AN: Hey. I know I’ve been gone for a while. I’ve had a lot of ideas recently but writers block is keeping me from doing anything with them. I’m working on quit a few things though, but for now have some smut for you guys. I hope you like it. 🙂
Concept: Y/N and Harry have morning sex.
Pairing: Harry x female Y/N
Warnings: Smut, fluff, swearing, prob typos.
Good morning, love.
The sound of the birds chirping outside, and the cars zooming up and down the street pull you out of your deep sleep, as you lay awake resting your eyes for a moment, trying to gain the energy to open them.
When you open you’re eyes, the first thing you see is the certain swaying, from the light breeze coming from the cracked window, the light seeping in from the open blinds. You were suddenly in a good mood. One of those moods where you just know it’s going to be a good day.
You suddenly remember that Harry is in bed behind you. You look down, and see his arm is draped over your waist, his hand resting limply on your hip, and his cross tattoo prominent in your line of vision. You can hear is heavy, but steady breathing in your ear, letting you know he was still asleep. You turn your body to face him, causing him to stir in his sleep. He doesn’t wake up though, draping his arm back over your body the way it was, once you’re done moving around, and continuing his heavy slumber.
You run your fingers through his crazy hair, staring at him in complete adoration. His long eyelashes. His curly, unruly hair. His soft, pink lips that were slightly parted, letting out soft snores. The tattoos trailing up is arm like art. He’s gorgeous. He suddenly inhaled deeply and stirred again, rubbing his eyes and groaning in the process. He was waking up.
He finally opens his eyes, you being the first thing he sees, looking at him with a smile on your face, causing him to smile. Your smile was always so contagious for him. “Wha’r you smiling at?” He asks, voice groggy from not being used for so long. “You.” You say matter of factly, as if he should know. He giggles, shaking his head before yawning and stretching, letting out very loud grunts that would’ve been really obnoxious if you weren’t in such a good mood.
When he’s done he turns back to you, gazing into your eyes again. “Y’know, love, it’s a bit weird to stare at someone while they’re sleeping, in’it?” He teases with a furrow of his eyebrows, his accent thick with sleep. You blush, burying your face in his neck. He laughs at your embarrassment. “I love you.” He whisperers, kissing the top of your head.
Instead of saying it back with words, you lock your lips with his, and he doesn’t hesitate to kiss you back. The kiss was short, ending with you pulling away. Harry wanted more though, as he reconnects your lips to his faster than you pulled away.
He puts his hand on the side of your head for a bit of leverage, tugging at the roots of your beautiful hair, causing you to moan into the kiss. The kiss is deep, and passionate. Neither of you want to let go any time soon. Getting into it, he pulls away only long enough to push you onto your back, and get on top of you straddling you, but keeping himself propped up so that he doesn’t crush you.
The cover slides off of him, revealing his already naked body, which doesn’t surprise you considering he doesn’t typically sleep with anything on. He moves away from your lips to the sensitive spot on your neck underneath your ear, causing you to let out a soft moan, grabbing him by his hair. He likes that reaction as he suck harder, nibbling at the skin for sure leaving a hickey there that you’re gonna have to work at covering up.
You can feel him pushing himself against you for friction, driving you absolutely mad. He abruptly pulls away from you and grabs you by the collar of his big shirt that you weren’t wearing anything underneath, and pulling you toward him, forcing you to sit up. You look down, and see how hard he’s gotten, making you more excited than you already were.
He catches your glance and smiles. “See what you’ve done t’me petal?” He says, pulling the shirt from over your head swiftly, before taking his big hand to your chest, and pushing you back down to lay on your back. He looks down at you in awe. “Y’so fuckin’ beautiful.”
He leans back down kissing your neck again, taking one of your boobs in his hand, needing and squeezing it like his own personal stress ball. He trails tender kisses down your neck, shoulders, and chest, stopping at your nipple, lightly sucking on he sensitive area. He takes his hand, moving it down your stomach, all the way down to where he wants you most, moving his finger in between your folds and stopping just at your opening, catching you off guard and causing you to gasp.
He peppers kisses down your stomach, rubbing your thighs, taking his time with you. He wants to appreciate every inch of you.
