#hslot harry

[grapejuicestyless]

Our Last Dance

Harry Styles x fem!reader

Summery: Y/n is Harry’s childhood best friend and the only person he’s been able to hang onto as his popularity grew. Y/n wasn’t as successful in life, but she wants to be able to do something nice for Harry one last time.(inspired by Aftersun…Warning: there is a lot of detail about vomit in this if that bothers you and depression/suicide.)

“It’s not much, but it’s right by the beach so I thought it might be nice.” I’ve known Harry for over two decades. He’s been my best friend since I was seven, I know everything there is to know about him. I know who he is, yet I still can’t help but feel ashamed when we stumble into the dusty hotel room, one large king sized bed sat in the center of the room and a balcony overlooking the blue oceans of Italy and an old handy cam from nineteen ninety something dangling from my wrist.

“No, no. It’s great.” Placing his suitcase on the tile flooring of the small bathroom, he flashes me a genuine smile before he peels back the bedsheets and checks the corners thoroughly for anything that could raise red flags.

“I could have sworn I paid for two beds, I don’t know how they mixed that up.” Running a hand through my hair, it only now hit me that there was only one place to sleep in the room. Usually, it would be no big deal seeing as Harry and I often spend our time together glued at the hip in his large bed or cramped together in my mid sized one. But I paid extra money to have the extra mattress, and money was tighter than usual and I just wanted everything to be perfect.

Harry simply shrugged it off, laying back against the headboard while dialing the front desks number with his right hand and welcoming me into his arms with his left one.

“I don’t have cooties, you know.” Shooting him a glare, I lay my head against his chest and take the phone in my hand that wasn’t wrapped underneath his waist. I feel one of his hands play around with the band on my wrist to grab the camera from me while he waits. The phone rings for some time before the monotone voice of the teenager working the front desk cracked through the shitty phone speakers.

Harry didn’t listen to much of the conversation, choosing to run his fingers through my hair and hum quietly under his breath, playing around with any buttons he could find on the camera.

“So thats the best you can do?” I asked, feeling my chest tighten like an elastic band. I raised from my spot on Harry’s chest, sitting on my knees and slouching in defeat, “No, I don’t need that. If I could get my money back though, for the extra bed?” Looking at Harry, I shook my head in question, sighing without making a sound.

“Yeah, that would be great. Thank you so much.” Before I could continue my passive aggressive approach to the situation, the line beeped dead and Harry began to crack a smile.

“’s not funny!” I slurred my words, feeling the ache between my bones hit me at that very moment. I let my body fall into Harry’s chest once again, sighing at the vanilla scent from his cologne that fills my nose and the warmth from his body despite the sweltering heat from the Italian summer making our joints extra sticky with sweat. A soft thud on the bedside table on Harry’s side tells me he’s done playing around on the camera and has turned his full attention to me.

“I don’t mind being stuck with you, y’know.” He tries to downplay the situation, diffusing my rising anxiety about expenses he recognizes in my mannerisms and my attitude. Huffing in response, I roll off of him and sprawl out like a starfish. My eyes find a home in the ceiling and I feel Harry take my right hand in his, “Why don’t we go to the pool? Why waste such a nice night pouting, yeah?” He tilts his head towards our bags that are still in the bathroom, and when our eyes meet, we both know someway or another he’s going to drag me down there.

“Race you?” I regret my words when I feel him scramble off the bed beside me, letting me get tangled in the sheets while he strips into his bright yellow swim trunks and dad-like flip flops. I laugh about it not being fair while I clasp my top in the back and desperately try and kick my sandals on but he’s already out the door, leaving it wide open as he runs down the slippery stairs and all but dives into the deep end of the teal waters.

“Come on in, the waters just fine!” He laughs, urging me to join him and I’ve never felt more alive as I full sprint off the edge of the cement and fall into the pool with my best friend.

“I call it a tie!” Water falls from my hairline as I break the water’s surface.

“What? No way, I smoked your ass!” Harry splashes me, hopping back when he sees me approaching him with a mischievous grin.

“You had a false start, I was not ready. So, as the officiator of this match, I have decided to add on penalty time meaning we tied.” The water creates a wave like pattern on our bodies, illuminating our sun kissed skin a hue of bluish-green and hiding any fading sunburns from the beginning of summer.

“You little minx!” He rushes towards me and I can feel my heart beating through my chest.

When he wraps his arms around my torso and threatens to dunk me, I can’t help the ugly giggles that bubble out of my mouth and shake my whole body. I can’t help the way my hands claw at his skin to keep me afloat even though I know he would never dunk me if I didn’t want him to or the way his laughter only makes my ribs tougher and my stomach ache worse.

“If I go down, I’m taking you with me!” Wrapping my hands around his shoulders, I somehow manage to maneuver myself in a way that has us both flipping into the six foot deep end.

I imagine the people who are sleeping just beside the pool are thankful for the brief silence when we are submerged, and I swear someone screams at us to shut the hell up when we start coughing and screaming again at the sudden chill of pool water soaking our drying skin.

“Best vacation ever!” Harry yells it in my ear, watching how I flinch away and cover my ears with my fingers and grimace, bearing all my teeth when I groan through them but also smiling while I do it.

I jump up onto his back, holding him like a koala bear and try my best not to slip off of his wet body.

“I know!” Somehow, we end up in the water again, and I don’t mind the sting of water in my nose or how I cough a large amount of it out over the edge of the pool when we break the surface again because Harry’s patting my back while I do it, and I do the same for him.

It’s funny and delirious and stupid, but the pool is occupied by us until our skin is pruned until there’s no more wrinkles to create and our lips are more blue than the water we swim in. And I swear, it feels like flying.

“One long island on the rocks!” He held up one finger but quickly held up another and corrected himself, “No, wait, two! Two on the rocks please!” He slurred, slapping a twenty down on the bar and handing one of the orangey-red drinks to me.

The glasses clinked together, sloshing the liquid within them and knocking my lime to the ground with a splat. Still, neither of us cared much, choosing to smile and laugh while we make our way back to the sandy shores of the nearby beach.

“This tastes so good! He knew what he was doing!” Pointing at my glass, I nod my head enthusiastically, feeling my cheeks start to hurt with how big I was smiling.

“No, you’re just drunk! I would know, I am too!” Harry stumbles all the way to the sand, downing the glass and setting it on the top of a nearby trashcan along with my half finished one.

“Heyyy, I wasn’t done!” Taking my hands in his, Harry begins pulling me to the waves that crashed down onto the sand, laughing at how my feet struggle to keep up with his in our drunken states.

“Come on, I’m hot!” The water hit our skin like a ton of bricks, tiny icicles hitting up to our hips and before we could turn back, a large wave knocked us over and fully submerged our goosebump covered bodies.

“Holy shit! Holy shit!” It didn’t necessarily hurt, being in the water and splashing around in it’s freezing temperatures, but it was shocking, especially with the extra heat of alcohol roasting us underneath the warmth of the summer sun.

Neither of us speak for a moment, choosing to hold our arms away from our bodies and look down at ourselves like we are trying to air dry our limbs after the accidental ice bath.

A puff of air leaves Harry’s mouth, followed by another and another. I look up to see him, and he’s already looking at me with a smile plastered on his face and giggles falling from his drunken lips. I’m only acutely aware of the heavy feelings in my limbs, but my own giggles falling from my lips mask the weird sensation and I don’t really care for it.

“You have seaweed on your…” Pointing to the top of his head, I look at the very small piece of the plant tangled in his curly brown hair, it almost looks like it’s part of it.

Harry picks it out, dangling in front of his face and smiling at it for a second. Then, he throws it at me.

“Ew! No-Harry!” Flinching away, I splash more water onto the both of us and feel the shock of it too, but I can’t stop moving, even after it’s fallen into the water in front of me, only barely touching my arm. Harry doesn’t seem to mind the water anymore though, sitting back and watching my overdramatic reaction to his antics. It’s only after I stop flailing about that he leans his too half into the water, scooping up a larger chunk of the plant and staring at me like a man with a plan.

“Don’t you dare. Don’t you dare!” Running through the water feels impossible, each stride I take being slowed by the movement of the shallow waves and the uneven surface of the rocks and the sand underneath my feet. I can hear his breathing just behind my ears, and the sloshing of his feet breaking through the water makes my heart pound faster.

I’m not sure where the chase disperses, when he gets tired of chasing me and decides to call a truce, but Harry stops chasing me after a good long while, metallic taste in our mouths rising from our throats and breathing so heavy, I think for a second I’ll have to go running to find Harry’s inhaler.

“Are you okay?” His voice fades in and out of my ears, I’m too focused on the taste in my throat and the steady restriction of my throat. I feel it bubbling up, and the saliva in my mouth seems to multiply. I’m on the brink of sobriety, or something close to it, so when he calls after me as I fight my way out of the ocean, I keep steady on my path to the one open trashcan just down the shore.

My hands grip the edge of the hot black plastic rim, bending myself forward and popping my foot up to better submerge myself into the opening. A gag followed by another and another shakes my entire body before everything spews out of me in an orangey-lime colored mess. I can still taste the alcohol on my breath, and I can feel the tears behind my eyes.

Harry came to rub my back and hold my hair, rubbing circles and looking away so I won’t feel embarrassed after.

Rising from the trashcan, I notice he also looks a bit paler than before, his eyes carry a baggage I never noticed and his lips are chapped.

“Fuck.” Wiping anything that could have gotten on my lips away, Harry laughs at me in the same drunken way he did in the water.

“What? What?!” I catch myself laughing, holding my stomach and feeling it turn underneath my palms. He directs his head towards the ocean, leaning against the trashcan now and somehow ignoring the smell.

“Real amateur move, just threw up in the great big ocean like any other person.” He jokes, and I feel my face contort with disgust. I would have laughed harder if I were still completely hammered, but after physically ridding myself of most of what I have consumed within the past few hours, I’m beginning to feel the effects washing off and leaving behind an intense pounding in my head.

“You’re disgusting.” Looking behind me, I make sure Harry is still following me. The day isn’t even close to being over yet, but with us pouring down shots at ten in the morning like it’s water, it feels more like midnight rather than midday.

Weaving between dirt paths made from excessive use on grassy areas and sidewalks that lead us to where we need to be, Harry and I are complaining about how heavy our feet feel and how tired we are getting. The drunk highs have already passed and all we can focus on is the plushy bed waiting for us at the hotel.

“Y/n!” Harry’s hand pulls me back, his chest hitting my spine with the force he uses against me. My foot that had stepped off of the sidewalk to cross the road to get to our hotel is yanked back onto the higher ground, a bus honking as it speeds by. I can feel his heartbeat pounding into my body and the sweat gathering on his palms. He mumbles something under his breath, the but ringing of the horn is still overwhelming my eardrums and drowning out everything else.

Truly, I don’t care that much about the incident, it wouldn’t mean much anyway if I had kept going. I probably would have made it, or worse case scenario, the wheel nicks my foot. But it has Harry all up in arms, checking the road on both sides multiple times before he decides it’s safe to cross. I’ll blame it on my drunkenness or my tiredness, and Harry will scold me, if we don’t fall asleep first. Which we do.

Or rather, he does.

The softness of the bed is nice, something that I was able to sink into the night before when I reached a point of absolute exhaustion, but now it feels too soft on my back that is used to my hard mattress at home. The pillows are flat, or at least mine are, and the blankets are scratchy.

The tiles in the bathroom are cold, a deep blue color that compliments the boring grey walls nicely. The toilet creaks as I shift all my weight down onto it, a bottle that resembles aloe vera to my left and a bucket of water to my right.

The cap pops open quietly, and the gel pours out of it with a fight. It’s been left behind somehow, and nobody has come to collect it. It’s gooey and it smells odd, sticking together in clumps between my fingers and pulling at my arm hair when I try to spread it.

My eyes are too heavy and my fingers are lazy, I can’t even try to fight against the thick mess rubbing into my skin.

Sighing, I give up on the gel, not liking the tug, even though the cold feels good on my skin. It’s when I close the cap again, holding the previously discarded bottle in my hands I realize I’ve read it wrong in my sleepy haze. It’s only so gooey because it’s not aloe vera, but rather a hair gel with aloe vera in it.

