and has been recruited to the esteemed Premier Delta flight school, carrying on his family’s legacy. What he finds there are unexpected friendships, perilous challenges, and something beyond what he ever thought possible. Because as his father had always told him, before the great Captain Styles went tragically missing in combat, you don’t fall in love with the sky, you fall in love with what keeps you on the ground.

153K / Top Gun AU / Angst With a Happy Ending

♡ the wonderlands by @aliensingucci

"Somewhere between chaos and control — these are the wonderlands."

Harry's daughter, Andy, is signed to Louis' girl band. Her path to success is marked by competition, chaos, and for Harry, a love affair.

150K / Famous - Not Famous / Producer Louis / Florist Harry

♡ Now In A Minute by @avocadolouie

13 feels like yesterday for many people, but for Louis it actually was.

More than anything in the world, Louis Tomlinson dreams of growing up. Simply skipping over all of the awkward, embarrassing years of teenage existence and getting on with life. Real life.

So when thirteen-year-old Louis wakes up in the body of his thirty-year-old self, he expected everything in his adult life to be picture perfect. And maybe it is. He has it all…or so it seems.

Except his favorite person and lifelong best mate, Harry Styles, is totally missing from the equation and Louis doesn’t understand why. He has a lot of catching up to do and as adult life turns out to be more than what he bargained for, Louis can’t help wondering why a life that seemed so perfect, feels so empty.

Or the 13 going on 30 au that should have been done years ago.

150K / Childhood Friends / Famous - Not Famous /

Remember to leave kudos and a comment!

#hlsource #hlcreators #hljournal #1dsource #dailydirectionedit #hersheltracks

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nationalharryleague · 3 years

Text

Diplomacy

Pairing: Harry Styles x Reader

Genre: Enemies to Lovers Royal AU

Word count: 12K (I may have gotten carried away)

Warnings: Parental Death, an American writing about monarchies she doesn’t understand

A/N: Hi everyone! I have been working on this one for a while and it’s by far the longest thing I’ve ever written and I am so proud of it (please be nice)!! I also made a Pinterest board with all the outfits from this if you want to check it out here!! SO SO SO much love to @meetmymouth @bfharry and @hardcandy-harry for helping me out when I needed it and being the most wonderful people in general :) As always, thank you so so much for reading!! More of my writing can be found in my masterlist and feedback/reblogs mean the world!!!

****

Y/N knew from the day she could understand the concept of marriage that she would one day be married to the little prince with wild brown curls her mother always forced her to play with. She still vividly remembered the first time he told her that she was ugly and that he hated her. She was only five years old at the time.

Fortunately, she hated him just as much as he hated her. He was rude, somehow always sticky, and seemed to have no filter or manners, letting every nasty thing he could think of fall past his lips in daggers aimed at his future wife.

As they grew older, their animosity only grew, from petty to school yard quarrels to attacks on their personalities and who they were as people. Despite her pleas to her mother to be sent to a different boarding school than the one he was already attending, she was shipped off.

She studied judiciously, what was expected of every future queen, while she watched Harry meander through his schooling. He never seemed to listen in class, never studied, and seemed to only care about football and girls. She watched with jealousy and contempt as he flirted with every girl at their school, every girl except the one he knew he was to marry; while every boy in the school knew Y/N was off limits, direct orders from the crown.

It made her uncomfortable how much she disliked him. She was not a hateful person, having been trained well to treat everyone with dignity and respect, she was a princess after all. But something about Harry just got under her skin. She barely was able to control the instinctive eye roll whenever his name was mentioned and she often pretended to gag when discussing him with her friends, especially when one of them would inevitably call him ‘dreamy.’

The happiest day of her life was the day she watched him graduate, knowing she had been awarded years of peace without having to listen to his taunts or watch him flirt with everything that breathed. During those years, she flourished. She grew from a timid girl in line for power to a confident young woman preparing for the crown. She knew her country through and through, her constitution front to back, and had even begun studying Harry’s country as well. Whether she liked it or not, she knew she would have to pick up his slack in governing his kingdom eventually, she might as well be good at it.

Four more years of education at Cambridge, brought four more years of growth and being free from Harry, but the deal she had made with her mother was quickly coming to a close. As soon as she finished her education, their engagement would be made official and wedding planning would commence. While she was tempted to beg for some sort of delay or escape, she understood this was her duty. She owed this to her people, and soon to Harry’s as well; her mother was counting on her.

For the first time in too many years, she stood inside her former and future home. She remembered running through the halls of the massive palace under the ornate ceilings that now hung above her again; reality was sinking in. Through the massive wooden doors that sat in front of her, she knew her fate awaited; a fate named Harry. With a deep breath she steeled herself and smoothed the blush pink lace skirt of her dress, preparing to see the face that had haunted her for so long.

The first thing she noticed was the playful smirk that she associated so closely with his taunts from when they were children. It was the smirk that made her stomach drop; she could only imagine the nasty things that could come past those lips now. He had years to practice.

He stood confidently next to her mother, who had a bright and triumphant grin on her face. He was dressed in an impeccably tailored forest green suit, decorated with his coat of arms pin on the lapel. She wished for the vibrance of his green eyes to lessen but the tone of his suit only made them more intense than she had remembered.

“Harry,” she breathed, as diplomatically and with as much confidence as she could muster. “It’s good to see you,” she lied, reaching her hand out for him to kiss in the antiquated custom that always made her deeply uncomfortable. He delicately grasped her hand and slowly brought it to his blushed lips, the kiss lingering longer than what could have been considered friendly. His snake-like eyes locked with hers, still containing the mischievous glint she had nightmares about. She couldn’t help but notice the hysterically hopeful smile on her mother’s face as she watched them interact.

“It’s always a pleasure, your highness,” he hummed. He must have remembered how uncomfortable that title made her. She was honestly impressed at how he managed to lie and antagonize her in the first sentence he had said to her in over six years.

“Please call me Y/N,” she instructed as politely as possible.

“As you wish,” he said with a conniving smirk on his face. She had been with him no more than two minutes and she already wanted to run for her life. But this wasn’t about her, her country would need a leader soon, and unfortunately, that had to be her.

Her mother rushed over excitedly between the two, breaking the contemptuous silence that had built between them. “Oh children, it’s so nice to see you two back together again. I remember when you used to play when you were little. Always teasing, like you had the biggest crushes on each other.” ‘Teasing’ is a nice way to refer to torture, Y/N thought to herself, never daring to verbalize a thought like that.

“We did always have fun didn’t we, Y/N?” Harry asked her, a thin glaze of politeness coating his malice.

“Oh yes, we did. I still have a scar on my thigh from when you pushed me off the monkey bars.” Her tone was tight lipped and curt, her politeness beginning to give way to the verbal lashing she was dreaming of giving him.

“You’ll have to show me sometime.”

Y/N’s jaw nearly hit the ground. She knew he was a dirty good for nothing flirt, but in front of her mother? If her mother hadn't gently grasped both of their hands, she would have stomped out of the room. Her mother’s gentle touch brought her mind back to what this was all about once again.

“Harry is going to be staying with us from now on,” her mother interjected, clearly sensing the animosity between them. “Oh, and I nearly forgot! Harry, I believe you have something for Y/N, correct?”

“Of course.” He flashed his charming smiles at her poor mother, “How could I have forgotten about that?”

She watched him intently as he reached for the pocket inside his suit jacket, pulling out a small indigo colored velvet box. He opened the box with delicate hands to reveal one of the most gorgeous engagement rings Y/N had ever seen. A deep green emerald sat inside a ring of crystal clear diamond florets, all placed meticulously with care into a gold setting, the color of the velvet intensifying the emerald stone. “It was my grandmother’s,” he spoke softly, the first time she had ever heard him speak with any emotion or genuine feeling. “Before she died, she said she wanted you to have it. She was the mastermind of this arrangement afterall,” he said with a slight chuckle. “For formality’s sake,” he began with a sigh, “will you marry me?”

No, passed through Y/N’s head, but “Yes” fell from her lips. While her heart broke for herself and any chance she had of finding true love, the smile and happy tears in her mother’s eyes reminded her why she was doing all of this. She needs me to do this, Y/N thought to herself, my country is going to need a leader.

Their engagement was announced later that day by royal decree and their wedding was scheduled for the next month. There was no going back now.

The palace was in a flurry of planning and plotting for the big day. Y/N was rushed from meeting to meeting, instructed to make decisions about everything and anything she wanted for the wedding. She stared at floral arrangements until her eyes hurt and flipped through magazines looking at bridesmaid and flower girl dresses until her fingers felt like they were about to fall off. Unsurprisingly to Y/N, Harry was there for almost none of it. Although, she wasn’t exactly complaining about his absence.

He only surfaced when food or his suit was involved. In one vile incident, he arrived at the cake tasting with a wad of gum in his mouth, which was not only strictly prohibited for royals because it could be perceived as being too casual, but Y/N almost called off the entire wedding when she watched him stick chewed bubble gum to the bottom of a 200 year old handcrafted dining table.

“Were you raised by wolves?” she asked through gritted teeth while scolding him and desperately trying to remove the mess.

“Nannies, actually.” She knew by the smirk on his face that he wasn’t done with whatever antagonistic taunts that were planned to fall from his lips. “I’m pretty wild in the bedroom too, wifey.”

His crude comments were meant to hurt her and make her uncomfortable. He knew from their time in school together that she was constantly watched and kept far away from the gaze of any peaking boys, shining a spotlight on the massive double standard between the pair of future rulers. She wore a cloak of inexperience and innocence given to her against her will that embarrassed her to no end, and he knew that the easiest way to pinken her cheeks was to mention sex in any way. He aimed to fluster the poor girl and he got away with it anytime he flashed his dimples in a devilish smirk.

Y/N’s cheeks flushed red in embarrassment and furry before she got up from the table and stormed out of the room, muttering “pick whatever fucking cake you want,” before flying down the hallway to her bedroom and slamming the door behind her.

She felt frustrated tears pricking at her eyes as she slid down the back of the heavy wooden door to the floor below her. She let the fabric of her once perfectly steamed dress crumple beneath her and before she let the floodgates of tears open, she looked down at the dainty silver watch that sat on her wrist. You have five minutes until your appointment with the dressmaker, she thought to herself. Three minutes to cry, two minutes to change into a new dress and fix your makeup.

For three minutes, she let all her anger, frustration, and heartbreak fall out of her in loud sobs that anyone on the other side of the door was sure to hear. For three minutes, she let herself feel every angry emotion she had ever felt towards Harry. For three minutes, she didn’t care about her country or her mother needing this wedding. For three minutes, she didn’t care about anything other than her hurt. But only for three minutes.

Then she wiped the tears away, picked herself up off the floor, dressed herself in her favorite navy blue dress, fixed her mascara, and pressed a cool cloth on her cheeks to quell their angry heat. And then she went to see the dressmaker.

The only joy Y/N got out of this whole ordeal was getting to see her dressmaker, Agnes. Agnes was a kind and quiet old woman who was one of the most talented people she had ever met. The pair would sit together for hours discussing styles, the only time her schedule allowed her to relax, and the woman was in the middle of crafting the gown of Y/N’s dreams. It was a lace long sleeved gown with a cathedral length train. The top portion of the lace was sheer, making a strapless neckline visible, before the delicately crafted lace moved crawled up Y/N’s neck into a high collar neckline. It was reserved, but elegant and unique; “just like you,” Agnes once said.

The first time Y/N was able to try the dress on was bittersweet. The dress was stunning and it made her feel like the princess she was, but she did shed a tear thinking about how this moment was tainted with Harry. She wouldn’t be wearing this dress while walking down the aisle to marry the love of her life, she was marrying someone she would consider an enemy.

She bowed down reverently when her mother placed a veil and tiara on her head. The tiara was encrusted with diamonds and speckled with emeralds that happened to match her engagement ring. The tiara was an heirloom and every woman in her family had worn it while getting married for the last two hundred years.

Her mother wept softly before her, a proud smile on her lips. “I’m so happy I get to see you in the wedding tiara before I go, sweetheart,” she said leaning in to press a gentle kiss to Y/N’s cheek. “I know you and Harry aren’t always a perfect pair and neither were your father and I, but we made you.” The queen’s eyes flashed over her face trying to take her in, “And you turned out to be my proudest achievement and the savior of a nation.”

“Thank you, Mama.” She hadn’t called her mother by that name since she was a young girl but it just felt right at that moment. She felt like a child, needing someone to take care of her while she waited for a country to fall on her shoulders.

“I will always guide you through whatever I can,” she said tenderly. “Even when I’m not here, I will always be with you.” Y/N watched as her mother’s eyes welled with more tears, excusing herself quickly before they grew more intense.

Not more than five minutes later, she heard the obnoxious whistling that she had begun to hear in her nightmares from down the hall. What she didn’t expect was for Harry to burst through the door, not only interrupting her fitting, but seeing the dress before the wedding day.

Like all members of traditional royal families, Y/N was extremely superstitious. Her heart immediately broke as she watched his eyes look her up and down, like there was a little piece of her that thought if they did everything right and didn’t break any traditional rules, maybe they would work out. What hurt her even more was that he didn’t even try to leave. He just sat down on a chair, smacking his gum, and stared at her like he was doing nothing wrong. Her eyes were still filled with tears from the emotional moment with her mother and they continued to flow, no longer out of love, but out of anger and frustration.

“Agnes,” Y/N finally spoke, voice cracking as she tried to hold back her tears, “will you excuse us for a moment?”

“Yes, your highness,” Agnes took delicate steps backwards like she was expecting a bomb to go off, before turning around and scurrying out of the room. Her instincts were correct, because at that moment, Y/N exploded.

“What did I ever do to you Harry?” she questioned angrily. “Why are you so determined to absolutely ruin my life? It’s bad enough that I am having an arranged marriage, not even one that I have the tiniest bit of say in.” She watched Harry’s eyes grow wide, like he had never expected her to stand up to him. “I have spent my entire life being watched and guarded, and avoided by every man I’ve ever gotten close to because I was already claimed by someone who wanted nothing to do with me.” She couldn’t remember the last time she had raised her voice like this at someone; she wasn’t sure if she ever had before. “You can’t even pretend that you like me or that we won't be miserable for our entire lives.”

“Y/N, I don’t want this either,” he spoke after a moment of silence, the quiet only broken by Y/N’s heaving breath. “Why can’t you just calm down?”

“Why can’t I calm down?” she repeated. “Maybe because my country is looking to me to become it’s queen. I can’t give myself to my people when I am worrying about you and your incompetence. You may not become king in your country for another 30 years; you have time to learn and grow into a ruler because you’re in my monarchy and you get to learn here first. You’re playing king with my people. Millions of people rely on us the second I am crowned and you act like your irresponsibility doesn’t have far reaching consequences.”

“I’ll be perfectly fine,” he spat back at her, rolling his eyes with his arms crossed in front of himself as he sat back in the chair. “I can’t believe I have to marry you and into this family.”

Y/N felt like she had been punched in the gut. She was stuck with this man for the rest of her life and here he was, disrespecting her, her people, and her family. “Get out,” she said under her breath. When he didn’t move from his seat, she began to yell once again, “Get out! I mean it!” She dropped her voice once again, and spoke more seriously than she ever had before. “I have never hated anymore more than I hate you, Harry. I am doing all of this because I love my country and my people, but I want you to know, I will never be happy because of you.”

For a moment, through her tears, it looked like he had been hurt because of her words, but he was gone from the room before she could confirm it.

She fell to her knees on the dress platform, surrounded by the piles of pure white fabric. She was a perfectly dressed ball of furry and sobs, angry at the world and her predicament. Leaning over and putting her head in her hands, she felt the tiara as it began to slip off her head, falling into her lap.

Y/N picked up the tiara, using gentle reverent hands, examining it closely. The tiara represented the monarchy and every female ruler in her family that had come before her. It shined and dazzled in the bright lights of the room, its crystal clear and emerald stones reflecting multi colored light onto the crisp white of the dress below her. “I’m doing this for you,” she whispered quietly to the tiara like it could answer, tears still silently rolling down her face.

***

They didn’t speak again for almost a week. They communicated solely through their royal secretaries, sending the poor men back and forth with angry messages, almost gossiping about what was happening with each member of the pair when they returned to the sender. Y/N hated Harry, Harry hated Y/N; the same sentiment sent back and forth over and over. The two were driving fast towards a brick wall, and the brick wall was their wedding.

When she woke up one morning about a week before their nuptials, there was a small envelope sitting on the ground like it had been slid underneath her bedroom door. We have to talk, was all it read. It was not lost on her that the stationary had a small olive branch illustrated onto the page.

Later that afternoon, they met in the garden. It felt like a neutral place to talk, the palace obviously being her territory. She had worn a casual flowing white dress, like she was raising a white flag; and she carefully walked with a mug of black coffee, a peace offering of sorts, careful not to get any of the dark liquid on the fabric of her dress.

She found him along a bed of purple Hyacinths, their sweet perfume enveloping them both, sitting on the soft ground dressed in the most casual clothes she had ever seen him in. He was wearing a simple lilac button up and a pair of jeans. He seemed more approachable this way, without the tailoring and the coat of arms that always sat on his lapel. The golden highlights in his curls came out in the sun and his tanned skin seemed to glow. He held a rose colored leather bound notebook in his hands.

“Hi,” she said softly, a sharp contrast to her screaming the last time they spoke. “I brought you a coffee. The nice ladies in the kitchen say you take it black.” The corners of his mouth turned up slightly and he gave her a friendly but unenthusiastic smile.

“Thank you,” he breathed, as she handed him the hot mug.

“Can I sit?”

“I’m not in charge of you,” he mumbled into the cup taking a sip. It wasn’t until she noticed how his eyebrow shot up and how his eyes had a playful gleam in them, that her offence washed away. “Of course, you can sit down.”

“What’s the book for?” she asked gently once she settled on the ground a safe distance away from him. She decided a few grass stains were worth being on speaking terms with the man she was supposed to marry.

“Um, it’s actually for you.” He reached over and placed the book in her hands. She ran her hands over her initials that had been embossed onto the leather cover. “I’ve been meaning to give it to you for a while,” he said quietly, “I remember you used to write a lot when we were in school together. I thought you would like it.” She felt a confusing mixture of thankfulness for the book, guilt for her outburst, and all the frustration that she still held towards him.

“Thank you, Harry. That was really thoughtful of you.”

A silence hung among them, neither of them sure of the next steps this conversation had to take.

“Can we talk?” Harry asked, finally breaking the tension between the pair.

“Yes, please,” she answered just as quickly as he had asked.

“I wanted to apologize for interrupting your fitting like that. I didn’t know all the traditions meant so much to you and I never meant to make you so upset.” She had never heard Harry apologize before, to anyone else, and definitely not to her.

Before that moment, she had always thought of him as an impenetrable force, wondering if there even was a soul or a conscience in his body. But here he was, vulnerability and all, offering an olive branch and an apology.

“Thank you,” she said cautiously, wading into the almost friendly waters she had never been in with him. “I’m sorry for screaming at you like that. I said some very hurtful things to you.”

“So have I.”

“I want you to know that I don’t hate you and I shouldn’t have said I did. But, I don’t necessarily like you either, Harry,” she said, deciding now was the time they needed to open the line of communication. One of them would eventually combust if they continued on with their hatred like this. “You have tortured me since we were little kids and it’s going to take me some time for me to get over that.” She watched as he nodded his head along with her words, seeming to listen intently.

“I feel like that is also something I should apologize for. No offence, but I didn’t want to get married to you either- still don’t, but I was much more of a dick about it then,” he let out a light laugh, flashing one of his famous dimples before releasing a sigh. “I took out not having control of my life out on you and I’m sorry.” She never thought she would receive validation for all the hurt he put her through for so long.

“Listen, we are getting married as part of a diplomatic partnership,” she began, “I feel like we should at least act diplomatic towards each other.”

“Does that mean that we have to be friends?”

“Definitely not. Just not enemies.”

“I think I can do that, wifey.”

***

The next week passed in a surprisingly civil blur for them both. Y/N was still in the throws of getting ready for a wedding and Harry was off doing whatever Harry usually did. She didn’t expect him to be doing much but she was just glad he was out of her hair. But when they did run into each other, usually at some sort of meeting surrounding the menu, they had a new found respect for the other.

The pair hadn’t been fighting which was nice for a change, even though it did raise some eyebrows in both of their staff. At her final dress fitting two days before the wedding Agnes had asked her if she was ready to be a married woman. “Absolutely not,” Y/N had laughed, “but it’s my responsibility to my people and my country. I have lived the most privileged life imaginable up until this point, it’s time for me to begin my duties.”

“You’re a good girl, your highness. You’re going to make a great queen when the time comes. Even with a husband you may have to wrangle sometimes.” She ended her compliments with a giggle as she zipped Y/N into the dress, and she felt her heart warm. Agnes placed the final touches of the veil and tiara on top of her head, giving her a nod of permission to finally look at herself in the mirror.

The dress fit her like a glove. The delicate lace ran the expanse of the dress, starting at the very back of her immensely long train and crawling its way all the way to Y/N’s throat, and the fitted top half gave way to a full ball gown skirt. Y/N’s eyes followed the intricate lace patterns down her arm, eyes eventually landing on her hand and the ring that sat upon it. For the first time since it had begun to sit on her ring finger, she didn’t want to throw it across the room in frustration. It really was gorgeous and the tiny inkling of respect she had for Harry now made it much less painful to look at.

Staring at the mirror, she noticed the blurring of her vision and the wetness on her cheeks.

“I really am getting married, aren’t I?” she asked with a disbelieving laugh.

“Yes you are, your highness.” Agnes looked up at her through her thick lensed glasses with a proud smile on her face. “Now, let’s get you out of this contraption so you can go rest up for the big day.” Anges’ skilled hands freed Y/N from the beautiful layers of fabric and tulle and sent her on her way back to her bedroom.

Y/N was finally almost asleep in the early hours of the morning when she heard a gentle and almost timid knock on her door. She could have ignored it, rolled back over and let her dreams take her, but for some reason it felt important for her to get out of bed and answer the door. Her bare feet hit the cold wood floors and she tip-toed her way to the door.

When she grabbed the knob to open it, she heard a familiar voice say “don’t open the door! I don’t think I’m supposed to see you,” in a hurried and hushed tone.

“Harry?”

“Yeah, it’s me.” His voice was gravelly with exhaustion and had an apprehensive, almost nervous quality she had never heard from him before.

“Why are you here?”

“I just wanted to talk to you.” He said it so softly she wouldn’t have been able to hear him if her ear wasn’t pressed up against the doorway. The sentiment brought a smile to her lips and she wasn’t completely sure why. She was quiet for a moment, deciding if she wanted to turn him away or not when she heard him sarcastically ask, “What? I’m not allowed to talk to my wife?”

“I’m not your wife yet,” she reminded him with a tired chuckle. “But we can talk,” she assured him. “I’m going to sit down, okay? My legs are tired from my heels all day.” She kneeled down and leaned herself up against the hard wooden door.

She had been in this same position only a few weeks before, angry at the world and wanting to kill the man on the other side of it; but here she was, speaking to him willingly, even joking with him. She listened close as his own body rested against the floor and leaned on the opposite side, mirroring her own position.