He finally gets down to where you want him most, pressing a soft, wet kiss to your core. He takes his hands on your inner thighs, spreading them as far apart as they will go. He presses his lips to your fully exposed thighs, sucking at the fleshy skin.
He looks up at you to see you with your eyes closed, in a heaven. To pull you out of your trance, he unexpectedly pushes two fingers into you, hard.
“Harry! You almost yell. He continues to pump his fingers in and out of you, hitting the spot at the perfect angle, causing you to not even be able to think straight. “What is it baby?” He asks in mock confusion. “D’you like that?” You nod harshly, with your lower lip between your teeth, and eyes screwed shut. “Use y’words pet.”
“Yes!” You cry out, squirming beneath him. He moves his face down towards your clit, wasting no time flicking his tongue over the bundle of nerves over and over again. “Harry! Fuck!!” You yell out.
It doesn’t take long for you to feel the pressure bubbling up in the pit of your stomach. “Harry I’m gonna cum!” You warn. He keeps going for a couple more seconds, building up your excitement. Right when you were about to reach your high, he pulls his fingers out of you, and moves his tongue away from your clit.
“Harry, please.” You beg pitifully, desperate for the release he’s not letting you have. He comes up and hovers over your petite figure, looking into your pleading eyes. “What, baby? What d’you want me to do.” He asks, pretending like he doesn’t know exactly what you want.
“Fuck me.” You say impatiently. “Y’want me t’fuck you, love?” He says, rubbing his hard cock against your pussy dripping with pre cum, making you whine with desperation. “Yes.” You reply. “Please, H.” You all but beg.
He immediately positions himself at your entrance, and pushes himself into you slowly, causing you to moan in relief. “Shit.” Harry seethes at the contact. He stays still for a second, giving you a second to adjust to his size, before moving himself in and out of you. He lifts up one of his legs, and gets in a position as if he’s down on one knee, hitting the spot perfectly, causing your eyes to roll back.
“Oh fuck- shit!” You curse, wearing your legs around Harry’s torso and digging your nails into his back. “Fuckin‘ell” Harry says loudly, as his thrusts start to get sloppy, and less controlled. He puts one hand around your neck, making you scream, and holding onto the headboard of the bed with the other, throwing his head back in pleasure.
You open your eyes to look at him, wanting to see his pleasure. The golden cross chain Harry forgot to remove before he fell asleep last night dangled from his neck, yet he was so lost in such a sinful act to notice.
You soon started to feel the sensation in your lower stomach again, letting you know you were close to your release again. “Harry, I’m close.” “Me too.” He says, completely out of it, and his face contouring with pure bliss. His thrusts get even sloppier but harder, as both of your moans get louder, and more urgent.
“Harry I’m gonna cum!” You yell. He moves the hand around your neck down to your clit, working you through your orgasm. “Let it go. Cum f’me baby.” He encourages. “Oh my- holy shit!!” You yell as you feel yourself tightening around him. Harry cums at the same time, slamming into you, releasing into you, grunting in the process. “Fuck!” He says loudly.
When the both of you come down from your highs, he pulls out of you slowly, watching his load flow out of you. He looks at you, and sees that you’re eyes are closed, as your moth hangs open and your naked chest puffs up and down with you’re heavy breathing. He gets up and walks away, causing you to open your eyes, confused as to where he’s going.
Suddenly you hear running water, but only for a second before he comes back to you with a wet rag. “Le’me clean you up, lovie.” He says sweetly. He takes the warm damp rag in between your legs, wiping you down carefully.
You wince slightly at the sensitivity. “I’m sorry, petal.” He says sincerely, trying to finish up as fast as he could. when he was finally done, he walked away again to get rid of the towel, before coming back and laying beside you.
You cuddle up against him, pressing a kiss to his collarbone. “I love you.” You whispered. He gives you a soft kiss on the lips. “I love you so much more.”
You guys lay in each other’s arms, enjoying each other’s company before Harry breaks the silence. “What d’you wanna do today?”
