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finerllines · 2 years

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love, charlie [bestfriend!au]

a/n: i am very excited to be finally posting this fic!!! was not intending to post this in parts but it was getting really long and i got a little stuck with how i wanna write the next bit :P but i hope you guys like this one, please give me any feedback you have and if you have any ideas/things you want to see please send them my way!!! as always, reblogs and comments are always appreciated <3

summary: (bestfriend & love rosie!au) charlie has never kept a secret from harry before and having a baby while he was in america is a really big secret. turns out, a positive reaction from harry might be a bit scarier than a negative one.

wc: 10.7k+

cw: just fluff, oc is a single mum

next part

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Every muscle in Charlie’s body is screaming at her. She is tired, no doubt about it, but she can’t rest yet. Not when toys are still scattered all around the living room floor from that afternoon’s tummy time. Not when the pile of clean laundry demanding to get folded just grows bigger and bigger every day. Not when she is running low on frozen breast milk and still needs to pump a good couple of millilitres.

She leans back against the couch, letting her head tilt back and her eyes close momentarily. It’ll just be a little rest, then she’ll sit back up and get to tidying. Just as she is about to slip into unconsciousness, harsh raps on the door causes her to jolt up with alarm.

Panic creeps up her neck as she eyes the door cautiously. It is nearing 11pm and she isn’t expecting anyone. So, who the hell is demanding to be let in? Holding her breath and tiptoeing her way to the door, she slowly looks through the peep hole hoping that her fear is unfounded.

When she makes out who it is, she releases the breath she was holding and immediately undoes the chain on the door.

“Harry? What’s happening?”

Behind the door is Harry, her best friend that she hasn’t seen in over a year because he was busy touring and making movies while she dropped to the bottom of the food chain by becoming a single mother. Instead of the joyful reunion she envisioned that they would have at his welcome home dinner happening tomorrow, they each remain on either side of the door, silently looking at each other with furrowed brows (although hers connoted confusion while Harry looked furious).

“I –,” he starts before pausing to take another deep breath. “Can I come in?”

With a nod, Charlie steps to the side letting him in, re-chaining the door under the assumption that Harry would just stay over like he usually would this late. Right as they were about to enter the living room she freezes on the spot, remembering the mess that is still there. As if reading her mind, Harry stops and turns to face her with an expectant raised eyebrow.

“Before we sit down is there something you want to tell me?”

“Uh … well I, um.”

“Something that might have happened while I was away?” he asks through a clenched jaw.

Charlie starts picking her fingers nervously. “No. Why don’t we go up to my room because –“

Before she could finish, he whips around and charges into her living room. He pauses, eyes scanning the room, taking in everything. Then, he turns to face her with a glare that is almost murderous.

“What’s all this then? Babysitting?”

She suddenly can’t breathe.

“Harry this isn’t what it looks like.”

“Tell me!” he shouts with fists clenched tightly by his side.

At the suddenly raising of his voice Charlie flinches and squeezes her eyes shut. When she does open her eyes, she can’t bring them to look at the hurt etched all over his features, so they remain glued to the floor. He lets out a deep breath and runs his hands over his face.

“Sorry for yelling, I shouldn’t have raised my voice,” he mumbles.

Neither of them make eye contact.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” she whispers shakily after a beat of silence.

“So, it’s true?”

She nods, eyes still trained on her feet, ashamed to look him in the eye. They had never kept secrets, especially not something this big. She hurt him and she knows it.

“How’d you find out?” she asks meekly.

“Mum let it slip. Said I should come round to see how y’baby is doing.” He sees how hard Charlie is chewing on her inner lip. His expression and voice soften. “Can I see them?”

She nods silently again. He follows her up the stairs and feels himself growing nervous as she quietly opens a room door and gestures for him to go in. When he catches sight of the tiny girl in the cot, his breath catches. He takes a moment to watch her, fascinated by the way her chest moves up and down with each breath of air.

“She’s so little.” He lets out a shaky breath. “She’s perfect.”

“Her name’s Rory.”

“Rory,” Harry repeats under his breath, eyes still glued to her.

Charlie remains silent, trying to decipher how Harry feels. He’s mad at her, she knows that much, but that she can take, she just can’t stand the thought of Harry being upset at Rory, the innocent bystander in this betrayal.

When he’s had his fill, he turns to face her with watery eyes.

“She’s beautiful.”

“Thank you.” Another beat of silence passes. “Do you want to back to the living room. I’ll tell you everything, promise.”

With Harry seated on her sofa, Charlie buys herself more time by brewing them some tea. She is scared, terrified. If she had gone for a year then come back to find out that Harry had a child, she wouldn’t know how to feel.

They take tentative sips from their mugs, neither knowing where to start.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I – I didn’t know how to.”

“No? We spoke to each other at least once a week the whole time I was gone. You didn’t think to bring it up then.” The spite in his voice is evident.

She feels tears welling in her eyes, so she takes a deep breath to try and steady herself. “It’s not something I can just bring up on a Tuesday is it.”

“But we tell each other everything. We trust each other, right?”

“Harry, of course I trust you. I just didn’t want to disappoint you.”

His brows pinched in confusion. “How could you ever disappoint me? I love you Charlie, we promised each other we will always be in each other’s lives. I don’t make promises like that with just everyone.”

“I know, but you’re off being a rockstar while I’m still stuck in Holmes Chapel getting knocked up by some guy who didn’t even want to stick around. It’s embarrassing. Mum and dad could barely look me in the eye when they first saw me with Rory. I can’t go to the supermarket without people giving me pitiful looks. I used to a woman with ambition, everyone used to tell me I should take my talents to the city and not waste my time here. And now I’m just the woman who got left behind. I’m 27 for goodness sake, and I still feel like they all look at me like an irresponsible 16 year old.”

Charlie could barely get the last couple of words out before tears overtook her, burying her head in her hands.

She takes a big gulp of air and tries to find her voice. “I was going to tell you I promise. I wasn’t going to hide Rory forever. I just couldn’t bring myself to tell you over the phone. Not when you were so excited about everything you were doing. I can’t be the one to keep bringing bad news.”

Harry immediately moves over to tug her shaking form into his chest, resting his head on top of hers to try and comfort her. His heart hurt. All of this must have been building up inside her since who knows when, and he hates the thought of his best friend being ashamed of herself, ashamed for being a mother of all things.

“It’s not embarrassing. You’re not embarrassing. You’re the rockstar if anything, moving on and staying strong for Rory when the person who is supposed to be there for you let you down. And this is not bad news, okay. This is great fucking news. Doesn’t matter what anyone else thinks, we get a new person to love.”

Thinking about the man who left her and Rory stirs up ugly feelings inside of him. Fucking Richard. He’s hated Richard ever since he met him. Back then, he forced himself to be polite and cordial because all he had to blame for his hatred was his juvenile jealousy and possessiveness. But now, now he has a valid reason to hate the prick.

When Charlie’s breath evens out, he gently cups her face in his hands and looks her directly in her eyes.

“You are the most incredible woman. I never want to her you talk shit about yourself ever again. Fuck everyone. Fuck Richard for being too much of an idiot to see that the universe was trying to help him out by giving him a reason to tie you down. Fuck everyone in this town for making you feel less than. If you ever forget how much you kick ass, you call me. You call me and I will do everything in my power to remind you.”

Tears start building in her eyes once again. Just as Charlie was about to start speaking, a loud cry is heard from the nursery. Like mother like daughter.

“She’s probably hungry, let me feed her quickly.”

Charlie gets up and wipes under her eyes, then goes to the kitchen to make a bottle. When she starts making her way up the stairs, she notices that Harry is trailing behind her.

“I want to watch, if that’s okay,” he explains in response to her quizzical look.

She smiles softly and nods.

In the nursery, Harry feels like a stranger. He stands by the door watching as Charlie picks the baby up and cradles her.

“Hi Rory, are you a hungry baby hmm?”

Charlie expertly uncaps the bottle with one hand and gently directs the nipple of the bottle between Rory’s lips. The little girl hungrily drinks the milk, looking up at her mother with her wide, innocent eyes.

Noticing that Harry is still standing up the door, Charlie gestures him over with her head. He tentatively positions himself over her shoulder and he observes Rory in awe. The little girl’s eyes focus on the strange man behind her mother, and when she makes direct eye contact with him, he can’t help but smile. He gives her a little wave and is almost brought to tears when Rory gives him a gummy smile.

He completely understands why Charlie didn’t tell him. He’d be scared to share something so precious, especially since everyone else in her life seems to not appreciate what a gift Rory is. She was protecting herself. And as much as he hates that she felt like she needed to be protected from him, he knows that he can’t fault her.

Charlie breaks the silence. “She likes you already.”

“You think?” The smile in his voice is audible.

“Mmhmm. She doesn’t see a lot of men so she usually doesn’t smile at them, but she can’t stop smiling at you now.”

Harry decides not to focus on the implication that neither Charlie’s father nor Rory’s father had bothered to see her, but rather on the assurance that the little girl has taken a liking to him. Because he loves her, he was a goner the moment he saw her tiny form sleeping in her cot.

The smile doesn’t leave his face as he watches Charlie wiggle the farts out of Rory, making little funny noises to make her laugh. The fondness in both of their eyes makes his heart swell with love and admiration. His best friend is the strongest woman to ever exist. Despite the shitty situation, she found enough love in her heart to care for Rory.

If there was ever any doubt that Harry was head over heels in love with Charlie, it was definitely gone now. He can’t be more in love with her if he tried.

Once Rory went back to sleep, they return to their spots on the sofa with a lot less tension between them this time. They fall into a comfortable chat about what he did in LA and the first time Rory stood up by herself.

When their conversation trials off, he takes the opportunity to ask, “Who’s Rory’s godfather?”

“Oh,” she didn’t expect that, “I didn’t ask anyone. I was so overwhelmed and busy with everything that it didn’t even occur to me.”

“Can I be her godfather?” he asks timidly.

“You want to be her godfather?” He nods. “You would’ve been first choice obviously, but you already have so many godchildren I didn’t know if you had space for one more,” she laughs gently trying to make a joke.

The joke is lost on Harry because he says seriously, “I’ll always have space for you, which means that I’ll always have space for Rory.”

She reaches over to take his hand.

“I know H, I didn’t mean to insinuate anything I just, didn’t want to assume. But I’d love for you to be her godfather. I can’t think of anyone more perfect.”

A beautiful smile appears on his face.

“Thank you,” he whispers, bringing her hands up to his face to press little kisses on each of her knuckles. “I’ll take care of her and love her, I promise. She’s stolen my heart already.”

“I know you will. Thank you for always being here for me, loving me in whatever state you find me.”

He pulls her into a hug again. He can almost feel her heart beating with how close they are.

“I’m always going to love you. I’m always going to take care of you. It’ll take more than a cute little girl to drive me away.”

When the tears dry up and their breaths even out, Harry downs his cup of tea and starts helping Charlie fold laundry. In their over 10 years of friendship the most domestic thing they have done together is cook a meal and put away dishes. Now, watching Harry hum to himself and coo at each baby onesie, causes a strange feeling to wash over her. She thinks doing chores wouldn’t be so bad if she always had him alongside her. He folds every piece of laundry without hesitation – shirts, jeans, socks, underwear, everything – as if he has done this a hundred times before.

He just fits in to her life, even though this life is still new to her, and he has only been back a day. And she loves it. It’s always comforting to know that the distance between them has never altered their relationship in anyway. But as she feels her heart rate quicken at the sight of Harry smiling down at a ‘Mummy’s favourite monkey’ onesie, she fears that this feeling might have creeped into dangerous territory.

Charlie is not a shut in, but she’s definitely a homebody. Rory has served as an excellent excuse to bail out of events and invites from friends, saving her from putting on a brave face in front of everyone when she feels lousy and doesn’t want to feel insecure about her nursing bra or compression socks.

Unfortunately, there is no real way for her to hide behind Rory tonight because she knows that Harry would immediately ditch his own party to come check up on them. So, she puts on her big girl pants (ie., the ones without an elasticated waistband) and throws on a sweater from her pre-pregnancy days and heads for the train station once the babysitter arrived.

She hasn’t been a in restaurant like this in a while, not since Harry’s last party, so she feels even more out of the place than she usually would. They don’t really have Japanese fusion restaurants with menus without prices in Holmes Chapel. She looked up the menu of the restaurant beforehand to hopefully look less clueless around Harry’s London friends, but as she catches sight of the table full of sequined pants, berets, and suits, she realises that it’s a lost cause. She can’t believe that she put on her heeled sandal thinking that it would elevate her pants and sweater to something dressy enough. The little bugger told her there wasn’t a dress code. He clearly failed to consider the implicit dress code that comes with being a part of Harry Styles’ party.

The first person to spot her is Kevin, their primary school classmate that moved to Brighton. He waves her over with a smile and shuffles over to make room for her in their little corner of ‘Holmes Chapel friends’.

She likes Harry’s London friends, she just doesn’t like how she always comes away feeling a little sorry for herself, reminded of how Harry has built a name for himself and moved on to bigger and brighter things. And this makes her long-standing teenage crush on him even more pathetic. The Harry she fell in love with was the 15 year old boy who would walk her home after their shifts at the bakery and would share his dreams of becoming a singer with when they would lie side by side on his bed, listening to Gemma’s CDs. When it’s just them, she sometimes feels like that boy is still there, like it is completely reasonable for her heart to skip a beat when he gives her cheeky smiles and holds her hand. With everyone else though, she feels foolish to still hold on to their old memories, for not buying the image and brand that he has created.

To Harry’s credit, he’s never rubbed his wealth in her face or made her feel less than. He always invites her to every show, party, and event in London, even offering to pay for her trip if she needs him to. At first, she took him up on every offer, which young adult would turn down a chance to go to an invite only club or a show at the O2. But the novelty of everything faded after a few years. Any excitement or adrenaline always got outweighed by how drained she would feel after hanging out in big crowds and being escorted around by security and personnel. Sure, she might feel a little left out when she sees the fun stories and photos from their nights out. But Harry would pop round to hers when he was visiting family, and all would be right again.

Harry is in the middle of a conversation when Charlie arrives. Out of the corner of his eye he sees Kevin pull her into a side hug and say something that makes her blush and smile shyly.

That’s a good thing, he tells himself, it’s good that she’s comfortable. She made the effort to get a babysitter and travel to London, so she deserves to enjoy herself. He’s just slightly resentful that Kevin gets her attention for the night. Just as he forces himself to stop eavesdropping on their conversation, he hears Kevin ask something that puts a sour taste in his mouth.

“Little Rory’s with a babysitter?” Kevin asks casually.

Charlie nods with an affirmative hum, not batting an eyelid.

His blood goes cold.

Kevin knows about Rory. He knew before me.

When the group thins out towards the end of the meal to go to the bathroom or check out the bar next door, Harry slides in next to Charlie and bumps into her playfully to get her to look up from her phone.

“Hey, sorry I’m just checking in on the babysitter. Thanks for inviting me, the food was really good.”