“Those heels really hurt, don’t they?” he asked, voice still hushed. If she wasn’t so tired, she might have even said she heard a smile in his voice.

“Yeah, they are like little death traps for your feet and legs.” He let out a small laugh on the other side and her lips pulled into a smile that she hadn’t given them permission for.

“How many pairs do you have? You always match your dress to your shoes so you must have a ton.”

She was gradually learning that he was much more observant than she had originally thought. He apparently wasn’t the dumb boy that she remembered from school anymore.

“Too many,” she said with a soft laugh and a shake of her head. “I’m wearing my favorites tomorrow.”

“And which ones are those?”

“They’re white, obviously; they have to match,” she smiled. “They have a green gem at the toes. They match the tiara I’ll be wearing.” She stopped for a moment before continuing on. “And your grandmother’s ring.” She played with the gold band that sat on her ring finger, still somehow dazzling in the very limited light of her dark room. “Thank you, by the way. It’s gorgeous.”

“You’re welcome. She wanted you to have it.”

“Did she really?”

“Oh, yeah,” he said confidently on the other side of the door. She imagined him nodding along with his words to emphasize his point, as he often did while speaking. “She kept tabs on you while we were growing up. She was always talking about how smart you seemed and that you would be a good queen one day. If I didn’t know better, I would say she liked you more than me growing up.” Y/N felt her cheeks heat up with the information. She was flattered by his grandmother’s opinion of her, but her heart also ached for Harry.

“I’m sure that's not true.”

“I think it was. I was always screwing up in one way or another; always creating messes that her and my parents had to clean up.” He paused for a moment and she heard him let out a long sigh. “Always running around with other girls and making the one I was supposed to marry feel like shit.”

She wished she could see his face. She wished that she could get a read on his emotions. But there was, literally and figuratively, a wall between them.

“Y/N,” she heard his voice squeak out through a voice crack, “I really am sorry for everything I’ve done to you.”

“I know. I forgive you, Harry.”

Saying those four words, lifted a weight she didn’t know she had been carrying off her shoulders. This moment felt like an absolution, a time to wipe their long and complicated slate clean. There was no better time for them to start anew than the night before they began the next chapter of their lives. But this chapter would be together, as a pair and a team.

“Thank you.”

“I’m sorry too, Harry. I know this all had to happen so fast so I could take the throne, but I know you thought you had more time. I thought I did too.”

“What do you mean? Why did it have to happen so fast?” he asked.

First, Y/N was confused. There was a very obvious answer. Then her heart began to break for him. He wasn’t ready at all for what was coming. No one must have told him.

“Harry,” she said softly, “Do you know about my mother?”

“What do you mean?” From the tone in his voice, she knew he genuinely didn’t know.

“My mom-” she began gently, swallowing the lump in her throat that always appeared when she began to talk about this, “My mom is dying, Harry.” She heard a soft gasp through the door before she went on. “She’s been sick for a while, but things are getting really bad. Her doctors think she only has a couple weeks left.”

She listened to his breathing stop, like his mouth was hung open searching for something to say. He was quiet for a few moments before he landed on what seemed like the only thing he had said over and over these last few weeks, “Y/N, I’m so sorry. I’m here for you if you need to talk about all of this.”

His offer was not lost on her. The idea of Harry being someone she could confide in was a new one, but one that she would consider.

“It’s okay.” She choked out, wiping a few stray tears that had found their way out, off her cheeks. “I have had enough time to come to terms with it. But in our archaic constitution,” she said with a biting distaste in her voice, “a woman cannot become the sovereign of the country if she isn't married. That’s why this all had to happen so fast.”

“I see.”

The pair were quiet, both curled up on opposite sides of the wall; simultaneously experiencing a unique type of loneliness that only the other could understand. In less than 12 hours, they would be married, linked by an oath that neither of them had signed up for, in circumstances with responsibilities that neither of them were ready to handle.

“Harry,” she peeped, breaking a silence that hung heavy over them both, “you should go to sleep. We have a big day tomorrow.”

She listened through the door to the rustling of him getting up off the floor beside her. “You should get some sleep too.”

“I’ll try my best.”

“So will I. I’ll see you at the altar, wifey.”

She let out a strangled laugh at the nickname he had adopted for her, her throat still tight from crying. She listened to his foot falls until they disappeared down the hallway before she mustered the strength to drag herself back to bed. Her staff was on strict orders from the wedding planner to have her woken up at 8 to begin getting ready and she wanted to get some rest before the sun came up.

And like clockwork, her curtains were thrown wide open at 8 am, sunlight blinding her as she woke up. Her eyes took a moment to adjust to her rude awakening, but soon she could make out the bustling room around her. Hair stylists, makeup artists, bridesmaids, flower girls, her mother, and some lady with an ear piece and a clip board fluttered about her bedroom with an excited chatter. Taking in the chaotic scene, it really hit her. Holy shit, I’m getting married today, she thought.

Her stomach twisted and turned in knots as the gaggle of women fawned over her, instructing her to stay still and “stop shaking” as they applied layers of makeup and fussed with her hair. Her hair was pulled into a delicately crafted low bun and her eyes were painted with neutral tones and a little bit of shimmer. Diamond and emerald earrings were threaded through her ear lobes and her fingernails were inspected to see if they needed any touch ups. Her shaky body was zipped into her dress and her feet slipped into her heels while her cathedral length veil was pinned meticulously into her hair. She was only missing one last thing.

“Your tiara, your highness,” her mother joked through the happy and proud tears welling up in her eyes. The tiara was the one last thing she needed before she was sent on her way to the cathedral. She bent down slightly, her mother delicately crowing her; when she rose, she couldn't help but grab onto her mother and hold her tight. It was hard for her not to think about the next time she would be crowned, a time when her mother wouldn’t be there to offer the guidance or support Y/N needed.

“I love you, Mama,” was all she said. It was the only reason all of this was happening. She loved her mother too much to let her down.

“I love you more, my princess,” her mother said gently, before turning away and scurrying off to do something else. Y/N tried to ignore the wince on her face when she moved too fast and the slight wheeze she made when she was speaking.

Surveying the scene around her, Y/N felt like she was about to die. Her heart was pounding hard in her ears, her palms were slick with sweat, her breathing was labored, and her chest felt tight. She had never been so overwhelmed with anxiety before. She had known today was coming her entire life, but the fact that it really was here was too much for her brain to wrap itself around.

It was like she had blacked out from fear, an hour of her life completely unaccounted for. She didn’t remember the last minute checks and touches to her hair and makeup. She didn’t remember her mother delicately resting her veil over her face. She didn’t remember getting in the car bringing her to the cathedral. She didn’t remember someone shoving a bouquet of flowers in her hands. She didn’t remember the music starting up or walking down the aisle of the giant imposing and ornate cathedral.

She was only brought back to reality when she reached the imposing altar and Harry delicately took her hand into his. His green eyes were painted with concern when he saw the worried crease between her eyebrows and the way she was chewing on her bottom lip under her sheer veil, swiping his thumb up and down her skin in an attempt to soothe her. It was the first time he had ever touched her voluntarily; it was a gentle and tender touch, full of care. She gripped back tight onto his hand, holding on for dear life as she thought over everything that was about to happen.

They were instructed to stand forward, watching the officiant as he droned on about love and duty to one’s country and spouse, but their hands stayed clasped tight onto each other, like they were being thrown into a stormy and unpredictable sea and the other’s hand was their only life line. And in a way, they were.

When they were told to turn towards each other to begin their vows, their eyes locked and she began to really look at him for the first time. She watched his plush lips closely as he recited the words fed to him from the officiant, although she didn’t hear a single word of them. Her eyes traced his strong cheekbones and landed on his adorable button nose before returning back to his eyes. She noticed the slight blue bags that sat under them, signaling he had just as much trouble sleeping as she did.

His eyes brought her a calm that she hadn’t felt in years, silently telling her that she wasn’t alone in all of this, his warm hands still holding on to hers punctuating that sentiment. There wasn’t anyone else in the massive cathedral but the pair of them anymore, just two scared kids trying to make it through the demands weighing on their shoulders together.

Shaky hands exchanged rings, her heart stopping for a moment when the ring caught and didn’t slide onto his finger gracefully. But her heart regained it’s rhythm when she heard a light chuckle coming from the man across from her, a gentle smile that was just big enough to flash a dimple at her, signaling that it would be okay.

She recited her vows without much thought, letting ‘I do,’ slip past her lips while still entranced by Harry’s intense yet comforting gaze. She watched his strong hands disconnect from hers as he lifted the lace trimming on the veil covering her face, dark lashes flickering down to her glossed lips. She let her eyes fall closed as he leaned in towards her and rested a hand on her cheek, prompted by the officiant and clapping coming from the pews, bracing herself for a feeling of disgust she hoped wouldn’t come.

He carefully connected their lips softly with a sweetness that felt gentle, tender, and caring. But there was more to the kiss than a softness, there was a respect there as well. His hand felt secure and protective on her cheek, and he pulled away with a smile after a short time, sure not to overwhelm her. The feeling of disgust in her belly that she was waiting for never came; if she didn’t know better she would say she felt an excited flutter.

They stood on the altar for a moment and just stared at each other, excited and relief filled smiles creeping into their lips, his dimples prominent. “Shall we, wifey?” Harry beamed with a sigh, extending a hand to lead her back down the aisle, now as a married woman.

“We shall, husband,” she giggled back, cheeks still a fiery red from their contact. Calling him her husband felt foreign, but not unwelcome.

Harry held her hand tight, keeping her in the moment by the warm contact. He held her hand down the aisle and all the way back to the palace, all throughout the signing of their marriage license, and all throughout the many, many photos taken of the two and their wedding party. She found comfort in his warm touch, continuing to ground her through the chaos that unfolded around them. Even when they had briefly disconnected from each other, he was always close by, only a call of his name away.

She was shocked by how careful he was around her giant dress, taking calculated steps to avoid dirtying the crisp white fabric. He was playing the role of a dutiful husband, and was seeming to enjoy it.

They spent the next hours just following orders from wedding planners, shuffled around from place to place, constantly surrounded by people. All she wanted was a moment to speak to him alone, but it seemed far out of reach.

That moment finally came in the middle of a dance floor, with hundreds of eyes staring at them as they danced. They swayed together slowly, a gentle rock to the delicate sound of strings. “Thank you for staying by me all day, Harry,” she said quietly, hoping that no one could hear them over the music.

“No need to thank me, wifey,” he said with a chuckle, his lips grazing against her ear as he spoke. She chuckled like always at the name and shook her head.

“I mean it. I don’t think I would have been able to get through all of this,” she said looking out at the crowd watching them and the giant ornately decorated ballroom they were in the center of, “if you hadn’t been by my side.”

“I quite like it, actually. I could get used to standing with you.” He said nonchalantly, like it was no big deal, while her heart just about stopped.

She wasn’t able to answer before the music slowed to a stop and they were pulled apart by their mothers and dragged off to speak to “very important” people. He seemed just as disappointed as she was when they were separated.

When they finally found each other again, Y/N had changed. She had abandoned her massive conservative skirt of tulle and lace for a creamy silk gown that she could actually move in. It was a simple a-line v-neck dress with cap sleeves, but the back held a deep V that ended at the small of her back coupled with a loosely tied bow.

The cool breeze on her back made her feel sexy. She knew she was pushing the boundaries on what was appropriate for a princess and she loved it.

“My darling, you look gorgeous,” he said, taking her hand and spinning her so he could fully take in the new dress, mindful of her tiara and trying his best not to knock it off. Her cheeks burned at his flattery, something he could surely feel when he pulled her close and pressed a delicate kiss on her cheek.

“You’re just saying that,” she said bashfully staring down at the floor, deflecting the compliment easily.

“Wifey,” he singsonged the teasing nickname that had evolved into a term of endearment. He lifted her chin to look up at him and he looked down at her with the most honest expression she had ever seen him wear. “You look beautiful. You have all day.”

“Thank you, Harry.” She spoke quietly, barely audible, unsure what to make of her husband’s compliments. He leaned in to her, layed a tender kiss on her forehead, and dragged her across the room to the dance floor.

They stayed on the dancefloor most of the night, almost always touching in some sort of way, while dancing and celebrating with their friends and family.

And Y/N was happy; a genuine type of happiness that she hadn’t felt in a very long time. Obviously, this wasn’t ideal. She was now married to a man she knew virtually nothing about, who had been a sworn enemy of hers only a few days ago, and had only begun enjoying his company last night. But happiness isn’t linear, she thought to herself.

Their night had passed in a joyous and opulent blur that went late into the night; full of food, dancing, and a swimming pool's worth of champagne.

Eventually both of them were led, by dutiful staff as they were both quite drunk and couldn’t exactly be trusted to make it on their own, to their new bedroom, or bedrooms depending on who you asked. They were led into the massive room consisting of two separate suites connected by a dressing room of sorts in a cloud of giggles, finding themselves in a fit of laughter after passing a portrait in the hall of some distant ancestor who had an amusing mustache.

“Thank you for leading us back,” she said, trying to gain a sober composure to the men who had flanked them on their way back, “you can go now.” The men shared a look between themselves that seemed to say ‘someone should be watching them,’ but followed the princess’ orders anyway.

“I just can’t understand how he got it to curl like that,” Harry cackled, beginning to wheeze from his hysterics and slightly stumbling as he was doubled over.

“Maybe it was natural like your curls,” she suggested, through her giggling hiccups that she let return when their staff left the room. “I quite like your curls, ya know? I like it when you let them grow a bit.”

They were still holding hands, despite being alone in their new found privacy, no longer needing the support from the other to shield them from the pressure of looking eyes.

“Then I’ll have to grow them out a bit,” he said, a smile still beaming at her with droopy drunk eyes. He tugged on her hand softly, bringing her body into his and setting his hand on the exposed skin of the small of her back. His hands were warm and soft and in the moment, she never wanted his hand to move from that spot again. “I can’t refuse the princess’ orders.” His voice had dropped low, not to a whisper but to a soft and lazy volume that made her feel safe.

Their faces were close and she could smell his strong vanilla and sandalwood cologne coming off him that she wanted to envelop herself in. He looked back down at her with a face that was loving, but she attributed it to the alcohol in his system. For a moment, she was overwhelmed with adoration for this man who she had spent so much of her life violently hating. Admiring and adoring him was much easier on her soul than harboring the hatred that had eaten at her for so long.

“I have another order,” she spoke quietly, letting the words tumble from her lips without her usually logical brain’s permission, “I want you to kiss me. For real this time.”

His lips were on hers as soon as the words left her own. It was sloppy and sweet, but with a passion behind it that Y/N felt in her bones. Their lips moved in a drunken rhythm, with Harry’s aimless wandering hands sliding up and down the silk of her dress before resting on her waist and pulling her impossibly closer to him. Her hands found and twirled the few of Harry’s curls that remained after they had cut his hair shorter than usual for the ceremony at the base of his neck and sunk her fingers into it, pulling him further into the kiss by his hair.

It was not long before their tongues found each other and the kiss deepened into a desperate dance of gasping for breath and soft moans into each other’s mouths. Harry’s mouth left hers and began to press sloppy open mouthed kisses down her neck while fiddling with the bow at the back of her gown that would release it from her frame.

Feeling him fuss with the bow made her pounding heart shift from one of excitement, to one of panic. This was too soon, she didn’t know him well enough. She didn’t know his favorite color or any of his hobbies. She didn’t know how he liked his tea, or if he drank it at all. She didn’t even know his middle name.

Her fuzzy mind couldn’t deny how much she didn’t know about him or the anxiety that made her want to pull away from the man and run.

“Harry,” she breathed, voicing the apprehension and anxiety that had begun to rise in her chest, “please stop.” She had squeaked out the words, a mix of embarrassment and panic taking over her slightly slurred words.

His hands froze, pulling himself back quickly from her, a mix of worry and guilt on his face. “Did I do something wrong? I just thought…” he let his words drop off, his own fuzzy mind not sure of what to say either.

“No, you didn’t do anything wrong. I’m sorry, I just can’t.” Her cheeks grew hot and her eyes became glassy.

She was embarrassed to admit it, but the kiss on the altar that morning was the first time she had ever had another pair of lips on her own. Her entire life she had been shielded from men with any interest in her, her affection already spoken for and claimed. No man had ever held her hand romantically, or danced with her, or kissed her with the passion Harry just had.

Harry had lived a life with freedom that she had never been granted. She remembered all the times she had watched him interact with various girlfriends at school, and remembered the shame she had felt when he had ended up on the cover of tabloids after he was photographed naked and kissing a random woman on a yacht. Every article had ended with the same line that she still knew by heart.

“The prince is arranged to marry Princess Y/N when she comes of age in an effort to unify their countries.”

They had lived very different lives, with very different freedoms up until this point. It was sexist and archaic and unfair, but she couldn’t deny the impacts it had on her while she was around Harry. Even though she couldn’t deny that she was beginning to feel something real for him and she believed that he felt the same; she didn’t fully trust him like that yet. She couldn’t.

“I’ve never done any of this before, Harry. This morning was my first kiss.” Her cheeks burned in a mixture of embarrassment and shame as she spoke the words. “I like you a lot, but today has been nerve wracking and scary enough. I just can’t add another new thing into the mix, especially that. It’s just all too much. I’m sorry.”

Her sheltered and delicate heart couldn’t even bring herself to say the word ‘sex’.

As he listened to her explanation, his features softened. They were no longer fearful that he made a mistake or crossed a boundary, but they moved into a soft and caring smile.

“Y/N, my darling,” he began in a soft and sweet voice, “come here.” He beckoned her with open arms to rest up against his chest again. She had curled her arms in front of herself, holding them close to her body, as she walked into his arms and let herself be enveloped by them while resting her head on his chest. “You are my wife now, but I think we both understand that we are not exactly in this position by choice. I would never ask you to do something you are uncomfortable with and I am sorry that I crossed a boundary.”

“Thank you,” she peeped before he continued on.

“Also, I heard that part when you said you liked me a lot,” she could hear the smirk in his voice, making her cheeks inexplicably hotter. “And I like you a lot too.”

The pair stood in that hold long enough for them to lose track of time, just resting against each other in silence, listening to the other’s breathing. The silence that enveloped them was comforting, but Harry eventually spoke again, inexplicably soft and gentle in tone.

“Y/N, I really want to try to make us work.”

“So do I, Harry.”

The pair stood together in their stillness and peaceful quiet, until she let out a small yawn.

Harry released her from his grasp and began walking around the room, opening wardrobes and dressers searching for something. He breathed a small triumphant noise when he opened a drawer, spinning around with a light pink and baby blue nightgown in his hands.

“Do you need any help getting out of your dress? Would I be allowed to help?” His face was so thoughtful, carefully navigating the boundaries she had made him aware of but not set in stone yet.

She took the nightgown from his hands and slipped it over her head, the silk dress beneath it. “I just need help untying the bow.” Her voice was still low, a quiet and delicate murmur.

His hands carefully untied the bow, turning around for modesty’s sake, only turning back around when he heard the silk hit the floor.

She had begun carefully removing the bobby pins that still held her bun together, causing them both to giggle when her hair was finally released into a giant poof of curls and hair spray.

She looked so sweet to him. This was the first time he had seen her relaxed like this, no longer in a fancy dress, heels, and her hair and makeup done to perfection. She looked like a real person to him, not a princess who would soon become queen.

He moved gingerly towards the door of her room, but not before pressing one more soft kiss to her lips.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, wifey.”

“Can’t wait, my husband,” she called from under the covers, watching him close the door behind him.

***

The two were sitting on a hot beach, baking in the sun when the call came.

It was day four of their honeymoon and a week after their wedding, spending their time alone together on a small island in the sun neither of them could remember the name to. It was a paradise straight out of a movie, and she swore nothing could ruin it.

They spent their days learning each other well, often joking that they should make up trivia quizzes for each other to see who knew the other best. She had learned that Harry’s eyes lit up like a child when he saw any type of animal, especially the small lizards that would run across the deck hanging off the back of their small beach house. It was also a surprise when she found out he loved to cook, whipping up a meal that could rival some of the chefs at the palace for dinner one night.

But her favorite thing she had learned about him by far, was how he sang in the shower. He had a low and melodic voice that he didn’t know traveled into the house from the outdoor shower. She would sit by the window closest to him, often pretending to write in the pink notebook he had given her in the garden, close her eyes and appreciate the man’s voice. She swore if he wasn’t a prince, he would be a singer.

In the time since their nuptials, the pair had become lovers. Always attached at the hip and sneaking kisses; they were blissfully and unstoppably becoming increasingly obsessed with the other. The word ‘love’ often played at Y/N’s lips, seeming to always be only a drink away from letting it slip out towards him.

Every day, they would walk down a short path from their house to a pristine white sand beach, picnic basket in hand, and sit. Sometimes they would sit in silence, just staring at the clear blue ocean, and other times they would talk about everything and anything that came to mind, or they would read silently next to each other. But they were always holding onto each other; sometimes it was a hand placed gently on the other’s thigh, or fingers intertwined between them.

The shrill ring of Y/N’s phone broke their fantasy while sitting on the beach on the fourth afternoon. Her heart dropped as soon as she heard it, knowing that the palace had agreed not to bother them unless the worst case scenario was happening.

She closed her eyes and braced herself, tears already threatening to breach her eyes, as she answered the phone with shaky hands. “Hello?” she choked out.

“Your highness, you need to come home.” She immediately recognized the panicked voice of her mother’s secretary on the other end. “It’s happening.”

“Okay,” she said, trying to remain as composed as possible. “We’re leaving now.”

Harry’s face held a furrowed brow and concerned eyes as she spoke. He immediately began rubbing his thumb back and forth over the back of her palm like he had done on their wedding day, but today, it did nothing to soothe her pain and anxiety.

She hung up the phone before letting out a heart wrenching cry. “We have to go home,” she sobbed. “She is dying.”

The entire journey home was silent after Y/N had composed herself on the beach.

She sat emotionless, staring straight ahead, flinching away every time Harry moved to touch her. She spoke only when absolutely necessary, but her voice brought no tone with it. She had become a shell of herself, losing the warmth behind her eyes that had begun to appear after the wedding.

She felt empty, like she had lost the ability to think, while simultaneously feeling so overwhelmed, by thoughts of her future as queen and the loss of her mother. She had become blank, inside and outside, the happiness she had begun to build for herself with Harry, melting away and leaving the hollowness of grief and dread.

It took them about twelve hours to reach the palace from the time she hung up the phone, but it wasn’t fast enough. The second she stepped out of the car, she saw the guards outside the palace dressed in their black uniforms that were reserved only for the passing of the sovereign. She closed her eyes silently, as if when she opened them up again their uniforms would turn back to their usual blue and maroon; but they didn’t, their clothing still black as night.

Her heels clicked the pavement, maintaining her immaculate posture and steely blank expression as she entered the palace, the loving man she had been excited to have a life with trailing mournfully behind her. She watched as if she was out of her body when she passed people, all now dressed in black, in the hall. They all acted the same.

First, they would give her the saddest look, silently extending their sympathies to the daughter who just lost her mother, and then bowing their heads in respect to the now reigning queen.

“I need to see my mother,” was all she said, before being led into her bedroom.