Sorry. I didn’t know how to end it. I’m a virgin so I don’t know what you’re supposed to say after LMAO
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sleepless I harry styles
synopsis: the party cleanup
disclaimer: mentions of selfharm, mentions of scars
just remember that sometimes, the way you think about a person isn’t the way they actually are - John Green
At 3am the party had finally started to die down, people slowly funneling their way out. And by 3:30, All the guests were gone, leaving Avery, Harry, and Francis. Avery was on her fourth cup of coffee, the caffeine keeping her awake enough to not pass out on the couch. Everyone was sitting in the living room, strewn around the space. All of them winding down from the energy that the party created. It was silent. Serene. Comforting, in a way.
Harry was the first to move, starting to pick up the mess that swept the entire flat. Avery and Francis joined him soon after. They collected all the cups and plates that were scattered about, bringing all of them to the kitchen. Francis washed the dishes, Avery dried and put them away, and Harry made several trips around the apartment to collect all the trash.
Avery was lost in her own world, taking her time in drying the dishes and figuring out where they were kept. A tap on her shoulder had broken her from her trance. When she looked back, she saw Francis with a big soapy beard on his face. His jaw was completely covered in bubbles.
“How do I look, Avery?”
“Absolutely fabulous, if I do say so myself.” They were giggling like children, the sound echoing through the kitchen.
The laughter had Harry making his way to the source, and the sight in front of him had him laughing too. It was nice seeing Avery and Francis smiling and laughing. It was something that he hadn’t seen in a while, mainly from his friend. Maybe this party really was what he needed. Maybe this was a fresh start.
“Alright Old Saint Nick, let's get the kitchen cleaned up, after that we are finished till the morning.”
Harry chuckled, throwing a towel to Francis, and after he wiped his face clean, they continued. The rest of the dishes were washed and put away, the counters were wiped down, and the floors were swept. Avery had the cake she made in her hands, about to put it in the fridge, before she heard someone protest.
“Nope. You're not putting that masterpiece away until you try a piece.”
Francis hastily took it out of her hands, grabbed a paper plate, and cut a small slice out of the cake. He just about shoved it into her hands, not taking his eyes off of her until she took a bite. "It's very sugary," She said, grimacing as she swallows her first bite. "I think I need to cut down on that the next time"
"I think it’s great," Francis shrugs, getting a new fork to take a bite from her piece. "I mean, considering this is one of your first cakes, this is amazing."
"Thank you." After tasting the cake herself, Avery doubted that he was telling the truth. It was awful. "Harry, you try a bite" She holds the fork out to Harry and he doesn't even take the utensil from her, but eats it straight from the fork. The silly action instantly made her blush, All the heat rushing to her face and making it beet red. But the redness of her cheeks quickly vanishes as Harry loudly coughs, and nearly downs a whole glass of water after swallowing the small bite of cake.
"I'm sorry, Ave, but..." He takes a breath. "that is revolting. Francis, how are you just eating that?" Avery giggles, looking over at Francis, who has almost finished her piece.
"I can feel the cavities forming in my teeth..." He takes another sip off his water.
"I like it." Francis concludes with a shrug. "Anyways, Avery, are you staying here or should we take you home? I can play my charm and convince Mrs Sheffield to give us her car keys."
"It's 4am," Harry frowns.
“Trust me, she loves me!"
They keep bantering back and forth while Avery contemplates if she should stay or go. She had been with Harry for a majority of the weekend, rarely leaving his side. She didn’t want to overwhelm him. Didn’t want him to get tired of her presence or feel like she was clinging to him. "You can stay, Ave. It's no problem." Harry says, bringing her back into reality with his green eyes looking into her own.
"I don't want to bother you guys"
"You're not bothering anyone. Stay. I can walk you home after breakfast"
Her gaze moves over to Francis, who was putting the cake back into its container. She was looking for him to protest, for him to say that he didn’t want her there. But he didn’t seem bothered in the slightest, so she nods. "Alright, just til after breakfast."
Harry breaks into a smile and Francis puts the dessert in the fridge, slowly closing the door. "Great, now that this has been discussed, I am going to bed." Francis said goodnight to the two before vanishing in his bedroom. Avery noticed how Harry's eyes stayed fixed on his friends door for a moment.
"He likes you." Harry then says, turning back to her with a gleaming smile.