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah, everything is fine. This is the first time I’ve travelled without Rory, so my mum anxiety is a little high. I trust Kate to call me if anything is wrong, but I think I’m going to catch the last train tonight. I probably won’t be able to stay awake past 11pm anyway so I’ll take off when you guys head to the bar.”

“You didn’t want to leave Rory with your parents?” As soon as the question leaves his mouth, he immediately regrets it.

“Um, they are a little lukewarm about the whole pregnancy thing. And my neighbour’s daughter has been helping me babysit for a while now, so.” She punctuates her sentence with a closed lip smile and small shrug.

“Speaking of meeting Rory,” Harry changes the subject, “I uh, I didn’t realise that Kevin and Samantha know about her. Y’know, since they don’t live in Holmes Chapel anymore.”

“Oh, yeah. Sometimes I bump into friends’ parents at the supermarket. A lot of them hear about Rory from them.”

He nods. “Right, that’s the good thing about –“

“Hey man, we got a table at the bar, c’mon.”

Before he can tell his friends that he’ll join them in a minute, Charlie is already adjusting her purse over her shoulder and looking for a ride.

“Thanks again for inviting me, come say hi the next time you visit Anne.”

Harry stands with her and accepts her hug goodbye, hands maybe a bit lower than what would be considered platonic.

“Y’sure you don’t want to join us? You can stay at mine tonight, and I’ll catch the train home with you tomorrow morning if you want. Then I’ll get to see Rory too,” he says with his face buried in her hair.

“It’s okay, Harry. I’ll be worrying too much to be any fun and I’m ready for bed.”

“Then … remember to text me when you board and when you reach home, yeah.”

She promises with a smile. That’s her best friend. The boy who never let her go home alone when they went on nights out as teens, and when he moved away, he would demand selfies from her bedroom instead of just texts as proof of her safety.

With one last wave, Harry watches as she climbs into her taxi, letting out a long and wistful sigh when the cab goes out of sight. He misses her already. He misses her and his god daughter. As he leans back against his seat in the bar and sips on brandy, he lets his mind wander.

He imagines going home at the end of the night to little Rory asleep in her cot and Charlie with wet hair and glasses sat under the duvet waiting for him. He imagines rocking Rory to sleep and rubbing Charlie’s back to help her relax after a long day at work. Worst of all, he imagines giving Rory little pecks around her chubby face, then pressing his mouth to Charlie’s, kissing her long and slow.

Before meeting Rory, these little fantasies that he would indulge gets chalked up to lust, even if the fantasy is something mundane like painting their nails together. But now, they are so undeniably domestic that he can’t lie to himself anymore.

As he makes his way home for the night, he pulls out his phone to start moving meetings around, determined to spend more than a weekend with Charlie the next time.

Any idea why a box full of baby clothes and shoes from Gucci got delivered to my house?

No clue, lucky you. Do they fit? xx

Harry.

Charlie. xx

They’re a little big but she’ll grow into them. Thank you. You really didn’t need to get her anything, let alone stuff from Gucci.

Hmm, it might take a while for her to grow into those green flares though. You might need to wear them in the meantime, so moths don’t eat the fabric. xx

Very subtle Styles. It’s too expensive please let me send it back.

It’s a belated baby shower gift, you can’t send it back. xx

You are supposed to buy stuff for the baby, not the mum.

I don’t need an excuse to buy my god daughter nice things. You, however, refuse everything I offer. Please keep them, I know you’ll love them once you try them on. xx

Fine.

Yaaaay! We can match when we go out next time. Send me pics of Rory in the clothes! xx

This is the third package he has sent: the first was a package of children’s’ books from the local bookstore; the second was some custom TWPK baby clothes; and this third package is by far the most extravagant and unnecessary.

He has always loved spoiling people. Be it resizing one of his thousand dollar rings for her because she once mentioned in passing how much she liked it or offering to pay for her plumbing to be redone when he found out her walls were filling with water and her bathroom was growing mould. She knows that this is his way of supporting her since they rarely see each other, he likes helping her with things around the house especially, it makes him feel normal and homey.

When she is the object of his generosity, she will more often than not decline, but now that he is buying things for Rory, she can’t say no. Part of her still feels guilty for not telling him that she was expecting. He missed a potential baby shower, her delivery, and Rory’s first birthday. The forlorn look in his eye and his sad smile when she showed him a video of Rory shoving her birthday cupcake into her face was unmissable. She replayed the video for him twice before he asked if he could have the video in a soft voice.

No one has been this excited about Rory before. Admittedly, she hasn’t really let anyone into her new mum life, so no one has had the chance to. Save for a select few, all the photos and videos she takes of Rory are for her eyes only. They were for her to scroll through and get teary eyed over whenever she feels upset about how quickly Rory is growing out of her clothes. They were for her to feel like she has someone to share Rory with, continuing to capture cute moments as if someone else was missing out.

But there is no one else. It’s just Charlie and Rory, Rory and Charlie. Well, for right now it might be Charlie, Rory, and Harry. The part of her brain that remembers his scent and the timbre of his voice tells her to relax and embrace it. Harry being a part of their lives makes sense.

It makes sense to send him photos of Rory with her breakfast smeared all over her cheeks.

It makes sense to update him on what new foods Rory has started to eat.

It makes sense to send him videos of Rory trying to walk on her wobbly legs, only to inevitably plop down on her diapered butt.

But the part of her brain that remembers that they are only in the same town for a couple weeks a year warns her to not let either Harry or Rory get too attached. Rory is just one of his many godchildren, and she is one of his many best friends. Realistically, once Harry goes back to work full time, his godfatherly duties is going to be reduced to a birthday gift in the mail and a couple of video calls a week. The smart thing to do would be to establish the boundaries now so that no one has to yearn or miss or ache.

I’m going to visit Mum next week and I thought that I could stay with you and help out with Rory. It’ll be for about two weeks. Will that be okay? xx

Fuck. So much for that.

Watching Harry move into her house does strange things to Charlie’s heart. Moving in is an exaggeration, he just has a duffle and its only for two weeks. Still, seeing him hang up his coats and display his toiletries has her imagination going wild.

After much arguing, he finally agreed to take over her bedroom while she sets up the sofa bed in Rory’s room. As persuasive as he was in trying to convince Charlie that he does not mind being roommates with a one year old baby, she knows that despite how much he says he loves children, he is definitely not prepared to take care of Rory throughout the night for two weeks.

She wonders if Harry does this for all his godchildren. Has he offered to be a live in nanny for any of his other friends? Does he look at his other godchildren like they hold the moon and the stars in their eyes? Because if he looks at your child the way that he is looking at Rory right now, you will definitely fall in love.

The moment he deposited his bag in his room, he washed his hands then skipped back into the living room to lift Rory out of her highchair and pop her onto his hip. With a small, satisfied smile affixed onto his face he trots back to his room and lays the baby on bed tummy side down, as if he has done a thousand times before. Incredibly, Rory doesn’t seem to mind. She doesn’t whine, fuss, or seem at all bothered by this new, tall man carrying her around. In fact, she seems quite happy to be in Harry’s arms, smiling and clapping her little hands together when she gets lifted up, enjoying being up this high for the first time.

Charlie feels like a creep as she silently observes the scene before her. She has to bite down on her lower lip to suppress a smile, feeling oddly moved by how comfortable they are with each other. When she let Harry into the house, she didn’t expect him to feel to at home immediately. Sure, he’s been over a million times before and he knows where everything in the kitchen is kept, but he hasn’t spent a lot of time in her bedroom, and he’s only met Rory once a week ago.

She also didn’t expect Rory to be so at home with Harry. The last time they met, Rory’s attention was split between him and her bottle. Yet now, she babbles and giggles with Harry just as she would with her mum. And there is something so attractive about his confidence with Rory. Picking her up without hesitation, tickling her belly to make her laugh, and speaking to her as if she is an adult.

“Isn’t this one pretty, monkey?” he asks as he holds up a ring in front of her. “This one isn’t too chunky so it shouldn’t hurt if I pick you up with it on. And the ruby is a pretty colour, huh. I only brought chokers just in case you are a yanker. Are you a yanker little monkey?”

Everyone knows that hot man, plus child, equals swooning. What Charlie isn’t prepared for is hot man, plus your child, equals your ovaries exploding.

“Can I give you a kiss, monkey?” The question is directed at Rory, but Harry’s eyes are trained on Charlie.

This man is asking for consent to kiss her baby. As if he couldn’t get hotter.

“Go ahead. She’s super cuddly and affectionate. She loves kisses.”

His eyes light up and his mouth opens to let out a playful gasp. “This little monkey loves kisses,” he says, punctuating each word with a kiss to her cheeks. “Good thing Uncle Harry loves kisses too.”

She doesn’t fight the smile that is heavy with affection from growing on her face. Uncle Harry. He just might be her first and only uncle.

“She knows how to give kisses too. If you hold her close to your face and ask for a kissy she’ll give you one. They’re less like a kiss and more like her pressing her slobbery little mouth onto your face though.”

She doesn’t know how, but his eyes grow even wider with delight.

“Can Uncle Harry have a kissy please?” Rory obliges and smushes her open, smiling mouth onto his cheek. “Oh, thank you monkey. You’re so sweet for me aren’t ya?”

As if she understands what he says, Rory starts kicking her little legs and clapping excitedly. Then, she babbles out, “Mama mamamama.”

“You wanna give mummy a kiss?” he asks, shaking her gently to elicit more giggles. “C’mere mummy,” he beckons.

The tightening of her chest when he refers to her as ‘mummy’ is something she did not anticipate.

Sitting opposite them on the bed, Harry turns Rory, who is still being held up by her underarms, and allows Rory to lean forward to press a little kiss onto her cheek. He wears a grin the whole time, smacking his lips together to make a loud “muah”, which makes Rory burst into giggles again.

Still refusing to let go of Rory, Harry starts bouncing her up on and down on the bed to try and expend some of her energy. Charlie can’t stop thinking about how good he is with Rory, and Harry can’t seem to take his eyes off of the baby in his arms.

This domestic bliss lasts longer than Charlie expects. That first night, Harry studies Rory’s bedtime routine as if he is training for a job. He stands behind Charlie watching over her shoulder as she portions out Rory’s dinner, then straps her into her blanket sack to set her down for the night. He even scans the nursery and takes note of the temperature the thermostat is set to and where the baby monitor is placed.

There is no need to know these things since Charlie is sleeping in the nursery, so he will likely never be the one to put Rory to bed. But it feels nice to know that Rory sleeps at 26 degrees. Just like how it feels nice to know that she gets three little kisses from her mum before she gets put down for the night, one on each cheek and one on the forehead.

Charlie definitely catches on to Harry’s eagerness. If he’s home for bedtime, which he always is, she will stand at the foot of the stairs looking at him until he gets up to follow them with a pep in his step. On the third night, she offers to let him read the bedtime story, with Rory tucked into the crook of his elbow. When the adults return to the living room to finish up the chores for the night, a small, contented smile doesn’t leave his face.

And that’s where they find themselves tonight, about a week into Harry’s stay. On the couch, each nursing a glass of red wine with Pointless playing softly in the background.

“How was the pub with the boys?”

“It was fun. We had a good time and Mrs Calloway’s gravy is always so good.” He takes a sip of wine. “By the way, is it okay if I talk about Rory to other people?”

She turns to face him, resting her cheek against the sofa cushion. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, like today the boys were asking about how you’re doing, and I was telling them everything is good, and I was going to tell them about how I’m trying to get Rory to say my name and walk to me, but I didn’t know if it’s okay for me to talk about stuff like that or show them videos.”

“You can talk about her and show people photos and stuff. You can post her on Instagram if you want, as long as you don’t show her face.”

“Nah, I don’t want to share her with the world yet. I just got her, I want to keep her to myself for a while more. But when I do get Rory saying my name on video, I will be showing it to everyone.”

Charlie lazily lets out a giggle. “Well, you’ve got a couple more days to squeeze it out of her. I’m still not certain she is saying ‘mama’ and not just babbling.”

“What’d you mean I’ve only got a couple more days? I expect you to give me at least two calls a week with the monkey when I’m gone. And I would hope that you will be talking to her about me every day.”

“Hmm, we’ll see.” She sips her wine with a smirk.

His mouth drops open in mock offense. “Hey, Rory loves me. Once she starts saying my name, she’ll be asking for me all the time.”

“You better to get to work then.”

With lingering smiles, they sip their wine in silence and return their attention to the tv.

After downing his last bit of wine, Harry takes in Charlie’s side profile with a gentle intensity.

Feeling his eyes on her, she asks, “What?”

He shakes his head. “It’s just, you’re doing such a good job raising her, she’s such a happy baby.” His voice is low, almost at a hoarse whisper.

The sincerity in his voice makes her chest tighten. When she told her parents that she was pregnant, she remembers how their lips tightened into a thin line, neither saying a word. The silence was devastating. She wasn’t expecting them to be thrilled, she just hoped they would be a little supportive. They didn’t have to be doting grandparents, she just wanted them to be her parents, to tell her it would be okay and that she would figure out how to be a mother in no time. She certainly didn’t get that from Richard, evident from how his face paled before darting out of her flat without saying a word, only to text her the next day to say that a child would make his anxiety worse, and he had to put his mental health first. Her parents felt like a safety net, parents are supposed to love you unconditionally. If Richard didn’t love her enough to stick around, surely her parents would. Even after their lack of reaction, she remained hopeful. She invited them to see Rory the day after she was born, thinking that they would take one look at Rory and fall completely in love, the way that she had. Of course, that didn’t happen. She was an idiot for thinking it would. She pathetically presented Rory to them with pride, and they just stared at Rory with raised eyebrows, looking at her with suspect. The closest thing to a positive reaction was the terse “Congratulations” they gave as they took their leave.

Yet somehow, all of that didn’t matter anymore. Harry thinks she is a good mum. In one sentence he managed to undo so much hurt from the people who let her down the most.

She clears her throat before saying, “Thank you. That means a lot.”

Harry doesn’t ask what’s wrong even though he really wants to. He thought the complement would place a little smile onto her face, put her in a good mood before bed. Instead, Charlie’s brows are knitted together, and her mouth is downturned into the faintest frown, eyes locked onto the plant sitting on the table behind them.

In the short time they’ve spent together he’s discovered that she has suffered a world of hurt and rejection in just a year. It’s unfair. He wishes that she had let him in sooner and allowed him to give her the love and support she deserves from day one.

His insistence on staying with Charlie during his visit was partly due to selfish reasons. Wanting to help her around the house is only partly true. His other main motivation is to try and wiggle his way into her life, to get her to see him as someone who fits in to her new life, as someone she can trust with Rory.

He can’t describe how it felt seeing Rory for the first time. When he looks at her, all he can see is Charlie, the woman he holds so dear to him. It feels different. More. From the first time he picked Rory up, everything just felt so easy. There was no thinking twice or second guessing. Rory is meant to be in his arms. He has never felt a sense of protectiveness so instinctive like this before. It’s scary. But this is a good type of scary he reckons. It must be, because it has led him here, with Charlie and a darling asleep upstairs.