She hadn’t remembered when her father had died, too young to understand. All she could wrap her head around was that her Daddy had an accident and wasn’t coming home. But she remembered her mother’s cries, loud and earth shattering sobs that traveled up and down the hallways of the palace for all to hear.

She looked like she was just sleeping; arms peacefully crossed over her chest and eyes shut gently. But she was cold when Y/N reached for her hand. She tenderly brought her mothers hand to her lips, and pressed a final kiss to her hand, before walking blankly out of the room.

Her mother was gone. And the country fell onto her shoulders.

She heard Harry saying something as he followed close behind her. While she heard him, she didn’t process a thing he said. She stalked towards their bedroom which was unfortunately on the other side of the palace, locked in her daze. He trailed close behind her the entire way, trying to say anything that could break through to her, and stood dutifully outside the door of her side of the bedroom for an unknown amount of time after she had shut it in his face.

***

She didn’t speak, or show emotion, or allow anyone at all to touch her for three days. Only nodding or shaking her head in response to the rapid firing of questions she was asked about planning her mother’s funeral. Harry only saw glimpses of his wife, or the shell of Y/N that she had become, usually while she shut the door to her bedroom between them.

He left his door open all day everyday.

When he awoke the morning of the funeral and found her bedroom door open, his heart jumped. He slowly walked inside to find her in a room full of black dresses. Dresses had been laid carefully over every surface for her to choose from; the dress she would wear to her mother’s funeral and her first public appearance as queen.

“Good morning,” was all he said, quiet and careful.

The person that looked back at him was someone he didn’t recognize. The light was gone from her eyes, and she wasn’t the woman he was head over heels in love with anymore. She looked like her, but emanated sadness and anxiety like nothing he had ever seen before. Dark blue bags held under her eyes from not sleeping, her hair was tied behind her head in a messy unkempt ponytail, and she was dressed in a giant and ill fitting nightgown, shoulders bent down in a fashion that made her look small. The only feature of the put together, confident, and commanding woman he was married to that remained was the bright emerald ring that sat on her ring finger.

“I can’t decide what to wear,” she said without expression, but the tears started to fall down her face before she could finish the sentence. Harry moved quickly across the room to her when he saw her knees began to shake, catching her just in time as they gave out and she fell into his arms, settling them both onto the soft carpeted ground. That was when her heaving sobs began. It was a bone rattling cry that consumed her wholly and her exhausted and hurting brain could only put together two thoughts: she missed her mom, and she didn’t want to take on all this responsibility alone.

She sobbed into his shirt, holding onto the soft and worn fabric of his t-shirt for dear life, and he held her close to his body, slowly rubbing her back and letting all of the emotion fall out of her. She cried for a long time, giving herself a pounding headache, and when the tears finally began to slow she connected her tearful ones with Harry’s ever vibrant green eyes and mumbled, “I just thought I had more time with her. And I thought we had more time to just be us.”

“I know you did, darling.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead and reveled in being able to touch her again, as his heart broke a little every time she would pull away from his touch.

“I’m not ready, Harry. I can’t do this all alone. It’s too much.” She spoke softly, shaking her head from side to side, still choking back sobs as she tried to regain her composure.

“You’re not doing anything on your own. The second we were married, your problems and responsibilities became mine too,” he assured her. He moved to grab her left hand in his own and showed her the rings that sat on their hands. “Remember these?” he breathed with a light chuckle. “You’re stuck with me for life, whether you like it or not.”

He watched as she processed the realization that he was there to lighten the load. It was like a lightbulb had gone off for her, slowly nodding along with what he said. She let her eyes fall to the dresses that surrounded her, but he gently took her chin and directed her eyes back to his. “Y/N, we are a team. I am always here for you and I always will be.”

He took a deep long breath before continuing on, “I love you.”

She didn’t think when she pressed her lips to him, she just did, desperate to be close to him again. A coldness had swallowed her for days, and his words brought back the smallest feeling of warmth, a glimpse of hope she had been desperate to find.

She had known the passing of her mother was coming for years, her illness getting progressively worse over time. She had always believed it would bring more pressure, weighing down on her heavier than ever before. But looking at their rings and the man before her, she was hit by the fact that she never had to carry the weight of the country all by herself. She had Harry the whole time. He was her partner; in life and in power.

“I love you, too,” she said after breaking the kiss, salty from all her tears. She was quiet and her voice was still shaking and unsteady from her sobs, but he was there, holding her and keeping her safe.

He held her hand, slotting their fingers together as he picked them both up off the ground and helped her pick a dress. It was a black blazer dress that fell below her knees with three crystal buttons going down the left side. Harry carefully helped her into the dress, his warm and respectful hands sliding up her bare skin as he pulled it up over her shoulders. He then sat her on her bed, and began to carefully brush out her hair, doing his best to work through knots without hurting the girl who was already hurting enough. And he held one of her hands gently while she sat at her vanity and did her makeup with her free one. He refused to leave her side.

Harry stayed firmly planted by her side throughout the entire day, not daring to leave her while she needed him. He knew that photos of him holding her hand tight during the funeral would make the press, and the photos of him wiping away her tears as they left would make the front page, but he didn’t care. She might be the queen, but she was also his Y/N.

***

Their fingers were always locked together, Harry’s thumb passing back and forth over the back of her hand in the steady rhythm he always used when she was stressed. He was there whenever she needed him, gently taking hold, to remind her that he was there and they were a team.

He cradled her hand as she crushed his, gritting through the most excruciating pain she had ever experienced. It felt like her entire body was being ripped apart from the inside out, but Harry’s hand was the light at the end of the tunnel. She was screaming and crying in the small crowded room, feeling like a science experiment as all the doctors looked on at her pain.

But it all stopped when she heard the smallest little cry.

Then shouts of “It’s a girl!”

Exhausted and elated tears flowed freely from her eyes that were locked on the slimy little baby a nurse was burredly placing on her chest. She was so small, delicate and breakable, with strong lungs that screamed out to announce her entrance into the world. And when her eyes opened for the first time, they revealed the same bright sea glass green tone that matched her father, the green she had been falling in love with and swimming around in for years.

This baby was so much more than just a little girl, not only to them, but to their countries. She would forge a kingdom united in the future, a product of peace and partnership. She was a symbol of unity and a future of kindness between their countries. She was the future.

But for right now, the tiny baby was just theirs.

She felt him press a proud kiss to her head before she connected their lips together in a tear filled kiss before they both looked back to their new pride and joy who was still screaming for all the attention.

“She’s beautiful, darling,” he whispered quietly though tears next to her, hand still grasped tightly onto hers. “You did such a good job.”

“Literally couldn’t have done it without you,” she chuckled, still staring down, entranced by the little girl who looked like her daddy.

The pair stayed with their baby, quiet and just being, long after the doctors and nurses left the room. They learned she liked to scream and sleep, about as much as you could learn about someone only hours old. But she didn’t have a name. They had been debating for the last nine months over what the little princess would be called.

“I think she should be named after your mother,” Harry would say.

“But I think she should be named after your grandmother,” She would reply.

Their roundabout banter never left the pair, only changed; from malicious and teasing, to one of loving partnership.

“So neither?” he quipped with a small smirk while holding the little girl tight to his chest.

“I guess we have to compromise; diplomatically,” she said with a giggle, alluding to how they got to this position in the first place.

“I feel like a loving marriage and a new baby is pretty good for diplomatic relations.”

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING! Please send feedback and reblog if you enjoyed it!

#harry styles angst #harry styles fluff #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harry styles x you #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles #prince harry styles #Royal AU #Harry styles enemies to lovers #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #one direction #one direction fanfiction

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hrina · 4 years

Text

Something Strange

PAIRING: Harry x Reader RATING: R WORD COUNT: 6.3k+ REQUESTED: no

uhhhh hi. so. this is my (first ever) halloween fic, ft. infuriatingly cocky ghostbuster!harry. i really hope you guys enjoy it, and just like every other writer on this godforsaken site, i’d love to hear any feedback that you might have. ok im done now lol go forth and read :)

warnings: cursing, brief nsfw content, a nasty habit of jumping to conclusions, and harry being an asshole with a secret heart of gold.

~*~

October 2nd, 2021

Your attention is first caught by the massive, obnoxiously-coloured truck parked in Mindy and Gerald’s driveway. The entire vehicle is a shade of navy blue, though its sophistication is ruined by the neon green bubble lettering streaked across its doors.

Spooked? Call Styles’ Scares!

Beneath that, there’s a promise painted in bright pink:

Lasting results or your money back!

“What the hell?” you mutter.

You unbuckle your seatbelt and exit your car, momentarily forgetting about the groceries sitting in the trunk. Mindy and Gerald are standing on their porch, absorbed in a light-hearted conversation. When they catch sight of you trekking across the lawn, they smile brightly and offer up a pair of welcoming waves.

“Hi, there!” you call, shoving your hands into the back pockets of your jeans. “What’s all this?”

“Good afternoon, dear!” Mindy replies. She quickly descends the front steps, meeting you halfway and enveloping you in a tight hug. “How are you? It’s been a while since we last spoke.”

“You can drop in whenever you want,” you say, chuckling. “It’s not like I live very far away.”

“How have you been?” Gerald follows his wife, steadily making his way off the porch. “How’s school?”

“It’s alright.” You shrug. “Things are picking up, now, but I’m trying my best to stay on top of them.”

You toss your thumb over your shoulder, gesturing to the bright pickup truck parked in their driveway. (It really is ugly, you think. Probably one of the ugliest vehicles that you’ve ever had the displeasure of perceiving.)

“What’s going on?”

“Oh!” Mindy lifts her hands to her mouth, gazing at you with wide, serious eyes. “Our house is haunted.”

You balk. “Pardon me?”

“I know, I know,” she sighs, shaking her head. “It sounds silly. I didn’t believe it at first either, but—something keeps knocking our picture frames off the wall. And the lights! They start flickering at random intervals throughout the day.”

“Are you sure it’s not just rats?” you joke.

Gerald, who has now joined you on the lawn, holds up his hand solemnly. “We tried using traps, but they haven’t been touched at all.”

“Exactly.” Mindy nods, turning back to you. “We’re already worried about Joseph’s wedding next week, so one of the ladies at the community centre recommended Harry. That same day, Gerald gave him a call, and that was the end of it.”

“Who’s Harry?” you ask, brows knitting together in confusion.

“Er—” A deep voice sounds from behind you. “I am.”

When you turn around, you come face-to-face with one of the prettiest men you’ve ever seen. He’s got mossy green eyes, dark pink lips, and brown hair that curls around his temples and behind his ears. Smooth skin stretches out over high, chiseled cheekbones and a sharp jaw. He’s wearing a pair of light-wash jeans and matching white sneakers. A black hoodie covers his broad chest; upon taking a closer look, you note that the two front strings have been tied into a picturesque little bow.

Mindy wastes no time, introducing the two of you immediately. When Harry holds out his hand for you to shake, you don’t hesitate.

“Did you want my card?” he asks, peering at you curiously.

You study his expression. Beneath his seemingly sincere exterior, arrogance runs wild and unchecked. You know this man. You’ve met him a hundred different times under a hundred different circumstances, and you’ve learned to recognize a lost cause when you’re staring it square in the face.

“Not at all.” You shoot him a fake smile. “I’m just the neighbour.”

“Right.” His lips twitch. He steps back, rolling his shoulders and lifting his chin in the direction of the house. “Well, I should probably get to work. It was nice meeting you, babe.”

Your nose wrinkles as the pet name sinks in.

When you turn back around to resume your conversation with Mindy and Gerald, they’re gone. Your eyes bounce to the right, where you find them guiding Harry up the porch steps. Mindy has one hand on his bicep whilst gesturing animatedly with the other. Gerald opens the front door and holds out his arm, welcoming Harry inside.

You scoff, shaking your head in disdain.

“Ghosts aren’t real,” you mumble as you make your way back across the lawn. The trunk of your car squeaks when you pull it open, and plastic bags rustle as you gather your groceries into your arms.

Ghosts aren’t real. And Harry is obviously a scammer, based on…well, based on everything. The tacky design on his truck. The unprofessional wardrobe. The self-assuredness emanating from every cell in his body. Babe.

But Mindy and Gerald truly believe that their home is haunted. Trying to change their minds without a shred of physical proof is pointless. You blow out a soft sigh, accepting the grim reality of your situation.

Your neighbours are gullible, trusting people. And for the next few days—whether you like it or not—Harry is here to stay.

October 5th, 2021

You’re approximately two seconds away from chucking your textbook against the far wall.

You’ve been trying to finish this chapter for the past hour. And though you pride yourself on being tolerant when it comes to petty annoyances, your patience is wearing thin. A quick glance out of your bedroom window reveals Harry’s hideous pickup truck parked—yet again—in Mindy and Gerald’s driveway.

You roll your eyes. Of course.

The piercing, raucous whirring starts up again; you release a frustrated yell, slamming your book shut and leaping off your bed. You’re muttering obscenities under your breath as you stalk down the hall, stopping briefly to slide on a pair of fuzzy slippers. When you yank your front door open, the chilly autumn air settles into your bones.

The clamour grows louder as you stomp across your shared lawn. When you knock on Mindy and Gerald’s door, the commotion is nearly unbearable. A few seconds go by, during which your presence remains unacknowledged; you rap once again on the wood, hoping that the sound will be conspicuous enough amidst all of the background noise.

Sure enough, everything goes quiet. Your shoulders slump with relief just as the door opens. Mindy greets you with a friendly smile.

“Hi, dear,” she says kindly. “What can I do for you?”

“Hi.” You force yourself to mirror her affable expression, hoping that she can’t see the pained exhaustion brewing in your eyes. “Could I just—could I speak with Harry, please? It won’t take long.”

“Of course.” She nods before peering at you anxiously. “Don’t tell me that you’ve got ghosts, too.”

“No.” You shake your head. Ghosts aren’t real, you want to say, but you hold your tongue. “No, I just—I just need to have a quick word with him, that’s all.”

“Alright. I’ll go fetch him.” She turns around and totters away.

You hear her call his name, followed by the telltale sound of shuffling. After a few long moments, he’s there, leaning against the doorway with a bemused look on his face.

“Evening, babe,” he says coolly. “What’s up?”

“Don’t call me that,” you snap, folding your arms over your chest.

Harry’s eyebrows shoot upward. He hadn’t expected you to greet him with such animosity, you suppose. His outfit is nearly identical to that of the other day, save for the red bandana perched atop his head. He buries his fingers into the pockets of his jeans, shrugging nonchalantly and pinning you with a blasé, unimpressed gaze.

“Noted,” he says. The corners of his lips curl up into a crooked smirk as he repeats, “What’s up?”

“You need to keep it down,” you say flatly. “I don’t know what kind of fake ‘exorcism’ bullshit you’re trying to pull off, but the noise is driving me insane. I need to study.”

“‘Fake’?” Harry parrots. “You don’t believe in spirits?”

“No,” you deadpan. “I don’t.” You narrow your eyes, studying the subtle movements of his face. “And if I had to take a wild guess, neither do you.”

“Really,” he says, chuckling softly. It isn’t a question.

“Really.”

Harry watches you, tickled by your obvious exasperation. “I get the feeling that you don’t like me very much.”

“Look at that,” you say, rolling your eyes. “He does have a brain.”

“You’re so judgmental.” He laughs, shaking his head. “How can you dislike me when you barely even know me?”

“I know enough,” you reply, scowling. “I know that you’re a fraud who takes advantage of people and their fears. And for what? Just so that you can take home a paycheque at the end of the day?”

“Ouch.” Harry feigns injury, placing a large hand over his heart. “That hurts, babe.”

There it is again. Babe.

“You know what?” Your nostrils flare. “Forget this—it’s like trying to explain rocket science to a toddler.”

He grins. “Yeah, I suppose. I’m much cuter, though, don’t you think?”

You scoff, pedalling backward. “In your dreams.”

His delight only seems to grow when your retort sinks in. You whip around, descending the porch steps and storming back toward your house. When you chance a glance over your shoulder, Harry is still standing in the doorway, a shit-eating smile stretched wide across his cheeks.

“Just keep it down, okay?” you call irritably.

He raises two fingers to his temple in a mock-salute, and you march away without another word.

October 8th, 2021

“You’re sure?”

You laugh. “Yes, Mindy, I’m sure. I promise.”

“Alright,” she assents, blowing out a quiet sigh through the phone. “I went grocery shopping today, so our cupboards are fully stocked—help yourself to anything you’d like. Also, when you flush the downstairs toilet, the water may look like it’s rising, but it goes down after a second or two.”

“Noted.” You snicker. “Anything else?”

“That’s it,” she says. “Thank you so much.”

“No problem,” you reply. “Tell Joseph and Amy that I said congratulations, yeah?”

“We will! See you later, dear.”

“See you later.”

October 9th, 2021

When Mindy and Gerald get back tomorrow afternoon, you’re going to wring their necks.

Agreeing to housesit whilst they celebrated their son’s wedding a few cities away? Sure. Fine. You had a long night full of nothing planned—sitting in front of the television, munching on some snacks, relaxing for the evening and trying to forget about all of the schoolwork waiting for you at home. You were in the middle of watching a Golden Girls rerun when, suddenly, there was a knock on the door.

“Coming!” You stood, setting your bowl of popcorn aside. The knocking continued as you made your way to the front entrance, wiping your buttery fingers against the dark leggings covering your thighs.

“I’m coming,” you said exasperatedly. You opened the door, ready to shoo away whoever it was—a salesperson, probably.

Instead, you came face-to-face with Harry.

And now, you’re here—slumped on the couch, angrily shovelling popcorn into your mouth. You keep your gaze trained on the television, trying your hardest to avoid the man who is setting up his “equipment” in the middle of the room.

“Can’t you do this in the kitchen?” you deadpan.

He flicks a switch on his machine—it looks an awful lot like a standard centrifuge. What a fraud.

“Spirit energy’s strongest in here,” he grunts. His knees scuff against the carpeted floor.

A derisive laugh falls from your lips. “Mindy and Gerald aren’t here—you can drop the act.”

Harry glances up at you, his pretty green irises glimmering. “What act?”

You roll your eyes and look away, fixing your attention back on the grainy screen.

Neither of you say anything for the next few minutes; tension builds, saturating the air and making it hard for you to breathe. Eventually, Harry breaks through the awkward silence. You want to scream.

“Er—” he starts, expectant. “Do you mind stepping out for a second? I need the room.”

Your nostrils flare. “Excuse me?”

“I need the—”

“I heard you,” you say, sitting up straight. “You don’t need anything. What the hell are you playing at?”

“I’m not quite sure what you mean, babe.” His tone is genuine, but you can sense the mirth simmering just beneath the surface. His lips twitch, and your frustration boils like water over a stove.

“Stop calling me that,” you snap, folding your arms across your chest. “And stop playing dumb. Other people might put up with your pseudo-spooky bullshit, but I won’t. Ghosts aren’t real!”

The lights go out.

You gasp, straining your eyes in an attempt to regain your bearings. Slowly, blurry shapes and shadows materialise in front of you. You fumble around for your phone, picking it up and tapping the screen. A moment later, the device’s flash lights up the room. You shine it from side to side, eventually settling on Harry, who is looking up at the ceiling in complete and utter bewilderment.

“Fuck,” he mutters under his breath. “Now you’ve done it.”

“Done what?” you squawk, glaring at him. “The power went out. Big deal.”

The lights flicker fleetingly, and then the room is dark again. Your eyes drift over to Harry; he’s smirking.

“This isn’t a ghost,” you say stubbornly, waving your phone around. The bright light bounces across the walls before you steady yourself, positioning the beam back on him. He stands, sinking his hands into the deep pockets of his sweatpants.

“And how would you know?” he teases, cocking one eyebrow challengingly.

“Because,” you scoff. “Ghosts aren’t real.”

Something crashes to the floor. You yelp in surprise, your head snapping to the right. When you shine your light in the direction of the noise, you find a shattered picture frame lying on the ground.

“What the fuck?” Harry murmurs, advancing toward the mess.

“Careful!” you say, holding up your hand. He stops in his tracks, peering over at you in confusion. “There’s glass, idiot,” you explain, climbing to your feet. “You’re going to hurt yourself.”

He shoots you a crooked smile. “You do care.”

“I don’t.” Your response is curt. “I just don’t feel like driving you to the hospital so that they can remove fragments from your foot.”

Harry chuckles.

You sigh, squinting at the fallen frame. “We can clean it up when the lights come back on,” you say, mostly to yourself. “I don’t want to risk anything.”

He nods and yawns, stretching his arms out above his head. “Suit yourself, babe.”

“The next time you call me that, I’m going to—”

“What?” he asks, padding over to the sofa. You watch him approach with a deep scowl on your face. He collapses onto the couch, slouching and spreading his legs obnoxiously wide. “You gonna beat me up or something?”

You shake your head in disbelief, stepping away from him. “You’re a piece of shit.”

“So you say,” he replies, unbothered.

“You’re so—”

You break off, producing an angry noise in the back of your throat. Harry winks at you; in response, you whip around and storm away, carving out a path from the living room to the kitchen.

You shine the light from your phone across the cupboards, making a beeline for the fridge. When you pull it open, the cold compartment is dark. Squinting, you reach for one of the many water bottles stacked on the top shelf.

Stupid Harry, with his stupid smile and his stupid eyes and his stupid attitude and his stupid bogus business. You can’t believe that Mindy and Gerald were naïve enough to fall for his bullshit. You need to have a long talk with them when they get back, you think—to ensure that they never swallow a pill this big ever again.

“Thirsty?”

You nearly jump out of your skin, pointing your phone toward the kitchen’s exit. Harry is standing there, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his broad chest. You bring one hand up to your sternum, trying to calm your racing heart.

“Jesus Christ,” you hiss, shaking your head. “You scared the shit out of me!”

He snickers lowly. You turn your attention back to the fridge, grabbing a water bottle and uncapping it quickly. Through the darkness, Harry watches you gulp down the cool liquid; you pretend not to notice.

“Can I help you?” you finally ask, wiping your mouth with the heel of your palm.

“No.” He shrugs. “Just…looking, I guess.”

“That’s creepy,” you reply flatly. He laughs.

“May I steal a bottle?” he says, padding across the tiles. “I’m parched.”

You chew on the inside of your cheek. “I—sure. Whatever.”

And though you try, you can’t seem to tear your gaze away from him. He hums as he opens up the fridge, leaning forward to get a better look inside. You play with the hem of your sweater, standing behind him awkwardly. When he peers over his shoulder, you quickly look away, feigning interest in the marble countertop next to the sink.

“Er—” he starts. He fixes you with an inquisitive look, glancing down at the device in your hand. “Would you mind? I can’t see anything.”

“Don’t you have your own?” you ask.

“Yeah, but you’re already holding yours. Come on.”

You roll your eyes. “Fine.”

You draw nearer, lifting your phone and shining its flash into the fridge. Harry hums, plucking a water bottle off the top shelf with a satisfied smile. When he turns to face you, a puff of air catches in your throat; he’s awfully close, his torso brushing almost imperceptibly against yours.

You stare up at him, stunned. There’s a small mole beneath the left corner of his mouth. Part of you—an insignificant, microscopic part—fights the urge to reach out and run your thumb over the mark.