“What the fuck?” It goes straight into the trash, right next to the water bucket which is swiftly slid over to sit right in front of me, propped between my ankles.

It doesn’t pull off easy, taking some hair with it. My skin feels slimy for a little, but no longer sticky. I think it’s probably because in a way, I’ve just waxed my arms because I’m too damn lazy to thoroughly read a bottle. Other than the horrible feeling of it, I don’t mind the inconvenience of it. It wasn’t like I was going to sleep anytime soon, and it distracted from the pounding in my head. I wonder silently if Harry packed anything for pain? I hadn’t, I’d barely remembered to pack enough shirts and he always has those kind of things.

Treading lightly along the carpeted floors and looking over my shoulder, I see Harry passed out on his stomach, a little wet spot collecting under his cheek which is firmly pressed against the comforter. The zipper to his bag is much louder than mine, it’s also ten times more expensive than mine and newer. But he has the money to spend, and I would do the same if I were him. I just wish with how much money it cost that they would have opted for a quieter zipper. I think back to when we were still in school, taking calculus and cheating off of each other and stealing notes. Harry was always a very heavy sleeper in his teen years, but it feels like the more well known he becomes, the more jumpy he is in his sleep. Maybe it’s because of the constant pressure of pleasing his fans or the rigorous schedule his team put him on in his early twenties, but it eases the aching in my chest to think it’s just because he’s getting older.

A tiny pack of aspirin catches my attention in the first pocket I open along side some deodorant and toothpaste. An odd combination, but very Harry.

Opening it with a struggle because of the damn child lock caps, I see there are only three left. All that struggle only to be able to take one. After all, it’s not mine and Harry would surely need more than me after the current coma he was inducing, his groaning and complaining is something I can already hear. I swallow it dry and drift over to the balcony.

The sun is still so high in the sky, it’s only just past one now. Children play and cars pass, the breeze is blowing my shirt against my body and cooling the sweat that is collecting on my upper lip.

Harry is passed out in bed and my body is more awake than ever. It’s funny because it’s usually him calling my phone late at night telling me he’s on the way over and to get myself ready because we’re going out. I smile to myself, all of our best memories happen just before we get drunk it seems like. The wine spilling on his carpet after his first grammy win, or the deep conversations curled up in the corner of some bar while we nurse some strong beverages and laugh about all of our shitty lovers and toxic exes.

“Harry.” Calling out to him from the balcony, I find it’s much more comfortable out here in the breeze, where it feels like flying if you stick out your arms and close your eyes, rather than laying like a dead man in a stuffy hotel room.

He doesn’t answer, he doesn’t even shift. He still has the redness in his cheeks that tequila stains him with and the sweat collecting on his hairline. He looks completely at peace with himself, unbothered by the broken air conditioning and the overworked fan humming away in the corner.

I decide that just because he isn’t up for an adventure, I shouldn’t sit around and wait for him to find one. Theres a crinkled up receipt on the floor just by the foot of the bed, it’s got his name on the top and a long list of drinks down the length of it. I flip it over and flatten out. There’s no good pens, only a half dead one on the dresser that makes loud scratching sounds every time it passes over the paper.

Gone out, couldn’t sleep. Be back in an hour. Love you always and forever! Xoxo, your best friend.

It sits stuck with an edge trapped beneath the phone on the bedside table, the rest of it blows softly every time the fan rotates in that direction. Harry scrunches his nose slightly every time the breeze hits him, it feels nice in the summer heat and even better with the extra warmth in our veins. He doesn’t even know he’s doing it, it makes a moment like this sweeter. A memory only I’ll remember and get to carry with me.

I hope no matter what happens my brain never fails me, so that when I die and go wherever I’m supposed to be in the afterlife, I can still have my memories to hold onto and I’ll be able to carry his smile with me as I roam the empty earth alone.

“These glasses are nice.” My fingers run over the rims, feeling the smoothness of the glossy finish over the tortoiseshell color. Harry has a very similar pair, only the temple tips of his have worn down and there are scratches on the lenses. He has plenty of sunglasses, but he those are his favorite. He insists on wearing them even when some of his have never been touched.

“How much are they?” Holding them up to my eyes, I move them back and forth to watch the darkened parts of the world shrink and expand within the round boarders.

“A hundred.” The man behind the counter smiles nicely at me, watching how delicately my hands hold the glasses between my fingers. I clear my throat and fold the temples in.

“Sorry, in pounds?” He lulls his head back, thinking and clicking his tongue while he counts.

“About eighty five pounds, one hundred seven US dollars.” I nod my head and place them on the counter. As soon as I do so, the man seems to be quick to swoop them up and clean away any marks left behind with a cloth. It almost makes me laugh.

“Uhm…” I dig through my wallet, looking at what I have left. I’ve emptied most of my account into my wallet for this extended weekend. My savings going into the tickets and the hotel room, which felt more like a motel, and some change going towards drinks and food. Still, I have nearly double what I need for it left in my wallet and motivation that makes me dig it out of the leathery pocket and hand it over to the man. “Eighty five, right there.” I smile up at him and he smiles back. He gives me the glasses back in a fancy case with a magnetic button that seals them away safely which is wrapped tightly in light blue wrapping paper. It crinkles in my hands, but I think it’s just lovely. Harry will love it.

“Thank you. Have a good day!” A bell chimes when I exit the store, and the stifling heat outside makes my already prominent eye bags feel ten times heavier than before. I feel the same sluggish feeling I did after the beach, only this time it’s accompanied by a real sense of tiredness only the overly soft bed can fix.

The sounds of the passing cars and the ticking of crosswalk signals all sort of blur into the distance the closer I get to the room. My key is stuffed in with the crinkled bills and old coupons that have expired long ago. I’m so focused on getting into the warm comforts of the room, I don’t hear the shuffling around inside of it or the angelic humming of my best friend just on the other side of the door.

“Y/n/n!” He looks like he’s been hit by a bus. A really beautiful, clean, expensive bus. Even hungover with dry drool on his cheek the man still manages to resemble one of those greek statues that proudly display their defined features and sharp jawlines.

He has the bottle of Advil in one hand and the handy cam presses in the palm of the other. He moves it close to my face until I swat it down, laughing at him like he wanted.

My thumb presses against his cheek, my palm cupping his chin. I wipe away the dry drool and make a mental note to wash my hands before I touch anything else.

“Have a nice sleep?” His tongue pokes out of his mouth to lick away my hand and for the second time today I grimace in disgust and back off, but not before wiping the wet patch down his arm.

“It was okay. Woke up a little after you left, I think. Thought you up and left me until I found the note.” He jokes.

“How’d you know I wasn’t just in the bathroom then if you didn’t see the note?” I see now that he’s moved it over to another table in the room and that the phone it was under is moved to the further side of the table.

“I didn’t hear snoring.” I hit his arm. “Ow!”

“Asshole!” He laughs at me and for a second I think about hitting him again, but this time over the top of his head.

“You love me.” I shake my head, walking to the bathroom to piss or vomit, I’m not really sure.

“Nope.” I pop the ‘p’, closing the door and locking it in his face.

“Yes you do, you liar! You wrote it right here! Love you always and forever, xoxo, your best friend! You put two different kinds of love in one note! You must really love me!” I open the door and throw a towel at him before slamming it shut again.

“Don’t love you enough to not debate tossing you over the balcony right now!” I hear him laugh at that and for a second, as we wind down from our fits of giggles it’s completely quiet.

“I do love you though.” I admit softly, hunched over the toilet and smiling.

“I knew it!” I can practically hear his gloating grin in his shouting and I wonder how no one has come knocking at our door to tell us to shut up yet.

I shush him aggressively, placing a finger to my lips even though he cant see it, “Quiet! Please, can’t a girl throw up in peace?” Harry groans, but his back doesn’t lift from the door and his shadow doesn’t move.

“Do you need me to hold your hair?” I don’t answer him, instead I unlock the door, holding back a gag as the familiar restrictive feeling comes back up my throat. I’m on my knees when he walks in and his hands are threading through my hair as gently as possible.

“Let it all out.” He tries to be comforting, finding that his hands are big enough to hold my hair and rub my back at the same time. I don’t find it aggravating, in fact I think it’s kind of sweet that he cares so much, that he doesn’t completely ignore me because it’s gross. But I can’t lie and say I didn’t roll my eyes a little bit when he says it, because it feels just a little condescending and my mouth tastes bitter.

“Oh my god, please stop talking.” My head is back in the toilet, gagging up a mix of medication, ocean water, alcohol and old water from Harry’s water bottle. Harry’s laughing and I can’t help but too, but it comes out more as a dry cough followed by a string of spit into the water which only makes us laugh harder.

After some time, I think I’ve gotten it all out. Instead of being hunched over the toilet, by back is pressed against the cool tiles of the bathroom floor and my arms are resting over Harry’s chest. The sound of our breathing fills the quiet room and we find that it’s very comfortable just sitting like this, in the company of the other.

“Harry,” He hums, turning his head to look at me even though mine is still facing the ceiling, “Did you turn off the camera?” He sits up quickly, huffing curses under his breath and looking to see how long he had been recording. My laughter echos throughout the room when he sees he’s captured the entire thing, shutting it off swiftly and storing it in an empty compartment in his bag.

He calls it stupid, a waste of space and useless, but I know he doesn’t think that. His sister gave it to me when she got her first phone and I’ve used it to record special trips ever since. He texted me to remind me to bring it, and I yell out to call him a dirty liar while he pouts around.

“Come on, we’ve been in bed all day. The weekend’s not passing any slower and we aren’t getting any younger!” He shook me vigorously, smiling that same toothy grin I remember from our childhood, and the same one that promised before he ever stepped foot onto a stage that he would never forget me, and would always be near. We’ve both changed, but it’s nice to know that some promises are forever.

I simply shrug Harry off, finding peace in the cocoon of our bedding that he had made for us in the middle of the night. Still, he’s persistent against my body, begging and pleading for me to just go with him and he hasn’t even said where he wants to go.

“We’ve only got two good nights left before we leave and this is one of them. Get up!” I don’t choose to listen to his whining, mumbling something about the cheep ass wine we found at the drug store around the block and the pounding in my head thats only gotten worse on this three day bender.

“You can’t still be hung over, get up. Come on, I planned something fun for us!” Again, he tries to take me with him. He knows that once I’m up, I’m up. I’ll easily follow him anywhere with anyone because with him, it’s just that simple.

“Harry.” I warn him, my voice airy and soft the first time and my eyes avoiding his playful expression. Still, he seems to find it all too entertaining that I’m so stubborn yet so easy to crack. He keeps pushing, literally, and begging and whining and talking.

“Harry, stop!” Sitting up from the blankets, for a second he thinks he’s won. I’m above the covers and facing him just like he wants but then he see’s the bags under my eyes and the haze hanging over my face. While I am up, no longer comforted by the security of the blankets, I am not able to leave the mattress. So, he backs away, scoffing under his breath and looking to the ceiling like I’ve just kicked him.

I can hear the faint sound of tapping by his side, the same sound I know to be of his thumb digging into his cuticles and picking away any fresh skin until he bleeds. Usually, I would at least tell him to stop, even if we were angry at each other, but today I find that I don’t really have the energy to do anything except slump into myself and hold my head in my hands.

“Jesus, Y/n.” He’s turned himself around so he’s looking out of the glass doors that lead to the small balcony. For a second it even looks like he’s tempted to slide them open and just be with the breeze, but he doesn’t do that. Instead, Harry has spun himself back around with the saddest look on his face and blotches of red produced from stress lining his neck.

“Harry, please. Maybe later, I just…I just don’t feel up to it right now.” I’m praying that he understands, he surely should. He better than anyone else would know the feeling of creeping aches in our joints and the heaviness of our mind.

“You’re never up to it.” Is what he says instead. He was never going to coddle me, that I understood. While he had in the past, we were never the over the top touchy people who survived solely off of the brush of a stray arm at a party or a compliment of a stranger at midnight.

His words have always been kind, but not this time it seems. Because they wobble a little when he says it and he doesn’t look very confident in how he’s standing. But I wouldn’t know because I can’t even look him in the eyes right now.