He walks over to her, leaning against the kitchen counter. "When do you go back to work?"
"You're going to be tired."
"I'll be fine." She murmurs. In the dim kitchen light, Harry can see the three freckles on her nose, and the different shades of blue in her eyes. There had been numerous times where he’d thought about kissing Avery. More than he would like to admit. So many times where he wanted to sweep the loose strand of hair behind her ear, cup her cheek, and put his lips onto her own. He believed that, maybe, her pain would leave after he kissed her. He knew that it was stupid. That it was impossible. That something that mundane could ever fix the pain that she had felt.
So, out of all these times, he picked this one. He picked this time because he was tired. He picked this time because he still had some liquid courage coursing through his veins. He picked this time because she looked just… so unbearably sad. Even though he knew she had a great time that night, there was this underlying look to her. Even at her happiest, she always looked to be sad. Like she was in a great world of pain. Always.
He slowly leaned closer, his gaze fixed on hers. She didn't move away from him as their eyes met. "I don't think we should do that," Her breath is warm against his lips. "You'd regret it."
"I doubt that." His words are hushed, and if he leaned a bit closer, just the smallest bit, their lips would touch. Averys gaze switched between his eyes and his lips. She wants to be brave enough to close the gap. She does. But there is a small voice in her head telling her that it's wrong. That she will destroy everything that she has created if she moves forward with what's happening.
"You're so soft nobody knows how to take care of you".. "You know what you are? An ungrateful brat. That's all that you are, and that’s all you’ll ever be".
"You're pathetic, I can't deal with you anymore. No one can."
"I'm sorry but... I can't." She whispers and she doesn't have to tell him that's it because of her mind, her past, and everything that she continues to hide from him. He knows.
"I get it." Harry reassures her and instead of kissing her lips, he kisses her forehead.
“I’m sorry… I’m so sorry.” He leaned in again, pressing his lips to her forehead once more. This time letting them linger.
“It’s okay, Ave. It’s alright. You don't need to be sorry.”
So, instead of kissing, they watch Lost In Translation. Harry had fallen asleep shortly after, his head resting on her thigh, and Avery’s fingers gently carted through his soft, honey brown curls. Somewhen, the morning sun illuminated the living room. The early morning rays casting a golden shadow over the room. Bathing everything in what could only be described as eternal light.
Francis emerged from his bedroom soon after the sun rose, stopping for a short second to look at his friend. Harry was asleep on Avery's lap, his face cuddled into her stomach with her hand resting on his head. He looked so at peace, even youthful in his sleep. He was getting the rest that Francis knew he deserved. That he needed.
Seeing him and Avery together made Francis happy. He saw the way that they had interacted during the party. They were always together, never spending much time apart.
Francis made his way to the kitchen, getting himself a glass of water. He got a cup out of a cabinet, one that had been washed only hours ago, and filled it at the kitchen sink. not bothering with ice, it was too early for ice cold water. Once the cup was full, he turned off the tap and turned around. He jumped and nearly dropped his cup, startled to see Avery stood at the entrance of the small space.
“Jesus! You scared me.” Francis leaned against the counter, holding a hand up to his chest in an effort to slow his racing heart.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.”
They stood there in silence for a while. Avery eventually made her way into the kitchen, sitting atop of the counter closest to the entrance. Francis was looking out the small window they had in the kitchen, and Avery watched. He didn’t seem to be actively in the room. His mind was elsewhere. This was a different kind of silence. Not like the atmosphere that they had experienced after everyone had left hours ago. This one was darker, in a way.
Somehow, Avery knew. She just knew. She knew that he was troubled. Maybe it was the worry that Harry always had in his eyes when looking at his friend. Maybe it was the dread that showed in Harry’s face whenever he called. Or maybe it was her own personal experience. But, either way, she knew. She could see the scars that littered his arms, the ones he had tried so desperately to cover, and it made her angry. Did she have a real right to be angry? No. She didn’t truly know the boy that was standing in front of her, but she knew enough. She knew enough to know that he shouldn’t feel that kind of pain. From what she had seen, he was funny, caring, and he stood by his friends. He cared for his friends. She didn’t want anyone to know half of what she had been through, what she had felt. And she knew that he had.