“I’m sorry for calling you a piece of shit,” you blurt.

He inhales deeply, chest expanding and fitting a bit more firmly against your own.

The contact snaps you out of your trance. You retreat, backing up against the counter to maintain your balance. Harry clears his throat and glances away.

“Thanks,” he says, his voice hoarse.

Unable to find the right words, you simply nod.

The two of you stand there for a long moment, sinking into a pool of uncomfortable silence. Just when you think that you’re going to choke on the invisible tension, a faint buzz resonates through the air. Less than a second later, the power returns, illuminating the kitchen in a wash of warm, brilliant light.

“Thank God,” you mutter. You shut the flash on your phone, sliding the device beneath the waistband of your leggings.

Harry blinks rapidly, disoriented. “Shit.”

“What’s wrong?” you ask, tilting your head to the side.

He waves your question away. “No, it’s—it’s nothing.”

And you don’t really feel like pressing the subject, so you let it go. A tired sigh falls from your mouth as you scan your surroundings.

“Help me find a broom,” you tell him. “We need to sweep up the glass in the other room.”

His lips twitch. “What’s the magic word?”

There he is. The same insufferable man who has been pushing your buttons all week. You scowl, shooting him a displeased glare.

“Forget it.” You drag your fingers down the left side of your face. “I’ll do it myself.”

~*~

“You sure you don’t want my help?” Harry calls, kicking his feet up onto the sofa.

You grunt, crouching next to the shattered glass on the floor. “Positive.”

The broom and dustpan that you’ve acquired from the laundry room are old and frail, but you suppose that they’ll get the job done. You set the dustpan down on the ground, wrapping your fingers around the broom’s handle and trying to maneuver it in an efficient way. It’s no easy feat, but eventually, you manage to create a small, compact pile of shards. Gingerly, you reach for the picture frame, plucking it up from the ground and setting it off to the side. Next, you take your time sweeping all of the fragments into the dustpan, inspecting the floor for any lingering bits.

“Struggling over there?” Harry asks.

You grit your teeth.

“No,” you counter in a matter-of-fact tone. “I think I got it all, actually. No thanks to you.”

You throw the last part over your shoulder, coupling it with an accusatory frown. Harry holds up his hands in surrender, suppressing his amusement.

“Shouldn’t you be exorcising spirits?” you ask. Sarcasm drips from your words.

He chuckles. The couch squeaks as he shuffles around; a moment later, the sound of approaching footsteps reaches your ears. You stiffen when he stops next to your squatted form.

“To be quite honest,” he begins, and you can practically hear the smirk in his voice, “I’m having a much better time watching you.”

“Creepy,” you say. “Again.”

He laughs, lowering himself to his knees. In the periphery of your vision, you watch him pick up the abandoned picture frame, turning it around and studying the photograph inside. His cheeks lift with the slope of a familiar smile, but somehow, this one is different from the others that you’ve witnessed.

It’s real. Sincere.

“Nice, don’t you think?” Harry asks, pulling you from your thoughts.

He extends his arm, revealing the photograph. Mindy and Gerald’s beaming faces stare up at you, a balance of bright grins and crinkled eyes. Subconsciously, your lips curl upward, and you take the frame from Harry’s hands.

“Yeah,” you murmur, running your fingertips over the photo. “They look happy.”

“How long have you known them?” he asks. There’s no malice behind the question.

“Since I moved in,” you say absentmindedly, admiring the ornate frame around the picture. “A few years, now.”

He hums in response. “They talk about you a lot.”

“All good things, I hope.” You cast a wry look in his direction.

He chuckles and nods. “Yeah. They look out for you, it seems.”

“I try to look out for them, too.” You sit back on your haunches, groaning quietly. “Which is why I was surprised that they didn’t come to me when they first thought their house was ‘haunted’.”

Your intonation changes on the last word; you still don’t believe that your neighbours are being plagued by spirits, despite the plethora of peculiarity that you’ve witnessed tonight.

“Maybe they didn’t want to worry you,” Harry suggests.

You roll your eyes. Even now, he refuses to drop the act.

“Sure,” you say. “So, hiring a spirit exterminator—or whatever you pretend to be—was a better move?” You snort softly, climbing to your feet. “How much are they paying you, anyway?”

He purses his lips. “They’re not.”

You freeze.

A beat of silence drags out, during which you swallow your shock. You clear your throat and lift your chin, staring down at Harry banally.

“You’re lying.”

“Nope.”

“You are!” you insist. A short, incredulous laugh tumbles off your tongue. “You are one hundred percent fucking with me.”

“I’m afraid not,” he says.

“Your truck, though...” you say. “‘Lasting results, or your money back’?”

“I’ve got to make it look legitimate, don’t I?” He smirks. “But it’s cute that you remembered.”

Your eyes lock with his, and suddenly, it’s almost impossible to breathe. His gaze is deep, open, and honest. Your lips part, but no sound comes out. Instinctively, your legs carry you a few paces back, veering toward the sofa. You plop down onto the plush cushions, clutching the picture frame tightly between your fingers.

“Then, why—?” you break off, shaking your head. “Why would you—?”

“Peace of mind,” Harry shrugs, still rooted to his spot on the floor. “Ever heard of the placebo effect?”

“You admit it, then,” you say, sitting up straight. “There’s no such thing as ghosts.”

He nods, blinking languidly. “There’s no such thing as ghosts.”

“So,” you start, trying to make sense of the situation, “you let them believe that you’re actually cleansing the house—for free, too—just to—?” You glance around the room, searching for the right words. “—just to put them at ease?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s…”

Sweet. Thoughtful.

“…ridiculous.”

Harry chuckles. “Thanks.”

“I—” You hesitate, depositing the photograph next to you on the couch. “This whole time, I thought you were just…”

“A con?”

You bring your fingers up to your mouth, nodding silently and studying him with big, rounded eyes.

He shrugs.

“I mean, I never really got the chance to explain myself. You’d already made up your mind about me, hadn’t you? So, I thought I’d just let you stick with your assumptions—it didn’t bother me much.”

“I’m a horrible person,” you say, mostly to yourself.

Harry laughs, shaking his head. “No, you’re not. You’re just a bit judgmental, that’s all.”

“You’re right.” You nod again, bowing your head in shame. “I am. I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright, babe, really.”

You stand abruptly, abandoning your spot on the sofa.

“I should finish up,” you state, embarrassed beyond belief. Harry watches you closely as you approach. You crouch down next to him, reaching for the dustpan with shaky hands. A few small shards of glass are littered at the brink of the collector; you nudge them away from the edge, trying to be as careful as possible.

“Ow!” you suddenly hiss, retracting your arm quickly. You twist your wrist, fixing your attention on a thin cut engraved into the pad of your index finger.

“What happened?” Harry asks, leaning forward.

You shake your head, waving away his worries. “I’m fine, I’m fine. Just got nicked, that’s all.”

“Let me see,” he requests, holding out his own hand.

You pause, taking your bottom lip between your teeth and stealing a quick glance at his face. His expression is concerned, but neutral. Your hesitation is silly, you think—he may be a bit of a jackass, but he’s not going to hurt you. You’ve already condemned him once before, and you were wrong.

You don’t want to make that mistake again.

After a brief moment, you give in, sliding your knuckles into his open palm.

“It’s alright, really,” you say, speaking around the lump in your throat. “The piece was tiny—it hardly broke the surface.”

Harry inspects the laceration closely, and you fight the urge to roll your eyes.

It’s not that serious, you want to tell him, but you refrain from letting the words escape. Part of you is enjoying the way your hands fit together so perfectly. You don’t want it to end—not yet.

“You’re bleeding a bit, babe,” he announces faintly, brows cinched in concentration.

“I am?” You try to tug your arm back, but he keeps a firm grip on your wrist. A low, confused noise echoes in the back of your throat; Harry peers up at you, his features unreadable.

“It’s just a spot,” he murmurs. “Let me.”

And before you can say or do anything else, he’s taking your finger past his lips and giving an easy, gentle suck.

You squeak.

The sound snaps Harry out of his trance; he releases your hand and recoils hastily. You exhale, driving out the stale air gathered in your lungs. When you peek up at him from beneath your lashes, he’s already watching you, shoulders taut with anxiety.

“Sorry,” he stammers. His nostrils flare. “That was weird—sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you say, shaking your head. “Er…thanks.”

“No worries.” He swallows.

“Alright.”

Awkwardly, you wipe your clammy palms against your thighs. Harry seems to be looking at everything except for you; his gaze flits to the ceiling, then to the couch, then to the floor. You gnaw on the inside of your cheek and push yourself up off the ground. The room is painfully quiet as you slowly slink back toward to the sofa.

“I should probably put this somewhere safe,” you mumble, picking up the forgotten picture frame.

Warm air floats over the nape of your neck. You gasp and spin around, nearly toppling over in your haste. Harry’s hands find your shoulders, steadying you and crowding you closer to his chest. You glance up at him; your shallow breaths mingle together in the narrow space, noses only inches apart.

“Is this okay?” he asks, his voice no higher than a gruff whisper. “Tell me. Please.”

In response, you fumble for one of his hands, grappling at his wrist; he loosens his hold on your arms, confused but willing. He’s motionless as you lift his knuckles up to your mouth. You glance down, tilting your head to the side and studying them carefully. Harry says nothing when you press a soft, feathery kiss to the pad of his index finger.

But then you’re dipping the tip of the digit between your lips, and suddenly, he’s undone.

“Fucking—”

He grabs your face in his palms and seals his mouth to yours.

The two of you stagger backward, tumbling onto the couch. Mindy and Gerald’s picture frame slips from your grasp, landing on a neighbouring cushion with a faint thud. Reflexively, your legs part; Harry takes his rightful place between them, slanting his body accordingly. When he applies the faintest hint of pressure, you moan.

“Fuck.” He draws back, his warm breath wafting over your chin. “Don’t.”

“‘Don’t’ what?” you ask, puzzled.

He shakes his head. “Don’t make those noises. It’s—you’re—I’m—”

He curses quietly and reaches for one of your hands. You allow him to guide your palm lower, inhaling sharply when you feel the slight bulge protruding from his trousers. Instinctively, your fingers close over the subtle ridge of his cock. His shoulders stiffen, and his eyes squeeze shut.

“You’re hard,” you murmur, as though it’s the most fascinating thing in the world.

“Not fully.” He swallows. “But I’m getting there.”

“Because of me?” you ask, peering up at him innocently.

“Yeah.” Harry expels a wobbly, disbelieving laugh. “Yeah, babe—because of you.”

Your teeth sink into your bottom lip as the familiar moniker falls from his mouth. He notices your unusual reaction, mouth curling into teasing smirk.

“What?” he says, lifting one eyebrow. “No nagging, this time? I thought you hated that nickname.”

You grip the collar of his sweater and give a gentle tug, guiding him down for another kiss. When the two of you finally break apart, you shrug. “It’s growing on me.”

He smiles.

“Do you—?” you pause, pursing your lips. The question sounds silly—presumptuous, even. Rather than finishing your sentence, you lift your chin, gazing up evenly into Harry’s green eyes and declaring, “I think I want to sleep with you.”

His cheeks dimple with a wide grin. “Is that so?”

You nod.

“Right, then.” He kisses your nose and pulls away. “There’s a condom in my wallet, but…I may or may not have left it in my truck.”

You groan, allowing your head to fall back against the sofa with a heavy thump. Harry chuckles at your theatrics. After a brief moment of contemplation, you compose yourself and sit up quickly.

“That works, actually,” you say, tucking a stray piece of hair behind your ear. “Grab your wallet, and then we can go to my place. I don’t think my neighbours would be very happy if we fucked on their couch.”

He laughs, climbing eagerly to his feet and shooting you a smug wink. “You got it, babe.”

October 10th, 2021

It’s nearly half past noon when you step out onto the porch the next day. You yawn, squinting up at the sun shining brightly in the sky. There are no clouds in sight; the slight chill of the autumn air tickles your exposed arms. You tug on the waistband of your sweatpants, keeping the material seated firmly on your hips.

“Good morning, dear!”

You jump, head snapping in the direction of a familiar voice. Mindy and Gerald are sitting on their veranda, nursing twin cups of coffee and looking awfully cozy. Gerald smiles at you, folding up his newspaper and setting it on his lap.

“Good morning!” You wave before re-evaluating your words. “Well, it’s technically past twelve, so good afternoon.”

Mindy laughs.

“How was the wedding?” you ask, approaching the side of your deck. You lean against the thin metal railing, combing your fingers through your messy hair. “I wasn’t expecting you to be back this soon.”

“We woke up early,” Mindy explains. “And the wedding was fabulous. Amy wore the most beautiful dress I’ve ever seen.”

“Really?” You grin. “Do you have any pictures?”

“Of course! Just let me run inside and grab my phone—”

“Mornin’,” a gruff voice says from behind you.

You gasp and spin around, bringing a hand to your chest. The sight laid out before you has your heart speeding up, galloping wildly and battering against the confines of your ribs.

Harry’s wearing that same hoodie from last night. Your gaze trails lower—he’s also sporting a pair of grey boxers and white socks. There’s a mug nestled in each of his large hands, his spindly fingers wrapped around the handles comfortably. Your eyes lock with his sleepy ones, and your breathing hitches in your throat.

“Morning,” you whisper, unable to muster up anything louder.

“I—” Harry clears his throat, stepping closer and extending his left arm. “I, er, took the liberty of making us some tea. Hope you don’t mind.”

“No, it’s—” You swallow as you accept one of the mugs, suppressing a giddy smile. “It’s completely fine. Thank you.”

“Of course.” He leans in, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. “Sleep well?”

“Mhm.” You nod shyly.

He chuckles. “Good.”

His gaze wanders over your shoulder, and it’s then that he notices Mindy and Gerald sat on the neighbouring porch. Without even batting an eye, he lifts his hand in a friendly wave. “Morning, you two. How was the wedding?”

You turn back toward the couple, a sheepish look on your face. Mindy is beaming, and Gerald is trying to hold back a laugh. Heat creeps up your neck; you wish that the ground would just open up and swallow you whole.

“It was wonderful!” Mindy trills. Her enthusiasm has skyrocketed. You pinch the bridge of your nose, utterly mortified.

“Yes.” Gerald finally pipes up, smirking knowingly. “It was great. What about you, though? How was your night?”

“Fine,” you blurt before Harry can respond. “It was fine.”

The duo share a look, and then Mindy giggles girlishly. You bring your mug up to your mouth, taking a long sip and groaning into the cup. Harry’s arm snakes around your waist, making you jump. You steal a glance at him out of the corner of your eye; he’s fighting a smile.

“Well—” Gerald clears his throat, plucking his folded newspaper from his lap and rising to his feet. “I think I’ll be going, now. Need to catch up on those few extra hours of sleep.”

“Me too,” Mindy says, nodding fervently. She directs her next words at you. “If you pop by later, I’ll show you those photos, okay?”

“Okay,” you croak.

She shoots you one last grin before disappearing inside.

“God,” you say immediately, hanging your head. “That was torture.”

Next to you, Harry laughs. You aim a weak swat at his chest. He snickers, catching your palm and ducking down to drop a gentle kiss against your knuckles. You exhale shakily, twisting your body around so that you can face him.

“Your hair’s a mess,” you murmur, running your free hand through his dishevelled curls.

He cocks one eyebrow. “And whose fault is that?”

You scoff. “Shut up.”

He chuckles quietly and steps closer to you, holding out his mug. You smile in assent, mirroring his movements and clinking your cups together.

“So,” Harry starts, sipping his tea casually, “you gonna let me take you out on a proper date, sometime?”

“That depends,” you say, trying to ignore the flurry of butterflies flapping around in your stomach. “I’ll go—but only if we take my car. I refuse to drive around town in your tacky truck.”

“It’s not that bad!” he protests.

“It’s awful,” you tell him, shaking your head. “It looks it was decorated by a preschooler during arts and crafts.”

“Fine.” He rolls his eyes playfully, giving in. “Any other requests?”

You pause, lost in thought.

“One more, actually,” you say, fixing him with a challenging stare. “You need to come clean to Mindy and Gerald.”

He doesn’t miss a beat. “Alright.”

“Really?” You balk, taken aback by his compliance. “That’s it? But I—I had a whole speech prepared.”

Harry laughs softly, cradling your face with his free hand and kissing you slowly. Your fingers tighten around your mug. When the two of you break apart for air, he shrugs.

“I started considering it after everything that happened last night. Keep your speech, though.” His lips twitch. “You’ll be needing to scold me again in no time, I’m sure.”

Your shoulders shake with a silent giggle. “You’re probably right.”

“Also—” Harry clears his throat, soothing the ache with another sip of tea. “You may want to suggest that they hire an exterminator.”

“An exterminator?” you repeat, blinking in surprise. “But…they don’t have rats. Gerald said that the traps hadn’t been touched.”

“Not rats,” he hums. “Squirrels, I believe. Living in the walls.”

“And how did you reach that conclusion?”

“I’ve been doing this for a while, babe—I’ve seen my fair share of pests. Plus,” he clucks his tongue, “they like to chew on wires.”

“Really?” You sigh distantly, pinching your bottom lip. “God, that sucks.”

“It does.” He nods, wrapping his fingers around your forearm. “But you can tell them later.”

“Later?” you say, brows knitting together. “Why not right now?”

“Because,” Harry grunts. You squeal when he crowds you up against your front door. He cups your jaw and tilts your chin up with his thumb, handsome face splitting into an easy, salacious grin.

“Right now, I’m taking you back to bed.”

~*~

thanks for reading! if you enjoyed this piece, please consider donating to my ko-fi! and as always, don’t forget to share your thoughts. thank you bunches <3

#harry styles smut #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfiction #spookrry #harry writing #ok here it is 🙃 i lowkey feel like its gonna flop but w/e

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theonewiththefanfics · 3 years

Text

Heartbreak For A Gift (Part 1/?)

Synopsis: Sometimes relationships start off like love stories in books. And sometimes they fall apart in a minute.

(Kind of an AU! I guess??)

Pairing: Harry Styles x fem!Reader

Genre: angst bruh

Warnings: swearing, sadness, angst, but nothing else that I can remember. Minimal editing

Word count: 2547

A/N: Please note I don’t know what the situation is between Harry and Olivia, if it’s a stunt or they’re actually dating. Whatever the case do not harass them. This is fiction and only for the purposes of the story. If they’re actually together - GOOD FOR THEM!!! No one is entitled to other people’s private lives!

Can be read as a one-shot if ya want, but I might turn this into a very small series cause I already have ideas as to where to go further with this, so hit me up if that’s what you’d like :)

If you know you’re a part of my tag list and see you’ve been crossed out, it means I can’t tag you for whatever reason. If you still would like to be a part of my tags please message me with your previous username and updated so I can update my lists :)

When she’d first said yes to going out with Harry, she’d had zero ideas as to who he really was. Well, that was a lie, she obviously knew of him, it’s not like she completely lived under a rock, and she’d seen a couple of his interviews, but 'One Direction' or Harry Styles as a solo artist hadn’t been that big of parts of her life, so she didn’t really care much for it. They’d met at a bookstore on a sunny day in London. That’d been a good day. Her boss had let her go home a bit earlier than usual, the weather was warm, but not it’s-so-warm-I’m-sweating-my-ass-off kind of warm, sunglasses covering her eyes and hair free as the warm summer winds blew through her locks she was walking beside the Thames on her way inside the heart of the city. Because she had a little bit more free time, she decided to pop into Waterstones, which was generally not a good idea for Y/N to do if she had things in store for the day; this time she could spend the rest of the evening if she wanted to, browsing books and living her best life. Surprisingly for London, that particular Waterstones, even though it was in a densely populated area, was pretty empty, so Y/N felt free to skim through the options without having to press through a crowd of people to find the next section. As she scanned what the shelves of New-Adult fiction offered, a man also came to look at the books. He stayed a bit further away, but he was certainly someone who caught people’s attention with the bright green daisy-print covered T-shirt, chequered shorts and the three scrunchies on his wrist. The thing was as much as he’d grabbed Y/N's attention, she was more interested in the Waterstones exclusive edition of a book she’d been dying to buy, so when she saw it just sitting on the shelf, a small gasp escaped her lips. Two eyes were immediately on her, and Y/N could feel them slip back onto her form from time to time as she greedily paged through the book, but she couldn’t say her own Y/E/C eyes didn’t flit over to the man as well. He had a small bun on the top of his head, curly hair pushed away from the face, cheekbones for days, which were shaved and smooth and perfectly groomed brows arching over what seemed to be green orbs which were looking at the spine of a crime book way too intensely for it to be genuine interest. All in all, his side profile would be that of one of the characters Y/N’d simp over in a book, let alone the nails painted all colours of the rainbow which made her happy because nothing was better to see someone sticking it to the patriarchy. But their little meet-cute was interrupted as an employee apologised while he tried to squeeze past them with a giant cart filled with new release books, and almost like a lost puppy, she started to follow the stacks of books when a hand on her shoulder made her spin around only to be faced with the man. She instantly recognised his face, but, at the same time, couldn’t really pinpoint what it was about him that was so familiar.