“We’ve spent the last couple days getting sick out of our minds in the bathroom, it smell’s like a bar in here and yet, you can’t even find it in you to push through for a few hours for your best friend?” He doesn’t really mean it that way, he’ll come back later tonight begging me to understand what he really meant, but just because Harry has always been kind does not mean he has always been smart. Sometimes, even the person who preaches kindness to everyone can be a foul man to the people he loves.

“You know that’s not what’s happening, stop being a jerk!” I scream but I don’t mean to. In fact, I don’t even know why I’m yelling because I’m not angry, or irritated or anything. It’s like I’ve been dragged through some slick mud, stuck in it with nothing to grab onto to pull me out, not even Harry. It keeps me here, in this bed, it’s paralysis through the brain. I can move but every cell in my body advises me to stay put.

Breathing heavily, Harry simply sticks his hands into his pockets, shoving his knuckles down so harshly that I can see the waist tug down just a little further on his stomach. His nose is flaring up and his lips moving with his tongue that swipes over his teeth.

“I don’t know what the fuck is wrong with you, I really don’t, but you need to fix it.” It’s low coming from his mouth, almost like he wants me to hear it, but he doesn’t want to say it. My throat has gone dry now, eyes looking at his forehead rather than his eyes because now I can’t even stand the sight of him anymore. I’m so much more than tired and he doesn’t get it, my best friend doesn’t get it.

The door closes, the handle rattling with the force he shuts it with, and yet even though we’ve just blown up at each other all I can worry about is if he’d hung the do not disturb sign on the door or not. My best friend, my life has just walked out on me, blind with rage and all I can worry about is if someone will come knocking or not?

I’ve always known there was something wrong with me, the sunny Saturday’s not hitting quite the same and the good things always draining my body of the little life I had left to give. The other kids were never that way, going from party to party in high school and laughing like they had no tomorrow to worry about.

Theres something royally fucked up about me and I don’t know how to help it. I know that theres nothing wrong with what I have, but I can’t help but feel ashamed when I find the most interest in rotting away in some lumpy bed when the whole world is just at my fingertips and I can explore it all with a hell of a good man and best friend by my side.

A soft knock at the door pulls me from my self pity, and for a second I almost let myself believe that it could be Harry coming back. But the voice of an older woman knocking to see if anyone will answer and tell her to go away changes the image of Harry on the other side of the door into a woman hunched over with a cleaning cart and reality sets in.

“Sorry, I’m in here!” I call out, and when she doesn’t answer, I let myself become pulled from the bed, sitting up to answer it if I have to. The wheels of the cart move on to the rest of the hallway, a faint knock followed by the jingle of room keys tell me that she’s left, and so has Harry.

A trip I planned for him, one that I worked so hard to make possible just in case I were to never be put in a position where I could ever again, ruined because of myself. A selfish monster is crawling under my skin, over my bones and it just doesn’t feel right, why can’t I feel alright?

Hot tears are pouring down my cheeks, falling into my lap as I now sit in nothing more than a damp swimsuit and Harry’s old grey shirt I stole from him back in high school. It still smells like him, even after I’ve washed it over and over. I try not to because once it’s gone, and I fear that all leftover from our youth will become washed away and the cloudy haze of simplicity that comes with it.

“Oh, god!” The words heave out of me in a deep breath, cracking with each syllable. I try to rub my hands up and down against my thighs, but my hands are shaking and I can’t see all that well through my teary vision, I find myself clawing at the fat of my thighs, pressing deeper and deeper until the ache becomes so intense that my fingers stutter and break free.

I don’t think I could speak if I tried. It’s hard to scream when it’s hard to breathe, and my lungs are giving out right in front of me while I wail like a tall child, rocking slightly with each deep breath and the tremble of my joints.

Its dark, orange hues sinking into pitch black lit up by splintered streetlights and yellowed overhead lights shining through windows. The moon casts a streak of light through the glass doors, the same that lead out onto the balcony, and I can see the crescent shapes of my nails tattooed into my skin and red with blood.

Harry’s out getting drunk, probably bent over a pool table or people watching at the outdoor bar on the other side of the resort, and I imagine his velvet laugh hanging in the air and the gentle sound of his hushed dirty jokes whispered in my ears.

I hope he knows that I do love him, I only ever want him around forever, and if I could fix myself in every way to be more fit for you, I would. I just hope that someday he’ll forget all about this, and I could act happy.

“Are you still mad at me?” My arms are tucked over the sheets, hands clasped together and eyes glued to the ceiling, Harry does nothing more than breathe heavily out through his nose beside me in the same position I lay in.

“Harry?” I call again, the shuffle of my head rubbing against the pillow case filling the silence in the room.

It’s nearly the same time as the night before, our last day together spent avoiding speaking to each other, but our longing gazes speak for us, and we both recognize that we miss the company of the other.

“Harry, I’m sorry. I didn’t want to waste any of our time together, I just wasn’t feeling right.” I try to reason, and I don’t think it works until I see his head falling to the side to look at me, his hands unclasping so he can reach up and brush the flyaways out of my face.

“It’s okay.” He tells me with his palm pressed to my cheek, slowly moving to cradle my jawline with his pinky.

He wears a sad smile, one that tells me he’s still bothered. But, unfortunately for him, I’m a sick woman, not a nasty one.

“No, it’s not okay, it’s not and I’m sorry.” Shaking his shoulder with my hand, I find it in my sleep filled bones to pull the sheets off of both of us, slipping over his body to stand by the side of his bed where I start shaking him again.

“It’s not okay so let me make it up to you.” My hands find their way under his arms, trying my best to pull him from the mattress that has been dented with the shapes of our bodies.

He whines, closing his eyes and fighting a smile but doesn’t try to fight against my pull. He falls into my body with a grunt, eyelashes fluttering against my collar bone and the feeling of his lips curling into a secret smile against my shoulder, we both laugh silently, and my hands briefly rub at his back.

“Alright, come on idiot, get up because I’m taking you out. My treat!” Shoving him back into the bed, he bounces against the worn springs and settles back into place, hands folded over his stomach and a toothy grin on his face. I can see how his eyes shift, the same broken eyes from the night before mended into the same green ones I always knew, the same ones that were now subtly shifting around to observe my face, admiring my smile the way I do to him.

“We don’t have all night, come on!” And he’s up, feet padding behind mine with that same lopsided smile he’s worn since we started talking again and the same energy I’ve always known him to have.

We’re out the door within minutes, barely even put together when the door slams shut, just like before only now we’re both rushing down the steps, tripped over the gaps in the stairs and the weeds that grow within the cement.

“Come on, catch up!” I can’t stop laughing, no alcohol in my system and yet I’ve got the same rose colored haze covering my eyes and the same smile that bears all my teeth.

Harry is panting behind me, joking that without his trainer and daily routines he’s lost his touch, his feet slapping the ground with a loud thud every time they connect, breath heavy in my ears.

The moon hangs high in the sky, accompanied by millions of sparkling stars surrounding its welcoming glow and twinkling fairy lights hung from every nearby post to the next. You can yell and scream all you want and the music from the outdoor bar and the hum of the air conditioning will tune you out. It’s like free falling without the bone crush sprinting and weaving through these paths, it feels like living.

In the distance, from across the street just beyond the pools you can hear the music grow louder, my ears picking up on the strumming of a baseline and the tune of an old song that we used to sing not so long ago.

Freddie Mercury’s voice mixed with Bowie is something I believe to be heaven on earth, a mix that can never be over appreciated or overplayed. We’ve caught the beginning of the famous song and we both know it, and without a second glance, Harry smiles at me because he knows it better than anyone that I’ve set my heart on something tonight.

My palms are sweating in the humid summer night heat, but I grab onto Harry’s hand anyways and pull him along with me, only quickly checking both ways for cars as we sprint across the significantly newer cement and laugh. A car’s headlights appear just over the hill and a small blue car speeds past us once we’ve made it up the curb, but I don’t stop.

No, instead I’m turning my whole body to face him, only focused on the curly headed boy who’s held my heart in the palms of his hands since we were only kids running on the blacktop and through the muddy grass at school. I only hear his muffled laughter under the booming music and the crowd that takes up the makeshift dance floor at the bar.

His feet are planted on the floor and I can feel my hands slipping away from his, Freddie sings about the people on the streets, the snaps of the bridge quiet enough for my voice to begin reaching his ears.

“I don’t dance!” He shrugs his shoulders, letting his hands fall to his sides stubbornly as I back away towards the crowd even more, but I stick close by.

“Harry.” Tilting my head, I look at him knowingly. He does dance, within the tiling of my kitchen or the walls of his bedroom, on stage for his fans or at parties after a few too many shots. Harry does dance, he just wont.

“I never, ever dance.” He’s trying to convince me, trying to hide his smile that so desperately wants to break free.

Holding my arms out and moving my body back slowly, I smile at him fondly, “I’m dancing with or without you.” I’m getting farther away now, and he’s stuck in place, watching with his best poker face.

“I told you I love to dance!” Spinning around, I place my hands on my hips and do my worst dancing possible just to see the blush on his face rise into a peachy pink.

“Y/n/n, stop. This is embarrassing.” He tries to keep lying, but his words fade into a weak laugh at the end and his teeth show for just a second too long.

“This is embarrassing?” He knows I don’t believe him, I never did but still I find myself moving closer to the crowd, stepping to the beat and and swaying my hips and shoulders.

When I turn around, he’s looking at me in a way I’ve never seen before, like I’ve hung the sun and the stars all for him and spread them across the sky.

“What? Come on.” My arm slings around his shoulder, pulling him in and trapping him on the dance floor. He finds it funny, all this fight, but he’s breaking down and we both know it.

“Ready?” I tease, holding his biceps in my hands and trying to move in the same way I just was. He tries to tell me to stop, by I don’t pay him any attention as I tell him, “Let’s dance.”

“Stop!” He shoves me back playfully, but his smile is showing all his teeth and his laugh is filled with pure happiness, he doesn’t even try to fight when I pull him back onto the floor, dancing with him with no real rhythm or rules.

I feel his heartbeat against mine, our bodies pressed together tightly as he spins me in his arms like real friends do.

‘Cause loves such an old-fashioned word and love dares you to care for the people(people on the streets) on the edge of the night and love(people on the streets) dares you to change our way of caring about ourselves.

He spins me around and holds my head in his hands, I can smell the toothpaste on his lips and feel the scars from his guitar on his pointer and his thumb.

This is our last dance, this is our last dance

“Have I ever told you I love you?” I scream at him despite how close we are, and the smile he shows me is infectious.

“A few times, yeah!” He jokes, but the music is too good and the night is growing tired. I don’t want this night to end, I want to feel this way forever, I don’t want to have to always chase it.

“Well I mean it, and I’ve never felt this way about anyone else!” He spins for the thousandth time of the night, lifting my head above his just to hear my squeals.

“Consider myself lucky then, because I love you like I’ve loved no one else!” Harry says it, but he says it in a way that feels different than my confession. I hope I can hold onto him forever.

This is ourselves

The camera clicks to a stop, a collection of some stray videos from early high school and a storyline reflecting back on our final trip. The camera still has dents from her careless behavior when storing it away, and the quality of each video feels so much worse without her here to watch and laugh with me. It feels older, I am older.

A year since I’d last seen her, a year since we took separate planes home and promised to visit each other soon. A year since I got that damn letter in the mail taped to a small gift shaped in a crinkly mess from the blue wrapping paper just days after the news broke like some sort of sick joke.

I hate that I can only hear her voice through the salvaged videos, the wind covering the breathiness of her laugh and the calming sound of her voice. I hate the way I’ll never see the way her eyes sparkle under the night skies again, and most importantly I hate how I never saw it coming, even when she was showing me all of the signs.

I don’t think I’ll ever open that letter, not for a while at least, when the pain has settled. But how can it when I’ve just lost my whole life? The only person to ever make me feel alive in a way nobody else ever could, not even the screaming crowds of thousands of fans each night.

But I’ll reread the front of it like a prayer, her messy handwriting something I’ll miss forever, the little notes she’d pass or the drawings in sharpie that left stains behind on my coffee table.

The front of the letter, though crinkled from shipping and losing its stickiness reads, “To Harry, the love of my life, I love you always and forever. Love, y/n.” And just beside her name she leaves a little heart, something to try and lessen the blow of her absence.