Instead of saying anything more, he wraps his arm around her shoulders to pull her into his chest, kissing the top of her head before tucking her under his chin. When he feels her breaths slow down and her body lean into his, he carefully sets their glasses aside then properly wraps her in his embrace to join her in sleep.

“Mmmm, that’s good huh, monkey. Mummy makes good muffins doesn’t she,” Harry coos as he sits in front of Rory’s highchair, breaking off pieces of muffin for her to eat. “We’re going on an adventure today so you gotta finish everything.”

Despite Charlie assuring him that Rory is old enough to eat on her own, Harry would without fail be parked by the highchair and speaking to her as she eats. His favourite bit is when she tries to drink water from her little silicone cup and dumps most of it down her shirt because she still hasn’t quite gotten the hang of drinking out of cups. Even though this happens every day at every mealtime, Harry always films it and either makes a little accompanying sound effects or offers his own commentary.

Rory loves the attention. She is never camera shy, always showing off her growing teeth in a wide smile and clapping along to Harry’s laughter. Charlie has no clue where her daughter got this bubbly personality from because neither parent is much of a performer, but she loves it.

They are taking advantage of the nice weather and going on a walk to the local farmers’ market before going to Anne’s for lunch. The good thing about a small town is that Harry doesn’t get followed or photographed as much and the past few times Harry has brought Rory to the park they have been left alone. So, Charlie feels optimistic about not having the safety of the car.

Picking Rory’s outfit has become Harry’s daily duty. Today, he has her dressed in a flowery white sundress with matching white booties and a little straw sunhat. As per usual, he makes sure to take a bunch of photos in her little outfit, adding to the growing collection that he has amassed over the past week.

“So nice of you to finally stop hogging my daughter,” she quips when he passes Rory into her.

“Hey, you’ve had her all to yourself for over a year. And at the end of this week, I will only get to see her through the phone.”

“I know, I’m kidding. She’s probably sick of seeing my mug every day so I’m sure she loves having you around.”

As much as she complains about living in a small town by the country, it’s days like this that she remembers why she decided to stay, and not look for a higher paying job in a city. Feeling the warmth of the morning sun on her face as she sips an iced coffee is simply heaven.

The charm of a farmers’ market never wears off. She loves picking out the most misshapen loaf of bread, choosing the wonkiest fruits, and sampling all the homemade jams and spreads to find a unique one to add to her assortment at home. Now that she’s a familiar face at this market, the stallholders she visits every week usually has some sort of treat for Rory and she makes sure to pull back the visor on the stroller to let everyone coo and make faces at the baby.

After spending around an hour just walking around and talking to people, they park their bags and stroller by a bench to let Rory play on the nearby grass patch. She is trying to wean off the morning nap, so any sort of stimulation is good to stop her from drifting to sleep in her stroller.

Charlie keeps a close eye on Rory as Harry follows her around the grass, ready to catch and prop her back up when her legs get tired. Ever curious, Rory immediately makes her way to join the other children and every time a dog walks past, she starts pointing and bouncing on the spot to signal that she wants to be carried to pet the dog.

While Charlie takes her eyes off the pair for a minute to pack their groceries neatly into her tote, she notices that a few girls have stopped near her and started to whisper to each other furiously. They are fans of Harry, she assumes. Even though they haven’t taken any photos or started filming, her mum instincts can’t help but kick in.

She walks to Harry as casually as possible to try and not draw any unwanted attention and tugs on his sleeve. “Hey, I think the girls over there are fans. Let me watch Rory then you can go say hi.”

The girls are polite, thankfully. They ask how his break is going and ask for a selfie each. After which, they wish him well and are ready to leave him be. But as they turn and prepare to go, Harry quickly taps their shoulders and quietly requests that they delete anything they have taken other than the selfies with him and to not post anything online until the end of the day. To his relief, they agree with no issue, and he goes back to his girls a little less worried that Charlie would be mad at him. But he apologises nonetheless.

“Don’t worry about it. Should we start walking to Anne’s? I think Rory is properly tuckered out.”

Anne’s house is a twenty minute walk, but the cool breeze and unobstructed blue sky makes the time fly by. This is the first time Anne will be meeting Rory proper. While she didn’t express anything but excitement when she first met Rory, Charlie can’t help but feel a bit on guard. Thankfully, her fears are unfounded because the door swings open before Harry finishes the third knock and they are greeted by the biggest grin possible.

“Oh, hello darling!” Anne coos, immediately bending down to wave at Rory. “Aren’t you the sweetest little thing. Charlie sweetheart, I am so proud of you. My little Charlie is a mother, I can’t believe it.”

Anne steps round the stroller and gives Charlie the tightest squeeze. It happens so quickly that Charlie is almost knocked over by the force of the hug. When she finally registers what’s happening, she tentatively raises her arms to return the gesture.

“Thank you, Anne,” she whispers.

Before Anne pulls away, Charlie pushes down the oncoming tears and schools her features into something more casual, and pleasant.

“Wow, love you too mum.”

In classic mum fashion, she gives his cheek a pinch and says, “God forbid the attention is on someone else for once, huh. It’s nice to see you too, love.”

They get ushered to the back garden where the table has been beautifully set and with all their childhood favourites present. Charlie lags a little behind, slowing taking in the china, the glasses, and the pastel tulips – it’s all quite different to the usual meals that she had at Anne’s growing up.

She doesn’t realise she has been standing and staring until someone gives her elbow a squeeze. Snapping out her reverie, she blinks to see Harry standing in front of her looking concerned.

“You alright love?”

“Umm,” she nods, “I just need to go to the bathroom, help me watch Rory for a bit.”

Not waiting for his response, she makes her way up the stairs and slumping into herself against the locked bathroom door. It’s stupid how overwhelmed she feels. It’s not like Anne had gone above and beyond and catered a huge elaborate meal, it’s just like any other meal she’s had at Anne’s house, just with nicer plates and flowers dotted round. Has she really become so pathetic that a homecooked meal is enough to make her burst into tears? Just as she’s starting to shake off the whole ‘sad single mum’ thing, she’s slapped in the face with how sorry a state she has allowed herself to sink to. In just a year, she managed to push away the those closest to her, leaving her to find comfort in a family that’s not even hers.

She tells herself to get it together, giving her face a quick splash of water to hopefully wash off the self-pity. As she re-joins the rest, she quickly apologises for keeping everyone waiting and immediately engages Anne in a conversation about the food to take the attention off of her.

Each bite of food fills her heart with fondness. There is nothing like a homecooked meal to heal the soul, and god knows it has been ages since she got cooked for. A roast chicken is no match for her mother’s mutton biryani, but right now it’s doing wonders.

When Harry gets stuck into a story from set, her eyes wonder to her daughter who’s sitting in a highchair that Anne dug out from somewhere, happily shoving fistfuls of potato into her mouth. She never wants to see Rory without a smile, and she’s going to get as many homecooked biryanis she wants. In fact, even when she goes to university –

“- Love?”

“Hmm?” Charlie’s eyes snap back to the adults she is dining with.

“Do you want anymore chicken? Or are you ready for some trifle?”

“Trifle sounds good. Let me help you clear the table.”

Before she can stand up, Anne is waving at her to sit down. “You’re the guest Charlie, you stay where you are. My darling son is going to clear the table.”

“Chopped liver I am today.” Even though Harry huffs loudly when he starts stacking plates, he still gives his mum a kiss on the head before heading to the kitchen.

The women sit in silence for a little, sipping their drinks and taking in the nice weather. Anne takes a slow, thoughtful sip, then leans forward with her eyes heavy with emotion.

“Charlie,” she says softly, “I hope you know that if you ever need any help with Rory you can come to me. Hell, if you need help completely unrelated to Rory you can always come to me. Whether you need someone to babysit or if you want someone to vent I’m here.”

“Anne, thank you I really appreciate –“

“No, I mean it,” Anne interrupts with a sense of determination in her voice. “I don’t know what happened with the pregnancy and I don’t know why you didn’t tell anyone, why you didn’t tell me, but if you need a mother, I’m always going to be just a phone call away. Like always. Nothing’s changed, darling.”

This time, Charlie doesn’t even try to fight the tears. They stream down her face as she sits still and unmoving in her seat. She doesn’t know what to feel. She feels guilty for ever doubting that Anne would be anything but kind and welcoming. But that small voice at the back of her mind tells her that she is undeserving. If her own mother can’t love her through this how could someone else’s mother?

“I … Anne, you … “

“Alright ladies I hope you saved room for dessert. What? Why’re you both crying?”

Anne wipes away her stray tears with a dismissive laugh. “Nothing Harry, just girl stuff.”

Harry clearly doesn’t buy it, but he dishes up the trifle then turns the attention back to Rory, because nothing cures sadness like an adorable little girl.

“D’you think the monkey would like some trifle?”

The air of seriousness quickly dissipates, and they fall back into casual conversation until they make their leave in the early evening. Anne’s departing hug feels heavier than usual, but Charlie shuts her eyes and indulges in it.

Charlie somehow finds herself in another one of her domestic daydreams with Harry. So much for setting boundaries. But it’s his last day here, so whatever damage can be slowly undone over the however long it will before she sees him next.

It was near impossible to separate Harry and Rory this morning. He couldn’t even wait for them downstairs as he usually would, knocking on the nursery door at seven sharp and peeking round the door to see if the baby is awake. She let him shower Rory with affection and attention, hugging her extra tight and chasing her around the living room until they both collapse into a fit of giggles on the floor.

They didn’t have plans to leave the house today, but Charlie is a sucker for Harry’s pout and when he tells her to trust him in his low, syrupy voice, she can’t say no. She has been cautious about going out with Rory and Harry in case someone takes a picture and posts them online. In their years of friendship, she has been photographed with him loads and she’s no stranger to the fans, but as far as she knows, Rory is still a well kept secret. And being shipped with Harry is one thing but being shipped with Harry as a mother is a whole new can of worms that she would prefer to stay shut. Thankfully, the fans they bumped into when they have been out together have been nice enough to only post their selfies with Harry online, and this has made him confident enough to want to go on a little last minute picnic in the park. So, Charlie pushes her fears aside and gives in to him.

They find a cute spot under a large tree and sprawl out over a picnic mat. Rory is in a light blue gingham dress with a matching bucket hat that Charlie is certain she didn’t buy, and Harry is entertaining himself by following the baby around, snapping pictures every other second. They’d usually go home when Rory gets fussy and needs to be put down for a nap but she falls asleep uncharacteristically quickly simply lying on the mat, shielded by Harry’s shadow. Deciding to take full advantage of the nice weather, the adults lie beside each other with the baby between them.

Charlie tilts her head to peak at Harry who appears to be taking nap. Eyes shut with one arm under his head and another on his belly, rising and falling as he breathes deeply. He looks incredibly cuddly in a well-loved striped jumper, hair freshly washed and fluffy, just begging for someone to run their fingers through it. She wonders what she would smell if she curled up against the curve of his waist and rested her head on his chest. Would he smell like her since he has been using her soaps and detergents? Or would his usual deep musky scent trump the others, retaining his usual ‘Harry-ness’. Her eyes lock onto his jaw, all sharp and angular. When they were teens, she used to think about what it might feel like to trace his jawline with little kisses, then bring her mouth down to the hollow of his neck and caress it with her lips, teeth, and tongue until it is marked purple and blue. Especially when his hair was long and would have shielded any bruises from prying eyes. She wanted to stake her claim on him like the girls he hooked up with would try to do. Management was strict about remaining clean from evidence of any lovers, but Charlie liked to think that Harry would have made an exception for her if she asked him to.

She studies his features carefully, wanting to commit every crevice to memory. Time apart never gets easier; she misses him just as much each time. When her eyes reach his she jumps a little, not expecting them to be open and full of mirth.

“Having fun?” he asks with a smirk.

Charlie’s face heats. She says nothing.

“You can keep staring if you like, I’ll continue pretending to be asleep.”

“Shut up.” She throws a grape at Harry as he giggles.

Harry reaches across Rory to intertwine his fingers with hers. “I’ll be back soon, I promise. It won’t be as long as last time. I should have at least a week off between Coachella and all the movie promo, so it’ll just be about a month.”

“H, you don’t have to fly back every chance you get. Don’t stress yourself out. Make sure you’re resting enough because you are too important to be falling sick.”

“Sound like a right mum,” he jokes. “I won’t fall sick from flying, I used to do it all the time remember.”

“But you’ll be exhausted, and there’s no need to tire yourself out at my expense. Nothing’s changed from last time. You focus on being Harry Styles, okay.”

He looks at her pensively for a moment, then lets out a little sigh. “Fine, I promise to not go out of my way to come see you if you promise to call me every day, or at least send me a little video of you and monkey. And, if you need anything, anything at all, I expect to be informed promptly.”

“Promise.”

Charlie manoeuvres their fingers so that their pinkies are hooked tightly, earning her a bright grin from Harry.

“We should probably head back, it’s almost Rory’s dinner time. We can make that tuna recipe you sent me I got the ingredients for it last time round.”

As they pack up to leave, Harry instinctively goes to pick Rory up, gently cradling her close to his chest, careful not to wake her. He doesn’t take his eyes off of her until she is safely buckled into the car seat, all too aware that this is going to be his last chance to cuddle her for a while.

“You spoil her you know, always carrying her everywhere and attending to her every time she looks your way.”

“She’s my little princess, I’m always going to spoil her,” Harry says without hesitation.

Harry is almost overwhelmed by how strongly he has come to care about Rory. It’s not unexpected, he has loved every one of his god children the moment he saw them. There is just something different, something more, when it comes to Rory.

Any excitement for possibly the biggest moment of his career is easily eclipsed by his excitement for his daily dose of Charlie and Rory. He should be concerned and if he had any sort of common sense, he would tell himself to pull back before he gets too emotionally attached to the idea of being a permanent figure in their lives, too attached to the idea of building a family back in Holmes Chapel with the woman who has made him who he is today. Harry must be an idiot, because he dives headfirst into the life that he has created in his head anyways, ignoring every warning sign along the way.

Is your Instagram still your only social media account?

Yup. Why?

Nothing. Promo has just started so maybe you want to stay offline a little in case they start saying things about me.

Okay, thanks for the heads up. Good luck with all the interviews rockstar.

I miss you. Tell Rory I love her. xx

If Charlie was the main character in a romcom, she would hop onto an emergency group call with a bunch of girls and discuss pros and cons. Unfortunately for her, she lost touch with most of her girl friends when she fell into a depressive episode during her pregnancy and the only friend she’s close with is in another continent, and would not react rationally in this situation. Then again, she isn’t sure what the rational reaction is to your ex-boyfriend slash father of your child telling you that he wants to be part of your life via text, completely out of the blue.

Apparently, she forgot to block Richard’s number before she had her mental breakdown because she is greeted by a paralysing text on a perfectly nice Thursday morning.

Hey, sorry this is sudden. I know you probably don’t want to hear from me ever again, but can we meet? In person?

What. The. Fuck.

The mummy blogs certainly didn’t cover this.