“Sorry,” he said in a rough voice. “But you left this behind.” And in his hands was the Waterstones exclusive. Y/N’s eyes widened as she gingerly took it from him. “Oh my god, thank you! I’ve got no idea how I let it out of my fingers.” He chuckled, motioning with his chin to the employee disappearing by the corner. “I’d say you got distracted.” “Yeah, a little.” She bit her lip and drummed her nails against the cover of the book. “Well, uh… thank you. For not grabbing it for yourself.” But he just lifted his hand. “More of a Murakami kind of a man.” “Yes, well, I,” she nodded towards the book in her own hand, “like to read about people living out my dreams.” He raised his eyebrow. “It’s a murder mystery.” “Your point?” “Would you say I have issues then if I wanted to ask you out on a date?” Y/N’s heart stuttered in her chest, but he looked so nervous, so genuinely open and almost scared, she couldn’t feel any ill intentions from him, so she tapped her chin a bit as if contemplating before saying, “No. I’d say you have good taste actually.’ The relieved laugh he let out made him seem even prettier than Y/N already thought he was. He extended his palm towards her, swaying on the balls of his feet a bit. “ ‘M Harry. Would probably be proper to know my name before we go anywhere further.” “Y/N.” She smiled and clasped his hand in hers. “And it would probably be proper to know I was kidding about the whole ‘watching others live out my dreams’. People living out my dreams are actually in the books having hot sex with Fae.” His laughter was loud and sudden, making Y/N duck down like she was in her Uni library and the librarians would come and shush them. But now, almost two years later since they’d first met, there was no sign of those butterflies she’d felt in the middle of the thriller section of Waterstones. Now Y/N was sitting by a large table, body slowly numbing as was her mind to keep the pain from her heart spreading. Whatever Jeff was talking about now, she didn’t hear. There were eyes on her, had to be to gauge her reaction, but they wouldn’t get anything more than slightly parted lips and a blank stare turned towards the marbled top. She knew Harry was nervous; from her peripheral vision, she saw his thumb scraping at the rest of his nail lacquer, chips of pastel yellow and green polish flaking off and floating to the carpeted floor. Y/N didn’t like LA. She’d never wanted to go there. Maybe as a tourist for a couple of weeks sometime down the line, but because of Harry and his commitment to ‘Don’t Worry, Darling’ and because he’d basically pleaded with her for days on end, she’d agreed to move there with him for the time he was shooting the movie. It’s not that the city wasn’t beautiful. The sun, the sea, the greenery surrounding her was absolutely breath-taking, but it was the people that she didn’t really mesh with. Sure, she knew dating Harry came with a lot of what LA’s society was like. The need to look absolutely physically perfect to match the unachievable barbie standard, the fake niceness people usually exhibited just to get something for themselves or possibly raise them higher on the popularity scale, but Harry had always wiped away those doubts. But now all of that seemed like one big lie. He’d told her he didn’t care for any of it, not when it concerned Y/N nor when it concerned himself. But the contract in front of them said something different. A hand touched her back. “Y/N?” Harry’s voice was tentative, wavering at the end of her name. For the first time since the proposal had been thrown out, she lifted her eyes to look around at the people in the room. Harry, Jeff, both their attorneys and Olivia Wilde and her attorney. The other woman, once their gazes met, immediately looked away. Y/N wanted to scoff at that. “What…” Harry gulped, brushing a hand across her back. She’d never flinched away from him, but this time she did. Harry visibly shrunk in his seat and pulled back. “What do you think?” What did she think? Well, she was thinking a lot of things, and the urge to say all of them was immense, but instead Y/N bit down on her tongue, reaching for the legal papers in front of her and skimmed through them. She’d read each and every word as they’d been read out loud by the attorney, and every letter had been burned into her brain now. There was no way to get them out from her mind, and they’d haunt her forever. “The fact that you’re asking me what I think of it already means you’re considering this.” Surprisingly enough, her voice was steady even though she was on the verge of collapsing after everything. “So, I’ll make this really easy for you – do it. Because, from now on, you’re a single man and you can do whatever the fuck you want.” Harry’s face paled immediately at her words, hand moving to grasp Y/N’s, but they were in a tight ball in her lap, not moving an inch at his touch. “Y/N, please.” Olivia was the one reaching out now, a pained and terrified look on her face, but the girl just stood up from her chair and went to the coat rack taking her coat and the bag that was discarded by it. “No, you asked what I thought.” Tears had started to form in her eyes while she shrugged on her jacket. “This is what I think. If you even for a second assumed I’d be alright with this shitty stunt, Harry, then through the last two years we've spent together, you’ve learned nothing about me, and to me, it means it’s not worth it.” Harry was now standing, desperate to touch her face, but Y/N once again pulled away. “You two,” Y/N said pointing between Olivia and Harry, their faces twins of fear and regret. “Have never needed publicity. Not like this, so don’t try and bullshit me that this will make great promo for the movie. There are so many other ways you could drum up interest, but this…” She let out an unamused chuckle. “How could you think I’d be okay with you pretending to be in a relationship with someone else?” “No, please… just hear us out. You don’t know what it’s like.” Harry tried to plead, hands in his hair, but it was the wrong thing to say, as she took a step back, eyes wide in disbelief. But Y/N was calm, and with how rigid Harry became he knew he’d fucked up more than before. “I don’t understand?" she breathed. “The number of things and events I’ve said ‘no’ to… the…” Her voice was as still as the sea before a storm as she took in a deep breath and exhaled. “Harry wants Y/N there for the opening of his tour, so Y/N drops everything and flies out even though she misses a presentation that could have her up for a promotion. Harry doesn’t want to be seen walking inside a club with someone, so Y/N goes to the back entrance to save his face. Harry is tired and just wants to sleep, so Y/N passes on her friends’ birthdays because he wants cuddles. What Harry wants, Y/N does. And I did. I did all that happily while keeping our relationship private while snaking in and out through back doors like I was some dirty secret of yours just so you could keep the illusion you’re single…” Y/N shook her head. “I think I understand very well… But now… it’s my turn, my time to ask of you something.” “Anything,” he pleaded, probably thinking that Y/N was going to ask him not to go with Jeff’s stunt, and he’d gladly tell them all to fuck off if it meant her staying. “I’ll do anything.” “Let me go.” If Harry’s heart hadn’t been in his chest you would’ve been able to hear it break as it smashed against the floor. “Let me go,” she repeated. “And don’t come after me. Because I won’t take any part in this.” “But –,” he was choking on his words. “But I don’t want to. I love you; I can’t just let you walk away like that. I won’t do it, none of this is worth it.” “And I didn’t want to do a lot of things, especially sit in a meeting on Valentine’s day where my boyfriend was talking about faking a relationship to promote a fucking movie, but here we are.” This time when he reached out to cup her cheek, Y/N let him. “Please. I swear I won’t do it, just please let’s talk about this. Don’t give up on me.” But she was unwavering. “For the rest of our relationship, however long that might’ve been, I would’ve wondered if you hated me if you despised me for not agreeing to go with it if the movie didn’t do as well as your management predicts it will with this. And I won’t have that. I won’t be in a relationship where every second will be spent in doubt that I’m stifling your career and you could potentially resent me.” “I could never hate you.” “Yeah.” She let out a sob. “You actually claim to love me but would be willing to put me through that kind of fuckery, so something has to be a lie.” Without looking at anyone else in the office, Y/N stepped away from the man who once made her feel like she could conquer the top of the world and opened the door, but didn’t even manage to take a step outside when the voice of the person she never wanted to hear from called after her, and although Y/N had been calm and collected, she snapped at him. “Oh, don’t worry, Jeff,” she snarled. “It’s not like I can talk about anything that happened here. You made sure of it. Smart move, by the way, I’d say you should continue it. NDAs right before any meeting… I guess that’s how you keep your clients' careers spotless, so your stunt won’t be exposed.” The way she whipped around to move towards the door would’ve given her whiplash, if not for Harry standing in front of her, arms weaving around to keep her in place. “I’m sorry." He was verging on hysterics. "Please just… please Y/N don’t…” It seemed like he no longer even understood what he was pleading for. For Y/N to not break up? To not leave the room? LA? All he knew was that if he let her walk out of the door, he’d never see her again, and she’d make sure of it. “No, Harry, I think I actually will, because the thought of being in the same city as you, is going to make me throw up right now,” Y/N said eyes not daring to meet his, because if she did, she'd break and her resolve would dissipate. “Besides, you have loads of things to talk about. By the time you get back, I’ll have my stuff out of the hotel. And Jeff?” His manager looked sheepish as she glanced at Y/N. “The least you owe me is a ticket back home. The first flight you can find.” He didn’t answer, just nodded. She didn't deign to thank him. “Happy fucking Valentines to you two.” She looked at Olivia and Harry, who was breaking apart at the seams, but no longer could she find it in herself to care. He didn’t care enough about her anyway. “Hope you have a very happy relationship.”

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A/N: I’m (kinda?) back? I guess. I dunno. I’m in this weird place where I’m writing my books and then I get inspo for fics and I start writing them, but can’t seem to finish them so I dunno :D

P.S. what did ya think?

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P.S.S.S. my tags are always open :)

#Harry Styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles imagine #harry styles smut #harry styles angst #harry styles and you #harry styles and y/n #harry styles and reader #harry styles x reader #harry styles x fem!reader #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader smut #don't worry darling #olivia wilde #one direction #one direction imagine #harry styles fandom

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svnflowervol666 · 3 years

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Ma Petite Chérie: Christmas Then (Harry Styles x fem!Reader)

Read more from this little universe, Ma Petite Chérie, in my masterlist!

Word Count: 6k

Summary: It’s the happiest time of the year, but it couldn’t be more miserable for Harry and Y/N.

Author’s Note: Reupload because it wasn’t working in the tags! Here is the first of two Christmas bits for Harry, Y/N and Tallulah! I’ve told you all that I planned on writing about Harry and Y/N breaking up early on in their relationship, so I decided to add a little Christmas spirit into the mix in honor of the season. I promise, the next part isn’t this sad. I always feel like I’m not that great at writing angst, mostly because it hurts my heart too much, but I hope I did this story enough justice. Feedback is greatly appreciated, it helps to keep me going and to write things that you guys actually want to read. Any who, enjoy! The next part will be up by the end of the month. Take care and TPWK.

Harry had never thought that a night out with his colleagues would cost him his world. It was supposed to be a celebration of another successful year at his job, nothing more. It was supposed to be dinner, a few rounds of whiskey with his team, and an early night back to the two girls he loved the most who waited impatiently for his return. It wasn’t supposed to be a trip to the club, where the bass in the speakers replaced Harry’s own heartbeat and made his mind temporarily forget where his priorities lied. He thought that he’d only be there long enough to not seem like an uptight asshole that didn’t care to have any fun, but alas. Harry can be quite the pushover, and quickly slipped into that inedbriated state that often persuades you to do things you know you shouldn’t.

Harry had certainly thought wrong.

Y/N, on the other hand, was only supposed to be gone long enough to clear her head. Steam was practically billowing out of her at lightspeed the night this all happened. It would later be referred to as “The-Incident-That-We-Don’t-Speak-About-Because-It’s-Painful-Too-Even-Think-About” in the future, but right now, it consumed her. Every little detail of that night and the argument that followed haunted her like a reoccurring bad dream that she couldn’t shake. The way he smelled like cigarettes from keeping his coworkers company on the club’s smoking patio, the way his eyes were glassy from one (or two) ((or three)) too many shots of tequila, the way he yelled at her. She had assured him that all she needed was time to think, and then she’d be back to talk. At the time, she had told him that she quite frankly didn’t want to even be in the same postal code as him, so she left. All that was in the duffle bag she packed in four minutes flat was her toothbrush, face wash, and enough clothes to get her through the weekend while she cooled off at her friend’s apartment.

She didn’t plan on being gone for sixteen days.

A lot had occurred to her in her time away from Harry. One, was that this was the first time they had fought. Ever. She’d always wondered if her time with Harry would ever stop feeling like a fairytale that only existed in novels and storybooks. Everything about the two of them was picture-perfect from its conception, and had somehow only gotten sweeter as the years had passed. She firmly believed that they weren’t like everybody else, those that put on a charade around others, but were unbearably miserable in private. She had started to think that maybe it was supernatural, the way that they fit together so perfectly that she thought no one else on the planet could make her feel the way Harry does, perfectly complete and peaceful. But it was turning out to be as simple as the age-old saying, life is not always rainbows and butterflies.

Two, was this really what Y/N wanted? She didn’t give it a second thought when it came to Harry having a child, quickly stepping into the role of being someone important in Tallulah’s life. And Harry let her, too. As cautious as he is about who he involves his daughter with, it was almost scary the way he let her in and allowed her to love and care for her. Yes, scary. Scary, because children are permanent and they are hard work and they include making sacrifices that sometimes don’t seem fair. So, Y/N had been asking herself if this was where she saw herself staying, as she had too big of a heart to become such an important character in Tallulah’s life to decide somewhere down the line that she suddenly didn’t want to be tied down anymore. It wasn’t fair to the poor girl, just a measly four years old, to have to go through losing someone that had promised to love her forever. Twice.

Deep down, she knew that this, Harry’s modest yet still lavish home with a pastel yellow door and vegetable garden out back that was often littered with dolls and abandoned sun hats from the cutest little thing that Y/N had ever seen, was where she wanted to be. But this brought her to the third thing she had pondered whilst she rotted on her friend’s uncomfortable sofa at 2 a.m. as she’d waited for her melatonin supplements to enter her system and send her off into a subdued state.

Could she ever forgive him for what he said?

It was just one week before Christmas. Harry texted her at least once everyday, Y/N only replying to the ones when he’d asked her if she was ready to talk, to which she’d tell him that she wasn’t, and that she promised she’d tell him when she was. Part of her stayed away from him for so long because she feared that somehow, deep down, the right thing to do was to stay away forever, and that was certainly going to be the worst day of her life. It would be for the better, Y/N thinks, if that is the case, but she’s trying very hard not to think about that being the endgame for her and Harry. Hence the inner turmoil that’s consuming Y/N’s body whole.

Sarah had promised her that Harry wasn’t coming. They sided with her on this one, she’d said, thus rescinding his invitation to her and Mitch’s annual holiday party. It felt somewhat wrong to be going to see Harry’s friends without him, especially given the fact that they’d more or less been split up for the past two weeks. But as much as they were Harry’s friends, they were also hers too. Harry really knew how to pick the ones he held closest - they were good people. He knows how to chose them because Harry is also a good person and Y/N knows this, and that makes it all the more painful when she pulls into the car park designated for guests of the condominium where Mitch and Sarah lived.

They’d seemed a bit off when they welcomed her into the sizey flat with the small, wrapped gift she’d brought for their exchange, but Y/N dismisses their seemingly rehearsed greetings as pity. Although the last thing she wants is to talk about Harry, she finds their condolences and overall presence soothing. She hadn’t seen much aside from her friend that she’d been staying with and her overweight, powder white cat these days, so human interracton in any capacity was refreshing.

Until it wasn’t.

The longer she stood in the circle of the others that came to the party, mindlessly nodding along to whatever was being said but not actually paying any attention, the longer she was left to sit with her thoughts. She remembers the three other times she’d come to Mitch and Sarah’s for this exact party, and how warm and loved she felt. Right now, all she feels is the cold radiating off of the sliding glass door that she’s leaning on and loneliness. To Y/N, it almost felt like everyone in the room knew what had happened to her and Harry. Like they were trying too hard to be cordial with her because they saw her as the girl that Harry yelled terrible things at and did terrible things too. It was overbearing and she had to get out before she exploded.

Finding aid in the very sliding glass door that chilled her to the bone, she wandered out on the patio to get away from the noise that was so loud yet so quiet at the same time. Tiny snowflakes coated the railing and the outdoor furniture, enough to illuminate her surroundings in an almost purple glow despite the time of night. If Tallulah were here, she’d convince Y/N to catch them on her tongue with her. Any other time, a thought like that would have made her smile, but right now it just made her sad. She wasn’t wearing a coat, yet she couldn’t find herself to care in this moment.

She wanted Harry. She wanted Harry there with her, whispering in her ear that Josie is full of herself and will say anything to get people’s attention and that he thinks they should ditch the party early so they can “warm each other up” at home. Despite the ache in her bones that wished for him, she couldn’t stop thinking about the last time she saw him.

“You’re lying.”

“Wha’ are you talkin’ about, Y/N?” he was swaying back and forth where he stood, clearly too drunk to keep his balance.

He almost sounded annoyed, but it was moreso because she’d interrupted his treck to the bedroom where his warm bed was waiting for him to ail his drunkenness and less because of her prodding.

“Clara was there, Harry. At the club. The one you forgot to tell me you were going to? She saw you. Talking to her. Any of that ring a bell?”

She made sure not to raise her voice in fear of waking up the toddler that had fallen asleep on the sofa waiting for her dad to come home so she could show him the ornaments she’d made with Y/N while he was gone, but he hadn’t come home when he’d promised her. Y/N wasn’t trying to fight, just get some answers. Yet here Harry stood, in their bathroom, lying to her face.

“Okay. So she was there ‘n we talked. We work for the same people. You’re not tellin’ me your mad that I talked t’ her about work, are yeh? Talked t’ her about work at a work party?”

“I’m not stupid, Harry. Stop doing that.”

Harry huffed in annoyance, as if her mere presence was beginning to cause his disdain.

“Then stop actin’ like it was somethin’ that it wasn’t. Swear t’ you. She came up to me, asked how Lulah had been, we talked about work for a second, and that was it. Fuck, even told her about you for christ’s sake.”

“I couldn’t care less that you talked to her, Harry. It’s the fact that you didn’t tell me you’d be out later than you said, went to a club, talked to her, the girl that broke your fucking heart, and I found out from a friend. And when I asked you about it, you lied. Do you see how fucking bad that looks?”

“Why don’t yeh ask Clara what she saw, hmm? Since you’re so keen on taking her word for it. She’s gonna tell you that nothing. Happened. I’m truly sorry I didn’t tell yeh I’d be out late. Didn’t think I’d be gone that long and just got carried away.”

Y/N was fighting tears now. He was talking in circles, unwilling to see her side and acknowledge that he’d done wrong.

“That’s what you’ve been saying for the past month, Harry. You’re always getting carried away with work and leaving me to take care of her. I can’t tell you how many times Tallulah’s asked why you’re always missing dinner and why you don’t go take her to her ice skating lessons or help her wash her hair anymore. She misses you. So do I. And then you go and do this. I know you’re busy this time of year but I also know you’re doing more than you’re being asked of, so don’t pull that shit with me. Would it kill you to come home every now and then and at least eat some pasta with your fucking daughter?”

Harry’s brows were furrowed together, eyes dark and half-shut in what was the beginning of a drunken rage. For a split second, Y/N saw a flicker of sadness within the deep green of his irises, but it disappeared as quickly as it came.

“Yeh say that like she’s a burden. ‘S that it? You’re mad that you have t’ babysit?”

“Harry,” Y/N warned him.

He was treading territory that would be hard to back away from once he took the first step.

“What? If it was that big of a fuckin’ deal, you could have told me that you don’t like keeping after her.”

“Jesus, it’s not!”

She was yelling now, unable to keep her emotions from getting the best of her. She looked after Tallulah like she was the one that had given birth to the four year old that slept peacefully on the couch, cuddling her stuffed elephant in place of her father.

“You know that I love her and that I’d do anything for her, but it’s different when you leave me alone with her all of the time. She needs you, Har. More than she needs me, and you’re acting like your job is more important than her. You have to be there for her, Harry.”

A nasty scoff left Harry’s chest that would haunt Y/N forever. She’d never forget what he said next.

“Right. Thanks for the parenting tip. Last time I checked you weren’t her fucking mu-”

“Yeh gonna freeze t’ death out here, ya know?”

The same voice that plagued her head pulled her out of reliving the events that landed her here, on a snow-covered patio, just as the first of what she knew were going to be many tears rolled down her face.

Y/N whipped her head around, frowning when she realized that Sarah and Mitch had lied to her and that they definitely had invited both of them to the Christmas party.

“Should have known those two were up to something,” was all she replied, quickly swiping the single, stray tear that stung her cheek as it touched the cold air.

“Jesus, you’re shivering. Here,” Harry began shrugging off his coat, ready to offer it to Y/N to keep her from catching pnuemonia.

She hadn’t realized just how cold she was. Her lips felt like they were going to crack at any moment, and she was almost certain it would take upwards of an hour for her to feel her toes again.

“Harry-” Y/N started, her voice sounding soft and defeated.

“Please don’t be stupid, Y/N. You’re gonna get sick.”

He spoke to her in the way that he would Tallulah when she refused to let him brush her hair after a bath, sternly insisting that she’d wake up with painful knots in her head if she didn’t let him run a comb through it. There was something comforting about it, but also something so incredibly sad about it all at the same time.

Reluctantly and without looking him directly in the eyes, she took the long, fur-lined coat from his hands, almost flinching when she accidentally touched pinkies with him. The coat was well-loved, ridden with his scent and most likely permanently stained with a little bit of spit up from when Tallulah was a baby. It smelled like home, Y/N thought.

There was a long pause between them, neither knowing what to say or where to even start. Y/N found herself missing Harry even more now that he was standing right next to her, brawny arms leaning against the frozen railing.

“How’s Lulah?” she asked, able to find her voice amongst the anxiety prodding every inch of her body.

Harry nodded as if to say she was alright, then cleared his throat.

“Good. Misses you.”

He wanted to tell her that he missed her, too. A whole fucking lot. But he was trying to prolong having that conversation in fear that it wouldn’t end the way he’d planned it in his head and she’d walk away from him forever.

“She asks about you every day. ‘Bout when you’re comin’ home. Said she doesn’t like how quiet it is without your music playing in the kitchen.”

She was crying now. Fat, wet, silent tears in the opposite of Harry’s direction so he couldn’t see. She missed hearing Tallulah’s raspy voice asking her question after question about where eggs come from and why anyone would dare take away someone’s babies the way farmers do with mummy chickens.

“I know you’re not ready to talk,” Harry began.

“But do yeh think you could at least come home? It doesn’t feel right without you there.”

Y/N did what she could could manage the tears streaming down her face like a waterfall, hoping Harry would think her face was just cold as she aggressively rubbed her cheeks with her fists.

She was ready to give in, seeing him in person immediately shattering any bit of strength to stay away from him that she had left. Maybe she’d find some clarity if she stopped sleeping on a pull-out sofa that did absolutely nothing for her already-bad back and went back to where she’d lived for over a year with the two people she felt like she’d spent a lifetime loving.

Slowly, her eyes went to meet his. She saw how tired he looked, for lack of a better word. Even though it was dark, the light from the snow accentuated the deep circles under his eyes. His hair looked like it hadnt been washed in days, the way it used to look when Tallulah was a baby that cried at all hours of the night. His posture was, to be quite honest, shittier than it normally was. Y/N knows it hasn’t been that long since she’d been gone, but she could almost swear he looked skinnier than the last time she’d seen him, given that the hollows of his cheeks looked concave and scrawny.

Just as she parted her surely-blue lips, ready to tell him everything she’d wanted to tell him for the past two weeks, the ringing of Harry’s cell phone caused them both to jump.

“Fuck,” Harry muttered under his breath.

“’M sorry. It’s mum. She’s got Lulah. Give me just one second.”

His eyes were pleading, almost like he was silently begging her not to run off if that’s what she was thinking of doing. Y/N’s ears perked up at the mention of his mother. She wondered if she knew about any of this. Surely she did, as Harry tends to confide in her for just about everything.

She was trying not to be nosy, but it appeared that Anne was speaking quite loudly, so it was a bit hard for her not to. She couldn’t make out exactly what she was saying, but she did hear one word. It was clear as day, and she knew immediately that something was wrong.

Raspberries.

Y/N’s head whipped around in Harry’s direction, and she saw the way his face was void of all color and his chest had started to heave.

“That’s never happened before. Did you give her the antihistamine?....What’s she sayin’?....Jesus Christ, mum. You have to calm down. Just go ahead and take her. I’ll meet yeh there. They’ll probably just have t’ give her a shot or somethin’....Mum, it’s alright. You didn’t know. Just get her in the car, please. I’ll be there in twenty.”

Harry clicked his phone off and shoved it in his back pocket, a sense of urgency taking over him.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N. I’ve got t-”

“What happened?”

Y/N was just as worried as Harry was, feeling sick to her stomach that something clearly awful had happened to her.

“Mum’s watching Rosie, too. Lulah got into the bag Gem packed for her and ate somethin’ with raspberries in it. Said her throat feels scratchy, which is-”

“That’s not normal,” Y/N stated, being keenly aware of how Tallulah only ever tends to break out in a slight rash every time she eats the bright pink fruit.

“Yeah,” Harry replied.

“Y/N, I have t’ go. But I really want to talk t’ you. You don’t have t’ say anything back. Just hear me out, yeah? Please don’t disappear on me again.”

She wasn’t listening to him, only worried about the little girl with too many allergies and a keen interest in anything sweet.

“Can I go with you?”

Her voice was quiet, as if she were afraid of Harry telling her that she wasn’t allowed to see his daughter. She knew it was his decision and that she had to respect it, but all she wanted to do was hold her tiny body in her arms and tell her how much she missed her and that she was going to be alright.