And the glasses she sent along with the letter, the last thing she ever gave me. They still have a lingering smell of Italy, but more than that, I convince myself I can still smell her perfume on the plastic. Even when doing one last nice thing to me though, she leaves a little piece of paper taped to the lenses, “They were getting a little gross…try these.” And with snot running down my chin and red blotches of skin from my tears, I find myself laughing at her stupid little insult.

I know I’ll love these forever, and I’ll laugh whenever I put them on, because in my head I can see her taking them off of my head and trying them on, and we’ll both agree that they look better on her.

I hope they never loose her smell, and I hope that I never forget the sound of her voice or the colors in her eyes. She’ll never know about the plans I hoped we’d make, and she’ll never be back to try and embarrass me and dance with me in public.

But sometimes when I’m lucky I get to relive those moments in my sleep, and it’s almost like I can still feel her touch and see her smile even if it’s across some dark bar that never ends.

So I’ll live through her in pieces, telling all those willing to listen her story and how much I’ll always love her. And I’ll hang onto our last dance forever.

#harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x you #harry styles imagine #harry styles fluff #yn x harry #yn x harrystyles #harry styles #harry styles angst #fine line harry styles #hslot harry #harry x reader #aftersun inspired #harrystyles

[justmystyles]

Series

Now You're In My Life

summary: a chance meeting at a diner turns your world upside-down and leads you on a whirlwind romance with one of the biggest pop stars in the world.

(More Than) One Shots

(One shots that got away from me, but aren't quite a series.)

Lost (2 Parts) Lose You to Love Me A run-in with your childhood sweetheart brings up old memories, and lingering feelings. Lost and Found You and Harry reconnected a month ago, and he insisted you come along for the final show. when your emotions start to get the better of you, you wonder if you and Harry could ever really just be friends.

End of the Road (2 Parts) Home Stretch As the tour comes to an end, the schedule starts to visibly take its toll on Harry, and you can't help but worry. Crossing the Finish Line It's the final show and Harry charms you into making good on a promise you made last time you were together.

Big Winners (3 Parts) Harry and Y/N have been friends for fifteen years, they finally work together on an album, and it leads them to a night that will change everything for them. Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

One Shots

All I Ask*

You're finally starting to get over Harry, what happens when fate brings you back together?

Having Your Baby

You get some life changing news, and come up with the perfect way to tell your husband.

Wallflower

You're sitting alone at a wedding, can a handsome stranger help you come out of your shell?

Line of Fire

You and Harry have been keeping your relationship off the radar, but his concern for you overwhelms his need for privacy.

Coming Home To You*

Harry comes home early and catches you by surprise in the best way possible.

Scars

Can Harry be the comfort you need after falling back into old habits?

Ooh La La

After a revelation on movie night, you and Harry decide to reenact one of the scenes.

Love Don’t Cost A Thing

Harry loves to spoil you, but you're having a hard time adjusting to his lavish lifestyle.

The Battle in Barcelona

A crazy crowd at the airport comes between you and Harry.

Misplaced Emotion

As Harry prepares to jump back into the spotlight, he has a hard time re-adjusting to public life, and it manifests in the wrong way.

Good News All Around

You reach a big milestone in your life, but feel overshadowed when you call to tell Harry about it.

Perfect Harmony

You're in the final days of the tour, and Harry makes a suggestion that ends up changing everything.

Lights, Camera, Action

What was supposed to be just another job becomes the start of something new.

Business or Pleasure?

You return to Love on Tour after an extended break, but after your last interaction, you come back to an awkward situation with Harry.

Reigning it In

You're about to participate in your first horse show, but the nerves overwhelm you. Harry finds you just in time.

Family Portrait

Harry has a couple of heartfelt surprises for you while you're visiting him on tour.

All or Nothing*

You find a new way to tease Harry during a tour visit, which leads to a new way to drive him crazy.

With this Ring

Harry takes his commitment to you to a new level.

Veiled Insecurities

Harry has some insecurities about your relationship, but instead of talking to you about them, they end up coming out in the wrong way.

Heart Song

As a former member of the Love on Tour band, and current girlfriend of Harry, he asks you to reprise your spot for the final show.

Road to Recovery

After reading some negative comments about yourself, you nearly spiral back into old habits. you try to keep it from Harry, but he finds out and confronts you about it.

A Work of Art

After procrastinating for a few weeks, you finally make moves to finish your assignment, but run into an unexpected road block.

He's Not Me

You introduce Harry to the guy you're seeing, and you see a side of him you've never seen before and are shocked by his reasoning.

Sharing is Caring

You can't find your favorite handbag, Harry assures you he doesn't have it, but you see some photos tell a different story

Cantaloupe

In this one shot/flash forward from the Now You're In My Life storyline, you and Harry recap the big news from your family's Thanksgiving dinner.

Like Riding a Bike

Despite being on break, Harry manages to find his way back onstage.

Fa La La La Freakout

You will be meeting Harry's family for the first time over the holidays, and you are desperate for them to like you.

The Morning After

The morning after Harry's 30th birthday, you're hungover and Harry reminds you of your drunken actions from the night before, leading to a conversation you never expected.

Baby-Baby-Baby

Harry meets his niece for the first time, the joy and excitement are quickly replaced with a whole new set of feelings when his best friend, Y/N joins him at the hospital.

Smoke & Mirrors

Harry asks you to move to London with him, but a new opportunity for him makes things a little more complicated than you'd both expect.

(*) - NSFW

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[bonesandchalamet]

welcome to the final show - h.styles

masterlist

pairings: harry styles x reader!

warnings: fluff

a/n: in my depressed era now that tour is over ☹️

it’s over. it’s somehow a bittersweet ending that for some reason, you never saw actually coming to an end. he’s exhausted, but his heart has never been so full seeing his fans send the love right back to him night after night, and this one seems to get to him more.

family, friends, team members, band members, and even celebrity guests all approach his sweaty body first. fist bumps, high fives, and hugs are all he knows for the next couple of minutes, until the crowd of loved ones part like the sea to reveal you. a kiss would be nice, he thinks to himself. after all, it’s the second most magical thing he could experience after his final performance.

“you did such a good job, h.” you launch your body into his. the smell of his heightened body odor doesn’t bother you in this moment. you just press yourself further into him before pulling away and giving him what he wants. a kiss.

“you enjoy it?” he asks like it’s a ever question. every moment of each show was more than enjoyable, so when he sees you roll your eyes he knows. he knows you loved every second until it was over.

“go get changed.” you point in the direction of his dressing room, and it hits him. the emptiness in his gut appears once again attempting to swallow him. this was over. the performing would actually stop and he could have a break. you can already see the wheels turning in his head, he’s wondering what he’ll do with his free time. he’s never had this much of it since COVID.

“what if I want to stay in this?” he gestures to the gold fringe suit he’s wearing, the vest showing off his beautiful abs and butterfly tattoo. one of his best outfits, you thought to yourself when you saw him enter the stage.

“I won’t mind that.” you smile, cheeks hurting so badly from the whole night of doing so, but you still press on watching his eyes light up at your approval.

you know why he doesn’t want to take it off. it’ll be like admitting the best thing thats ever really happened to be over. that him hearing his fans scream when the lights drop, sing his lyrics back to him, and dance to his songs will be over. the joy he brought to millions upon millions would finally stop. for the first time, he could fly home and have no where else to be later.

“I bet he’ll sleep like a baby tonight.” Anne wraps her arms around your shoulders, a tight smile on her lips and tear stained cheeks that match yours. she’s proud of her sons accomplishments, but she knows he’s ready to go home. she knows he’s ready to sleep in your arms for hours upon hours.

you nod in agreement watching him trot off to Lloyd, his camera hung around his neck showing the band members his photography of the night.

“I got this picture of you, y/n.” Lloyd’s eyebrows wiggle in a mischievous way, harry taps his shoulder with his index finger begging to show him already.

“calm down!” Lloyd laughs, his thumb clicking through the photos until it stops and settles on, what you believe, is an image of you.

harry takes the camera in his hands, a small smile forms on his lips as he stares long and hard at the picture. it’s like if he blinks the image of your visibly tears streaming down your cheeks, bright smile, and pink boa would all go away.

“I love this picture, can you print it out for me?” harry taps the small screen, and he talks with Lloyd like you’re not there. the camera gets passed around to band members again, and your image fades with the millions of other ones.

“was it a good picture?” you ask him when he’s finally moved on from the group and back over to you.

“darling, the best picture ever. going to have it framed forever.” he presses his lips against your temple, arms wrapping around your body, and once again you’re pulled into his sweaty body.

“going to have this night framed for ever as well. it was one for the books.” you watch him nod, arms wrap tighter around you for a second, “now let’s go home, h.”

“I couldn’t have agreed more, let’s go home.”

#harry styles x you #harry styles x oc #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x y/n #harry styles fic #harry styles imagines #harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles x fem!reader #love on tour #hslot23 #hslot harry #hslot europe #harry styles x plus size reader #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fluff #one direction fic #one direction imagine #1d fanfiction #1d fic #harry styles blurb #harry styles drabble

[wellbealrightipromise]

i think we broke him

#he’s gone off the rails #it’s low key impressive though #harry styles #harrystyles #harry edward styles #harry #hslot harry #hslot #love on tour #hslot 2023 #hslot cardiff #harry’s house #hshq #hshq official #harry update #one direction #1 direction #1direction #1d #hldaily #hldupdate #hlupdate

[acesofspadess]

Currently Working

a/n: forgot to publish this again.....

“Y/N?” Harry confirmed making you drop your camera cautiously. “Y/N.” he repeated again before coughing into his fist. You as well as Harry were ready to catch a moment of this girl asking her crush out. The big screen flipped to you casted in a red light and even you had to admit you looked good. You smiled knowingly, chewing your gum, as anytime the camera was on you, someone was thirsting.

“You tricked me Anna. I've been had. Rats!” He joked and you brought your camera back up quickly to take another pic of him. “Oh i'm just seeing your t-shirt.” he laughed and walked away, you were now very interested in what the shirt said. “I mean… she’s right there.” he giggled and you laughed with him shaking your head as you were, right there. 

“I don’t know what more I can do. She’s right there.” he pointed to you while looking at Anna, “Hi she said,' he teased, ‘Hi Y/N” he mimicked high pitched and you laughed again. “That’ll do it, yeah.” Harry was ruthless. You were going to her picture before Harry stopped you, 

“Um Y/N, just a reminder that you are currently…” 

working, yep, ah hah

working, yep, ah hah

You said exactly with him with a head nod.  “You know, people need to work all the time don’t they?” he giggled roughly walking back over to Anna. “do whatever you want.” he said under his breath and you just looked at him like he was stupid. “Make some noise for Anna, and Y/N everybody.” you shook your head at him and made the two step trip to take a picture of her and her sign. 

View comments

User4 i could have sworn they were dating

User7 i thought so too

User3 so y/n is on the market????

#one direction #harry styles x reader #harry styles x famous!reader #harry styles fluff #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fic #harry styles x reader smut #harry styles x reader fluff #harry styles blurb #harry styles imagine #hslot harry #hslot23 #harry styles

[theydopissmeoffavocados]

OH MY GOD FINE LINE IS 4 ALREADY?!?!?!?!

#one direction #harry styles #1d #1direction #directioners #one direction fandom #harry 1d #1 direction #harry edward styles #harries #harrystyles #harold #harry #long hair harry #solo harry #fine line album #fine line #fine line harry styles #hslot #hslot harry #louis tomlinson #niall horan #liam payne #zayn malik #solo zayn #solo liam #solo niall #solo louis #hazza styles #hazza

[stylessupremacy]

Los Angeles XIII

-

Y/n was in the secluded pit watching as Harry performed on stage in the Kia Forum. She watched as Harry pronounced around the stage with the energy of a toddler.

But as he got down on one knee facing toward the secluded pit, his brown leather pants gave and ripped at the seams.

His face contorted to one of horror at the realization he ripped his pants. He used to perform commando but as more and more accidents with his wardrobe have happened he's been taking precautions and wearing underwear.

At that moment, he couldn’t have been happier so he didn’t flash the fans with anything he shouldn’t have.