She tells herself that she will revisit the text at the end of the day when she is done with work and Rory is down for the night, which results in her completely forgetting about it until the next morning. Well, the dude did walk on out her, the least he can expect is a late reply. But one day turns into two, and two into three. The text still weighs heavy on her mind. Trust Richard to get impatient because on the fourth day he sends another text while Charlie is on facetime with Harry. The notification pops up, taking her by surprise.

“What happened?” Harry asks.

Okay, she is not as subtle as she thought.

“Nothing,” she says, shaking her head.

He squints at her with suspicion. “I thought we said no more secrets.”

Shit, he knows exactly how to get to her.

Charlie tries to change the subject and several times unsuccessful, so she takes a deep breath and puts on a brave face.

“Richardtextedmeandwantstomeetup.”

“What? Slow down, love.”

“Richard texted me a couple days ago saying that he wants us to meet. I haven’t replied him because I just don’t know what to say and he just texted me again.”

Harry’s face immediately hardens into something quite intimidating.

“Huh.”

“Yeah.”

And they’re back to silence. If not for him blinking Charlie would’ve thought his screen was frozen.

“H, please don’t be mad.”

“I’m not mad at you. I’m mad at that asshole.”

“It’s fine, I’ll deal with it later. I don’t want to think about him anymore, I don’t want to ruin my night.”

“Don’t reply to him, please. He doesn’t deserve anything from you. He doesn’t deserve Rory.”

Harry’s right, he always is. Richard is a piece of shit. If he wasn’t ready to be a father a year ago, he isn’t ready to be a father now.

The issue is pushed to the back of her mind and she goes about her routines as per usual. She feeds and cuddles Rory as she gets herself ready for work, leaves when the babysitter arrives at 8.15 am, then comes back in time for dinner and bed, ending her night with a call from Harry. Everything feels stable and predictable, just how she likes it. That is until she swings the door open one morning expecting the babysitter, only to be faced by an unwelcomed someone.

“What are you doing here?” Charlie asks, frozen in place.

He shrugs with his hands in his pockets. “You never replied, so I thought I’d come round to see if you still lived here.”

At least he had the decency to sound a little uncomfortable.

“I thought the lack of replies were pretty clear. I don’t want to see you.”

“C’mon Charlie, I made a mistake. I’m not asking for much, just let me take you out for lunch. Just once.”

Charlie tells herself to remain strong and not give in. “Richard, the sitter is coming soon. You need to leave.”

“You kept the baby?” he asks, all wide eyed and hopeful.

“That’s none of your business.”

“You’re going to keep my child away from me?”

“I’m sorry, I’m keeping them away from you am I?” She is practically growling at this point.

“You know what I mean, I’ve never been good at words.” His voice softens, almost pleading. “Please let me in. I’ve grown, I’m not the same guy anymore. I want to know my child. Please?”

Her brows pinch together and she bites her cheek to stop herself from screaming.

“We will meet for lunch tomorrow and see what happens. That’s the best you’re going to get.”

Richard’s face lights up instantly, relief clear on his face. He gives her a bright grin and thanks her over and over before driving off with a lingering wave. Charlie leans against the shut door and takes a moment to calm herself down.

She forgot how handsome Richard is. Not as much of a looker as Harry, sure, but handsome nonetheless. She had spent months crying over him and now he has weaselled his way back into her brain with his stupid dazzling smile.

Shit. She just agreed to have lunch with her ex-boyfriend and father of her child.

#harry styles fanfic #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harry styles x oc #harry styles fluff #bestfriend!harry #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles imagines #harry styles writing #writing

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cthonicascendant · 9 months

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How do special interests work in your system? Do you all share them, or have individual ones? Or a mix of both?

Speaking of, what are some of y'all's special interests?

Do you stim? Do you share stims or do different members have different ones?

Do you remember your first special interest? What was it?

«ok, this got a bit long because most of our current pilots wanted to share, so i'm gonna put this under a cut.»

How do special interests work in your system? Do you all share them, or have individual ones? Or a mix of both?

«it's a bit of a mix. some of them are shared between a few hivemates, others seem to be individual things? for the most part we lean towards collecting items related to our special interests, or learning about them (which is really just collecting knowledge lol).»

Speaking of, what are some of y'all's special interests?

«one of mine is marshmallow peeps. specifically the yellow chicks; i don't care about any of the other colours, flavours, or shapes. i will, however, accept gifts of peep chick shaped items regardless of colour because most of the non-marshmallow items feature the bunny for some stupid reason. i don't know why; it's called a peep, bunnies do not go peep.»

yarn an yarncraft5 haVent engaged vvith that one much recently becau5e it5 been too fuckin hot to knit much an the yarn keep5 5tickin to my 5kin but al5o axolotl5 5eahor5e5 really ju5t aquatic life in general if you vvant to make me happy take me to an aquarium i dont remember a lot a fact5 about the animal5 i ju5t like vvatchin them an pettin if there5 a touch tank

Tarot in ∫pecific and cartomancy in general! :) We have a ∫mall collection of deck6, pretty much all from Crow and Void∫ong'6 attempt6 to learn how to read tarot card6, and I would like to add more when we have the money for ∫uch thing6 again. My favourite out of the one6 we have i6 the Alleyman'6 Tarot - it remind6 me of my "eclectic" deck from my ∫ource, ∫ince that deck wa6 al∫o a mixmatch of card6 of variou6 provenance.

>.architecture. .i unfortunately do not get to indulge in this one much because it bores the others. .one of my favorite eras of earth architecture is art nouveau; it's very elegant. .we didn't really have anything like it back in the alternian empire.<

Quantum physics. - Harry

Do you stim? Do you share stims or do different members have different ones?

«we do stim! though we tend to have different stims. mine tend to be vocal in nature. one of my main ones is saying "meep meep mareep". or just singing. another one i have is rubbing soft, fuzzy things against my face.»

mine tend to be more phy5ical although i do al5o 5ing a5 a 5tim othervvi5e i do like knuckle crackin thumpin my fi5t5 again5t my che5t or ju5t uh 5hiftin my vveight back an forth if i got mu5ic on i tend to bop to the rhythm one a my more problematic 5tim5 i5 5mokin or Vapin

Card ∫huffling for me. It'6 very ∫oothing.

>.i don't really stim, myself.<

I also am not much for stimming. If I do it's generally something discreet like rubbing my hands together, or crossing my arms tightly while rubbing the fabric of my shirt between my fingers. - Harry

Do you remember your first special interest? What was it?

«the earliest one i can remember is sailor moon, but that's probably not the first one? but i was absolutely obsessed. made an entire notebook of facts about the sailor senshi, had my own little fanpage, turned in fanfic for creative writing assignments...»

ab5olute earlie5t one i can remember i5 the mighty duck5 both the moVie5 an the hockey team vve eVen had a paul kariya action figure an vve taped up nevv5paper clippin5 of picture5 an 5core5 aboVe our bed an had tradin card5 vve vvould a been about 3 or 4 vvhen the fir5t moVie came out an the hockey team vva5 5tarted 5o that i5 hone5tly probably the fir5t one

Thi6 one i6 of cour∫e purely exomemory ba∫ed, ∫ince I've been here all of a week, but computer6! Specifically thing6 like programming and hacking. Unfortunately a lot of my knowledge didn't tran∫fer over, or I can't remember it, ∫o it'6 taken a back ∫eat for now.

>.still architecture. .lmao.<

Tinkering, I suppose. One of my earliest memories is of disassembling and fixing a broken radio we had when I was small. (This would be what one might call an exomemory, although from my perspective it's just a regular memory.) I still like taking things apart and putting them back together, preferably with improvements. - Harry

#ultragreedier #ask game response #untranslated typing quirk #void5ong #>.mierco.<#~harry #aicla6 #«crow»

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artyghoul · 3 years

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h&l in a gondola while h is wearing his outfit from the pics from yesterday would be sooooo cute

Italy trip AU~

#larry fanart #1d fanart #one direction fanart #I didn't know which outfit so I kinda mixed two!#and made a whole scene....#one of the best games of all time is assassin's creed 2 so I was very happy to look at pictures of gondolas in venice!#uh peep harry's hands??? why am I like this #:)#1d #reply #tenk u

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missluckycharms · 2 years

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Harry and y/n are having sex and Niall runs into the room because he needs something from and hears y/n saying daddy

I made this older!harry ❤️‍🩹

“Need to stay quiet baby, okay? That’s it.” He whispers against her neck, his face in the crook of it as she holds onto his shoulders, legs wrapped around his waist as he thrusts into her while she’s seated on the edge of his desk.

“Feels too good, I can’t.” She whines out, trying so hard to keep her moans at bay but Harry is just too good, he’s like a sex wizard — she’s fully convinced he is.

“Yes you can, you’re so good for me, yeah? We’re nearly there.” He looks at her, hand wrapped around her throat now as his free one sits on her hip holding her down onto the desk.

“Okay Daddy!” She whines out.

“Hey, Styles! I uh— what the fuck?! Oh my god!”

Harry snaps his head up to see Niall stood at the door, hand over his eyes with sheets dropped to the floor all over it.

“Put her ass way! The door is open! Oh my god!” Niall shouts, Harry immediately grabbing Y/N and pulling her dress down, adjusting himself back into his trousers as Niall mumbles to himself.

“There’s this thing, called knocking!”

“Yeah! And there’s this thing called locking the fucking door!”

Harry clenches his jaw, looking at Niall who’s still covering his eyes, Y/N now sat in Harry’s desk chair awkwardly looking at the two men.

“You can open your eyes, Niall.”

“I’m not sure I want to.”

“What do you want?” Harry asks, Niall hesitantly opening his eyes and peeping at the pair that are now dressed and decent.

“Did she call you Daddy?” Niall asks, pointing at Y/N who blushes a deep red.

“Leave.” Harry sighs out, Niall wiggling his eyebrows at the pair before speaking up.

“Okay Daddy.”

#older!harry #anon <3 #harry styles blurb

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rommahh · 3 years

Text

{Harry in sparkly black….Harry lemme **** *** *** for free}

You hadn’t talked to Harry all day. Not that you were mad at him or anything but your therapy this morning left you feeling a little spacey. There was something about talking about your emotions that left you feeling emotionally drained.

You missed Harry terribly and though it’s only been a short week, you felt very lonely. But on another note, your anxiety wasn’t as bad as it was. You were starting to feel like your normal self again but missing something.

You loved the tight knit life you have with Harry. You like being around him most hours of the day. You two were inseparable. If you were in the shower, he was in the bathroom reading a book from the lounger chair in the corner. If he was writing music on the beach, you were somewhere on the shore collecting shells. If you were going to the grocery store the least he could do was go for the drive with you. You two were close and it was something the both of you were ok with.

Some couples don’t like being so close but it worked for you and Harry. Being away from Harry was a weird experience. It’s only been a week but you feel like it’s been a lifetime. You haven’t minded being on your own but you wanted to be with the person you felt most connected to.

So being you, you purchased a ticket to Chicago. You didn’t know how Harry was going to react but you could only assume it would be a positive reaction. You told Jeff that you were coming so he could get you a hotel key and backstage pass.

As you sat in the airport you felt your back pocket buzz- your music pausing for the call. Your hand slipped into the pocket roughly pulling out the small phone. Harry’s icon, him in a fluffy robe looking as grumpy as ever, met your eyes. You cursed because you were quite obviously in the airport and if he saw you, the surprise would be ruined.

You answered anyways but only for audio. You made sure that your airpods were snug in you ear and there was no chance of them falling out.

“My lover!” Harry greets you a in sing song voice. You could hear his humph as he recognizes that you didn’t answer with the FaceTime video on. “Turn your camera on.”

“Can’t, I’m not feeling good.” You fib nervously. Harry frowned, nervous that he may have done something to upset you.

“Oh, alright. What’s wrong then?” He asks. You chew your lip trying to think of an answer.

“Uh, period.” You stammer.

“Your period doesn’t start for another few day…saw it on the tracker.” Harry may have your period tracker on his phone but it was because he wanted to make sure he was able to comfort you the best way he could when he needed to.

“Must be the meds-“ The sound of your boarding attendant sounded over your head cutting you off. “Hey bubs, I’ve actually got to go but we can’t chat later.”

“Sure, that’s fine I guess. Love you.” He mumbles, confused by the phone call. You hang up leaving Harry a little lost in his thoughts.

Later, Harry sang through his rehearsal carelessly, his head clouded with thoughts. He even sang through TBSL and though he was in the worst of moods, fans waiting at the venue thought he never sounded better.

You on the other hand had just sat through the worst flight of your life. There was a woman in the flight who didn’t want to wear her mask causing commotion before the flight could even take off. You had the worst headache halfway through the flight and because of the lack on supplies, the flight couldn’t give you any ginger ale or accommodations.

You didn’t let any of it get to you though as you directed for the chauffeur Jeff sent for you to go to the venue for show.

Harry sat in the common room backstage with the band and Jeff eating dinner grumpily. His fork was stabbing every little piece of lettuce of his salad, everyone watched worried that he may break his bowl.

“HS3 is trending on Twitter today, pretty exciting.” Jeff says to Harry breaking the silence. Jeff just received a text from you saying that you arrived to the venue and were walking towards Harry’s dressing room.

“Mmm great.” Harry grumbles. Jeff rolled his eyes at the diva.

“Someone’s a little pissy this evening. How about you go fix that mood before you greet your fans with a bad attitude.” Jeff scolds him like a child who just got caught doing something they shouldn’t have. Jeff really didn’t care about Harry’s attitude, used to the moods at this point, but he needed a way for Harry to leave the room and see you in the dressing room.

“Fine, didn’t want to be around anyways.” Harry shrugs.

Back in Harry’s dressing room, you rolled your suitcase into a corner where Harry’s outfit for the night resided on a hanger. You smiled at the sparkly black top that you helped pick out. You walked around his dressing room from the hair and makeup table, past the bathroom/ dressing area, and back around to the couch’s and coffee table where you took a seat. You snagged one of his green juices needing the boost of energy from being on the flight.

You heard the door knob jiggle but stayed planted in you seat sipping on the juice. You never made a peep as Harry barged through the room, scowl covering his face. He stormed past the couch not batting an eye at you. He went to the mini fridge where his juices were before letting an exasperated sigh.

“Who fucking took my juice?” He whines. You quietly giggle in your hand at his tone.

“Im sorry, thought I could have it.” You chuckle. Harry leaps from where he stands letting out a yell. He turns to look at you with wide eyes, hand over his chest as if his heart was going to explode from his chest. You stood from the couch waiting for him to react more but he just stood there in shock. When the realization of you actually being there kicked in he let out another yell before bounding over to you.

Before you knew it, you had two strong arms wrapped tightly around you. Your wrapped around his neck, hands and fingers spread through his hair. His face tucked into your lower neck peppering desperate kisses all over just to feel something.

“What are you doing here?” You hear him cry. You pulled away from him to wipe his eyes of the tears that streamed down his face.

“I needed to see you.” Was all you could muster. He pulled you down on the couch, your body cushioning his larger frame. He laid in between your legs, your back flat in the body of the couch.