“Just… thank you.”
He looked bewildered by her words, not knowing what they were for. “For what, Avery?”
“For earlier. Eric. You saw that he was bothering me and you told him off. I never got to thank you for it.”
“Oh… it was no problem. He was being a prick. He kept on advancing towards you when you told him no, and I won't stand by to see that.” He made his way to the kitchen sink, Avery not too far from him, and started to rinse out his empty glass. Avery watched as he did so, closing her eyes shortly after to let them rest for a minute.
“Can you promise me something?” He looked into her eyes, a serious glint inside of them.
“I guess so… what is it?”
“This probably isn’t my place, and I apologize if I offend you in any way. But, just… please stand up for yourself. Okay? There are loads of blokes like Eric, people who will take advantage of you because you are too nice, people who will disregard your rejection of their actions. You have to stand up for yourself. I would hate to see you get hurt because of something like that.”
She was taken aback by what he was saying. She didn’t know how to respond, at least not right now. So she simply nodded her head, casting her eyes downward.
“And thank you for the cake, I really appreciate it.”
“Of course. I'm glad.”
Avery’s apartment was a wreck. Various papers and notebooks littered every surface as she tried to find a good sample she could send over to Hughes Magazine. This was a real opportunity, one that needed to be taken seriously. She has the chance to be a published writer, to have something that she had written somewhere in the world for people to see. To say that this was nerve wracking was a major understatement. Avery was sitting in the middle of her living room looking like a mad woman, frantically flipping through notebooks in hopes of finding something that she deemed good enough.
After going through every piece of writing she had, she decided to submit two short stories and a handful of poems. She chose pieces that, she hopes, shows her diversity as a writer. Avery wanted this to be something, just once. She added her CV and all the other required information before attaching the poems and stories at the end of the e-mail, sending it off to their office in London before closing her laptop, pushing every bad thought aside.
As she began to pick up the mess she had made in the process, Avery's phone lit up showing her a message from Tom.
Tom: Hey, is there any chance you could come in early tomorrow? I've found a potential new employee and I would like you to show her around a bit.
Avery: Sure. How much earlier?
Tom: Thirty minutes early will be fine, just need a second opinion on her. She would be starting work soon, if she is decent at everything.
Avery: I'll be there.
Tom: Thank you, Avery :)
"What do you think about the editing?" Harry questions Francis, showing his laptop with the edited photo on the screen. He spent the whole Sunday in front of the computer, trying to finish editing the set his boss needed for an upcoming ad. His eyes were exhausted and his head ached from the hours he spent looking at the monitor screen.
"I like it," Francis says with a shrug, continuing to eat his Ben and Jerry's out of the paper container.
"I need constructive criticism, Frany. Saying you like it is not cutting it anymore." Harry groans, putting his head back to regain composure and stretch his sore neck.
"You know I'm devoted to the numbers.'" Francis replies with a sigh. "I can't give you constructive criticism when I don't understand it."
"It's art. Most of the time you don't have to understand it."
"Why are you not doing your black and white photography? I love it and I know you do too, I'm sure there are some people who would buy it."
"Those “some people” aren't going to pay rent," Harry closes the laptop, realizing Francis really wouldn't be much help here, and layed down on the sofa, his head atop the arm rest. "I wish I could just do that."
"I’d say do it. Do what makes you happy. That's what you always tell me, anyway."
"Yes, but you're different," Harry murmurs, his eyes closed and his forearm shielding them from the sunlight. "And what would I photograph? I don't go out anymore, I barely see James or Emily or Anais anymore. And God, I have a million photographs of you already."
"First of all, you make that sound like a bad thing." Francis replies, before eating another spoon of his ice cream. "Why don't you do a series on Avery?"
"She doesn't like being photographed."
“May I remind you that that's what you do? Take photographs without people noticing, so it's not staged."
"Yes I know, but-" Before Harry can finish his sentence Francis makes his way to Harry's room only to come out a minute later with a large black and white print. Harry remembered that day as if it were yesterday. It was Anais’s birthday party. Francis wasn't well that day so Harry had to take him to the party, he didn’t trust him enough to leave him home alone. He had spent the whole evening making rounds around the house, camera in tow, capturing every guest he could.