The show continued on with Harry using the pride flag as a cover-up for a bit before he was able to change into a new non-ripped pair of pants.

“I don’t think I’m ever going to put you in leather pants ever again,” Harry Lambert joked as he walked with Harry back to his dressing room.

Harry laughed, “Don’t know if I want to anymore either. They just didn’t rip a little, they ripped a lot.”

“Just try to be more careful next time,” the stylist sighed.

Harry put his hands up in defense, “It’s not m’fault they weren’t stitched well.”

“Just hurry up and get changed so you and Y/n can get out of here,” Harry Lambert spoke as he walked away.

Harry walked into his dressing room finding Y/n slinging her tote bag over her shoulder. He walked up behind her, wrapping his arms around her and placing a kiss on her cheek.

She turned in his hold and moved her hand so she could cup his cheek and give him a peck on his lips, “Great show, H.”

“Oh yeah?” His hands sliding down and gripping her hips, “I gave everyone a show when m’pants ripped.”

Y/n chuckled, “You did.”

“Aren’t you glad I talked you into wearing underwear? Just in case something like this happened.”

“M’so glad you did,” he smirked. “How could I ever repay you?”

“I have an idea or two of how you could repay me. I would prefer it if we did it at home and in bed, unlike the last time we did it when you said we wouldn’t get caught.”

“I thought you were over that,” he pouted. “Besides, Jeff only came in because he could hear you moaning for m’cock thinking you needed help.”

Y/n gently slapped him on the chest, “Shut up! He came in because you were almost late going on stage!”

He gently grabbed her wrist, “Hit me again darling and see how that ends up for y’tonight.”

Y/n gave him a 'fuck you' look, “Just hurry up and get changed before you get mobbed by fans.”

He slapped her ass when she turned around, “I think y’want me to hurry up because you’re aching for m’cock to fill your throbbing pussy.”

#harry styles #harrystyles #harry styles writing #harry styles writing request #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles imagine #harry styles blurb #hslotrry #hslot!harry #hslot harry #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #harry styles smut #harry styles fic rec #harry styles fic recommendation #harry styles one shot #harry styles masterlist #harry styles fan fiction #harry styles au #harry styles fanfic #harry styles x you #harry styles drabble #one shot harry styles #fic recommendation #love on tour #dad!harry #harrys house #harry styles fanfictions #harry styles fiction

[erodasfishtacos]

Perfect To Me

prompt: harry loses his ring at coachella but luckily the right fan finds it

warnings: depictions of an anxiety attack, a pinch of smut, minors dni 18+

if you liked please reblog, recommended, like, and come talk to me about it! (this is what motivates me to continue writing)!

check out weekend one fic ——> here

💕💕💕💕💕

Harry was having the time of his life, Coachella two weekends in a row seemed unreal but as he danced across stage with hundreds of thousands of fans - reality was much better than a dream.

Lizzo had done incredible, he couldn’t have found a better person to cover I Will Survive with and the energy of the crowd was palpable.

YN was enjoying the show just as much with her friends in the small vip section off to the side in front of the stage - it was the same people as last week but Alessandro, Harris, Gemma, among others that made it even more exciting.

It had also been hotter than the weekend before, sweat was dripping down his temple and the leather of his ensemble was sticking rather uncomfortably to his damp body.

Kiwi was by far in his top songs that he loved to perform live, it was no different this time as Harry is absolutely headbanging, dancing, losing it to his own song.

YN loved watching him get so lost in the moment that he doesn’t care that anyone is watching him, she could see the telltale signs of him reaching his limit before his energy started to drop off.

Harry wasn’t thinking, he was completely immersed in the experience that he didn’t notice his wedding band sliding on his finger from the sweat and water he’d spilled when he sipped from his water bottle with jittery hands.

When he’s parading down the runway, he whips his water bottle around - spraying the fans with water before slamming it off the ground and the plastic goes flying.

It’s when the bottle leaves his hand, he feels his ring slip right off with it but it’s too late when he looks down at his hand to notice his fucking wedding band is missing.

The ring he never took off.

Even when he went without all of the bulky, heavy rings he liked to wear, he can’t remember the last time he’d taken off - so much so that there’s a tanline highlighting where the band had covered his skin.

Music pounding in his ears, adrenaline rushing through his body - he still manages to sing but is now panicking because he knows the ring went flying off the stage into the crowd.

He feels like he’s about to have a full fledged panic attack - something he hasn’t had for a very long time because he just lost his most treasured possession in a crowd of young adults who he knows would snatch it up in a heartbeat without any thoughts to return it to him.

YN notices that he’s off almost instantly, she watches as his vocals tighten up and he’s not dancing nearly as much as he was before, his eyes darting over the crowd quickly like he’s searching for someone or something.

She wonders briefly if someone threw something at him and hurt him, that’s happened in the past too many times to count.

As the song comes to an end, Harry makes his way back to his main microphone stand for the finale of Sign of the Times and on one of the very first notes, his voice cracks like it rarely ever does unless he’s really not focusing on his vocals.

YN is already weaving through the crowd with her bodyguard to get to the side stage to greet him when he is done because now she’s concerned.

Harry can barely focus on remembering his own lyrics to a song he’s sung countless times, keeps looking his his left hand as if he just expects it to reappear.

The thing is, Harry has lost things in the past and hasn’t gotten them returned.

Instead pictures end up plastered all over Twitter of people celebrating their find and bragging about it to others.

He doesn’t think he could bear to see a picture of his wedding band circulating on Twitter as a fan shows off the most important things he owns like it is meaningless.

It’s not even about the price of the ring, it was the fact that his wife had slid it down his finger during a ceremony where they committed themselves to each other for their entire lives.

It was the fact that it symbolizes so much.

-

“Do you think we’re too young to get married?” YN asks self-consciously, one night after a stop on their Where We Are Tour, crammed into a small bunk on the tour bus.

Harry who had been toying with her engagement ring on her finger looks up with a frown, “Why would you say that?”

YN shrugs dismissively before murmuring, “I overheard Eleanor and Salma talking in the dressing room. They said I’m stupid for saying yes because you’re not going to settle down when you could get anyone you wanted.”

Harry can’t help but laugh, smoothing out the furrow between her brow when she gives in a disgruntled glare.

“Just don’t how you could even bloody listen to their bullshit for more than a minute, really,” He chuckles softly, “I’ve wanted to make you m’wife since we were sixteen. I’ve waiting long enough. I want to experience this life with you. No one else. Pretty soon I’ll have a ring on my finger that shows the world too.”

-

When he misses her, if she wasn’t on tour, he’ll just twirling the band as a way to feel closer to her and not to mention the absolute arousal it made his wife feel when she saw that ring on his finger.

She’s pulled him aside an embarrassing amount of times just to jump his bones because of how sexy it was that he had a wedding band on his finger.

-

“Sweetheart, wha’ brought this on?” Harry giggles between the kisses that YN was laying on his lips as she hurriedly tried to unbutton his shirt.

“Just look so domestic,” She replies, determined to get him naked with rushed movements, lips moving down his chest as he’s bared, “Have that ring on your finger, letting everyone know you’re mine.”

And as soon as her lips wrap around him, his head is clunking against the wall and he’s moaning, “Yeah, baby. Yeah, I’m yours. S’yours.”

-

He was terrified that his wife was going to be furious with him for being irresponsible or that she was going to be heartbroken because he doesn’t want either because he was just as upset as she will be.

Harry was definitely on the verge of an anxiety attack as he shied away from the high notes at the end of the song - his throat felt tight and it was a struggle to get the lyrics out.

The crowd doesn’t seem happy when Harry makes his final bow and goodbye speech barely a minute long before he’s disappearing off the side stage.

There’s even chatter about whether he’s doing an encore because of how quickly he left his set but once the lights come up, they grumble when they realize he wasn’t coming back out.

“Bunny, what is going on with you?” YN asks instantly when he meets her at the exit but he doesn’t respond, just shakes his head and drags her into the tent where, like last week, the crew is bustling around.

“You look like you’re about to pass out, H,” She states when he still hasn’t spoken but she’s confused when he just pulls her into a hug and buries his face in her hair - chest heaving and she’s not sure whether it’s from performing or something else, “You need to talk to me, baby.”

When he pulls back, she’s no longer just confused but alarmed when there’s tears streaming down his cheeks and his sniffling fiercely, “I-baby, I can’t breathe.”

“Yes, yes you can, bunny,” YN soothes softly, leading him to the couch; fully understanding he’s having a panic attack and needs comfort right now, “C’mon, let’s steady your breathing. Everything is okay.”

Harry sits down, tugging YN onto his lap and pushing his face into her shoulder now as he struggles to catch a breath between his tears.

She doesn’t remember the last time he’d had an anxiety attack like this, it’s been at least a year, it didn’t happen often.

The group of their friends are trailing back to them, chattering and oblivious until they get closer - YN motions to them that they need to get lost in the nicest way possible.

They appeared concerned but respect them, backing away and disappearing out into the field to give them space.

“H, I need you to try to catch your breath,” YN encourages as she weaves her hands into his damp locks, scratching at his scalp in an effort to calm down.

“M-my ring f-fell off. It went into th-the crowd, I’ve lost it,” He admits against her skin, his arms wrapped tightly around her waist to keep her as close as he possibly can.

“You’ve lost rings in the past. What is making you get this upset?” YN asks obliviously, she didn’t even think of his wedding band - she just assumed it was one of his many gucci rings that had been a gift.

YN clearly remembers Harry losing his rose ring during a concert and being bummed that he couldn’t find it but not this inconsolable.

“My we-wedding band,” Harry whispers, bringing up his hand to show her before saying between tears, “I know it’s gone. No ones gonna return it. They never do. Baby, m’sorry. Please don’t be cross with me, I can believe I was so stupid and -“

YN is upset that Harry lost his wedding band but it’s not directed at him, not his fault that it slipped off and disappeared into a crowd of a hundred thousand people.

Of course the ring means a lot to her, is symbolic of their relationship and marriage but at the end of the day, it wasn’t worth Harry having a breakdown because though the ring was special, it wasn’t as important as Harry being okay.

She takes her thumbs and runs them along his stubbly cheeks, wiping away the wetness as he stares sadly at her - eyes wide and guilty.

“I would never be mad at you over something like this,” YN chuckles at him as he tilts his head to the side to kiss her palm, “I’m sad that it’s lost but accidents happen. I’m more worried about you having a panic attack than a piece of jewelry.”

“It’s my favorite possession,” Harry rasps, relieved that she wasn’t furious or heartbroken like he was catastrophizing would happen.

-

“I can’t believe I’m a married man,” Harry murmurs happily as the wind lightly blows around them in the crisp, salty night air.

“Tied down at twenty,” YN giggles from where she’s lounging against his chest, laid between his legs on the lounger, “You're giving up a lot of opportunities, rockstar.”

“Not giving up anything,” He corrects her, letting her twist the band back and forth on his finger, “Our age doesn’t matter, my love. Belonged to you since we were kids anyways. M’yours, my body, mind, has and always will be yours. Now you just officially own me.”

YN brings his left hand up to her lips, kissing his ring, and then the palm of his hand before snuggling further back into his warmth, “My husband.”

“Yeah, baby. M’your husband,” Harry agrees once again as they watch the waves crash down on each other before fading out at the shore.

-

“I hate seeing you this devastated, it’s breaking my heart,” YN frowns as she continues to wipe at the falling tears, “I just want you to be happy, celebrating all this success.”

“I’m sorry, baby,” Harry sighs, leaning into her touch and purposefully avoiding the eye contact of all the curious crew, “I’m fucking everything up.”

“Don’t ever apologize for your feelings, bunny,” YN smiles lovingly, thumb running over his plump bottom lip, “Just take a few minutes and just breathe with me. I need you to get your breathing under control or you’re going to get light headed.”

Harry nods in agreement, let’s YN guide his head until his ear is against her chest where he can hear the calming, steady thumping of her heart and tries to match the pace - squeezing his eyes closed and inhaling through his nose.

She just holds him as he breathes in through his nose and out through his mouth, her hands wandering all over him to keep him grounded, and giving harsh glares to anyone who even looks in their direction.