Harry stuttered a bit, clearly not expecting her to ask him such a thing. Part of him was happy that she was willingly offering to be near him, but he supposes it’s only got to do with her worry for his daughter.

“I, erm, uh, yeah. Of course. Let’s go. Mum’s taking her t’ the hospital over by her house.”

He ushered her back into the warm apartment and back out the front door towards his car. They couldn’t even be bothered to acknowledge the stares thrown their way.

The car ride was quiet. Harry had left the radio off during his drive to Mitch and Sarah’s, too busy rehearsing what he was going to say to Y/N if she actually let him talk to her. Y/N sat with her knees to her chest, but opted not to turn away from him. That was a good sign, Harry thought. The heat was on, but Y/N was still freezing. She supposes Harry was right about her getting sick.

“Could you drive a little faster?” Y/N asked after some time, fiddling with the cuff of her jeans.

“No,” Harry retorted.

“It’s snowing, Y/N. Don’t need all three of us t’ end up in the hospital.”

She had half the nerve to roll her eyes at him, but she knew he was right.

“Hey,” Harry called out to her.

He started to reach over the center console for her hand out of habit, but felt his heart sink into his stomach when he remembered the state of their relationship and slowly retracted it. He thought she didn’t notice, but she did.

“She’s gonna be fine. Mum said she wasn’t even crying. Probably just needs a few shots t’ make the swelling go down.”

Y/N nodded instead of responding, sinking further into the seat but keeping her eyes on the snowy road ahead of her.

Silence took over again as they trecked through the snow towards Tallulah, with tension so thick it felt suffocating. From the corner of her eye, she saw a pair of Tallulah’s winter gloves tucked into one of the cup holders and she wanted to cry again.

But instead of doing that, she laid her palm face-up on the console, waiting for Harry’s eyes to catch them. When they did, he hesitated, flickering between her hand and her face. She still wasn’t looking directly at him, but he knew she knew he was looking at her.

He tested her first, lying his hand next to hers, but not touching. She didn’t pull her hand away, and he swears when he looked down, he saw her hand inch towards his as if she were coaxing him. Harry thinks this might be the last time he gets to touch her if she decides that she can’t forgive him for what he said, so he goes for it.

He laces his fingers with hers, feeling an overwhelming sense of relief take over his head and his heart when he finally got to feel her skin against his after what felt like centuries. She doesn’t wrap her fingers around his like he did to hers, her hand still lying limp against the arm rest, but he’s okay with that.

It isn’t until they’re pulling into the hospital that Y/N gives Harry’s hand a squeeze.

They were getting there. At least Harry hoped.

Y/N is physically unable to keep herself from smiling when she hears Tallulah practically squeal her name the second she steps into the room she’d been given. Her voice was deeper than usual, most definitely due to the accident that landed her here in the first place. Tallulah all but jumped out of her bed to greet her with a hug, which Y/N accepted without a second thought as she wrapped her arms around the small girl and sat with her on the bed, most likely staining Harry’s coat with the emollient cream they’d coated her rash with at the hospital. As if that coat could take any more beatings.

Harry watched from the corner, feeling somewhat out of place for whatever reason. He knew he owed Y/N an apology for what he said to her that night, and at that moment he felt like he owed Tallulah one, too. How could he say those things to her? How could he let his arrogance get the best of him and ruin the best thing that’s ever happened to him?

Anne briefed him while Tallulah had her mini-reunion with Y/N, letting him know they’d given her a few shots and could go home as soon as the swelling in her throat had gone down. She wouldn’t stop apologizing to Harry for causing her grandbaby harm, but Harry assured her for the twentieth time that accidents happen and that it certainly could have been worse. Anne soon sensed the tension between Harry and who she hoped would be her daughter-in-law one day, and told Harry she’d better get going because she’d left Rosie with the neighbor. Her eyes urged Harry to fix this shit at all costs because she’s the best thing that’s ever happened to him, and Harry was not one to disobey his mother.

“Are you coming home?” Harry heard Tallulah ask Y/N.

He locked eyes with her for a split-second.

“Yeah,” Y/N sighed.

Harry felt his heart jump as he was now paying extra attention to the woman holding his daughter like she was the most precious thing on earth.

“Gotta make sure you get tucked into bed alright.”

And then it sunk.

“Will you be there when I wake up?” Tallulah asked with eerily familiar green eyes peering up at Y/N from her lap.

This time it was her heart that sunk.

“I....don’t know, Lulah. We’ll see,” she whispered, feeling tears pool in her eyes once again.

Y/N hid her face in Tallulah’s hair, for fear that Harry would see her.

“How’s Carrot, hmm? ‘S he doing good?” Y/N blurts out in diversion, hoping Tallulah would be more interested in talking about the fish Y/N had won her at a carnival a few years ago than where she stood with her and Harry.

Tallulah talked her ear off, filling her in on everything she’d missed while she was gone. She tells Y/N that their kale plant in the garden was huge now, seemingly sprouting overnight. She also tells Y/N that Rosie can walk now, or at least can wobble a few steps before falling down on her bum.

Harry watches as Y/N pretends like everything Tallulah is telling her is the most interesting news she’s ever heard. That’s what parents do, and that’s exactly what Harry had shouted at Y/N that she wasn’t. He had fucked up in the worst way and only fate could tell him whether or not he’d be able to fix it.

It was Harry’s turn to cry now, pretending to rub exhaustion out of his eyes rather than tears. Much like earlier when he’d instinctively reached for her hand, he’d hoped she didn’t see it.

She did.

Y/N kept her promise to Tallulah and tucked her into bed after she was discharged and sent home with a steroid pack and rash cream. She willed away the wave of nausea she felt walking into the house she’d shared with Harry after all of this time, telling herself that she just needed to make sure Tallulah knew she was at least there to tuck her in. She took turns with Harry, each of them running their fingers through her curls and telling her to have sweet dreams and that they hoped she felt better in the morning. Tallulah insisted that she was fine and wanted to stay up and talk to Y/N about what she thought Santa was doing right now and if he was going to bring her the glittery nail polish that she’d asked him for, but the sleepiness in her eyes told a different story.

“Do you want me t’ call Sarah and have her take you back to your car?” Harry asked when they returned to the living room where they’d entered.

“Figured we ought to have that talk,” she said, unable to meet his eyes for the umpteenth time that night.

“Yeah,” Harry replied in a tone that almost sounds like relief.

“We can definitely do that.”

The pair find their way to the couch, sitting faced towards each other, but not touching. It’s awkward and it makes Y/N want to fall apart because this is her Harry and she’s in her own home, yet it didn’t quite feel it.

“You hurt my feelings,” is all she says, picking at a loose thread on the sofa.

“I know I did,” Harry began.

“I can’t take any of that back, but I want you t’ know how sorry I am, Y/N. None of that shit was true. I should have told you I was gonna be out late. Shouldn’t have even gone out with them, t’ be honest. I couldn’t even tell yeh why I lied when you asked if I saw her there. Just didn’t want you t’ get the wrong idea, I guess.”

“Harry, I already told you that I didn’t care that you-”

“I know yeh did,” Harry interjected, “But I want you t’ know that I’d never even think about doing something like that t’ you. You’re quite literally the best thing that’s ever happened t’ me. Sometimes I don’t even think you’re real. I wouldn’t have made it without you. Neither would Lulah. And that...”

He pauses, trying not to burst into tears right in front of her. Y/N sees his jaw tensing, something Tallulah does when she’s attempting to calm herself down after throwing a fit. She isn’t sure why, but she begins to feel at ease the longer he talks. Maybe it’s just hearing the sound of his voice after so long or maybe it’s because he’s telling her what she’s been wanting to hear, what she was once afraid that she’d never be able to.

“That shit I said about you not being Lulah’s mum. That’s a load. I know you know that. You are her mum, whether she knows that or not. I’m sure she does... I know she does. You’ve been there for everything. You never complain when it gets hard. Yeh could’ve been doing anything else besides helping my sorry ass take care of her, but you didn’t. ‘M not sure if I’m doin’ a good job of convincing you to stay, wouldn’t blame you if yeh didn’t want to, but I really hope that you do. If you don’t, I still want yeh t’ know that you’re her mum. You’ve done things for her that she doesn’t even realize. She loves you so much, Y/N. And so do I. You’re the love of my life. Always will be. I don’t think there’s anybody else out there that makes me feel the way you do. You’re it for me and I need you t’ know that.”

He’s blubbering now, not caring that she sees the salty streaks subconsciously flowing from his dark and gloomy eyes. He felt it coming. She was going to leave. She was going to finish packing tonight and walk out of his life and he wouldn’t get to spend the rest of his life showing her how much he loved her.

That’s when he feels a hand on his shoulder. It’s light, but it’s meant to be comforting.

“Can it be my turn now?” her voice laced with tears as well.

Clearly it was a night for crying.

Harry nods, because that’s all he can do.

“I was frustrated, that night. I don’t think I should have made as big of deal out of you staying out so la-”

“No. You should have. I was being an ars-”

“Harry,” she pleads, “Let me finish, please.”

He lets out a shaky, “Okay,” and she continues.

“It’s not a big deal when you go out with your friends. You’ve just been so....absent lately and that was what set me off. When Clara called me that night it was just so, embarrassing I guess? I didn’t know what to say to her, and it obviously didn’t look good. But I know you wouldn’t do that to me. You’re a good person and a good dad, Harry. I hope you know that, even if you don’t feel like it right now. And the Lulah thing...that hurt. A lot. I know you’re stubborn and hate admitting that you’re wrong, so I’m going to let that speak for itself, but I’ve never once regretted anything that I’ve done with you two. I knew it would be different being with you, but I’ve never thought of any of this as a sacrifice or a burden. You guys make me so happy. I don’t think you’ll ever understand how much of a privilege this has felt like to me, to be able to watch her grow up and be a part of it. She is the most magical thing that’s ever happened to me. And so are you.”

Harry’s staring at her, still crying, sillhouette lit up by the lights on the Christmas tree behind her that’s decorated with the ornaments she made with his daughter on that dreadful night. He doesn’t want to hurt Lulah’s feelings, but he makes a mental note to throw them away the second he’s able to so he doesn’t have to think about this ever again.

“I love you, Harry. Please don’t ever lie to me again. Even if it’s about how many minutes you are away from the grocery store. I can’t take it. And I can’t stand to feel so far away from you like this. It’s....gross. And I hate it.”

He perks up at what she’s just said, wondering if she’s saying what he thinks she’s saying.

“You’re staying?” he sounds hoarse and both him and Y/N know he’ll wake up in the morning with a headache from how much he’d been crying.

“Don’t think I have it in me to leave, bubs.”

There’s the slightest hint of a smile on her lips, and Harry’s pulling her into his chest. She holds him as he weeps silently into her neck. The cloud of sadness that had held her captive like a nightmare rushed out of her body so quickly that she couldn’t quite process it. All she felt now were Harry’s arms holding her close and his blubbering into her hair about how he was sorry over and over again.

“I know you are,” Y/N cooed, scratching his scalp in the way that she knew calmed him down.

“‘M gonna keep sayin’ it until you believe me,” he whimpered.

“I do believe you, Harry. I promise. We’re gonna be alright.”

That seemed to steady him a bit as he collected himself. He still held her as his shaking breaths began to even out. He wouldn’t dream of letting her go ever again.

“We’re gonna be alright,” Harry repeated to her, his voice almost inaudible had Y/N not been as close to him as she possibly could have been.

She pulls back to brush the stray curls from his forehead, where she pressed her lips gently to his temple as if he was so delicate that he might shatter if she used anymore force.

This time it was Y/N that saw his face surrounded by the multi-colored lights strung around the fir tree they’d picked from the farm just days before they thought their world was ending. He was beautiful, from the crown of his hair to the tips of his toes, inside and out, she thought. Maybe he didn’t feel like it at the moment, but Y/N made a promise to herself that she’d spend the rest of her life proving to him that he was.

#harry styles x reader #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles one shot #harry styles angst #harry styles writing #dad!harry #dad!harry styles #dad!harry x reader #dad!harry styles x reader

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theimmaterialplace · 3 years

Text

holding on | emily prentiss x reader & spencer reid x reader | ch. 2: falling

Chapter Summary: The morning after the reveal of Emily’s death and a conversation with Spencer.

Contains: mentions of cat-calling and panic attacks, light kissing, grief and mourning.

Word Count: 2.4k

Comments: this fic is my new baby and i will nurture it to its end. this is gonna end up being a long story and emily won't reappear for at least another 25k so there's that! also look i gave a little flashback to their relationship! in case i didn't elaborate enough, spencer and reader are quite close and have known each other since elle left which ill get into in another chapter! so that's why she has some of his clothes and why he's so close to her and latching onto her. reader is going through it rn but she's shoving it aside which isn't healthy and not good in the long run so she'll have to adress it eventually but that's not now! she's kinda numb rn and trying to keep it together for spencer which is going... as well as one would expect.

i think my favorite line in this was "The song ends but the moment doesn’t." and "But all moments have to come to an end."next chapter, we'll be getting the rest of the bau team (yay!) and emily's funeral (💔)! reblogs and comments are highly appreciated! i love hearing feedback even if it’s something small!

also i’m gonna do a taglist for this fic so if you’d like to be added, send me an ask with the username you’d like to be tagged with!

masterlist | read on ao3

What am I now? What am I now?

What if I'm someone I don't want around?

I'm falling again, I'm falling again, I'm falling

What if I'm down?

What if I'm out?

What if I'm someone you won't talk about?

I'm falling again, I'm falling again, I'm falling

- Harry Styles, "Falling"

When the morning comes, you wake up first on your couch and feel a crick in your neck. The night’s memories rush back to your mind and you immediately feel nauseous. You manage to very carefully separate yourself from Spencer and manage to make it to the restroom in time to vomit.

It’s awful.

You don’t even know why it’s still hitting you so hard when Spencer is the one that should be feeling like this. He’s the one that’s known her for years and you were nothing but a fling for her.

You don’t glance at yourself when you exit your bathroom, already knowing the state you’re in. When you enter your living room, Spencer is still out so you decide to do the next best thing you can for him.

You’re thankful that you already have some leftover ground coffee beans from the day before because you really don’t want to wake him up before you can put a cup of coffee in his hands. Going through the motions of making coffee and then a simple breakfast is calming.

You’re unsure if Spencer will be able to stomach anything if he’s anything like you are now so you make the lightest meal you can. When the coffee machine beeps, you grab two mugs and begin making the coffee the way he likes.

It’s as you’re making your own coffee that you’re interrupted by Spencer calling out your name. You turn around and find him rubbing his eyes and looking a bit better than when he first came in.

“Hey, Spence. I have some coffee if you want some,” you grab his mug at his nod and place it in his trembling hands, “it’s just how you like. Ninety percent sugar and cream and ten percent actual coffee.” A small smile crept onto his face at your joke and you’re glad you’ve managed to make him smile even if it’s just a little bit.

He sips on his coffee and you decide to plate the food that’s still warm onto your dining table. He follows and takes the seat across from you, mumbling his thanks. You both eat in silence for there are no words or fun quips to share with Emily gone.

Spencer is the first to break the silence. “Thank you… Thank you for last night. I couldn’t stay with my team after that. It was just too personal. I know I’ve mentioned it before but I’m the youngest of the team and though they mean well, they tend to baby me. I… I couldn’t handle it so I left them.” He pauses, fingertips tapping in a familiar tune on the ceramic mug, “I didn’t want to be alone and you’re the first person I thought of. I know you know… knew Emily and that you would just be there for me so thank you.”

He looks directly into your eyes as he says this and you know how serious this must mean for him so you reach out for his hand, which he extends for you, and squeeze it in your own. You have to articulate your response properly because you don’t want to scare him off by saying the wrong thing.

Maintaining eye contact, you speak, “I’m glad I was able to be there for you, Spencer. To be the first person you came to means a lot to me. I hope you know I’ll always be there for you, for the small and the big things. While I may not be as close… While I may not have been as close to Emily as you were, I will still grieve for her. Just knowing how much she meant to you is enough for me to know how much a beautiful person she was. From the little glimpses I’ve seen of her and the tidbits you’ve told me over the years, I know this is going to be one of the hardest things for you… and if you let me, I’d like to be there for you.”

He’s like an open book after you’ve told him your resolve, like the book you’ve reread more times you can count and the original copy has been worn down due with some of the passages long gone but memorized in your heart. His eyes are watering again and he’s out of his seat faster than you can comprehend and he lifts you up and his arms wrap around you tightly, as if you’re his lifeline.

He whispers words of gratitude into the crown of your head and you hold him back just as tightly, tears springing to your eyes. You’d do anything to take his pain away and if this is all you can do then you’ll do it willingly.

“I want you here,” his voice is low and wrecked, “I.. I don’t want to be alone. Please. Please don’t leave me. Everyone leaves, Please…”

You look up to him and grab his face gently in your hands, wiping the tears from his cheek as you say, “I’m not leaving, Spencer. I’m right here. I’m here for you always. I promise not to leave you. I’m with you. I’m here.” At this, he looks even more broken and only nods his head, breath hitching and his sobs ceasing for the moment. You know it’s not enough for him so you guide one of his hands to the pulse on your wrist.

“Count.” And he does, his mind focuses on the beat and it calms him; it reassures him you’re still alive.

When the minute is over, he looks significantly more calm and less likely to cry again. He looks at you like he can’t believe you’re really there and you pull him in again. Physical contact is meant to ground people and you only hope this helps him.

A shrill ring interrupts your thoughts and you know it’s Spencer’s because you’ve heard it many times before from him and Emily both.

He lets go of you to answer it and he tenses immediately as he hears whoever it is on the other line. He says a few things in response and his eyes become glassy again. He hangs up only a few moments later and turns to you.

“My team wants me to help inform Emily’s mother of her death so we can start planning her funeral…” He closes his eyes shut and his fingers clench into his palms. Slowly, you walk up to him and unfold his palms and find red, crescent indents on his palms.

“I can drive you…? I know you took the metro here. Let me help, Spencer.” He just nods and you lead him to the bathroom to help tidy him up. You turn the faucet on and hand him his toothbrush, your fingers lingering on Emily’s red one before grabbing your own. It’s a familiar routine and as you finish, you leave to let him use the restroom and wash up while you rack through your closet to find something he's left over to wear for the day.

You manage to find a striped brown button up and matching brown pants while you put on a simple outfit, a grey long sleeve with jeans and a pair of black vans. You knock on the door and he opens it after a moment and takes his clothes from you. You go back to your room to fix up your hair and after a while you deem it acceptable.

As you’re doing your makeup routine, you hear a knock then, “Are you decent?”

“Come in, I’m almost done.” The door opens and you catch his reflection in your mirror. He looks better but the despair that clings to him is obvious to you.

He lets a small smile fill his face and though it doesn’t reach his eyes, you still match it. “I’m surprised you still had this. I had wondered where this outfit had gone but I remember that when I stayed over that night I had to leave immediately and left it here.”

“Well, I wouldn’t just throw it away and I kept forgetting to give it back to you. It’s a good thing otherwise you’d be left in some sweatpants and a Star Trek t-shirt.” He lets out a small laugh at that and you’re grateful you’re able to get him to genuinely laugh.

“Okay, I’m done. We can head out now.” He follows you out of your apartment and into the passenger seat of your car. The ride is silent to Quantico, unlike the usual rides you give him where you play a new genre for him and for him to compare it to his classical music and talk about some facts of the music.

When you finally arrive, you both sit there. He doesn’t want to leave and face reality and you don’t want to be left alone with only the truth to haunt you.

Spencer breaks the silence once again, “Thank you for everything. I don’t know where I would’ve gone last night… If you can, can you pick me up later? I… I can’t be with the team right now. It’s just too fresh.”

“Of course, Spencer. Just send me a text a bit before and I’ll be there.” He nods and gives you a quick hug before leaving and your eyes follow him until he’s nothing but a pinprick in your vision.

Like a switch flipped, you can only think of Emily. It’s not fair that she… that Emily is gone, that’s she’s dead. You never thought this was a probability. She was always such an impervious figure in your mind, a larger than life kind of person. You knew it was a possibility in her line of work but it never crossed your mind that it could actually happen to her. She was a strong woman, never letting anything affect her and you can’t believe she’s gone.

You shouldn’t even feel this strongly for her, you’re not meant to be more than a friend to her but you can’t help but think of her as your lover. Every little moment you’ve shared with her flashes in your mind. One in particular stands out, one that had happened only a month or two ago.

“Ugh, Emily. We’ve gotta go or else tomorrow morning is gonna be hell for the both of us.” You drag her away from the bar and shoot a smile at the bartender who only shakes her head and mouths “have a nice night”.

“ No ,” she whines, “I don’t want to, babe. We were having so much fun. Let’s stay here and dance some more.” She grins at you, taking your hand and pulling you back into the crowd. You let her because you can never say no to her, not when she’s looking at you with those eyes and that smile.

Her mood is infectious and you let her have this one last dance. It’s not even a song you know but you think it might be your new favorite with the way she twirls you around and looks at you with affection and fondness.

Being with Emily is the best thing that’s ever happened to you, even if this is a temporary thing. You would do anything for her, even leave her alone if that’s what she wanted.

The song ends but the moment doesn’t.

“Okay, okay, Em. We really need to go now.” She pouts at you but relents and follows you out of the club.

Before you reach your car, she pulls you in, her hands cradling your face, and she’s looking at you in wonder, “Y’know I can’t believe you’re actually here. You’re everything I’ve ever wanted. You mean so much to me. I hope you know that.” She leans in and kisses you. You savor every moment of it, feeling her smile against your lips. Like an imp, she grins widely and leaves multiple pecks around your lips, never quite touching.

It’s just you and her in that moment and she’s never seemed more lovely than in that exact moment.

Deciding that her actions are enough, you grab her by the chin and your free arm wraps around her waist so that she’s flush against you and slam your lips onto her own. Every emotion you’ve felt for her is poured into the kiss and you hope she can feel it. It’s passionate and messy and it leaves you wanting more.

She lets out a small moan when you move your mouth to pepper kisses onto her jaw and to suck on her sweet spot, sighing praises into her skin as if they’ll imprint on her, an irrefutable claim.

You’re not sure how much time passes between that moment but you only stop when you hear multiple wolf whistles and she groans before pulling away from you and yells at the offenders, “Shows’ over, you fucks!” Then she turns to you and leers, “We’ll finish this back at my place.”

You’re only able to nod and look at her in awe, “Emily Prentiss… what a woman you are. I’ll never be able to forget you know?”

She smiles even wider at your admission, and beckons you forward and of course you come closer and she admits quietly, “You won’t ever have the chance to. I plan on never letting you go.”

But all moments have to come to an end.

If only that was the truth because she never brought up the conversation the morning after. Whether she actually remembered it and shoved it aside or she genuinely couldn’t remember, you can’t decide what’s worse. You never mention it because you don’t want to ruin something that already works and now… Now you would never have the chance to find out because Emily was dead.

Tears well up in your eyes and you recognize the signs of an oncoming panic attack. It’s with a wet laugh that you realize that you were right, your dramatic thoughts from the night she texted you had come true.

Emily Prentiss would haunt you forever and you’ll let her if it means you’ll never forget what she sounded like or what each gleam in her eye or each smile meant.