The photo in front of him showed Francis in an armchair in Anais’s living room. There was a half empty glass of champagne in his hand and a red balloon tied to his pinky, and at the first glance it almost looked comical. This sad boy with all the balloons, presents, and dancing people around him.
That same night, Harry had gotten absolutely wasted. So, when Francis told him that he wanted to go home, he didn't hold him back. He didn't look at him, not really, not like he should have. Once he had finally made his way back to their flat, he found Francis cutting himself on the bathroom floor and immediately sobered up. They didn't talk while Harry gently patched his friend up, doing so with so much care that it made Francis cry. And they didn't talk while Harry sent Francis to bed before he cleaned the bathroom, blaming himself for everything that had happened in the process.
Despite everything that came after, this was still one of his favorite photographs he had ever taken. The black and white didn't seem dramatic, but natural. He caught Francis without a mask, just Francis. It was safe to say that his best friend despised the whole thing, he didn't like it one bit and Harry was sure that if he hadn't stopped him, Francis would have ripped the print to shreds immediately.
"I really like that print..." Harry mumbles, eyeing the photograph that feels like it was taken so long ago. When he was still so naive and inexperienced, thinking he could just do this his whole life. "But I can't do it. I have to think about earning money, this dream won't take me anywhere."
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Concept: You’re sick, and Harry just want you to let him make sure you’re okay.
Pairing: Harry x female Y/N
Warnings: Angst, swearing, mentions of cancer, typos as usual.
Inspired by this post by @hotmessharry
And this one by @theselittlethingsmatter
I hope y’all like this one 🙂
Harry comes downstairs, from you and his shared bedroom to see you sitting at the kitchen table, staring into space. You looked emotionless, and that wasn’t you at all. He stops and realizes, you haven’t eaten since this morning. And all you ate was a scrambled egg. He checked the watch on his wrist. 5:56. You need to eat.
“You hungry, lovie? You haven’t eaten all day.” Harry asks, concern laced in his voice. “No.” You say dryly. You haven’t been yourself since you found out you had cancer. You’ve been down, and irritable. You snapped at Harry a lot. You didn’t mean too, sometimes you just wanted to be to yourself. Harry understands. He just wants you to be okay again. But he tried his best not to nag you, or sound like a broken record. “You know you’ve been being sick a lot from your treatment. I just don’t want you to get dehydrated or anything.” He reminds you timidly.
“Harry, I know i’ve been sick. I don’t need you to remind me. I’ll eat when I want to.” You immediately snap. Exactly what he was trying to avoid. Except this time, it didn’t make him feel defeated. It didn’t make him want to walk away. It made him angry. He wants to help you, and he’s honestly tired of you being unappreciative, and pushing him away. He’s tired of you talking to him this way, as if this was his fault.
“Y/N I’m just trying to help you. You don’t need to get defensive.” He says, concealing his annoyance, but his tone having a very obvious edge to it.
That’s when you started yelling. “I’m not getting defensive! I’m just telling you that I know I have cancer. I don’t need you to remind me every five fucking seconds!”
“Y/N.” He warns, clenching his jaw, and letting his eyes fall shut, pinching the bridge of his nose. He’s trying to tell you that he’s getting angry without actually saying it, hoping you’ll read his body language and calm down. But you either don’t realize or don’t care as you continued to utter your harsh words, in an unreasonably loud voice, getting under his skin more and more.
“You know, maybe you have to be reminded of this shit constantly, but I don’t. I don’t just fucking forget. You don’t know what it’s like to constantly have to think about thi-“
That’s the sentence that sent Harry over the edge. Because you were so wrong. That wasn’t true in the slightest. He didn’t even let you finish your thought before he started yelling even louder that you.
“Yes the fuck I do, Y/N! This is hard for me too. I love you more than anything in the entire world. Do you think it’s easy watching you, the person I love go through something like this, knowing there’s absolutely nothing you can do about it but be there for you, and I can’t even do that without you snapping me up? Because it’s not.” His voice boomed.”