Then his sobs pick up again, not as much as before but YN titters and pulls his head up, searching his watery eyes and his flushed face, “What has gotten into you, baby?”

“Not only di-did I fuck up by losing my ring, now I’ve ruined the entire night. I had something planned to surprise you with and now it’s all fucked,” He whimpers unhappily, his jaw flexing and right now he looked like a sixteen year old boy again who just got declined at the first X factor round and she can’t stand it.

-

“I do-don’t know why I even bothered,” Harry cries as he walks off the main stage, surrounded by YN, Anne, Gemma, Robin, and his cousin, Matt.

“I’m so proud of you though,” YN tries to give him a small smile, she was disappointed for him but knew it had been a long shot.

“You don’t have to lie. I butchered the song, shouldn’t have sung it,” He huffs, using his scarf to wipe at the tears on his cheeks.

“Don’t have to believe me but I am,” YN argues as she drags him into a hug, “Can’t wait to tell everyone at school that my boyfriend sang in front of the X factor judges.”

“Really?” He sniffles, peeking up at her to make sure she isn’t lying before his name is being called to walk back onto the stage.

-

That was nearly twelve years ago but right now, as her now much more muscular, tall, manly husband still had the same expression he did then.

The same wet green eyes with thick, black eyelashes blinking up at her, his cheeks pink from scrubbing at them, his lips parted as he tried to breath steady.

She loved him so fucking much.

Right now, she felt extremely defensive of him and didn’t like all the stares that he was receiving even when he didn’t notice them.

YN slips off his lap, grabs his duffle, and scrounges until she pulls out his neon yellow pleasing hoodie, athletic shorts, new socks, and his nike running shoes.

“Let’s go back to the hotel. We’ll have more privacy there, okay?” YN murmurs as she helps him off the couch and shimmies off his vest before going to undo his belt buckle and button until he can step out of them and change his street clothes.

YN feels overdressed now in her one piece denim outfit with her cowgirl hat still hung around her neck with a string and boots that were blistering the back of her feet. *** (there’s also an HS on her bum)

Harry, despite how clouded he is by his anxiety and dread, always notices and doesn’t hesitate before he’s pulling out her more comfortable clothes as well.

Unlike him, she doesn’t have the confidence to strip her clothes in front of anyone and gives him a peck before running to the bathroom to change into a hoodie and black biker shorts, now comfortable slides on her feet.

When she steps out, Harry is waiting obediently by the door - eyes downcast and avoidant of anyone who comes near him.

She hated seeing him like this, crawling back into his shell and into himself when he felt unsure or upset instead of the bright beacon of light he usually is.

“Come on, my love,” YN hums softly, not giving him an option as she intertwines their hands - his much larger one completely encompassing hers.

YN doesn’t think this breakdown is just because of the ring or ruined night. She just guesses those were icing in the cake.

These major performances, headlining, releasing new music - it was overwhelming because people expected and relied so much on him that sometimes he just hit his breaking point and couldn’t take anymore stress.

Before they can exit the tent, Harry Lambert is calling after them - shouting at them to stop and YN tenses in preparation to give him a piece of her mind which was usually her husband’s job.

“What? We’re heading back to the hotel. Harry’s not trying on any outfits right now,” YN tells him firmly because sometimes he’ll try his luck at Harry testing out some new outfits sent in by designers.

“S’not that. There’s some fan who thinks she found Harry’s wedding band and she wants to return it to you. I looked at it and it’s a exact replica if it’s not yours but I told her -“

“Bring her back here,” Harry interrupts, flashing Lambert his bare ring finger, “It fell off during the set. I thought I lost it for good.”

“ I can just snag it from her-“

“I want to thank her,” He cuts him off again, his bottom lip almost quivering with relief - he’s trying not to give his hopes up but what are the chances.

-

Mariah doesn’t think she’s ever had more fun at a concert, only two people back from the barrier, and she could see every detail on Harry Styles’ outfit and body.

And not to mentioned YN’s, she looked unreal in the body hugging dark denim outfit with her chest on display and an HS on her bum to match Harry - like she was his property.

It was an unreal experience and she was devastated that it was over as the lights came up - atmosphere quickly dying out as the energy dissipates.

Harry had left the stage abruptly and without his normal farewell, she chalked it up to that he might have been feeling ill.

It takes a while for people to file out of the grassy area in an orderly fashion, when it’s finally her turn, she bends down to grab her purse when she notices a glint in the blades of grass.

Mariah curiously runs her hand across the area, bringing up a gold ring that has a large emerald cut diamond in the center.

***(imagine it in gold)

For a moment, she thinks that someone just lost a piece of costume jewelry but when she examines it closer - the diamond look real based on the way it sparkles when hit with her phone light.

It looks oddly familiar but she is not sure if she’s just imagining things, she flips it in her palm, and notices something engraved in the inside of the band.

eternally yours, (YN’s initial).

Holy shit.

Mariah was now ninety-five percent sure that this was none other than Harry fucking Styles ring and she just blinked down in it surprise.

She googles it quickly in her photo search, confirming it is his ring when a article pops up with the title.

Harry Styles Goes Nontraditional With His $125,000 Tiffany & Co. wedding band!

Mariah realizes she’s holding the amount that her college tuition cost in the palm of her hand right now - it was insane.

She had to get it back to him and has no idea how to do that.

Her hands were shaking as she glanced around at the remaining people around her, back to the small group where Harry's friends and family had been.

Mariah spots Harry Lambert speaking to someone she doesn’t recognize and she rushes over to the barrier, breathlessly interrupting, “Harry, Harry!”

The stylist gives her a bit of a confused glance before giving her a small wave and returning to his conversation.

She felt awkward, like she was being a bother but she spoke up again, “I think I have something that Harry Styles lost.”

That grabs the blond’s attention, saying something to his friend before he’s making his way over to the barrier - a perplexed expression on his face.

Mariah holds out the ring and the stylist takes it, brows furrowed as he examines it but she’s surprised when he doesn’t seem convinced - like it was just a knockoff replica and she was just trying to see if it could get her backstage to meet Harry.

“Let me go check with him,” Lambert replies hesitantly, handing the ring back to her before muttering, “I’ll be right back.”

-

It seems like an eternity but in reality, it was probably only ten minutes before Harry Lambert is reappearing to address Mariah, “Come with me.”

She’s shocked by this, she thought that if it was really his that his stylist would collect the piece of jewelry and send her on her merry way.

Very very quickly she realizes that she’s probably about to meet Harry Styles as Lambert guides her into the tent.

And she was right.

Mariah is absolutely shaking with nerves when she’s led into a lounge area where none other than her fucking idol and his wife are sitting.

Her eyes instantly begin tracing over every part of him close up - his stubble, how pink his lips are, how muscular he actually is.

His face is red, puffy like he’d been crying and Mariah wonders if it was because he had lost his wedding band, it makes her stomach drop.

He stands up with a small smile when Mariah and Lambert arrive in front of him, she brings her hand out and Harry reaches out with his palm - dropping the ring in it.

Harry swallows heavily as he gives the ring a quick once over before sliding it back down his ring finger as quickly as he possibly can.

“I cannot thank you enough…” Harry rasps, his voice was deep and his accent took her by surprise for some reason.

“Mariah,” She answers with a wide smile.

“Thank you, Mariah,” He reiterates softly, then he does the unexpected and tugs her into a tight hug, a big bear hug.

It didn’t feel like real life - Harry, Harry Styles was currently hugging her and she can smell how wonderful his cologne is, how strong he is, and warm.

The hug only lasts a moment but as soon as they separate she’s being embraced by another person, his wife before she pulls back and smiles at her.

“We are so incredibly grateful,” YN tells her sweetly before stepping back next to her husband, “Thank you for returning it to us.”

Mariah doesn’t miss how Harry’s arm snakes around his wife’s waist and brings her straight into the curve of his side, fingers squeezing lovingly at her plushy hip.

“Of-of course,” The fan responds with a stutter due to the nerves still flaring up in her belly at being in such close proximity to her favorite celebrity.

“Let us repay you,” Harry says as he eyes Jeff, “Go get some pleasing merch and a sharpie.”

Mariah thanks him multiple times as he hands her a massive bag full of free hoodies, scarves, polishes - he pulls out a few things to sign with a black marker.

Jeff reports that he has one more thing to grab for Mariah, Harry Lambert leads her over to the fridge and offers her a drink which she accepts a water.

While her and the stylist are making small talk, Mariah can't help but overhear Harry and YN’s hushed conversation.

YN had her hands around his neck, stepping on his toes, and murmuring to him, “See? Everything’s okay, bunny. Now stop worrying, I love you. You’re perfect to me, you know?”

Harry gives his wife an embarrassed smile before leaning down to brush his nose against hers, whispering something back to his wife that Mariah can’t hear.

Whatever he says makes YN giggles girlishly before pecking his lips three times before pulling away, laughing even more when Harry lips try to chase after hers for one more.

Mariah leaves the tent with an experience she’ll never forget, a bag full of sign merch, and tickets to one of Harry’s upcoming shows - front row.

She decides not to plaster their business all over the internet because seeing how in love the couple truly is reminds her of how they’re human just like her who deserve privacy and respect.

-

Harry’s surprise turned out to be that he got the roof of the hotel closed off, had his team set up candles, and flowers all around the rooftop pool in the hopes of a romantic date night.

“After you fucked me so good last weekend,” Harry rumbles when they arrive at the top floor and into the pool area, “I thought it’d be romantic to have a nice date up here, possibly some pool sex.”

“Mmm, the most romantic,” YN agrees with a chuckle because it was such a sweet gesture but she could also tell the panic attack took so much out of Harry.

Instead of stripping their clothes off to swim, YN guides them over to a hammock that was set up between two of the pillars and they pile in together.

She lets Harry be the one to get cuddled, he lays his head in her chest with his arm over her tummy, legs intertwined with hers.

His eyes are already drifting shut as she begins to rake her fingers through his messy locks, massaging at his temples with her thumbs.

He doesn’t say anything else, doesn’t have the chance because he’s lightly snoring within ten minutes of them even being in the hammock.

At the end of the day, the big bad sex symbol of a man was still the same sensitive boy she fell in love with all those years ago.

-

#harry styles writing #update #harry styles #harry styles masterlist #harry styles fic rec #harry styles x reader #harry styles fluff #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #hslotrry #coachella harry styles #coachella harry #hslot!harry #hslot harry #harry styles love on tour #harry styles fic #harry styes fic reccomendation #erodasfishtacos #file #harry styles angsts #curious gazes #harry styles drabble #harrystyles imagine #harrychella #husband!harry #harry styles husband #harry styles smut #harry styles writing request #kofi commission

[overwhitesandpinkss]

no caption.

#1d #harry styles #one direction #larry #larry stylinson #the show live on tour #tslot #liam payne #louis tomlinson #niall horan #zayn 1d #niall 1d #niall james horan #zayn malik #liam 1d #louis 1d #harry's house album #harry 1d #fine line #harrys house #harry edward styles #pink aesthetic #1d reunion #1direction #love on tour #hslot #hslot harry #hslot23 #faith in the future

[taurusbae557]

delicate point of view⭐️

#harry styles #hslot harry #harry’s house #fine line harry styles #hs1 supremacy #hs1 leak #hs1 tour #harries #Spotify

[grapejuicestyless]

The Grudge

Harry Styles x fem!reader

The second part to You’re The Winner.

ANGST

Summery: based off of the song The Grudge by Olivia Rodrigo!!

Some nights I still wake up wet from my own cold sweat and salty tears. I rework the script I’ve perfected until my pen runs dry and the pages are crinkled. I scribble out each word and fix it until the cut is so deep it cuts more than just through the page, but to the reader.

I was never someone who believed in doing things so they were merely good enough. No, I always thought things through until they were at their very best points. Each sentence rephrased to make the viewer understand the concept of the conversation but to catch the deeper meanings and let it make more and more sense with each rewatch.

Now I lay awake, terrified of never being enough. Is my success nothing more than a false ego I have in my head? Do these awards that sit on my shelf hold any value if nobody could recognize them? If earning these doesn’t elevate me do they even count as a prestigious award?