“Im so happy your here.” Harry couldn’t even put his excitement into words. He knew you were coming in a week but to have you here earlier than that made him feel things. He sat up from suffocating you into the couch, allowing for you to sit up beside him. “What about your therapy? I hope you’re not jeopardizing your mental health to be here with me cause I would much prefer if you put me on the back burner and took care of yourself.”

You rolled your eyes playfully. “I’m ok. I still will see my therapist virtually, I’ve got all new meds that are working fine, and if all goes to shit I will go back home. It’s ok bubs.” You reassure him.

He grabs your face with both hands pulling your face to his. Your lips meet with need. His lips slotting with yours, moving slowly but with rigor as if he was scared you would slip from his fingers. Your bottom lips fit between his lips leaving for him to suck on it slightly. You moaned at the feeling making Harry pull you in tighter. You sat slightly upon his lap, chest against each other tightly. Your tongues pushed at one another, lips loving in tangent.

You pulled away when you felt his lower presence awaken. He whined at the loss of contact making you giggle.

“If we go any further you’re gonna be late for your show. I’ll give you more back at the hotel, yeah?” You say lowly trying to catch your breathe. He groaned resting his forehead on yours chasing your lips with chaste kisses making you smile.

“Fine, you owe my though. This is level three apology situation that can only be resolved with these things; sloppy blowies, butt stuff, or face masks if you catch my drift.” He chastised. You let out a deep belly laugh pushing yourself away from him. You two still sit facing each other, your legs slightly on top of his.

“You’re so nasty, but I may be able to arrange one of those.” You wink making Harry let out a triumphant laugh.

“Are you staying for the show? I understand if your not.” He questions fiddling with your fingers.

“Think it would be best if I didn’t. I’m really tired and I obviously need a nap if I’m going to be up for your post show antics.” You joke giving his nose a poke. He jokingly pretends to bite your finger in retaliation.

Harry went on stage that night happier than ever. He started plotting proposals from the second he walked you to the car with your suitcase and waved goodbye to you. You went to the hotel room and “accidentally” fell asleep wearing one of your most recent purchases curled up in your tour bus blanket.

Let’s just say that Harry not so accidentally woke you up after that concert ready to love all of his adrenaline off in you.

Part 2👀

#harry styles love on tour #hslot #hslot Chicago #harry styles angst #harry styles smut #harry styles x y/n #harry styles fic #harry styles x you #harry styles x reader #Harry Styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot

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wroteasongabouther · 3 years

Text

can’t stand to see you lonely: part 1

a/n: oh my god guys it’s finally here!😬 i really hope i didn’t hype myself up too much and that you guys actually like it. overall i just wanted to put out a story that revolved around christmas and this is what i came up with! so without me babbling too much, i hope you enjoy part 1 of my new story and as always any feedback/reblogs are very much appreciated.

and of course, thank you to the lovely jess @arrogantstyles and jill @havethetimeofyourstyles for beta reading this part for me and giving this rusty old writer the help i needed lol

word count: 17k

warnings: mentions of alcohol, some sexual tension, and an over consumption of starbucks holiday drinks.

fic page // let’s chat // cstsyl playlist

“What floor?” Harry asks, eyes stuck on the many buttons in the elevator instead of seeing who had entered the small space with him. He can tell it’s a woman, and they smelt lovely.

“Six please,” her soft voice replies.

Harry looks over his shoulder in what he hopes is a smooth motion to get a quick peek at who was behind that sweet voice. Her eyes were squinting slightly as she smiles at him. She must be my new neighbour, he thinks as he hits the number six button and it lights up before the elevator begins to move. He steps back, standing in the opposite corner of the young woman. Harry assumes that she is maybe a few years younger than him, but one thing he knew for sure was that she was very pretty. He may even say she was stunning. She's all bundled up with a long coat and a thick scarf as he guesses she had just gone out for some shopping, judging by the few large white paper bags hanging off her arm.

“Did you just recently move in?” He questions, catching her eyes switching from gazing at the wall to his own instead.

She smiles again and nods, “yeah.”

“I thought I heard someone move in beside me,” he exclaims. He was certain that someone had moved in beside him. It caused him a bit of a headache hearing all the moving around. And then on top of that, his new neighbour had decided to get right to hammering in on the wall they shared. Little did he know, there was a determined and beautiful girl on the other side.

“Oh you’re my neighbour then?” She says, bringing Harry back from his memory of a few days ago.

“Harry,” he introduces himself, reaching a hand out into the space between them. She switches her Starbucks holiday cup into her other hand in order to shake his. Her hand is warm from holding the drink and it causes Harry's stomach to erupt with little bitty butterflies.

“Y/N,” she says in the same gentle voice as before. He wanted to hear her talk more. There was something about the soft tone of her voice, like he could listen to her speak into the late hours and early mornings and never once get tired of it. He blinks a few times and drops her hand at his intimate thought.

Harry didn't believe in love at first sight per say, but he was known to develop an infatuation of sorts very quickly. A crush as some would call it. Well, to be precise, Mitch teases him the most of his little crushes. There was that one time that Harry fumbled over his words over and over again when they had gone for dinner and had a rather attractive waitress, having asked for her number at the end of the night too. Mitch mocked him for days about it, asking if she had ever texted him back - she didn’t. And Harry didn’t even want to think about the time he spilled an entire blended margarita on his white vans when a certain handsome lifeguard had winked at him during their trip in LA last summer. Mitch still doesn’t let that incident go either.

The elevator doors open, and Harry gives her a smile and motions with a hand for her to walk out before he does. His mom must’ve raised him well, Y/N thinks at her new neighbours mannerisms. First holding the elevator for her, then offering to press the elevator button, and now letting her exit first. Suppose it was just minor things, but growing up in this lovely city that is New York meant she was used to the rudeness of people and sadly the simplest of gestures can make her heart beat just a bit faster in her chest.

“If you uh,” Harry pauses as Y/N stops at her front door but looks back at him as he speaks. Harry slows his steps to keep eye contact with her. “If you ever need anything, don’t feel shy to knock on my door.”

Y/N smiles again, nodding at his offer while she twists her key in the lock and opens her front door. Harry's walking backwards now, just a few steps to that same door he’s saying she can knock on. His eye contact is intense, but addicting, like every word she had to say to him mattered. His eyes are green, just green, nothing crazy and yet she found them very endearing. Would it be cliche of her to say she swore she saw them sparkle?

“I’ll keep that in mind, thank you,” she says and before she can say anything else, she steps into her new apartment and shuts the door behind her.

Y/N finds herself standing there for a moment, remembering every word Harry had spoken to her as she slips out of her shoes. She then remembers his facial features while undoing her coat and hanging it up along with her scarf. The bit of facial hair he was sporting, how it seemed like it may have taken a while to grow so he kept it minimal. Or that little mole by his mouth, she even took note of that in their short time together. He had a cute nose too, she thinks. Harry takes up every inch of space in her mind for over an hour before she’s brought out of whatever dream state fog she was in. She lets out a deep breath and shakes her head a little before going about wrapping the presents she had bought earlier in the day while sipping her Christmas Starbucks drink, falling back in love with the holidays all over again.

“No, no, no, no,” Y/N groans as she twists and turns the knobs for her shower, and yet, nothing happens. Only a few drops fall to the tiled floor causing her to let out another string of curses. “This can not be happening,” she says.

But it was. Y/N’s hair was a mess, beyond greasy and a bit matted from her sleep last night. Not to mention she smelt like sweat from bringing up the box that held her new fake christmas tree this morning. She had been tempted to walk down the hall and knock on Harry's door, but she didn’t want to be annoying and fall into the stereotypes of the helpless young female living on her own for the first time. So instead she grabbed a cable knit sweater, tugged on her old dirty ugg boots, and went down in the elevator to meet with the Amazon delivery person. Little did she know that the box was way too tall for the elevator. So, she ended up bringing it up herself. All six flights of stairs, Y/N pulled and dragged that box up to her floor which caused her to break quite the sweat. Thankfully, it wasn’t so heavy, but she couldn’t help but think that she went through all of this just so she could get her new fake christmas tree up. Freaking fake! Not even a real one because apparently that wasn't allowed at her apartment building. Oh, how she was going to miss the smell of a fresh christmas tree. And oh, how she wanted to get rid of this disgusting smell of sweat she embodied now.

“Why me?” She winces, looking up at the ceiling and letting the glass door for her shower close as she gave up on the water magically appearing.

Is this the most appropriate time to not be shy and knock on Harry's door? Suddenly, her Apple watch vibrates, and she brings her arm up to see the reminder she had set before to tell her of the tight schedule she’s on for the day. With only 45 minutes left to get ready, she needed to get moving quickly. Y/N curses herself for wasting the past fifteen minutes on her phone, reading over her newest Instagram comments and aimlessly scrolling through her feed. So she tugs both sides of her purple robe that she had changed into anticipating a shower in her own home. Y/N pulls it tighter and ties the belt around her waist into a bow, and before she can give it a second thought, she’s out the door of her own apartment and starting down the hallway.

Harry didn’t know when he thought Y/N would eventually knock on his door. A part of Harry was hoping that she would have knocked sooner than a week later. But nonetheless, when there was a frantic knock on his door, he didn’t miss how his heart skips in his chest as he imagined Y/N standing on the other side. Peering through the peephole in his door he saw her standing there - in a bathrobe? Harry's brows pull together in confusion as he unlocks the door and heaves the door open.

“Is your water working?” She asks, her voice sounding as panicked as her knocking had been. But before Harry can answer she starts talking a million miles an minute. “Cause mine’s not, like not a single drop and I need to shower. So badly. And I know it’s probably super weird and rude of me to just bang on your door and ask to use your shower. Honestly, I can’t even believe I am but I am in such a hurry and I have the busiest day ahead of me with work and going to the-”

“Y/N,” Harry cuts her off abruptly. Y/N rolls her lips into her mouth and blinks up at him. “You need to use my shower? Is that what you’re getting at?”

Harry is a bit thrown off, not once did he think she’d come knocking for this reason. He glances down the hall awkwardly. He hopes that that noisy neighbour of theirs across the hall wasn’t peeping into their conversation, or seeing Y/N in this bathrobe. Mr Matthers can be a bit of a creep, Harry thinks. At the thought he hears a creak come from behind the door that’s across the hall.

She nods, “I know it’s like super strange to ask but mine is not working and I don’t have time to figure it out.” When Harry looks back at her, he notices she’s staring down at the ground between them, her eyes blinking rapidly as if she’s realizing what she’s gotten herself into. Harry didn’t want her to feel uncomfortable.

“S’alright, really, come in,” Harry says while opening the door to his apartment wider.

Y/N gives him a smile of appreciation before stepping into his home. The layout of Harry’s apartment is really just the opposite of hers, but the interior design he’s gone with is a lot better.

He’s gone for the classic monochrome look with blacks, white and greys. But with pops of colour where it matters, like a blanket over the back of his large L-shaped couch that looked handmade. She wonders if a family member made it, quite liking the light blues and pinks blended together. He’s got the same hardwood flooring like her own apartment and the plain off white paint on the walls - but with a few very unique paintings hung up on them. There’s two tall shelves, full of vinyls and novels and some picture frames too, that are on either side of his large flat screen tv which he took the time to hook up on the wall. It’s got a TV show paused on the screen, in her quick glance she can’t tell what show he was watching before she knocked but it looked like a cooking show. The corners of her lips twitch up into a smile at the thought of Harry being into cooking or baking maybe. He’s got a matching chair to his couch in the living room too that looks like she could fall asleep in it within a second. Overall it simply seems more grown up than her apartment - more put together and clean, that��s for sure.

To give her some credit, she has just moved in while she’s sure Harry’s been here for a while. Harry steps away from the door after locking it again, taking a few steps in order to be in her line of sight. With an arm thrown up, finger pointing down the hall, he gives Y/N another smile. He can’t help it, she looks rather adorable in that purple bathrobe. Was that all she was wearing? He thought to himself. He clears his throat as his mind goes on to imagine what’s under that plush purple material she’s wearing.

“Bathroom’s the first on the left,” he states, “did you bring your own soap or anything?”

“Honestly, no, I just kind of ran out of my place in quite a hurry and didn’t think twice as I got the sudden nerve to come over here.”

“Well, lucky for you I care about hair care, so there’s some good shampoos and even a nice hair oil to put into your hair afterwards when it’s damp. It’s in a small clear bottle with a white and gold label, by my toothbrush,” Harry explains. Y/N nods and starts towards the bathroom. With each step further into Harry’s home, she realizes what exactly she’s done. She can’t believe it really - just asking a complete stranger to let her shower in their home. She could be a murderer for all Harry knew, and he just opened his home up so freely. She steps into the bathroom, switching on the lights and the fan, she shuts the door and sighs. Lifting her arm up her Apple watch lights up to show the time. She had twenty minutes tops to shower, that’s all.

The bathroom is clean, very clean actually. Y/N lets her gaze wander around the space for a moment. There’s matching hand towels and all his skin and hair care are placed neatly on the small counter space too. She assumes he’s a bit of a neat freak. Turning to the shower, she opens the glass door gently and instantly reaches for the silver knobs. As she turns them water falls from the showerhead above her.

“Thank God,” she whispers while looking up at the water.

Y/N adjusts it to her preferred temperature and then she works on untying the knot of her robe. Words can’t describe how grateful she is that it held together in front of Harry. Him seeing her in the robe and with her hair in the state it’s in is embarrassing enough. Honestly, she can’t believe she even knocked on his door in it, and without any clothes to change into afterwards too. Stupid, she thinks while opening the glass door once more and stepping into the shower.

As Harry had said, there’s many bottles littering the built in shelves of the shower. Her fingers lazily turn the bottles so the labels face her. They’re all scented lavender of some sorts, helping with curly hair and volume. Well that explains why his hair looks so lovely, Y/N thinks as she opens a bottle of shampoo and squeezes it till a good amount falls into her other hand. As she hums ‘Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas’ she lathers up her hair and massages her scalp. Rinsing it out after and then doing the same with the conditioner. While she lets the conditioner sit in her hair she scans the few other bottles on the shelves for a body wash. She didn’t want to come out of the shower smelling like a pre-teen boy, but she also did not want to smell like sweat. Goats milk and lavender infused, Y/N reads the label of what looks to do a locally owned product. She can’t help but smile as she reaches for it and pours some into her hands before rubbing it over her skin. There’s something so sweet knowing that Harry supports local businesses. He really doesn’t seem like the guys that Y/N is used to.

Three sharp knocks on the door startle Y/N, bringing her out of her day dreams. She quickly brings her arms up to her chest, trying to save herself some modesty if Harry did walk in. Because of course she didn’t think to lock the door. God, what if Harry is a murderer? Y/N thinks. She doesn’t know him, he could very well walk in here with a large kitchen knife and stab her multiple times in the chest while the water begins to run red and she dies right here all because she thought his dimpled smile and green eyes were enduring. Didn’t she learn anything from the whole Ted Bundy thing? Hello, hot guy doesn’t immediately mean nice!