#emily prentiss x reader #emily prentiss x female reader #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #emily prentiss fanfiction #spencer reid fanfiction #my writing #holding on

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snlhostharry · 3 years

Text

crooked love

harry x reader

1.5k words

you and harry are broken up, he lives down the block and something has you up at three in the morning.

a/n: yes this is based on I wish you would by Taylor Swift, yes everyday I think about what would’ve happened if harry had pulled the car over <3

It’s way too early to be awake. You’re not quite sure what time it is, but it’s early enough that the sun shows no signs of rising to signal the morning. You have to go to work in a few hours, but you can’t sleep. Something is keeping you awake, something keeps drawing you towards your bedroom window. You lean against the headboard and let out a sigh, you’re mind drawing back to the one thing you don’t want to think about. It’s one of those nights where you lie awake and let yourself think too much about all the mistakes that you’ve made, the things you didn’t say, and the things that you did.

You refuse to believe that Harry Styles is your one that got away. Mostly because it’s cliche, to have some celebrity be your one that you regret letting walk right out of the door (he actually got into his car and drove away but still), the whole thing sounds like an over-romanticized version of a story told in some books and fantasies by fangirls. It’s also to avoid the truth, the truth that if he came to your door right now and said that he wanted you back you would say yes, you would forget everything and you would say that you were sorry. There’s so many things to apologize for, there are so many things to say but the words die on the tip of your tongue, and the thought of texting or calling leaves your fingers paralyzed.

He did say, “Maybe one day you’ll call me, and tell me that you're sorry too,” in his song. You think the song is beautiful, but you can’t listen to it anymore. Instead your content just staring out the window at what you’ve discovered is three am, thinking about how he bought that house just down the block from your apartment, thinking about what he must be doing right now.

You look down at the street, the morning fog hovering just above the road, the streetlights barely illuminate the grass on either side. It all looks haunted, just like you are, because if you look down at the sidewalk you can see him still standing there. Like a ghost, the memory of that moment stays with you, even though it's been a year, and even though there have been other guys since then. There’s just something about the kind of emotion contained in that moment, the kind of love that makes you fall so hard and fast, that pushes every button, so much so that there’s only one possible way it can end: in flames. The kind of raw emotion carried in the way that you screamed at him, and he stood there taking it until he just couldn’t anymore.

“You never loved me!” You scream. The force of your anger could shake the streetlights if you allowed it to, if you had enough power to show him. “You forgot about me like it was nothing, all you cared about was your career, and who you were going to be seen with.”

“I love you,” He says, the eerie calmness in his voice counteracting the abject emotion in yours. At the time you’d taken that to mean that he didn’t care about you, that you loved him more than he could ever love you, that here you were again stuck wounded out in the cold. Everyone could see you bleeding, he could see you bleeding. “I love you, now. I don’t know what I can do to make you believe that.”

“You should’ve been here!” You tell him, “That’s how you show me! You show me by being here, instead of out somewhere with some girl instead of just calling me.” He doesn’t say anything, “All I see is that I mean nothing to you.”

“Are you just going to keep yelling at me?” He asks, his voice harsh. “Can we have a conversation? Can I come in?”

You cross your arms, “No.”

“y/n-”

“No. I am so angry with you right now, if I let you in I might just kill you and hide the body.”

He throws his arms in the air in frustration, “Fine! If you’re not even going to try to listen to me, then I’m going to go home.”

“Then go home, or go out or do whatever you want.”

He looks at you and shakes his head. You don’t move to go in, you stand there, watching him get into his car and at last watching him leave. The anger rising in your chest destroys all taste of reason, in hindsight you shouldn’t have let him leave like that. You shouldn’t have let him think that you hated him so much that you would never speak to him again.

Time keeps marching on. You stand at the window now, but somehow you're also still standing on the sidewalk watching his car drive down the road and disappear into oblivion. This has been a ritual the last couple of days, you waking up with a strange kind of sleeplessness, staring out at the street stuck between two moments that are in complete juxtaposition to one another. There was a week where he would call you everyday, sometimes twice a day, and you always hung up. You wish now that you would’ve picked up the phone.

How long is it going to take you to admit that you’re waiting for him at the window? He has that house down the street, and sometimes you swear you see his new car drive down the street with its windows down. It makes your heart skip a beat everytime because sometimes you convince yourself that it’s not his car, that he’s in his house with some model not even thinking about you in the slightest. Other times, you wish that he would just pull over and knock on your door.

A car passes by the window, the headlights momentarily illuminating your room. You take that as a sign that you should go back to sleep, so you lay down in the bed again, trying to stop your spiralling thoughts. But the room is illuminated again with white headlights and you sit up. A car is pulled over next to the sidewalk, and suddenly the door opens. You grab your phone, ready to call the police to report an intrudenter but when the figure stands under the light of the lamppost you almost drop your phone to the floor.

The next thing you know you’re standing outside the door, hands shaking as you reach for the doorknob. You know exactly what’s behind it, but you think you might be dreaming, or subject to sleep deprivation. Suddenly, your hand is on the doorknob and you finally open it.

Harry Styles looks the same. The same as he did on Instagram last week, the same as he did in his contact photo (him smiling like an idiot on a beach in italy) and the same as he did when he got into the car and drove off, a fact which sends a chill down your spine. What is this? Whos’ to say that even if he is here to say sorry or to ask you to try again that there's even a chance that it would work out this time?

“Hi,” He says semi awkwardly as he stands there.

You lean against the doorframe, “It’s early.”

“I know,” He runs a hand through his hair. “I didn’t know if you would be awake.”

“Funny story,” You say, “I’ve been awake for an hour.”

He half smiles, “So have I.” A pause. “I have to tell you something.”

“You’ve been driving past my house for the past week, with your windows rolled down, yeah?”

“How did you know?”

“Recognised your car,” You say, “From when I drove past your new place.”

“Oh.”

“You wrote a song about me,” You break the silence, “And you bought a house a block away from me.”

“I’ve been thinking about you.”

You cross your arms, “No shit.” You relent, “I’ve been thinking about you too. To the point where I stare at my phone, and I think about calling you.”

“I called a lot.”

“You did,” You say with a sigh. “I’m sorry for screaming at you, you didn’t deserve that.”

“I thought you hated me,” He says.

As much as you’ve selfishy imagined the moment he showed up at your door, and you were able to tell him all of the things you should’ve said that night, standing here with it actually happening throws you for such a loop that you don’t know what to say. “The life you live can be overwhelming,” You tell him, “I was mad because I was confused, and I miss you.” You keep going, “I constantly miss you. I was mad for awhile, and then I started missing you. Then I got mad at myself because I realized I was going to have to spend the rest of my life missing you.”

“And I drove past your house everyday for a month,” He smiles.

“And I was sitting at the window when you pulled up,” His words finally hit you after he says it, “Wait a month?”

He laughs, “Can I come in now?”

“Yes.”

#harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x you #harry styles fic #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfic #my writing

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teaspoon-full-of-sugar · 4 years

Text

sleeping on the blacktop

pairing: harry styles x reader

warnings: angst, descriptions of a car accident, blood, gore, mentions of death, vomiting, medical terminology (that i know absolutely nothing about !! i am not a doctor or an emt—almost all of my knowledge is from an anatomy class or tv so—don’t come for me pls), my ramblings about fate and free will, i also gave the baby a name (sorry if you don’t like it :( i just hate having y/d/n, ya know? too much work)

word count: 8.5k

synopsis: while harry is away on tour, his wife and baby get into a car accident

author’s note: please, be mindful of the warnings and don't read if you're uncomfortable with anything mentioned and sorry for the sort of rushed ending... other than that, i hope you enjoy! xx all the love

masterlist

—

“You don’t need to do that,” Anne says from behind her, and Y/N flinches, nearly dropping a plate. She got lost in her thoughts, staring out the window in Anne’s kitchen.

“You cooked. It’s the least I can do,” she says. Anne grabs a rag and dries some of the dishes. Gemma is keeping Rhiannon occupied in the next room, and from the peals of laughter, it’s the happiest she’s been in days. Y/N sighs, wiping her pruned hands on a paper towel. If she’s being honest, she’s not doing too well; Rhia has had a hard time adjusting to not having Harry around all the time, causing a varied sleep schedule and more bouts of fussiness in general, and Y/N struggles keeping up.

“How’re you doing?”

Y/N hesitates. She contemplates lying. She doesn’t need one more person worrying for her, and she doesn’t want people to think that she can’t take care of her own child by herself. Harry already worries enough, even though she’s assured him many times that he doesn’t need to be.

She knows that he feels guilty for not being there all the time, but she would never force him to stop touring and doing what he loves, partly because she’s afraid he’ll resent her. Despite him being across an entire ocean, she never feels like he is far; he’s always willing to stop anything when she calls, and he tries his hardest to talk with her twice a day. She always keeps him as involved as possible, sending daily updates and photos.

“It’s tough,” she admits, “but it’s getting better, no need to worry about me.” She offers Anne a weak smile.

“Can’t help it,” she says, pinching her cheeks lightly.

Noticing the dimming sky, the sun sinking below the line of trees in the yard, Y/N sighs.

“We should probably go,” she mutters, slipping into the next room. Despite how tired she is, she can’t help the smile that takes over her face when Rhiannon looks up at her, showing her gums.

“Time to go, bug,” she says, light and lilting. Rhia kicks her legs, making her almost lose her balance. She’s too confident for her own good, like her father; she’s only just started sitting up on her own and thinks she can wiggle around without falling.

“You sure you’re okay to drive, love?” Anne asks from behind her. Y/N rolls her eyes, yet smiles fondly at her protectiveness.

“We’ll be fine. It’s only a few minutes away.”

Ever since Harry left for tour, Y/N has been staying in their lake cottage to be closer to Anne. It’s only a quick 20 minute drive away, which has been helpful during the days when Y/N needed to catch up on sleep, and Anne is always happy to help. She didn’t like to do that very often, feeling like she was taking advantage of her mother-in-law.

The cottage was a cute little thing, perfect for just the two of them, and Y/N was glad to get out of their shared home; it was too big and empty for just her and Rhia. Harry was always able to liven up any place they were at, but now that he’s gone, it felt hollow and dismal.

“You know you’re welcome to stay here. I’ve got plenty of room,” Anne tries to convince her one last time. As much as Y/N appreciated her worrying, she didn’t want to impose, and she’s sure that Anne wouldn’t want to listen to a fussy baby, even though she would deny it to the end of her days.

Y/N puts Rhia in her coat with little resistance, which is surprising, but she only had a short little nap that afternoon, and they had a busy day.

“I know, Anne, but I don’t want to intrude,” Y/N says. “Besides, Rhia sleeps better in our bed, and you need all the sleep you can get, don’t ya?” She tickles her daughter’s little bloated belly, making her giggle sweetly. Once she’s strapped in, the baby stretches and tries to put Y/N’s fingers in her mouth.

“You know I worry about you,” Anne sighs, kneeling next to Y/N.

“No need to worry,” Y/N smiles. Anne tucks the woven green blanket under Rhiannon’s legs. It’s the same blanket Harry had when he was a baby, barely held together with a few threads and love. Y/N stands, hoisting the carrier up to her hip.

“Call me when you get home, yeah?”

“Course,” she says, pressing a kiss to Anne’s cheek.

When they’re settled in the car, Anne stays out on the porch, watching them until they’re safely on the road, offering a wide smile and an air kiss. Y/N is so thankful to have her shoulder to lean on.

It’s a clear night, which Y/N is thankful for, no fog or rain, which isn’t an often occurrence. She stops at a sign, brakes squealing slightly. She stays there for a second, feeling the familiar burn of exhaustion behind her eyes. She rests her forehead against the steering wheel.

“Da, da,” Rhiannon mumbles. Y/N reaches behind her, barely able to reach her on the opposite side of the back seat, and she grabs onto her fingers.

“I know, peach,” Y/N sighs, “Miss daddy, too.”

She never considered how fragile life could be until she met Harry, not in the sense that death is an imminent and constant force, more in the sense that everything, her goals, her view on life, and her priorities, shifted when she met him. He became her influence, and she was willing to go through hell or high water just to be with him.

In summation, it takes all but five seconds for your life to completely change, for better or for worse.

There are dozens upon dozens of tiny events that build up and push you toward that one big moment that will change your life. Nothing is set in stone; different choices lead you down different paths, and your paths are constantly changing, either for better or worse, and slowly but surely, you’ll finally reach the top of that mountain. Every choice you questioned, every sacrifice you made, will come together in due time, just know that you’re working toward a greater purpose.

Y/N has never been a big believer in fate, that everything is beyond your control and that everything is already set in stone, but perhaps there is some truth to it. Fate could have pushed her to leave home when she was young. Fate could have put her on a safe and stable path when she went to university that landed her a good job when she was fresh out of her internship, and fate could have brought Harry into her life.

But she will never claim fate as a sole guide to her life. Fate is not responsible for her success nor her mistakes; that was all because of her hard work and integrity, her youth and ignorance. To her, fate is simply an excuse. People want to put blame on something, and when things seem out of their control or when they make bad decisions, they don’t feel quite as guilty. They’re willing to take credit for good things that happen but won’t when it affects them negatively.

Say, perhaps, that fate brought Y/N to that intersection, then maybe it was fate that planted the trees that obscured her vision; perhaps, it was fate that made the lights in the post go out that evening.

If so, fate has a twisted sense of humor.

If not, why wouldn’t fate give her any time to react before the impact?

How could fate be so cruel?

—

Working as an EMT, there are always certain risks you accept when you are on the clock; not only are you surrounded by an unbelievable pressure, there is always the ominous cloud looming overhead, a thin thread between life and death threatening to break at any moment, and it’s your job to keep them stable until they arrive at the hospital.

Not too hard, right?

Being able to save people from the brink of death and reuniting families makes almost everything worth it, but there are always scenes that stick with you for the rest of your life, and for Leslie Greene, this is one of them.

What stands out the most is the sound of a crying baby.

She’s seen some very horrific accidents: cars that have been reduced to nothing more than a ball of cheap scrap metal, with blood coating the shattered glass, to DOA’s, where the impact made them look unrecognizable. She has seen a lot of unspeakable things and had a lot of good people die on her watch.

But never has she ever had a baby present at any accident scene. That’s new.

Those cries will probably haunt her for the rest of her life.

“I didn’ see ‘em,” the man slurs from the police car. He has a bloodied lip and a slight bruise forming around his neck from the seat belt. The stench of rum rolls off him with every breath. He sits back, eyes dull and hooded, like he doesn’t even realize what he’s done.

Another EMT meets with her half-way to the other vehicle, lodged against the ditch across the way.

“Driver side sustained some serious damage. The baby has no discernible injuries, but another ambulance is a minute out to take her.”

From the driver’s side, Leslie can see the baby on the opposite side of the backseat, the car seat still tightly in place. The baby flails about, legs and arms kicking with strength. The car is twisted and mangled, but most of the damage is on the driver’s side, the door latched closed. Shattered glass cracks beneath her boot.

When they’re finally able to get the car door open, the woman, barely even mobile, opens her eyes slightly, but she flinches back at the bright lights. Blood drips down from her hairline, bruises already forming on her eyes from the impact on the steering wheel. Blood pools on the leather seat as she shifts with discomfort.

James, a newbie who has never been to a scene with this much damage, breathes out shakily. Leslie turns to see his lips curling, close to dry heaving.

“Go get the baby, yeah?”

He nods quickly, pale in the face, and scurries to the other side. The baby is soothed only momentarily before her wails continue. The woman’s eyes snap open fully this time, panic clear on her features. She tugs fruitlessly on the seat belt, a pained groan leaving her when she moves too quickly.

“Please, don’t move. My name is Leslie. I’m here to help.” She presses a hand to her chest, feeling the woman’s racing heart. “What’s your name?”

“Y/N,” she grits out, her eyes fluttering dangerously. From how she reacted to the lights, she probably has a concussion. Leslie cuts the seat belt, and glass falls onto the blacktop, clinking musically until they settle, like they’re sleeping. Through the gloves, she can feel how warm she is, sweat beading down from her forehead. Glass has settled in the divots of her wool sweater, but not before cutting her skin, caking the pearl necklace peeking from the neckline in blood.

“Y/N, I need you to turn a bit. I need to see where the bleeding is coming from,” Leslie says softly, inching her slowly onto her side. She sighs as more blood pools, gushing down her back and soaking her jumper further. It’s from a rib that broke through the skin. She can only hope that they didn’t puncture an organ.

“Does that hurt?” She asks as she puts pressure on the skin.

“No,” Y/N whimpers, eyes fluttering closed. When they get her on the stretcher, with minimal blood loss, she stirs with life again, her trembling hand reaching onto the sleeve of Leslie’s shirt, painting it red.

“Rhiannon—my baby girl—is she…” She swallows back tears.

“She’s fine.” Leslie knows that it’s unwise to lie to a patient; perhaps, she’s not entirely lying, but it’s never a good idea to give a victim a sure diagnosis without actually knowing anything. There may have been no physical signs of trauma to the baby, but internal problems are a very real possibility that they won’t know of until they get to the hospital.

She knows that she shouldn’t lie. It takes seven minutes to get to the nearest hospital, but it’s time that Y/N may not have; despite how quickly they were able to get her into the ambulance, she’s losing a lot of blood.

“Thank you,” Y/N sighs in relief, clutching onto her hand. Her wedding ring nearly cuts through the gloves from the pressure.

“Of course,” Leslie says, easily putting her on an IV.

“My husband,” she gasps suddenly, her arm jerking about. “Harry—he—he’s gonna be worried. ‘M supposed to call. He has to tell her goodnight—“

“Y/N, relax,” Leslie coos. “We will contact your husband. You need to focus on yourself, yeah? Don’t close your eyes, Y/N.”

Leslie can see the fear in her eyes; it’s something she’s grown very familiar with, but it’s not just fear for her own survival. She can see how scared she is for her family. She struggles to keep her eyes open, resilience and weakness fighting for power. Like any mother, she’s fighting for her family. She’s fighting to be able to hold onto and kiss them one more time.

She is trying so hard to fight for her family.

But at the same time, it’s so easy to give in.

“If I don’t make it,” she slurs, breathing quickly out of her nose. The blood from her nose slips down into her mouth, making her cough.

“Don’t say—”

“If I don’t, I need you to tell Harry that I love him, and that…” She lets out a pained whimper, struggling to catch her breath. “I’m sorry.”

“This wasn’t your fault, love.”

Her lip quivers, teeth chattering.

“I’m just sorry for everything.”

Leslie knows exactly what that means. She’s making amends, apologizing for not being able to fight. A lone tear slips from her eye, but Leslie wipes it away.

“I will.” She promises, gripping her hand tighter.

Only two more minutes.

Y/N gives her a thankful nod, and as if she has finally made peace with the world, she falls limp, the light leaving her eyes.

—

Harry has always enjoyed New York, and it’s not very often that he is able to stay for longer than one night. There is just something about it that’s completely different from London or L.A. that he likes about it; He couldn’t imagine actually living there, with the massive crowds and fluctuating weather, but it’s a nice place to visit, very different from what he’s used to.

He’s halfway through the tour for his most recent album, and New York is the last stop before he gets a short break to go home. He has a show tonight at Madison Square, a radio interview in the morning, and then, he’s home free. He’s been looking forward to this break before the tour even began. Don’t get him wrong, he loves performing and meeting fans and traveling the world, but now that he has a family, it gets more and more difficult not being there for the people who need him most.

“So, I heard,” the interviewer begins, smiling widely.

Sadly, Harry has already forgotten his name. The interview was supposed to be a short little thing for social media, only supposed to take 20 minutes, so he could prepare for the concert that evening, but it’s been nearly an hour, and there are no signs of stopping any time soon. Harry holds off yet another yawn, the lack of sleep from the night before washing over him. He’s having trouble focusing.

“You’ve got a baby girl.”

“Yes,” Harry beams. Even though he wants to keep his baby out of the limelight, he can’t help the excitement that fills his chest whenever she's mentioned. He can easily go on and on about how wonderful and sweet and perfect she is. He tugs on his pearl necklace, biting on his lips to keep quiet. He and Y/N agreed that it would be best for Rhia to grow up as normally as possible, which meant only posting about her on his private social media and avoiding busy places so as to not be seen, but some things were simply unavoidable, like interviewers trying to get him to let something about her slip to get their five-minutes-of-fame. It seems rude of him to completely ignore their questions, so he just sticks to very short, vague answers.

“How are you adjusting to fatherhood?”

“Uh,” he laughs, fiddling with his wedding ring. “It was a struggle to begin with. I will admit that, but it’s getting better. We’re still learning how to adjust to everything.”

He says it like he’s actually there, actively helping Y/N, even though he's on the other side of the world. He hasn’t seen his daughter in nearly two months; video chats have absolutely nothing on the real thing. He isn’t helping Y/N put Rhia to sleep when she’s feeling particularly fussy or feeding her at two in the morning, so Y/N can finally get some well-deserved sleep, and he’s not there to play with her or comfort her.

It feels like he’s lying.

He’s a sad excuse of a father. That’s what he really is.

The thought makes the smile fall from his face, but he’s quick to force another one; if there’s anything that he’s learned after years in the public eye, it’s how to fake emotions. The interviewer gives him an understanding smile. He’s older, but not too old, only having a few years on Harry, age wise, but the wrinkles beside his eyes and the nicked ring on his finger suggest years of familial experience.

“I completely understand. I have three boys of my own, and—”

“I am so sorry,” Jeff, Harry’s savior, says suddenly from behind the camera. “D’ya mind if I borrow Harry for a second?”

The interviewer nods.

“No problem. Take 15?”

Harry feels a twinge of guilt as he stands quickly from the chair, happy to finally have a break.

“Thanks,” Harry sighs, brushing past Jeff to the refreshment table. “‘M exhausted. Maybe it’s ‘cause of Rhi, but every little thing wakes me up. Swore I heard her cryin’ last night.” Jeff is quiet, fiddling with his hands nervously. Harry doesn’t notice how quiet the man has gotten, and he opens a bottle of water, rifling through his bag.

“Isn’t it almost 3? Y/N should be callin’ soon.”

“Harry,” Jeff says again, stronger this time. Harry still doesn’t notice how his voice breaks slightly, wobbly and hesitant.

“Yeah?” Harry drinks nearly half of the water, not sparing a glance up. He fishes for his phone, only to remember that he left it in the car. He sighs and turns. That’s when he finally notices how shaken up Jeff is, pale and nervous.

“What’s up? Look like you’ve seen a ghost,” he laughs, downing the rest of his water before tossing it in the bin.

“Harry,” Jeff says again, soft and somber, and it makes Harry stop. Dread settles in his stomach, deep and heavy. Jeff has never been one to be the bearer of bad news, and he tended to beat around the bush. “Why don’t you sit down?” Jeff tries to guide Harry over to the cheap stool in the corner of the room, but he rips his arm from his grasp.

Harry has never been one to let his mind run wild; he’s the calm one, who looks at reason and logic. He's the one to tell everyone that everything’s going to be fine; he’s the one who takes everything in stride, like water rolling down his back. Bumps in the road are nothing. He’s the one that comes up with solutions and executes them with ease, but with the way Jeff is treating him, his heart races.