I never had these issues, I displayed everything proudly. Aware of how lucky I was to be able to accept these awards so graciously. Body draped in the finest pearls and hair styles to perfection. I was excited to tell the stories when people would ask. Tell them about what I was working on, encourage them to follow their hearts. My insecurities were always just that, small thoughts littered in my head meant to make me doubt my self worth. Now they felt like more.

More than just metaphorical daggers stabbing into my body and mind. I wake up in distress from more than my own voices but his. I still hear Harry’s voice after all these months. It’s the sound of the insults I throw at myself, at everything I’ve done. It’s his voice I hear every time I think I am not enough. And what he had to say about my passions and how I execute them still lingers like a scar. I hold onto every detail of what he thought of me like my life depends on it and I break myself over and over again by finding deeper meanings in his playground insults.

The trust that he betrayed, confusion that still lingers. He took everything I loved, my confidence and my pride and crushed it in between his fingers. He could run circles around me with all his money and resources. He knows it too, be both knew it. I just never believed he would use it as a way to take stabs at me.

I still stay awake fantasizing about his little fucking sorry. How he was in tears when I finally pulled away. The shocked look on his face. I feel tough in the privacy of my room. Able to beat him up in my head and make him feel guilty but never to his face. I try to understand why he would do this all to me. I make up situations to lessen the blow. The fact it was unsolicited and simply something he chose to do for fun. Still, I can not let it go that easily. Not until every ounce of doubt is scrubbed from my mind and the voices in my head no longer belong to him.

……………………………………..…………………………………………

Sitting at the Oscar’s I find my place beside Greta Gerwig and Emma Stone. I feel out of place. I’m friends with them, I know them and their secrets. They’ve led me through the obstacles and the difficulties that come with trying to get into film making. They have been nothing but kind and reassuring over how great they think I am yet I can not push down the feeling that when the cameras flash to us I will be labeled the place holder to make the crowd look more full. No matter how lavish my gown is, no matter how nice my hair is I will never shine like the women who sit beside me. I will never stand out and make my name be known and it is something I can not come to terms with.

To rub salt in the wound I sit there and compare each category I am placed in to everyone else. I read out the nominees on the pamphlet they hand out like we are watching a youth theatre production of a marvelous broadway play. I barely make the cut for best assistant director. I read the names beside mine and I try not to get myself worked up.

I am not Greta Gerwig, I am no Christopher Nolan. I am Y/n Y/l/n. I am a woman who dreams bigger than she can possibly ever achieve. And I try not to get in over my head, but I always do. I strive to be the best and still I get trampled over.

I read the names over and over, flipping through the pages. I read the names under each category. Billie Eilish, Taylor Swift, Adele…I think about if I should’ve taken up music. I can’t sing very well but I have so much to write about. I have so many feelings and so many things to argue that I simply can not relay through film. Not at my level anyway. Joe releasing it must be to put a pen to paper and just write whatever you feel because the darkest emotions write the best songs.

It’s the sickest joke the way the names continue to go down the line. The eleven letter name in bold italics with an invisible circle around it and arrows pointed to make sure I see it. Harry Styles is up for best original song. Not only that, but I’d heard it too. Stayed up with him while we wrote it. He was so sure it wasn’t good enough and I sat there supporting him.

I stayed awake comforting him while he cried over his million dollar piano. Tears ruining the ivory and the clear shine. How idiotic I was to have been so kind to someone who so easily tore me down like I was nothing more than a pawn to remind him of his greatness. I knew the song was beautiful. His name was golden among the others competing for such an important award. One that would recognize his talent and secure his name in Hollywood. A lump formed in my throat. If I didn’t believe him then, I did now. I wasn’t some prophecy. I didn’t have a title to my name to prove. I was someone who got lucky once. My work was nothing compared to his.

………………………………………………………………………………….

They called the nominees for each category, listing off the winners one by one. We grew closer and closer to the major categories that would have the TMZ headlines buzzing by the morning. When it was my turn to be called, I couldn’t help but feel jitters and anxiety pass through my veins.

I’d heard about everyone else. All of their movies staples in my Friday movie night routines I had continued even without Harry there to occupy a portion of the couch. I laughed, I cried, I thought deeply about each movie. I couldn’t help but feel nervous that I was up against people so much stronger than I was.

My picture on the screen showcased my much more recognizable friends shaking my shoulders. We were unprofessional and excited to see how I could be recognized. They made me feel that even if I didn’t win, it was well worth it because the academy, as rigged as we all secretly knew it was, had chosen me of all people to list along with a handful of others. It was an honor for me to be here, beside my best friends and my hero’s.

The name that rang through the microphone didn’t match mine. It wasn’t even close, yet I felt fine. The hands slipped from my shoulders to clap along with the crowd. My photo minimized to showcase the woman who had rightfully won over me. Still, my shoulders were heavy and my heart sunk. How nice it could’ve been to go home with that. Be able to hold it up to the sky and thank my brothers and sisters for helping me get there.

Greta and Emma tried to make me feel better. Nothing hurt worse than working up an excitement only to have it ripped away from you. It worked, for a minute. How blissfully unaware I was that the categories grew closer and closer to the one that involved the one man I couldn’t bare to think about now. I barely registered the way they prepared the stage to announce his category until the talking turned to whispers and the softest sniffles echoed.

He looked handsome on the big screen. His hair was darker than I remember it being, I assumed he dyed it for tonight. His shoulders were broad in his suit and his face was cleanly shaven. If his eyes could speak they would be a jumble of words that expresses different emotions. He bit his lip and toyed with his rings. I caught him picking the skin by his thumb. I wanted to yell at him to stop, it was a bad habit we tried so hard to break. But he wasn’t mine anymore. I no longer existed as a best friend to him, someone else could place their hand over his and silently relay their own thoughts to him.

The sour feeling in my heart curtailed like milk when his picture took up the entire screen. The way he stood and hugged the people around him. He was surrounded by friends and family alike that supported him in ways I used to. If it were a few years ago, that would’ve been me beside him. His plus one to an event I was already attending simply because he was everything to me.

Watching him accept that award was the final straw. How he walked up to the stage in no rush, fixing his coat on the way and running a hand through his hair. He had a lazy smirk on his face that would make anyone weak in the knees. He looked confident and yet so grateful for everything happening to me. I felt confused by his attitude. How cocky he was in private, he was so good at masking the real Harry when it came to keeping a good public image. It was some kind of pathological lier type of bullshit that made my throat close and heart pound.

In his speech he thanked his mom and his dad. He thanked his sister and his friends. His ex-Bandmates and his producers. A full list of names, he went on and on and yet my name never came up. He thanked people who didn’t even know him on the crinkled piece of paper shaking in his hands. They didn’t know his favorite color, how he preferred his eggs. He didn’t like celery but he loved peas. Mushed, soggy, fresh. He would spoon them onto his plate like a mad man. They didn’t know he slept with his socks on because he felt scared something might try to grab at him at the end of the bed even now. He was childish in a mature way. Fears he carried form childhood that he couldn’t shake, they didn’t know that and yet they got the credit I deserved. I couldn’t do it then.

I could sit there and pretend to be tough, but I wanted to scream. I could sit there and say I was fine to everyone, be my professional self but I couldn’t act like it was okay anymore. To tear me down, to rewrite your past to fit the people who chose you based off fame and not on who you are, to get rid of what we once cherished was too far. I could put aside his harsh words for the sake of the night but his blatant disregard for my feelings after he’d cried over my leaving said enough.

When he left the stage I made my exit, mumbling something short of having to use the bathroom. My dress was short enough to not have to gather it between my fingers. I could walk quickly down the aisle and look at my feet on the way. I couldn’t make eye contact with anyone, even though they didn’t know me I felt that the look on my face would reveal it all.

The door opened harshly but had stoppers on it to silence any amount of force pushed on it. It made any angry outburst look accidental. The only indication that the door had been opened was the sliver of light the slipped through the opening of the main lobby and the dimly lighted theatre that held the greatest minds of film alike.

My feet hit the expensive carpet hard, heals digging into each design I wondered if my aggression would permanently dent the fabric, ruin the art in it.

It was colder outside of the room that I sat idly in, more free. The only people out here at this time were the few paparazzi permitted and stray employees cleaning up for the night. Flashes took my vision and I could see the headlines now.

How I would be bashed for simply showing my emotions. How they would paint me as a bitter sore loser who couldn’t even keep it together and act fine. I couldn’t blame them really. How would the world even know of how their favorite pop star had taken a hold of my heart and ruined any perception of love I had for him in a few short months.

The air outside was chilling. My skin was bare and in a way, in my artistic side of my mind I could pretend it was the literal way the world was showing how I felt. Tiny stabbing wounds across my arms creating goosebumps running up and down each exposed part of my body.

My car wasn’t there. I was out so early without warning, I became stranded not only mentally but physically. I didn’t care then. If I had to walk the streets of Los Angeles in high heals and an expensive gown. If I got mugged of all my belongings on my way home I didn’t care. I couldn’t be near anyone anymore. I couldn’t hold it together and I certainly wouldn’t fall apart for everyone to see.

Footsteps slapped against the pavement so quickly, I didn’t process the splashing of puddles or the heavy breathing approaching me. With my luck, I would already become a victim to a robbery before even turning the corner.

The hand on my arm came next. It wasn’t rough but it was firm enough to catch my attention. More than that, it was so familiar, so warm.

I felt the roughness of fingertips brushing under my bicep and the contrasting softness of his palm resting on top. His rings were warmed from his skin already, smooth against my body. I knew who the hand belonged to immediately. It was one I had held, toyed with and admired for years. One attached to a body that I adored, looked up to like a hero.

Turning, his eyes met mine. They were a darker green. I couldn’t see if from how far I was before, but he looked more tired, more sad. His eyes were dark not from anger or all the drinks I had hoped he was downing so he would forget about me, but because something was bothering him. Something heavy. He carried a lot of regret and sadness in his eyes that were once so free and careless. He seemed more calculated in his choice of words, more precise than his usual mess of sentences that came straight from his mind to his mouth.

“You didn’t have to chase after me.” I broke the silence, he was still catching his breath. He shook his head, looking down to gather himself. His pants were wet at the bottom from the pavement and his hair was falling in front of his face. I wanted to reach out and brush it back, but it wasn’t my place. I didn’t have a place in his life anymore.

“I wanted to.” He confessed, searching my face. In my head I’d like to think my expression was stone cold. One that was heartless, expressionless. I didn’t care in my head, but in my heart I did. I felt my lip quiver, I felt my eyebrows furrow. I was an open book for Harry to read.

“Why? So you could fix things? Fix us?” I escalated things quickly. I didn’t want to play his mind games. He was brilliant, people didn’t give him enough credit for it. If I allowed him to sit here and apologize while I was already feeling vulnerable, it wouldn’t matter how sincere it was. I would accept it and cave and by the morning I would hate myself for letting my heart take over my brain.

“No, don’t do that. Y/n, you were the one who walked out on me. I tried to get you to stay, and I regret not trying harder and if I could go back I would’ve begged on my knees but that doesn’t change the fact that you still left. I care about you, Y/n. You’re my best friend.” His voice was sharp, desperate. It felt so real, everything he was saying. I trusted him completely. I understood what he was feeling. Some nights I wish I had stayed. I had just put up with it. It was all the talk of my undying love that I held for Harry. A friendship that may have turned into a small crush in my head without me realizing. My undying love, now, I hold it like a grudge. The reason that forgiving and forgetting is so hard.

“Do you think I deserved it all? Harry tell me, please. Is that what you really think of me? As someone who deserved to be built up just so you could watch me fall? Is that what I was for you?” I begged him to understand what I meant. What I endured was verbally abusive, toxic, venomous. It killed me to know that my best friend thought so low of me. So poorly of the girl he swore to protect with all his heart.

“You know I never meant to.” He tried to defend himself, his hand loosened on my skin, falling down to hold my hand. His fingers intertwining in mine felt like tiny flames bursting out across my hand. It was so soft yet so hard, my body started to shake from more than just the cold.

“You are so selfish.” I shook my head, breathing in to look at the same bewildered face that looked back at me all those weeks ago. I remembered all the arguments I had won in my head against him. In the shower, in the car, in the mirror before bed. I remember all the things I didn’t say that I wish I had, all the ways I could’ve made him hurt like I had. It would’ve made me the smaller person.