“Y/N?” Harry calls out from the other side of the door, raising his voice just slightly so she could hear it over the running water. She shakes her head from her ridiculous thought - no more Criminal Minds at night for her, she takes the quick mental note.

“Yes?” She responds.

“I just realized I didn’t give you a towel,” he says, his voice sounding strained as he closes his eyes and tries to not imagine his neighbour naked in his shower. Harry’s fist tightens around the towel as his mind ignores him and thinks of how the water is dripping down her skin.

“Oh, yeah,” she breathes out. Looking around the bathroom beyond the foggy glass. There weren't any towels that she could see. Maybe they were under the sink.

“So I uh, I grabbed one for you. I can just open the door really fast and drop it in, I wouldn’t look in I swear, I’d face the hallway and just reach through,” he clarifies, “wait, you locked the door didn’t you?”

“Actually, I didn’t,” Y/N says, “so yeah just drop it in, please and thank you,”

Harry nods, regardless of the fact Y/N can’t see him. He takes a deep breath before turning the doorknob and opening the door just a crack. The towel doesn’t quite fit through, so he opens it a bit more. His eyes are on the towel as he makes sure it gets into the bathroom. He notices the steam pillowing in the small space and just before he looks the other way, he sees Y/N’s purple bathrobe on the floor. Only her purple bathrobe. Harry swallows and drops the towel to the floor and quickly shuts the door again. Y/N jumps at the sudden slam of the door, her heart having been beating out of her chest as she stood under the warm stream of water and listened to Harry deliver the towel.

He spins around and walks away from the bathroom in a brisk walk, making it to his kitchen in record time. He takes a few breaths and blinks at the view from his kitchen window above the sink. It’s beginning to snow. Something tells him this will excite Y/N - just a feeling he has. He hardly knows the girl and he’s been conjuring up versions of her in his head these past seven days. He’d heard her play music through the walls Tuesday night, he recognized the artist after a few moments. Van Morrison, one of his favourites. What were the odds? He had thought. But then he quickly shut that thought down because many people liked Van Morrison, and just because his very cute neighbour liked the same music he did, that didn’t mean she was meant for him.

Then on Thursday in the middle of the day he had seen her running across the street from his apartment. One thing he loved about his apartment facing the front of the building is how he got to see people coming and going. That day it looked as though she was carrying a take out bag from his favourite restaurant. Again, what were the odds that she liked the same place? But again, he had another hard conversation with himself saying that it was a rather popular place in this area and lots of people liked to go there. Y/N was still a stranger to him. A naked and attractive stranger who was in his bathroom right now.

Harry breathes in deeply and leans both hands at either side of his sink as he watches the large snowflakes fall over New York City. He still couldn’t believe he lived here sometimes. Having grown up in a rather small town in Northern England, where the most exciting thing was the bakery he used to work in as a young teen or maybe the fun graffiti on some of the walls downtown, living in NYC always seemed a bit unrealistic to think of. But this was always a dream of his. To be in one of the biggest cities in the United States and doing what he loved the most.

“It’s snowing?” Y/N’s voice full of irritation catches Harry off guard. He turns around to see her standing in the threshold between his kitchen and living room. That purple robe, which would be making an appearance in his dreams he’s sure of, is back on her now clean body while the towel he had given her is wrapped around her hair atop of her head.

“You don’t like the snow?” Harry questions, both of his brows raised high at how off he was about his instinct of her loving the snow.

“No, I mean, yes I do,” she shakes her head slightly, “I just don't like driving it in. New York drivers already freaking suck and the moment snow starts falling it’s like they forget how to drive altogether.” Y/N explains, crossing her arms at her chest.

“It’s the same in London, nearly got into a few accidents in my early years of driving thanks to it,” Harry reveals. Y/N smiles at the knowledge about himself he had let slip, regardless of how irrelevant it is.

“Anyways,” she sighs, “thank you for letting me barge in here and use your shower.”

“It’s no problem, really,” Harry assures her.

“No seriously, you saved me a lot of trouble.”

Harry’s chest swells at her words, mirroring her smile as he stuffs his hands into the front pocket of his trousers and leans back against the edge of the counter. Y/N takes this time to look over Harry’s outfit. He’s got on a cream collared ribbed t-shirt, a beaded necklace adorning his neck, a pair of brown pants that flare out and nearly hid his white sock covered feet. He doesn't dress like the men Y/N sees day to day. It's different, kind of old school, but she likes it. Suits him, she thinks, despite the fact that she barely knows him.

“You’ve got to drive somewhere?” Harry questions, unsure if he’s prying.

“Yeah, JFK unfortunately,” she frowns.

“That’s going to be a nightmare,” Harry says.

“Thanks for the reminder, yeah,” Y/N teases him while fighting back the smile pulling at her mouth.

“Sorry, I just meant that it’s sort of a long drive and airport terminals are a pain, that's all.”

“I’m just bugging you. It most definitely is going to be a nightmare,” Y/N agrees with a chuckle, “and I’m going to be late if I don’t hurry.” She adds while jabbing a thumb over her shoulder in the direction of her own apartment. Harry nods and notices how her robe’s a bit looser than before as she drops her arms and it falls a few inches down her shoulder - exposing more of her soft looking skin. Harry has to look away and walk towards his front door with Y/N before his imagination gets the best of him.

Harry unlocks the door and holds it open for Y/N to walk out of his home. He liked having her in his space. Harry internally curses himself for yet another intimate thought about his neighbour fogs up his mind. Just as she steps over the threshold of his apartment, Y/N spins on her heels quickly and reaches up with both hands to grab the twisted up towel around her hair. Harry nearly comes undone right then and there. The sight of her wet hair falling down effortlessly around her freshly washed face causes Harry’s mouth to feel dry suddenly. But as she makes the move to reach up, pulling it off of her head, and then holding out the towel in front of her, all of this causes her robe to fall even more off of her shoulders. Now both of her shoulders were fully exposed for him to see. Which Y/N notices right away and blushes, rushing to try and readjust herself, then only holding the towel with one hand while she bares her other arm over her chest to keep the robe from falling open completely.

“Nearly stole your towel,” Y/N breathes out.

She’s distracted by how her robe is slipping apart and how Harry’s eyes are falling with it. Harry clears his throat and takes the towel from her, giving her a chance to fix her robe, and he leans against his door for support as his head spins from the scene he has played out in his head. Her robe falling apart, seeing the swell of her breasts, how her nipples must look. He imagines they’re hard from the chill in the hallway, pebbling into little buds. Then he’s imagining how he’d pull her back into his apartment, kissing and touching all over her skin till she’s left breathless and begging for more.

“Thanks,” Harry says and drops his arm to hold the towel down at his side.

“I owe you one,” Y/N states, “for letting me use the shower,” she adds. She’s not sure what else he would think she’s talking about, but she just felt the need to clarify. And she really needed to get back to her own apartment and finish getting ready. “See you around, Harry,” she says with a smile before walking away and hurrying into her home.

Harry thinks of how he should've wished her a safe flight, or even said goodbye. But instead he heard her door shut and followed suit by closing his own. Harry walks into his living room - discarding the towel on the back of his large arm chair, before moving his acoustic guitar from where it was laying on his couch and taking a seat. He then reaches for his cell phone that was left on the coffee table. Opening his contact, he finds the building's maintenance number and calls them.

“Hey Phil, how are you doing?... Good, I’m good yeah, uh, I’m just calling because the water in 602 isn’t working...Yeah Y/N, she actually had to leave in a bit of a rush, so I just wanted to make sure someone got in there as soon as possible to check it out,” Harry explains the situation to the building’s head maintenance man. “I’m not entirely sure when she’ll be back home, maybe you could give her a quick call and double check... Just being a friendly neighbour, Phil… Thanks Phil, have a good day and say hi to Georgia and the kids for me… Bye.”

Harry hangs up the phone and sets it back down onto the table, looking at the open notebook beside it. He hadn’t written anything all morning. Just had a few good cords stuck in his head. Harry picks up the guitar once more and plays the cords.

“Tangled wet hair, soft silk skin, looking so good it should be a sin,” Harry sings softly. It’s not his best and it’s not even that good, if he’s honest with himself. But it seems that Y/N sparked some inspiration inside of him. He grabs his pen, and starts scribbling down the words that now flow through his mind. Finishing with writing ‘Plush Purple Robe’ in capital letters before dropping the pen and going back to strumming the guitar.

He wrote nearly an entire song, thanks to how Y/N looked in that damn bathrobe standing in his apartment, and he just knew this would result in some teasing words from his friends when he brought it into their studio session next week.

Y/N was tired and her third Starbucks of the day wasn’t helping her out at all. She brings a hand up to cover yet another yawn that escapes her. Her eyes feel heavy, drooping as she blinks slowly a few times at her screen. She feels as though she might doze off if it wasn’t for the loud bang of the mail cart smacking against the elevator doors signalling it’s arrival for the day. It jolts her upright once again and she takes another big gulp of coffee, and sends a prayer up above, before she begins clicking away again at her laptop trying to finalize her schedule for the upcoming month of December.

Fittings, photoshoots, buyers meetings, and more fittings, there was rarely any free time in the first two weeks of the month. But thankfully her boss isn’t a complete Grinch and gave her minimal work during the last two weeks. Plus Y/N really did love her job. She lived for the magic world of fashion. The way her bustling office just meant that the designer’s creations were coming to life as A list celebrities and New York's elite fell in love with the pieces she’s gone through lengths to get for them.

She also loved Christmas just as much, if not more, as her job. Even thinking about everything she was looking forward to this holiday season made her feel all giddy inside now. Growing up in the city meant she knew the thrill of skating in Central Park and seeing the Rockefeller Christmas tree being lit up. Her smile was as bright as the lights. She loved going to the annual Christmas markets that were held; walking around with hot chocolate in her hands as she browsed the many homemade soaps and ornaments, and even clothing too. Y/N even enjoyed shopping at the Macy’s down the street and gasping at their holiday displays, and found herself buying a few too many decorations for her home while there. Over the past few days - with any free time she had off work - she had gone into full blown decorating mode in her apartment. It was like Santa’s village and it filled her with so much joy as she set everything into its rightful place in her new home, smiling from ear to ear at the twinkling lights and tinsel lining the perimeter of every room.

“Earth to Y/N,” her co-worker, Sammy, sings while leaning back in his desk chair to try and make eye contact with her.

“Sorry,” she mumbles, zoning back into reality and turning her own chair away from her desk that was up against the large floor to ceiling windows.

“Daydreaming about that hot new neighbour of yours?” Sammy teases her with a smug look on his face. Y/N rolls her eyes and crosses her arms over her chest.

“No, I was not,” she says, “I’m regretting telling you about him already,” she adds. Sammy returns the eye roll.

“There’s no shame in having some eye candy as a neighbour you know,”

“Yeah there is when-“

“Y/N!” Her name suddenly being yelled across the room cuts her sentence off and makes Sammy and herself look over to where it came from. They both see their boss, Amanda, standing in the doorway of her office with both hands up in the air and a look of annoyance across her face. Y/N’s watch vibrates just on time to remind her of her meeting with Amanda. She’s always at least five minutes early; suppose daydreaming about the holidays - not her hot new neighbour - had put her behind schedule a bit.

“Better not keep her waiting,” Sammy says as he rolls his chair back over to his own desk while Y/N closes her laptop, taking it and a notebook with her quickly before slipping her feet back into her black heels. She always took them off when she sat at her desk to give her poor feet a break. As she broke into a speed walk across the office space, nearly avoiding the mail cart, she internally went over what today's meeting entailed.

“Sorry Amanda,” Y/N apologizes as she steps into the office, closing the glass door behind her quietly.

“It’s alright, you’re rarely even a few minutes behind that schedule of yours, so I was more surprised than anything,” Amanda states as she smooths her dress out and takes a seat at her desk. Y/N takes a seat in the chair across her desk, setting her laptop on her lap and then the notebook on top of it while she keeps her favourite pen in hand. It had a cheesy Christmas sweater snowflake pattern on it, which Y/N had bought a whole set for her and Sammy at Target last week.

“I wanted to quickly talk about your time with Miss Woods a couple days ago,” Amanda says, referring to one of the clients from North Carolina that had visited recently. “She said you showed her great hospitality and were a true New Yorker in her eyes, her words exactly.” Amanda gives Y/N a proud smile. “So, great job. She ended up purchasing those Gucci purses we had bought in hopes she’d like them even though she didn't ask for them. All thanks to you putting her in such a good mood, really.”

“Well she was a blast to be around, age really didn't slow her down,” Y/N and Amanda share a laugh. “She turned up my radio every time we got in my car, ordered doubles at dinner and brunch, and even talked about boy issues with me. It was a great time,” Y/N explains while adjusting herself in her seat and crossing a leg over the other casually.

“I think it’s your energy. Your love for this city can be infectious sometimes Y/N,” Amanda says. Y/N’s lips pull up into a smile at her words, they made her feel warm inside.

“Thank you,” she says softly with a nod.

“Now, onto what’s happening over this next week, let’s see how our schedules look,” Amanda starts as she opens her large planner than was always either on her desk or brought home in her large Louis Vuitton purse.

“I got an email from the lovely Mrs. Archibald this morning,” Y/N states. Amanda shakes her head as her face twists up at the mention of one of their bigger clients who happens to be married to the richest man in New York City. It’s just too bad she’s a real bitch sometimes because her attitude could make doing their job a bit harder at times. But Amanda and Y/N loved a challenge, and Mrs Archibald was just that. “She has a last minute dinner party tomorrow and she needs the newest item from Gucci that we can find immediately,” Y/N explains.

“Shit, our new stuff from Gucci doesn’t come in till next Monday,” Amanda curses, eyes roaming around her desk as if the answer to her problem would pop up somewhere.

“I know, which is why I went ahead and called Greg at the store on Fifth and Fiftieth, he said they just got a handful of exclusive holiday pieces early and would gladly have one of us pick a couple items up for Mrs Archibald,” Y/N says. Amanda’s sour look fades instantly and is replaced with a wide smile.

“What would I do without you, honestly!” Amanda exclaims. “Head over to Gucci after lunch today, and then we’ll get Mrs Archibald in first thing tomorrow.”

“Will do,” Y/N says while jotting down her after lunch plans onto a blank page in her notebook.

“How’s your influencer work going for you?” Amanda asks, her eyes on her planner in front of her instead.

“It’s been good, getting closer to five hundred thousand every day. I think the holidays will push me over the mark soon enough,” Y/N states.

“Great, make sure you’re getting close up shots of the dresses Greg shows you. Tease the people of what an exclusive holiday gown looks like,” Amanda suggests. Y/N smiles and jots down the note.

Having an audience was never the goal for Y/N. In fact, she thought of suspending her Instagram account all together once she got the promotion at work. She was worried that it would cause a conflict of interest, but Amanda and the rest of the team saw it as a plus. Having so many people follow Y/N’s life, being interested in what she’s interested in, wanting to get their hands on what she had, all lead to good publicity for the company. It even got them a few A list celebrities because of her account as they saw the company’s name in her bio, which led to contacting the company about setting some fittings up.