“What?”

“There’s been an accident,” Jeff says slowly, placing a comforting hand on his arm.

It takes a second for Harry to process his words, but when he does, he stumbles back.

His mind automatically tries to reason with itself, that maybe it has nothing to do with him. Perhaps, something went wrong at the venue, and they would have to postpone, lengthening his stay for only a couple more days. Maybe, Mitch got food poisoning and will be unable to play that evening. There are dozens of reasonable explanations as to why Jeff pulled him aside, but Harry knows, deep down, that he wouldn’t have such a mournful look in his eyes, if it isn’t anything less than very serious.

Okay, fine, there was an accident. That could mean so many different things. An accident doesn’t even necessarily mean that they are in grave danger; they could be walking away unscathed.

“W-what? I-i-is it Gem? Mum?” Endless scenarios flicker in his mind, each one worse than the last. The one thing that he doesn’t even consider is it being Y/N or Rhiannon. His mind refuses to go down that road; if it did, there’s no way of knowing how he would react. He doesn’t even consider the possibility of them being in trouble. He hates how long Jeff is taking to tell him, as if holding off will soften the blow. Irritation starts bubbling below the surface, and he finds it hard to keep calm.

“Harry,” he says, shaking his head. “Anne called me. There was a drunk driver, and they’re headed to the hospital now—”

“They?”

His heart stops for a second, and it feels like his chest collapses in on itself. His body feels like it’s reacting to a stressful situation, with adrenaline and fear and anger, but Harry isn’t thinking with a grieving mind; it’s cloudy and slow, delusional, even. He shakes his head.

“No,” Harry mutters, taking a step forward. He can feel tears burn in his eyes, and he makes no move to wipe them. “It wasn’t…” Harry can’t finish the question. It makes him nauseous. Jeff nods solemnly, which, in any other circumstance, would have been answer enough. “Say it,” Harry snaps.

It’s unreal, like a dream. This didn’t happen to him, not his family.

They’re safe. There’s just been a mistake. That’s the only reasonable explanation to everything. Someone made a mistake. Maybe a fan thought it would be funny to pretend to be his mum, and they somehow got Jeff’s number. It had to be a horrible, awful, repulsive joke to get some attention or something; as implausible as that seems, it’s the only thought that makes sense to him because he can’t possibly understand the weight of the truth. He doesn’t know if he can handle it.

His girls are fine.

They have to be.

“Harry—” Jeff tries to calm him down, seeing a bright red flush to his skin, frustration seeping through every pore. Anger isn’t becoming of Harry; Jeff has only seen him angry a couple of times, but never to this extent: red in the face, words shaky, eyes glassy.

“I need to hear you say it.”

“It was Y/N and Rhiannon.”

That is the absolute last thing that he wanted to hear.

Even though, deep down, he knew that they were in trouble. From the first moment Jeff said his name to how sickly he looked when he told him to sit down, Harry knew, deep in his heart and mind, that his family is in trouble. He just wasn’t willing to accept it or even think about it, as if that could change reality. Until Jeff said those five words that confirmed his worst nightmare.

And he feels his world come crashing down, but he’s stuck, frozen, mind not moving nearly as fast as it should be.

“My—my…” He stutters, throat closing. “My girls?” The ache in his chest increases tenfold, and he holds onto his, feeling the racing of his heart and his quick breathing. “You’re fuckin’ with me,” he scoffs, rage building. He shakes his head with denial. “What kind of fuckin’ prick—”

“I wouldn’t joke about—”

Harry knows that. Y/N and Jeff are close. Hell, they even considered making him their daughter’s godfather. Jeff would never joke about something this serious, and Harry knows that, but he isn’t willing to accept the reality because the reality is nearly too much for him to comprehend, to carry on his already weak shoulders.

“No, they’re not,” Harry closes his eyes, hands slipping through his hair like it normally does when he’s anxious. He tugs on it, but the pain is nothing compared to the sick feeling in his stomach or the crack in his pounding heart. He honestly feels like he’s going to be ill or pass out, feeling his mouth dry up, his hands clamming up, and he begins to feel light-headed.

“Y/N’s just about to call me. It’s Rhi’s bedtime.” He rambles, not listening to Jeff.

They can’t be going to a hospital. He talked to Y/N just this morning when he couldn’t fall asleep. He spoke about his worries and doubts and guilt that he felt for being so far away from them, and Y/N soothed all of his fears and reservations, reminding him why he does what he does. Before she left, she told him that she loved him, and he could hear Rhi babbling away in the background, content and happy and safe.

“There’s a plane leaving in a half an hour—”

“And I sing to her. That's the only way she’ll sleep through the night. She hasn’t been sleepin’ very well these past few days,” he says, lost in his thoughts. His words begin to slur.

“Harry, listen to me,” Jeff says, holding onto his shoulders, trying to keep him grounded, from falling apart. Harry doesn’t get anxious often, but when he does, everything comes to a startling halt; he’s not used to it, and he lets it overwhelm him until he can’t function. That’s the last thing anyone needs.

“No, no, they’re fine. They’re fine. They’re—” He swallows, and like a wave, realization dawns on him, drowning him. His family is in the hospital, and he’s not there with them. “Oh, god,” he cries, feeling bile burn his throat. He sinks to his knees, hand pitifully covering his mouth to keep from vomiting. His vision darkens. It feels like the walls are crumbling down, and he’s stuck, frozen and alone, with no one coming to save him.

Just like his girls.

“Harry, you can’t shut down, not now,” Jeff says, kneeling beside him. “They need you.”

He knows that. He needs to be strong for the both of them, so he wipes away his tears, clenches his jaw, and pushes everything down, even if it feels like he’s choking. He has to be strong for the both of them.

The drive to the airport is a blur. He swallows back his tears until his head feels like it’s going to burst and holds his breath until he can see black spots in his vision, but most of all, he’s numb. A small part of him is still trying to convince himself that this is all just a big misunderstanding, but the larger part, the part that’s screaming the loudest, tells him he’s being irrational and selfish.

It takes 7 hours to get home; he has to travel across an entire ocean to get to his family.

How unfair is that?

He wants to blame the world, God, fate. He wants to curse whatever force existed, but behind all of the hate and accusations and judgement, he is nothing more than a guilty, broken shell of a man.

He’s angry with himself, mostly, with the choices he’s made, with how selfish and greedy he was, and how inconsiderate his actions have been for the past few months. He can’t believe that he could be so self-centered, taking Y/N for granted. She’s his wife; they’re supposed to be partners, equals, and he treated her like she was disposable while he traveled the world, living out a dying dream.

He wishes he was there, to not only prevent it, but also to tell her just one last time how important she was to him and tell her of the pain that would spread in his chest at the possibility of losing her or their child; he wants so badly to show his love for her. In four days, they would have been celebrating six years together, and in that time, he has never doubted his love for her. He knew, from the moment they met, that she was meant to be with him until the very end. They were soulmates.

Now that he might lose her and his baby, he feels like his soul is being ripped out of his chest, leaving nothing but a gaping, painful void.

Jeff sends him a link to Twitter and a message: Harry, take all the time you need.

The post says: Due to a personal emergency, Harry will not be able to make the show at MSG this evening, and all tour dates from this moment forth will be canceled until further notice. Know that he wishes he could be with you all, and please, respect his privacy in these trying times.

He calls his mother shortly after, but she doesn’t answer. When he tries Gem, she picks up after a few rings, shaky and winded. He sighs, trying to quell the tremors in his hands. His lips quiver.

“What’s goin’ on?”

Gemma explains what happened to the best of her ability, that Y/N just left to go back to the cottage after eating dinner And that Anne received a call from the hospital, after he didn’t answer his phone (that part stung to hear).

“Please—” He begins, but his voice teeters and breaks at the end. He can’t help the tears that slip down his cheeks. Exhausted and weak, he finally cries. He cries for his wife, his child, and himself. They’re not heart-wrenching sobs, where he’s keeled over, grief and anxiety spilling out of every pore, but they leave him breathless, chest aching.

“Please, tell me everythin’s gonna be fine.”

Her silence is answer enough. She can’t promise him anything. It’s too early to tell, and she’s not going to lie to him, either, not when his wife and child’s life is in the balance.

“I don’t know, Harry,” Gemma admits, “but I will call you as soon—”

He hangs up before she can finish.

—

Rain thunders onto the broken concrete, a flash of lightning brightening the dull sky. Despite the rain, the earth nearly brimming with life, the hospital is dead. There’s not a soul going in or out. The lights flicker eerily in the corner of his eye. It’s four in the morning, so it’s not much of a surprise, but the sight of it being so lifeless just feels wrong.

His mind is moving quicker than the world can keep up with, it seems, and he feels like it goes against the laws of nature. It’s a strange feeling when you feel like you’re falling apart, but the world continues on; most people on the street wouldn’t bat an eye or even pay any notice to him as he’s deteriorating before their very eyes.

As irrational as it is, it feels wrong. It feels wrong that everyone else is able to go on while his life is crumbling.

He called Gemma when he landed, and there were still no updates on their condition. He broke dozens of traffic laws to get there, and now, he stands outside the entrance, still wearing his wool jumper from the day before, smelling like an airport, with rain soaking his hair. Droplets slip down his cheek and jaw, livening the dried tears from earlier, and they seep into his mouth; he can taste the salt.

He’s just staring at the flickering sign.

He can’t move.

Well, that’s not really it; he can move, he can feel, and he can see, but he doesn’t want to move.

How fucked up is that?

He doesn’t want to go inside. Despite all of his fears, and his longing for answers, and his need to see his family, he can’t move.

Because that would make everything real.

If he goes inside, if he pushes past those doors and sees the doctors, he can’t deny it anymore. When he goes inside, he has to face the very real possibility that he could lose his wife and daughter. He isn’t sure if he’s strong enough to handle it.

He’s being selfish. He knows that. He should be running inside, yelling at doctors and nurses to tell him what they’re doing about his family. He should be trying to do something, anything to see his wife and daughter.

But why is it so hard to move his feet?

And why does he still feel so numb?

He breathes in the cold air, burning his tender throat.

When he finally opens those doors, past the point of no return, he’s welcomed by a blinding light and the scent of antiseptic. The inside is just as lifeless, with dull white walls that leaves his head throbbing and dingy carpet that scrapes against his boots. He follows the signs, leading to the waiting room.

A new round of tears fills his eyes when he sees his mother’s familiar figure. He hasn’t wanted to just completely collapse into her arms, crying, in years, but now, he just wants to be in the comfort of her presence, to forget the world.

But he can’t, just like Jeff told him, he needs to stay strong, for them. He can’t shut down. He breathes out deeply, raises his head, and calls out for his mother.

Anne turns around, and when he sees Rhiannon pressed tightly to her chest, safe and sound, he feels more of his strength return, like he can breathe a little easier. He feels his knees weaken, but he keeps moving. He doesn’t feel quite so empty and broken and numb, a small ray of hope filling him for the first time in hours. He cups the back of her little head, thumb caressing the soft baby hairs. They’ve gotten thicker since the last time he saw her.

“She’s fine, Harry, just a little shaken up,” Anne says, smiling slightly.

His happiness is short lived when Gemma stands from behind Anne.

“Y/N’s in surgery right now. All we can do is wait,” she says, her eyes ringed with red, mirroring his own.

“Da,” Rhia says, and he smiles, a single tear running down his cheek. He wipes it and sniffles.

Y/N pretended to be upset when that was Rhi’s first word. She said it only hours before he had to leave. They were in their home, and Y/N was helping him lug his suitcases out of the bedroom when he heard it. It sounded like another babble, but it became clearer until—

“Da,” she squealed, bouncing in her little jumper chair. “Dada.” She hit a little plastic toy ring on the tray

“Y/N,” he called out for her and knelt down in front of his baby. She rushed out of the bedroom.

“What? Is something wrong?”

“Say it again, peach, show mummy,” he cooed, and Rhi repeated it, again and again, reaching for her father.

“I carry her around for nine months and feed her out of my tit,” Y/N whined, “and this is the thanks I get?”

They laughed, nevertheless. It was a bittersweet moment, as he looks back on it now. He was so happy that Rhiannon was growing and learning, but she was growing up too fast for his liking. He lifted Rhi up out of the chair and pressed a gentle kiss to her chubby cheek, tears stinging behind his eyes.

“She’s just daddy’s little girl. Aren’t ya, peach?”

She left a slobbery kiss, well, her version of a kiss (which was more tongue than lip) on his nose. He scrunched up his face, and her features pinched together in return, mimicking him.

“See, jus’ a little mini-me you are,” he said, tickling under her chin.

And when she called out to him after saying their final farewells in the airport, it made it even more difficult for him to leave.

Maybe it was a sign that he shouldn’t leave.

He should have listened.

He’s knocked back into the present when his baby girl looks up at him, eyes lit up with innocence, completely unaware of the dire situation they’re in. They’re not in their London home, and Y/N’s not there with him. His lips wobble, nose burning. His chest hurts, whether from unshed tears or from the thought of actually losing the love of his life, he doesn’t know.

He cups his baby girl’s cheek.

Rhia has Y/N’s eyes. He loves her eyes. When she first opened them, as he held her for the first time, bundled tightly in his arms, he cried big, fat tears until they were all dried up. He felt nothing but love for this little human because she was a perfect mixture of him and Y/N. He loves Rhiannon’s eyes, but now, they serve as nothing but a deathly reminder of his wife, who could possibly not survive these next few hours.

She gives him a gummy smile, her little tongue slipping out over her lips. There’s some white peeking through her gums, and his heart aches. He wipes some drool from her chin, and she reaches for him, but he backs away.

His stomach sinks, and he wants the ground to swallow him whole. His mother looks at him softly, not a shred of disappointment apparent on her face, as if she knew he wouldn’t be able to hold his own daughter. His throat closes.

How could he be so weak?

Rhia’s smile drips down, but she lays her head back on her Nana’s shoulder. Anne cups the girl’s head, wrapping the thinly woven blanket tighter around her; sadness and pity present in the air.

“‘M gonna check in with the nurse, see how Y/N’s doin’,” he whispers, backing away, and he stumbles down the hallway, following the signs until he sees the nearest nurse, clad in pale blue scrubs. Even though he’s sure the nurse expects him to look nothing less than distraught, he smooths down his clothes and clears his throat, trying to quell the cries building, lips quivering pitifully.

“Do you have any information on Y/N Styles?” His voice is watery and broken.

The nurse looks at him with sad eyes, warm and understanding, like his mother’s. How does everyone else know what he’s feeling besides himself?

“No, I’m sorry, sir,” she says, and he simply nods. He doesn’t have the energy to be upset or press her anymore. The heaviness on his chest building, he doesn’t even try to stop it anymore. He just wants to wallow, curl up and cry until he’s finally able to wake up from this nightmare. He hates the feeling like he’s just given up, accepted that Y/N may not come back from this.

He wants to fight, but all of the fight he has left him as soon as Jeff told him the news.

“Thank you,” he whispers, heading back to the waiting room. He sits down silently on the chairs next to Gemma, the worn wood squealing from the sudden weight. Anne paces in front of them, rocking Rhia back and forth, like she has been for the past few hours; call it a nervous tick or a mother’s instinct, but holding Rhiannon calms her.

Gemma glances at him in the corner of her eye, unsure of how to comfort him in such a situation. He can see her

“I can’t hold her, Gem,” he says weakly, and she looks at him, finding his gaze held on the small little bundle in their mother’s arms. She sighs. “What if—” There’s a bitter taste on his tongue. He covers his mouth with trembling hands, trying to push back the cries swelling in his chest.

“What if Y/N dies?”

It’s one thing to think about it, but saying it aloud breaks his heart in two.

Y/N has been a constant in his life for six years, and in that time, she became his rock, his shoulder to cry on, his stability, who held his heart so close to her. Then, he thinks about his baby girl, who has had her mother for barely seven months, just to have her ripped away so easily because of some drunk who didn’t know when to quit, and he thinks he’s going to be sick again.

It takes only one mistake to set off a series of irreversible events.

Exhausted, he doesn’t fight the sob that comes out, his shoulders shaking as more and more. He heaves for breath, curling into himself. Gemma wraps an arm around him, and he cries into her shoulder. He feels useless, sinking further into the endless pit in his mind. He’s never considered the possibility of Y/N never being there with him, holding his hand through the fire, and now that possibility is very real; he can’t face it.

When he’s run himself dry, he finally looks at her with red-rimmed eyes and swollen cheeks.

“If she dies, I dunno if I could even look at her,” he admits. “To see her eyes...” Gemma just listens. She knows that there’s nothing she could ever say to make the situation any better. She holds her brother’s hands tightly. “I should have been here,” he says, nodding softly.

“Harry, there’s nothing you could have done. It’s that prick’s fault, not yours,” she says angrily. She’s trying to keep calm, for everyone’s sake, but it’s difficult when it feels like her family is being torn apart.

“I would’ve been driving,” Harry insists. “I would be the one in there, not her, and they would’ve been safe.”

“You don’t know that,” Gemma argues softly. She’s never seen him like this before, but that’s to be expected in the situation they’re in. He’s normally such an optimistic person, and to hear him degrade himself is almost too much to handle.

“If she does make it—”

“When she makes it,” Gem snaps.

“She’s gonna hate me. I know it.”

“She has never blamed you for anything, not when fans gave her shit, not when paps would follow her, and especially not when you had to leave. There are some things that are simply out of our control, and she understands. She understands that you can’t be there all the time. She understands that this is your job, and your job has made you who you are today. She won’t blame you for this either, so don’t blame yourself.”

“You don’t understand,” he sighs. It’s true. She does not understand what he’s gone through. She doesn’t know what it feels like, but she knows that the damage is already done. There’s no use in looking back and analyzing everything to see what they could have done differently.

“I should’ve been here.”

“If only things were that simple.”

“Harry?” A shallow, unfamiliar voice speaks from behind him, making everyone raise their heads.

Anxiety spikes in his stomach. He wonders how anyone could have recognized him, since there is absolutely no one else in the hospital, and how insensitive they would have to be to come talk to him while he’s in such a state. Anger bubbles within him, his skin turning hot as he turns to face the woman.

The blood on her uniform makes him pause.

“My name is Leslie. I was one of the first people on the scene.”

“Do you know anything?” She shakes her head sadly.

“But I was with your wife in the ambulance. She wanted me to tell you that she loves you and…” She coughs, hesitation clear on her features. “And not to give up.”

She probably doesn’t realize how much he needed to hear those words because when he stands and tugs her into a hug, she tenses, hesitantly wrapping her arms around him. Again, like when he saw his baby girl, hope warms him, blanketing and strengthening him.

It’s like Y/N is speaking to him through her.

“Thank you,” he whispers, offering her a weak smile. Just as they part, an older woman rounds the corner. Everyone sits up a little straighter, the air becoming a little tenser, when she gets closer to them.

“She’s resting, now, but she should be up in a few hours,” the doctor smiles.

Harry wants to crumple to the ground as a weight lifts from his chest, and he can finally breathe. He’s run ragged, a broken cry slipping out of his blubbering lips. He tugs Gemma into his arms, who returns the embrace wholeheartedly. Such relief and warmth fills him that he can barely hear the doctor as she continues.

“There was some pretty severe internal bleeding, but we got her stabilized. She also had a couple broken ribs, nothing that time and care won’t heal. After we do some more tests, she should be released in about a week. I can show you to her room, if you’d like?”

“Yes,” Harry cries.

When they reach Y/N’s room, Harry pauses outside and turns to his mother. Her eyes, noticing the confliction in his eyes, are soft and understanding. He never thought about seeing her in such a state until now, but least she’s still with him, his little fighter, just like Rhi.

“Mum, can I, uh…” He nibbles on his lip, holding his arms out.

“Course,” Anne says, moving the baby in his open arms.

“Hi, peach,” he says, smiling. She sleeps contentedly, her features relaxed. His heart twinges as she burrows herself into his chest, and he wraps the blanket a little tighter around her.

“We’ll go to the cottage and get some extra clothes for you all,” Gemma says, knowing that Harry needs this time alone. She tugs her mother, who hesitates but soon follows.

He expected her condition to be poor, but that doesn’t stop the burning in his eyes when he sees her, hooked up to what seems like dozens of machines, her face swollen, and stitches along her hairline; she looks so fragile, so broken, but her heart beat is strong, breathing steady. As if sensing her father’s discomfort, Rhi burrows further in his arms, snuffling lightly.

He settles in a chair next to Y/N’s bed, one hand holding hers while the other arm cradles his baby.

“Gave daddy a scare earlier, peach,” he coos. “Daddy’s sorry that he wasn’t there with ya.”

He promises her many things, that she’s safe, that nothing will ever happen to her, and that her mum is safe, too, but most importantly, he promises to be there for her. He cries silently, careful to keep the tears and painful jolts of his chest from waking Rhi. He just can’t help it. After the dust settles and the smoke is cleared, the gravity of the situation weighs on him: he could have lost the two most important people in his life, and he would not have been there.

A nurse stops by to bring a bassinet for Rhiannon and to check on Y/N, who is doing wonderfully, especially after such an invasive surgery.

Y/N wakes after about an hour, just as the sun peaks beyond the horizon. Harry is still up, of course, watching his girls, finding comfort in the heart monitor. He pushes the bassinet back and forth with his foot.

“H?”

He beams when he hears her voice, gravely and worn, but it’s her voice nonetheless, comforting and warm. He wishes that he could hold her and kiss her until his love heals her wounds, but he has to settle for holding her hand and kissing her forehead for the time being.

“I’m sorry,” she sobs, tears slipping past her swollen eyes. “It happened so fast.”

“What are you sorry for, lovie? You did absolutely nothin’ wrong,” he says, brushing back her hair.

“You had to leave because I wasn’t being careful enough, and I—”

His heart aches, eyes glazing over. He hates that he made her feel like his job was more important than her.

“No, none of that,” he says, shaking his head. “That doesn’t matter. Listen, this was not your fault, and as far as tour goes, it’s not nearly as important as you two. I would drop everythin’ if you needed me to. There is nothin’ that I wouldn’t do for you. You know that, right? You both are my life, now; I made that promise the day we got married and the day she was born. You both are my number one priority, and I haven’t been treating you like it. For that, I’m so sorry.”

“Harry—”

“It was selfish of me to think that I could live in the past and the present, live the life that I used to while trying to be a father and a husband. It wasn’t fair of me, and I am so, so very sorry, babylove.”

He kisses her, careful of her bruises, and she sinks further into the bed, comforted by his warm words and tender touches. Her eyes, fluttering with exhaustion and filled with tears, refuse to close, as if she’s afraid that he’ll be gone by the time she wakes. He runs his thumb along her cheek, mindful of the swollen areas. For the first time in what feels like years, his mind is calm, basking in the feeling of happiness as he’s finally able to feel and see his family, safe and within his reach. That’s all he’s ever wanted, and as he sees her nodding off, he presses a quick kiss to her knuckles, whispering.

“Rest, lovie, I’ll be here. Don’t worry.”

She falls asleep with a faint smile.

Perhaps, fate isn’t cruel as many think. Just like anything, it can be merciful and loving for those who are worth mercy and love.

—

#harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles x reader #ellie writes #ellie writes angst #not my gif #credit to owner

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