The fact he looked lost about where I was coming from made it so much more difficult to not spill my guts to him there on the sidewalk. He made it so hard to not want to rip him apart with his oblivion and gaslighting tendencies. I doubt he even though about all the damage that he did.

“I just-I can’t wrap my head around how anybody could do the things you did so easily? You have everything and you still want more! You must be insecure, you must be so unhappy! I know it more than anything, I’ve lived it. Harry, hurt people, hurt people. We both drew blood but man, those cuts were never equal!” I didn’t touch him but to both of us it felt like I had slapped him in the face. Acknowledging his actions and mine that led us here made it so much more real, the end was so much more destined for our story. I tried to be tough, I tried to be mean, but still standing there after pouring out my heart and feelings I couldn’t help but crumble. A single cry tumbled from my lip. I shook my head and looked to the sky. Harry made no movement.

It was pathetic to be so torn after so much time apart. He should’ve held no weight in my heart, but he always would. He was the most important opinion in my life, even when he wasn’t present. When reworking scripts and giving direction, in the back of my head it became a constant question of if Harry thought it was enough. If it was good enough.

“You could’ve at least given me credit, you know I deserved that much.” My hand ripped from his viciously. It burned the way we separated so quickly. His eyes were stuttering over mine, his mouth tried to move, hand digging through his pocket.

I no longer had time for him, not then not ever. He could pick me apart, rip my heart out and stitch it back together, point daggers at my deepest hurts but he would no longer get these reactions out of me.

My escape was the same as the last. Quick and panicked. My feet hit the pavement harder than before and my arms swung with so much force, I was pushing myself forward with each step. Farther and farther, I couldn’t find the courage to look back like before. I couldn’t stand to think about him crying again. My hatred for his actions could never compare to the love I would always hold for Harry. If he didn’t deserve me, that would be okay. But I could not live with myself knowing I made him cry again. Not even after what he did.

………………………………………………………………………………….

“You could’ve at least given me credit, you know I deserved that much.” Her hand ripped from mine so quickly that it almost burnt my skin. It was like a fresh wound opening to feel her leaving not only mentally again, but physically. How her touch would never be in mine again. How she no longer belonged to me, I no longer belonged to her.

Her words set in after a hesitating moment. She meant my speech. God, how could I have been so stupid? To not realize how hurt she must’ve been to be erased so easily from the narrative. Like the nights spent together and the laughter and tears meant nothing. The piano ruined and her shirt soaked by my tears. The shirt that was really mine. I wondered if she still had it after all this time. It always did look better on her than me. I would give her everything if I could.

I dug through my pockets quickly to find it, the crinkled piece of paper with all the names on it. All the words I wanted to say but knew I would stumble over in my own nerves if I were to win. My hands were shaking so bad, I couldn’t grasp it in time. She was gone.

Something about this time told me that she wasn’t coming back. She wouldn’t stop. Not even the most guttural cry could make her look back. I had hurt her over and over again. Still, I wanted to apologize. I wanted to tell her how sorry I was until the word held no meaning and sounded odd coming from my lips. Like it was no longer real. She owed me none of her time.

So I stood there by myself, in the light rain that fell over Los Angeles, wet and alone. My paper was wrinkled in my hands, creased and bent messily. I looked down at the handwriting that didn’t really look like mine. How even in my excitement to be nominated, the loss of Y/n was so heavy it was hard to do anything. The pen was too heavy. I couldn’t do anything I once loved without her support. I looked down at all the names. My mother, my sister. They weren’t even first on the list. The first name I had written down, Y/n Y/l/n. My best friend.

I hadn’t read it out because I thought she wouldn’t want me to. I didn’t want to take away from an important night for her. Steal the spotlight from her award I was certain she would win by placing her name onto mine.

I was so sure she would win. She would be happy and we could reconnect. I had watched the movie, I watched all of her movies. She was the best of us. Always a talented writer, always having a new idea to jot down. Her napkins were sketch pads and her notes app was a dictionary of her favorite books and inspirations for shots. I know nobody with a mind like hers, one as creative and brilliant. I’m not sure why I tore her down all those days. Made her feel worthless when she was one of the best things in my life.

Even after all of this, she was and would always be everything to me. I could try and try and try to forget her and erase her from my life but she would always carry a piece of me around with her. I would always have hints of her in my home, in my wardrobe. She was everywhere without even being there.

She was my best friend.

#harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x you #harry styles imagine #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #harry styles #fine line harry styles #oscars #hslot harry #yn x harrystyles

[niceshorts28]

Fine Line, my lyric analysis

#harry styles #fine line #lyric analysis #hslot #hslot harry #larries #larry stylinson #tpwk #favorite #top 10 #writers and poets

[whatemidoing]

help I saw a tiktok that said harry styles dances like a peanuts character I love him so much

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[acesofspadess]

Let The Games Begin

Worth The Risk Masterlist

narry x oc

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜

You know the saying, easier said than done, well you never meant to take that so literal. Over the course of the next couple weeks, shit had hit the fan. You were good, that was never the question, but being so young and inexperienced compared to the rest of girls set you behind from the beginning.

“The final contestant who’s made it through… is…”

It wasn’t your name. And while 99% of you knew it wouldn’t be, the 1% in you was more hopeful than ever. You didn’t let the tears fall until you were backstage by yourself. You went to text the siblings before someone sat next to you. “I'm sorry you didn’t make it. You were really good.” The accent wasn’t like your own. “Did you not make it either?” you saw the redness in his eyes, and when he shook his head to confirm your guess you rested your head on his shoulder. “Autumn.” you recited, “Niall.” he gave back.

“Nice to meet you Niall, even under the unfortunate circumstances.” you both laughed softly at the attempted joke before silence fell over you both. The silence was comfortable, it was peaceful, home like almost.

“Can I have all the girls over here please?” one of the workers called in your area and you and Niall looked at each other, confusion over your faces. “Maybe they’re collecting the boys too? Go and check.” you urged as he helped you up. “I’ll see you later Autumn.” he waved goodbye as you went in the opposite direction.

Meanwhile….

Nicole, Louis, and Simon, were looking at the photo cards of the boys. “I like these 5 together.” Nicole happily cheered but Simon seemed off-put. “It's missing something.” he pointed out, and while Louis and Nicole thought to adjust the boys Simon went over to the girls group. He looked for a specific photo and once he found it he put the card in line with the boys.

“No Simon, you can’t do that.” The first disagreement was made by Nicole. “But her voice would go perfectly with the rest of the boys.” he stood his ground and looked to Louis who was studying the faces intensely. “I have to agree with Simon, Nicole. They look good together, I'm sure they would sound even better. I don’t know why you have something against her.” He defended and stood with Simon. 

“I don’t have anything against her,” she quickly told off. “I just don’t think that she belongs in a boy band.” Louis looked at the photos one last time. “Then let her choose.” he offered, looking down at Simon who spoke, “Have her come in with the girls, then we’ll decide from there. But I think even she would prefer the boys.”

Present…

As you walked on stage with a group of girls from the left wing, a group of boys, some of which you recognised, Harry, Zayn, and now Niall. You couldn't stop looking over at them, wishing you were with familiar people, some who actually cared to learn your name. 

“Hello.” Nicole spoke softly into the mic making you snap your head away from the boys as everyone repeated the greeting. “Thank you so much for coming back. I know judging from some of your faces that this is really hard. We’ve thought long and hard about you individually, and you are all too talented to let go of. So we’ve put together two separate groups.” Nicole handed the mic to Simon who was looking right at you. “Autumn, do you mind joining the boys?”  The faintest smile made its way to your face as you walked across the stage standing in between Harry and Niall as they had created a space for you. 

“See she looks happier there.” Simon whispered to Nicole as you walked across the stage. She nodded in understanding, having to admit that you did indeed belong with them. “We’ve decided to put you both through to the judges rounds.” Time seemed to freeze as you repeated what he said over through your head till you were being wrapped in a massive hug. You immediately wrapped your arms around the figure you now knew was Niall before you both separated and shook Harry who was crouched into himself. He popped up wrapping you and Niall into a hug full of laughs and cries. 

As you walked off the stage together you all huddled up again. “I know this might be weird with me, but I have an older brother-.” 

“You're one of us now, it doesn't matter.” One the boys who you hadn’t met yet cut you off and you smiled. “Louis.” he held his hand out. “Autumn.” the tallest boy came over to you too. “Liam.” you knew he had heard you so you didn’t repeat it again. When you all walked outside you saw Bentley, Nan and Pap, and Anne chatting together. You assume it was over what just happened. When they saw you, you and Harry ran towards them. You hugged Bentley who held you tightly. “Where’s Bev?” he pointed towards the car to see Beverly asleep. “She has the ability to fall asleep anywhere.” you both laughed before you dragged him over to meet the rest of the boys. “Bentley, Niall, Louis, and Liam. You’ve already met Harry, and Zayn.” he greeted them as Anne pulled you into a hug. “I’m glad you're with them. They need some girl power in their lives.” you laughed with her as it came naturally. 

Anne decided she needed a picture of all you, and as you sat on the stairs next to Harry in front of Liam you were truly in for a ride.

———————-

Worth The Risk Masterlist

tags:

@youcan-nolonger-run @ravenclawdirectioner

@luxiorchive @maeflowers653  @purple9950 @forkmeniall @nathalielovesonedirection @hopsydaisy @shortie-niya

#one direction #harry styles x reader #harry styles x famous!reader #harry styles fluff #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fic #harry styles x reader smut #harry styles x reader fluff #harry styles blurb #harry styles imagine #hslot harry #hslot23 #harry styles #nialler #cute niall #niall horan x reader #niall horan fluff #niall horan fanfiction #niall horan #niall horan smut #niall fanfic #niall one shot #solo niall #niall 1d #niall james horan #niall horan fic #niall the show #niall horan x y/n #niall imagine #niall horan x you

[triski73]

#harry styles #hslot #hslot harry #whats that smell #the devils lettuce #harry feels left out

[stylessupremacy]

I need to know the story behind this picture with hslotrry 👀

"Harry, we shouldn't be doing this," Y/n whimpered.

Harry's fingers were running along her folds. Her arousal coating his fingers, waiting to be licked clean.

"And why not?" His eyes filled with lust, ready to devour Y/n right then and there.

Harry sucked his fingers clean of her arousal as he waited for her answer. Maybe they should do this because that turned her on even more.

Watching Harry's lips wrap around his fingers, tasting her arousal. Moaning as he swallowed and licking his lips clean.

"I never heard anything, darling." A smirk rested on Harry's lips. He knew exactly how to get to her.

Harry proceeded to rub up and down her folds once more - slipping a finger into her entrance knowing she was going to need to open up.

Y/n's head fell back from where it rested on the sofa, her eyes rolling to the back of her head from the euphoric feeling coursing through her body.

"Har- Harry I need you in me," she murmured.

He added a second finger, curling it inside her to hit a certain spot making her whimpers fill the room.

"Thought we shouldn't do this? Guess y'changed your mind. La mia ragazza bisognosa."

Y/n was too caught up in the way Harry was making her feel to catch that Harry had just called her his needy girl in Italian.

That would have been enough to push her over the edge and make her cum right then and there.

Harry got his willy wrapped and lined it up with her entrance slowly thrusting his hips in her.

Loud whimpers and moans filled the room. Harry's long and thick cock filling her up just right.

"Your m'good girl huh? Always need daddy to please you?"

His hips thrusting into hers. Her walls tightening around his cock sending a pleasurable spark through his body.

Y/n's whimpers becoming weaker, her toes curling, both their loud uneven breathing filling the room.

"Harry m'close," she whimpered out. Her fingers weaving through his hair holding on.

His thrusts were becoming sloppier, "I know, love. Just cum for me. Be a good girl and cum all over daddy's cock."

The euphoric sensation becoming too much for Y/n. The ball in her stomach popping, Harry following shortly behind.

"Such a good girl," Harry helped clean her up, himself cleaning up and getting ready for his show tonight.

"That was amazing, Harry. Thank you." Y/n was getting ready herself considering his show was less than an hour away.

"No need to thank m'darling. M'your husband and it's my duty to please you." His smirk never faltered.

"Besides it was a nice little pre-show gift."

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