And with that set up, they settle into the rest of their itinerary for the week, making note of who needed to be involved with what, and who would be coming into their offices. Jennifer freaking Aniston was scheduled for a fitting this Friday and Y/N was praying she made it back from picking up an order of Louis Vuitton scarfs in time to see her in her custom grown that their team's seamstresses had been working tirelessly on with Prada’s team.

By the end of her and Amanda’s meeting, it was time for lunch. Sammy was waiting by her desk with his black Gucci backpack in hand that Y/N was sure held a Kardashian sized salad. Y/N was glad she meal-prepped teriyaki chicken and rice, so she didn’t have to eat yet another salad seeing as Sammy had gotten her into the over sized salad eating last month; she’s had enough of it.

“I’ve gotta head over to Gucci on Fifth Ave after,” Y/N states with a smile as her and Sammy walk into the conference room that they used for lunch sometimes, shielding themselves away from work a bit - even if the walls were glass and they could still see everyone working around them.

“Lucky bitch,” Sammy grumbles, “Greg always hooks you up with some free pieces when you go there, I swear.”

“Hey it’s only been a few items, nothing crazy,” Y/N defends herself before taking a bite of her lunch.

“Oh I’m sorry, two rings and a pair of tights are nothing crazy? Every other influencer would kill someone for those tights. Firstly, they’re so cute. And secondly, those rings cost my monthly rent.”

“I’m not complaining about any work perks. Maybe you could come with and get to know Greg a bit and get your own ring or two?”

Sammy chews his mouth full of salad, “no thanks, it’s so freaking cold out there. I’ll stay inside where it’s warm,” he says.

“Then don’t complain when I get another pair of tights and you don’t,” Y/N scowls playfully.

“I’d look so much better in those tights, you can’t even deny it,” Sammy says and pokes his fork at Y/N. She raises her hands up in surrender.

“Oh I wouldn’t dare to deny it, ever,” she smiles. They eat a few bites in silence. Y/N starts to feel a bit more energized by the protein she’s eating, thankfully. She now had a long journey to the Gucci store and back as well as a ton of emails to filter through too - which she’s sure will follow her home till the late hours of the night.

“What are you planning to wear for the Christmas office party?” Sammy chimes in, his eyes still on his phone.

“I don’t even know,” Y/N sighs and brings up her Pinterest app on her phone. “I found this outfit and am dying over it every day but I really should just find something in my closet and restyle it, I'm getting more broke by the day.”

“Blame your excessive christmas shopping habits,” Sammy deadpans while glancing at her phone screen.

“I’m aware of why I'm broke, thank you,” she deadpans back, narrowing her eyes at him. “Maybe Greg will have it in his heart to lend me a special piece for the party,” Y/N taunts Sammy with a smile on her face.

“Shut up,” he groans. Y/N laughs and is just about to shut her phone screen off when a phone call comes through from her apartment building maintenance.

“Hello?” She answers. “Hi Phil… Oh that’s awesome news thank you so much for getting it fixed so soon… Yes, I’m glad Harry called in about it right away too…” Y/N notices how her friend's eyebrows fly up at the mention of Harry’s name. “Lovely, thanks again Phil… Have a great day… Bye,” she hangs up the phone and sets it on the table in front of her.

“What did Harry do now?” Sammy questions without a second to spare. Y/N rolls her eyes, but can’t stop herself as she smiles.

“He called in about the water in my apartment like right after I made a mad dash out of his place to go pick up Mrs Woods in time. I hadn't even thought of calling about it and then I got a call on my way to the airport from the head maintenance guy saying Harry told him about it and asked for verbal permission to enter my apartment while I was out,” Y/N explains to him. She was still shocked by Harry’s kindness. Not only did he offer his shower to her, but he then got hers check out that same day. She probably wouldn't have called about it till the next day, if she was lucky to have any free time to stop by her house between entertaining Mrs Woods.

“What a neighbourly thing to do,” Sammy says smugly.

“Shut up, he’s just a nice guy.”

“Mhmm,” Sammy hums while stabbing his salad again for another bite.

The two of them continue to enjoy their lunch break and catch up on what’s been going on in the office. Their fellow associate Kate was trying to sleep with the mail cart boy. He seems freshly twenty one, if that. Just seven years younger than Kate, but she’s a well known cougar - it’s been a thing for, like, two years now. And Julianne was sick again, for the third time in two months. That was the extent of the office drama, sadly. Y/N packs up her bag with her left over lunch, notebook, and laptop before heading back to her desk with Sammy to get her coat and bundle up to brace the cold weather.

At least it wasn’t snowing.

The snow is coming down like a blizzard, making it hard for Harry to see in front of him. It was a colder day, his weather app had called for cloudy skies and a chance of some light flurries - but that all changed in a split second and had Harry racing home from the coffee shop a few blocks away. He’s just praying his notebook full of new song ideas, based off his people watching this afternoon that’s now in his tote bag, doesn't get wet in the short trip he has to walk. Just as he’s about to turn left down the last block till his building, he sees a young woman struggling to walk along the sidewalk in her heels just in front of him. She’s carrying a large beige garment bag, having it folded over her arm as she tries to maneuver around the busy sidewalk and everyone is rushing to get out of the storm. Harry’s just behind her now, that’s when he recognizes the jacket and scarf.

“Y/N?” Harry says, trying to not startle her. But of course, as Y/N turns around to look behind her at whoever had just called out her name on the busy streets of New York, she slips.

“Oh my god!” She squeals, trying to keep the garment bag up so it doesn’t damage the dresses inside, but that means she doesn’t have any hands to throw out to catch herself. Harry sees her begin to fall and reaches out without hesitation. “The bag,” she says, trying to get Harry’s attention to saving the garment bag rather than her. But of course he manages to wrap his arms under hers and hold her upright, standing straight to get her back on her feet once more.

“Shit, I’m sorry, shouldn’t have scared you like that,” Harry says.

Y/N squints at him through the thick snowflakes, he’s standing so close though that she doesn’t have troubles staring into his enchanting eyes. She smiles, adjusting the dresses and her bag before motioning to their apartment building only a couple blocks away. “Let’s get out of this snow storm,” she suggests.

“Right,” Harry agrees and lets her start the walk - that way he can stick close behind in case those death heels of hers cause her to slip again.

Y/N regrets her decision of wearing heels so much right now. She’s sure her cheeks are still red from embarrassment of nearly falling on her ass in front of so many people. Harry’s seen in her purple bathrobe, which is already embarrassing, but falling in heels in this snow storm would’ve only added to her list of making a fool of herself in front of him.

When she arrived at Gucci it was just cloudy, but then after nearly two hours inside the store - mostly chatting with Greg and his associates, she walked outside into the blizzard. Her office was too far of a walk, she knew getting a cab or an Uber during the storm would just be a nightmare and she didn’t want to wait around. There was no way she was going to risk taking the subway while carrying the garment bag that said Gucci right on it and have some lowlife steal thousands of dollars of designer clothes from her. So, she went with the most obvious option of getting these pieces out of the snow storm and headed to her apartment building that was only a few blocks away, thankfully.

“Thanks for saving me back there,” Y/N says with a sigh as Harry uses his key to let them into the building. They both brush the snow off themselves as they walk across the lobby and to the elevator. “I would've been dead if this fell into a puddle or something,” she states while lifting the garment bag.

“Does that say Gucci?” Harry asks, eyebrows raised as he looks at the label on the bag.

“Yeah, I just had to pick up a few things for work,” Y/N explains vaguely. Harry has followed Gucci on Instagram for years, he loves their pieces and finds what they make to be so wonderful. He wishes he had the money to spend on a shopping trip there and yet here is his neighbour - who he may or may not be crushing on - with a large garment bag with Gucci items inside. “I can’t even imagine what Mrs Archibald would've done if I messed these up, god she'd have a fit,” Y/N says with a chuckle, looking at the floors lighting up as the elevator moved.

“Your boss?” Harry questions.

“No, a client, super rich and super bitchy,” Y/N answers, emphasizing both times she says super to really get her point across. She moves the garment bag from one arm to the other, leaning back against the elevator wall.

“Client? What kind of work do you do?” Harry tries to ask casually, not trying to seem creepy or invading in any way.

Y/N smiles, “I’m a part of the, oh so lovely, fashion industry.”

“You don’t like it?” Harry questions, eyebrows furrowed together.

“No, I do,” she corrects him.

The elevator opens then, Harry motions for Y/N to exit first as he had before. She smiles and walks down the hall to her apartment. Just as she fishes her keys from her coat pocket she turns back and looks at Harry when he walks past her. “I owe you, again, for saving my ass, literally from falling,” she says. Harry stops walking and looks at her, she smiles and tilts her head to the side. “And for calling the maintenance guy for the issues with my water,” she adds. Seems Phil spilled the beans, Harry thinks.

“I um, I wasn’t sure how long your trip was, and I just thought it’d be the nice thing to do by making sure they could get it fixed as soon as they could,” Harry explains.

“I actually didn’t go on a trip, I just had to pick someone up from the airport. But regardless it was very nice to know you thought of it for me. So thank you, I owe you, Harry,” she says again, giving him yet another one of her dreamy smiles. Harry’s heart did a little pitter patter in his chest as he looked over her face, taking in how her wispy hairs were wet from the snow that had melted on her head and how her eyes seemed to sparkle under the dim lighting of the hallway. But her lips, he’s been imagining those lips for two days now. Along with that purple bathrobe being on his floor again - his bedroom instead of the bathroom though.

“How about dinner?” Harry blurts out. Y/N had turned back to her door, having it unlocked and open as he had fallen into one of his daydreams about her. She pauses mid step and looks back at where he had stood still, her eyebrows are furrowed together as she thinks he misheard him. Oh shit, abort! Abort! Backtrack and say nevermind before she flat out rejects you, Harry thinks while he waits for her response.

“I, uh, I,” Y/N stops her stuttering and closing her eyes for a moment. She lets out a sigh and opens her eyes again to meet his nervous stare. “I have to hang this up, and change these shoes first,” she says.

“Of course,” Harry nods.

Y/N ponders over it for a moment before coming to the realization that the weather outside was truly frightful and they shouldn’t go out anywhere. “Honestly we shouldn’t go back out there. What if I just ordered something in and you came over? You like pizza?”

“Love it,” Harry smiles. Y/N nods and opens her door further, stepping in to survey the state of her apartment. It’s not messy, thank God. She had time this morning to put away her clean laundry that had taken up her couch over the past few days. There’s a couple hoodies draped over the back of the couch though, a half full glass of water on the coffee table and her kitchen has a pile of dirty dishes beside the sink that she hadn’t gotten to putting in the dishwasher yet. She quickly bends down to put away the few pairs of shoes that were kicked off in whatever direction they went, and turns on the two light switches by the door to light up her living room and hallway.

“Well, come on in,” she says as she turns back to Harry. He smiles as she lets out a deep breath and opens her front door for him.

He should’ve guessed that it would look like Santa had thrown up in her apartment. It was traditional, which Harry loved opposed to the new all white or all gold themes some people went with, but there was a lot of it. A red and green checkered throw blanket over the back of her grey couch, a decent sized tree filled with lights and tinsel and ornaments that all matched, a family of snowmen in one corner of her living room, and many little vintage looking nicknacks along her tv stand, and few shelves around the space. Not to mention the priceless looking tiny christmas village that was set up on top of the desk by her front door, fake snow laid on top to really pull it all together. So much Christmas, and he was only looking in one room. He imagined this festive feeling went throughout her entire home.

“It kind of seems like a lot whenever someone new sees all of my Christmas crap,” Y/N says, breaking Harry’s stare away from her living room and back to her now. She had hung up the Gucci bag on the closet door to her left, and had slipped out of her shoes and was now undoing the buttons of her coat. Her eyes are on the decorations around them though, looking unsure as she takes it all in.

“It’s lovely, honestly, not crap at all,” Harry assures her. Y/N turns back to look at him and mirrors his smile.

“I just have a big soft spot for the holidays, I can’t help myself from buying four Christmas themed throw pillows if they make me feel all warm inside,” she explains, motioning to the couch that did in fact have four pillows on it.

“If it makes you happy, you don’t have to have any reason for buying ‘em.”

“I suppose so,” Y/N hums, finally taking off her coat and hanging it up.

Harry quickly takes his off too as she reaches for it, to hang it beside hers. He gives her a small thanks and then takes his shoes off, setting them beside hers . Y/N has walked into the threshold to the left that led to her kitchen. He notices the tinsel hanging from the beam and smiles before taking a quick peek into her kitchen. As he guessed, it’s all decked out in Christmas stuff too. Towels and nicknacks that seem to replace everyday things like salt and pepper shakers and her soap dispenser that was spaced like a snowman.

“I’ll order a pizza right away. Hopefully this weather won’t slow them down. Have you ever eaten at Sal’s down the street?” Y/N questions.

“Tons,” Harry says. He leans against the threshold to the kitchen and watches as Y/N sets her purse on her small kitchen table and fishes through it for her cell phone. She’s got this crease between her brows as she can’t seem to find it, but it instantly goes away and is replaced with a smile as the iPhone is in her hands.

“Do you like anything on your pizza?” She asks, eyes on her phone screen and she brings up the menu. She typically just gets a cheese, sometimes spices it up with a vegetarian pizza cause she likes the green peppers and red onions.

“I’m actually a vegetarian,” Harry states. “Well, I eat fish on occasion so I guess I’m a pescetarian.”

“Oh cool,” Y/N says, looking up to see Harry’s watching her from the space between her kitchen and living room. The way he’s leaning against the small space of wall, arms crossed at his chest and head tilted to the side - he looks good. He’s dressed in a pair of beige trousers, straight and baggy as his last ones were too, and has a white tank top tucked into the waistband while he layered with a fun patterned button up shirt. She can’t quite make out what is printed on the shirt, but the little squares seem to each have a picture in them.

“Where did you get that shirt?” Y/N can’t stop herself from asking, the fashion lover in her wanting to know.

Harry glances down at the short sleeved shirt on his body, then shrugs, “I think I thrifted it back home in England a few years back,” he says.

“I like it,” she says, then brings up one shoulder in a shrug to make it seem more casual. It’s not weird to compliment your neighbours clothing, Y/N thinks as she glances back down at her phone. “I’m going to order a cheese and they have a great vegetarian pizza too that I like,” she tells Harry while punching in her order on her delivery app.

“Yeah, I’ve had it before, it’s pretty great,” Harry agrees. Y/N can’t help as her body reacts to how low and slow Harry’s voice is. How she gets small chills throughout her body, as if threatening to pebble goosebumps along her arms, and how her mind feels foggy almost as she listens to him speak. She rolls her lips into her mouth and stuffs her phone into the pocket of her fitted black pants. He could tell her the most pointless story and she would let him, just to hear his voice and that accent that went with it. Moving to her fridge, she finds the bottle of red she had opened last night. It’s such a normal thing for her to have a glass or two after work that she doesn’t even think of her guest. He might not even like wine.