That made you go quiet. You didn’t even know what to say to that. There wasn’t just anger laced in his voice. There was hurt, and fear. You knew this was something that’s been on his heart for a while. He doesn’t stop there though. He continues on lowering his voice, just a bit.
“You know I don’t want this for you. And I completely understand how hard this is for you. But this is not my fucking fault. And I’ve had it up to here with you acting like you’re in this alone. You know damn well I hate this just as much as you do.”
The guilt was hitting you all at once. How could you invalidate his feelings. Of course this is hard on him too. You couldn’t believe you’d been so inconsiderate. You could look at him and tell this was much more than him being fed up with your attitude. He’s petrified. And you’re not even making an effort to be there for him, because you’re too caught up in yourself. He’s the one that feels alone.
“I’m tired.” You say, tears desperate to fall, but you hold them back and hope Harry doesn’t notice. Because the fact that you’re crying after everything you put him through without even realizing is embarrassing.
You hurry upstairs to your bedroom, and shut the door. You try to shut it softly so that he doesn’t think you’re angry. You flop down face first on Harry’s side of the bed, immediately letting the tears flow, sobbing into the pillow. You didn’t even care if he heard you anymore.
In the mean time Harry was standing in the same spot you left him, staring at the spot you were sitting before you left. Out of pure anger, he swipes the vase off the table with all his force, causing it to hit the wall and shatter, the shards scattering across the floor, yelling a “fuck” in the process. He wanders over to the couch, walking as if he had no real intention on going to the couch.
He sits down and rubs his thumb and forefinger over his eyes, letting his emotions get the best of him. He just doesn’t understand why you don’t think this hurts him too. Does he not show you enough? There’s no way. He just hates this for you. He hates that you have to go through this.
He made it a point to show you he cared but he never wanted to show you how much this was actually affecting him. He never cried around you. He always waited until you weren’t around. Sometimes he would be physically sick to his stomach, because he was so genuinely upset and scared that it made him nauseous. But he never told you that. He didn’t want to worry you. But he also didn’t want you to act like you think he’s enjoying this.
He doesn’t take long to get himself together. He didn’t fully let himself cry it out. He just needed to take a couple of seconds to think.
Then, he remembered that you ran upstairs. The tears that threatened to spill from your eyes didn’t go unnoticed as much as you’d hoped, so he knew you were upset, and he knew you were probably crying. He wanted to go check on you. He didn’t want you to cry. He just wanted you to understand.
Your sobs got louder and louder, as he got closer to to the top of the stairs. The sound was breaking his heart. He slowly opened the door and saw you laying face down on his side of the bed, sobbing your heart out. He didn’t hesitate to lay next to you and pull you into his arms.
“Shhhh I’m sorry baby. I’m so sorry.” He soothed. And he was. He was sorry for everything. He didn’t say anything else. He just let you cry until you were ready to talk. After a good 10 minutes, you sat up. Harry stared at you waiting for you to say something. Yet all he got was silence. He sat up next to you and placed his hand on your lower back. “Talk to me love.” He encourages.
You take a second to gather your thoughts before you speak. “I- I’m so sorry.” You say sounding absolutely distraught. “I was being so selfish. I was so worried about how I was feeling that I forgot to think about your feelings. I’m so sorry.” You started getting worked up again.
“It’s not just your fault.” Harry started. “I was bottling up my feelings. I wasn’t letting you in.” He admits.
“You don’t have to tell me specifically what you were feeling, Harry. I implied that you didn’t care. That I was the only one going through this. That was so wrong.”
“But I should have told you how I was feeling anyways. I shouldn’t be acting like I don’t cry when you’re not around. I shouldn’t be acting like I haven’t had countless sleepless nights, because I was staying up thinking about this. I’m behaving like I don’t think about this 24/7. So I’m sorry.”
After a couple seconds he starts talking again. “It’s just that-“ He trails off. He puts his face in his hands, finally just breaking down completely. Now it’s your turn to pull him into your arms, somewhat glad he’s just letting himself cry. You know that he’s hurting with you, and you’re glad he’s taking this time to let himself feel without hiding.
“I’m trying so hard to say strong for you.” He sobs through tears. “I just want you to get better.”
“I will baby. For you.”
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