“Do you drink?” Y/N asks, looking over her shoulder to see Harry still in the same spot but his hands now in the front pocket of his trousers.

“What are we drinking?” He asks with a smile.

Y/N smiles back, as she always does, and reaches for the wine she had her eye on. “I opened this bottle of wine last night, it’s red. Would you be interested in a glass?” She asks, holding the bottle up for Harry to see.

“I’d love a glass, thanks.”

“Perfect,” Y/N nods and sets the bottle down on the counter beside her fridge. “You can get comfortable on the couch, I’ll bring our drinks in a moment.”

“Sounds good,” Harry nods. With one final glance up her body as she reaches high in her cupboard for two wine glasses for them, he shakes his head and turns around. He has to stop checking her out, he has no idea if she’s into him or not. She’s simply being a nice neighbour, and here he was, fancying her so much he’s checking her out like some horny teenager.

Harry runs a hand through his hair, walking around the back of the couch to take a seat on the corner furthest from where the Christmas tree lit up Y/N’s living room. He really did like all of her joy that she’s put into decorating her home. There’s no doubting her love for the holiday, not a single space feels like it was forgotten as she must have spent all day setting it up. He especially liked the framed photo on the side table to his right, where there was also a rather plain lamp and a Santa spaced coaster too. Inside the frame was a small child who he knew immediately was Y/N. There was no mistaking that smile of hers even at such a young age. She’s sitting on a man’s lap, a man dressed as Santa, but it’s truly the most realistic mall Santa he’s even seen. Harry thinks back to his home in that moment, imagining the many photos of him and his older sister with many variations of mall Santas that must be littering his mum’s house by now. Truthfully, many of them didn’t leave the shelves during the year.

“Here you go,” Y/N says as she holds out a wine glass nearly half full of red wine to Harry. He takes it from her, his fingers brushing hers for a moment and sending those childish tingles through his body.

“Thanks,” he nods and brings the glass to his lips to have a taste. If he wouldn’t be so infatuated by Y/N, he would have told her that he typically didn’t drink red wine. He typically doesn’t drink at all, except for the occasional night out with his mates. But he saw that look on her face that said ‘I need a glass or two’ and he couldn’t say no, knowing it’d make her feel awkward and end up not having a glass herself.

Y/N lets out a long sigh as she takes a seat on the other side of the couch, relaxing alongside Harry as if they aren’t complete strangers. He liked that she felt comfortable around him. She did in fact enter his apartment the other day in a bathrobe and use his shower after all. After she takes another long sip of wine, she sets it down on a matching Santa coaster that sits on the coffee table - Harry notices now that she had brought the bottle of wine with her too.

“Long day?” He questions. Y/N nods, tucking her legs under her as she gets comfortable on the couch beside him. She clears her throat softly before answering him.

“Uh, yeah, work’s just been a lot lately and I’m actually looking forward to some time off,” Y/N says, running a hand through her hair, and then leans her arm on the back of the couch. Harry watches her movements, bringing his glass of wine to his lips to have a small sip, which he notices she watches him do. He likes her eyes on his lips, he thinks before turning his body slightly and setting his wine on the side table. When he turns back and looks her way he notices the slightly tint of pink flushing over her cheeks. Harry fights the tug at his lips to smile at how she seemed to catch on that he caught her staring at his lips.

“That’s always the worst, feeling as if you’re counting down till the days off,” Harry exclaims.

“I typically don’t, to be honest. I love my job,” Y/N states. “It’s my career so I better,” she adds with a chuckle.

“So you’ve already found your career at such a young age then, that’s awesome. Have you always known you wanted to be involved in the fashion industry?” Harry asks, his eyebrows pulled together as he does find himself very curious of how she herself a career so young.

“First off, twenty four is really starting to not feel young anymore so let's not label me as a youngster or anything alright-“

“Um, twenty four is young but okay,” Harry cuts her off with a playful look on his face. Y/N rolls her eyes and chooses to ignore his teasing. He’s always hung out around people older than him and typically dated women older too. But Y/N doesn't seem young. From what he’s seen from her, she doesn’t fit the mold of any twenty four year olds he’s known before - most being rather rude and partying their youth away while it’s obvious that Y/N worked hard during those years. Y/N looks as though she's got the whole world figured out already, and he admires that a lot.

“And secondly, yeah, I guess I sort of did know, not at first, of course, but it was always an interest of mine,” Y/N states, bringing Harry back to their conversation.

“What did you want to be when you were a youngster then?” He questions, using her choice of words back at her which makes Y/N chuckle. She shakes her head and looks up at the ceiling for a moment as she falls back into memories of her childhood. She remembers being emotionally attached to a pair of plastic pink princess slippers and how she slept in her matching tiara for nearly a year before her mom put a stop to her fantasy.

“I wanted to be a princess-“

“Me too,” Harry says.

“Stop interrupting me,” Y/N laughs and reaches across the couch to smack his arm. Harry's head feels light, his cheeks hurt from grinning at Y/N so much. He hasn’t felt like this in quite a while. Being able to have a light conversion with a pretty girl. How she makes him smile and laugh so easily too, it’s a really nice feeling. “But you’d make a much prettier princess for sure-“

“Not at all,'' Harry disagrees, managing to cut her off yet again. She glares at him but can’t help the smile that's still on her face.

“Anyways, I wanted to be a princess and then I wanted to be one of Santa’s elves-”

Harry chuckles, “of course,” he says as he’s not so surprised to hear her say so - seeing as it looked like Santa’s village inside her apartment.

Y/N chooses to ignore his short interruption this time and continues on. “But then as I got older and got ahold of the internet, I wanted to be a model cause I thought it was the most glamorous thing, but I wasn't as beautiful or skinny as Candice Swanepoel so that was out of the question-“

“This is the last time I'll interrupt you I promise,” Harry says, Y/N presses her lips tight together and gives Harry another look as if to say yeah right. “But I cannot let you sit here and say you aren't pretty or skinny enough to be a model, Y/N, because you are one of the most beautiful people I’ve ever seen and your weight is nothing to ever question,” Harry pauses as he looks down at the sofa between them, realizing that he had said all that out loud. He was slightly embarrassed as he’s not sure how she’d take her neighbour saying all that to her.

My heart needs to calm down like now, Y/N thinks as she wets her lips and fidgets with her own hands as she watches Harry. “Y/N, don’t ever think less of yourself,” he adds in a gentle voice that sends chills down her spine.

Y/N doesn't respond right away, because honestly she's speechless. No one has ever said something so kind and so genuine to her. Sure, she’s gotten compliments from people, but the way Harry immediately stopped her from talking poorly of herself had made her stomach stir and her heart race. They had only just met, only had a few interactions - they were all good, great even - but Harry wasn’t like most people she’s met before and she’s beginning to realize that. She looks up to see Harry's watching her, his green eyes staring back at hers. Something switches in the air between them as Harry feels like he should lean in. Should he lean in? Would she want that? Does she want him?

“Thanks,” she smiles, bringing Harry back to their conversation. She clears her throat and sits up straight again, flipping her hair over her shoulders and snuggling into the couch some more. “If I ever feel down about myself again, I’ll be sure to knock on your door and demand you shower me in compliments,” Y/N teases.

“I’d be honoured to,” Harry says. There's another beat of silence, but it's not quiet inside his head. All he’s thinking about is how he should've made a move. She felt it too, right? Harry stops himself before he can go too far inside his head again while thinking about Y/N. “I won’t cut in again. Continue from the dreams of being a model - which you’d be a great model, by the way, don't count that one out just yet.”

Y/N smiles again, not even sure if she’s stopped smiling honestly. “Right, well, modeling led me into the world of fashion. Not that I hadn't known about Vogue or any of the high fashion houses since I did grow up in New York; fashion week had always been a highlight for me. But I actually started to look into the other sides of it. Designing wasn't an option, I just didn't feel original enough. So I did some personal assistant stuff during my high school years at fashion week, working behind the scenes at shows.”

Y/N pauses to lean forward and grabs her glass of wine again, needing liquid to coax her throat before she continued. Harry noticed that she was talking so passionately, probably not even realizing how much she was using her hands while speaking or how her eyes lit up at the world she painted for him. “And then I got a scholarship into FIT, the Fashion Institute of Technology. I was lucky enough to get an internship at my current workplace but quickly got offered a position on my graduation day, and now I'm one of our senior associates.”

“And what does your job really entitled to exactly?”

“We do a lot of things, but we’re really a personal shopper and stylist company. Working with many of New York's elite, even some of the east coast’s elite really, as well as celebrities too, which is always fun to see the dress you styled at the Met Gala or the Grammys. I just do a lot of running around, it feels like,” Y/N explains, “like how I had to rush to the Gucci store on Fifth Ave in order to get some pieces for Mrs. Achibald for tomorrow morning.”

“Sounds like a real tough job,” Harry taunts. Y/N returns his smug look and narrows her eyes at him playfully.

“Right, well what do you do then? You always seem to be home, I’m starting to think you don’t even have a job. Maybe you’ve just got a sugar daddy, hmm?” Y/N jokes. Harry lets out a loud laugh, throwing his head back. Y/N laughs with him before taking a sip of her wine that she had almost forgotten about.

“Definitely not a sugar baby, although that would be the dream, wouldn’t it?”

“Oh, totally,” Y/N nods in agreement. They both chuckle again. Harry reaches for his wine to take a sip before answering her question for real this time. Blame the wine, he thinks, for any longing looks or laughing too much at her jokes just blame the red wine in his glass.

“I’m actually in the music industry, kind of,” Harry states.

“How are you kind of in the music industry?” Y/N questions curiously, her brows pulled together as she takes another sip of wine.

“I am a studio rat, as people in the industry would call it,” Harry says, Y/N’s face scrunches up at his words utterly confused at the term. “I pretty much live in music studios most of the year. Most of my time is taken up by writing. So I guess I’m a songwriter, but I also make demos for my songs with a few people I’ve grown close with in my studio, so I end up doing some instruments for artists' studio versions of songs. I do a bit of producing too, but I mostly leave that to my buddy, Tom.”

“Wow, that sounds like a really cool job. And here I was jabbering on about my job when you’re a songwriter? That’s so cool,” Y/N repeats, another sip of wine going down her throat as she stares at Harry. His cheeks are starting to turn red, eyes avoiding hers as he fidgets with his rings. “Have you written any songs I’d know?” She asks, trying to get more information out of him.

“Maybe,” Harry shrugs.

“You’re not going to tell me?” Y/N asks, brows pulled together.

“Nope,” Harry shakes his head.

“Shouldn’t you be proud of your work?”

“Of course I am,” Harry says, bringing a crooked finger up to his nose before rubbing it twice. “I just know that my music might not be everyone's favourite.”

Since the beginning of his freelance songwriting career, Harry's always been nervous to show people what he’s poured his heart and soul into, especially to people he’s friends with, or people he likes. What if they hated it? He couldn’t bear listening to the fake “it's great” with an even faker smile. Although he knows people do like his songs, those people were mainly artists that bought his songs and their fans, of course, along with his fellow colleagues. He just doesn't want Y/N to hate his work.

“Well, I'm sure it's brilliant,” Y/N says. “And maybe one day you’ll show me.” She adds with a smile, not wanting to force the subject, over the rim of her wine glass before taking another sip and finishing off the red liquid in one small gulp. She frowns at the empty glass and sets it down on the Santa coaster on the coffee table. “Do you write all the time then?” Y/N asks, bringing her gaze back to Harry’s.

“Pretty much, although I’m in the studio less in December due to it being so close to the holidays. I’ve actually got my last session with my mates just in a few days.”

“Counting down the days till you have some time off?” She asks, referring to what he had said earlier to her.

“Not particularly,” Harry says.

Y/N is about to ask why, but then her phone bings from her pocket. It’s then that she realizes she hadn’t thought of looking at her phone once since sitting down with Harry. She had been so engrossed with their conversation, and feeling a light buzz that she managed to forget about the pizza she ordered. The notification on her screen read that her pizza had arrived at the building, and the delivery person would be here any second. Then her phone starts ringing.

“Hello,” Y/N answers the phone in a sweet voice. Harry has to stop himself from staring, instead finding himself grabbing the red wine that he wasn’t too fond of, and has a few sips as he listens to Y/N talk to, what he assumes, is the pizza delivery. She buzzes them up with one tap on her phone before the call ends. “Our dinner is finally here,” she tells Harry, even though he had gathered as much, but he still smiles in response. She stands from the couch and adjusts her pants by pulling them up slightly. They fit her so bloody well, Harry thinks. “And we are both nearly done with a glass of wine each before we’ve even eaten,” Y/N chuckles as she walks past Harry and to the kitchen to her purse.

While Y/N pays for their food, Harry takes it upon himself to top off her glass of wine. He was content with his last few sips between bites. Y/N sets the two pizza boxes on the coffee table before rushing into the kitchen to grab two plates and some napkins for them. They work together in a comfortable silence to get things set up; both boxes open and Y/N settles back onto the couch before they dig into the large New York slices.

Y/N brings a piece straight from the box to her mouth, once she bites into the greasy food she moans around her mouthful of cheesy pizza. Harry is just about to take his first bite as well but stops just short at the sounds that come from Y/N. He dares to glance her way, throat bobbing as he takes her in. Both eyes closed, her head hanging back and lips turned up into a smile as she chews her food. He watches her swallow, utterly mesmerized by her soft skin moving just slightly. Dear god, Styles, get it together, he thinks as he imagines her swallowing something else.

Y/N opens her eyes at the sound of Harry clearing his throat, turning her gaze to him and seeing him lift his piece of pizza to her in a ‘cheers’ manner. “Thanks again for the meal,” Harry says. There his voice does it again, sounding all low and throaty as it makes chills go down her spine.

“No problem,” Y/N nods. She tries to focus back on eating her food, willing the thoughts in her head to go away. But she can’t stop them from entering her dreams later that night after Harry and her had said their goodbye - Harry noticed her yawn a few times and began to clean up their plates and empty wine glasses while he continued to tell Y/N about his time in school before he was writing songs full time on his way to the kitchen. Y/N watched him from her spot on the couch, smiling at how he didn’t think twice on cleaning up after them. She was pretty sure that’s how her dream started too, but then it led to Harry’s voice whispering in her ear, asking if she’s been naughty or nice this year while they laid in bed. Y/N blames the large glass of wine. One hundred percent she blames the wine.

There wasn’t a more perfect day in the year, Y/N was sure of it, as she sat on a bench in Central Park. It was t-minus three weeks before Christmas Day and she had just gotten off work. The sun was slowly setting in the horizon as she stared at the sparkling snow that covered the ground and trees around her.

“Y/N?”

She turns her gaze away from the skating rink in the distance to see who had called out her name. A smile tugs at her lips as she sees Harry a few feet away. He’s dressed in a long dark coat that reaches to his knees, one which was exposed from a rip in his loose fitting jeans. With his outfit he wore a pair of chelsea boots upon his feet that trudged through the snow. Y/N noticed that he was bundled up with a grey scarf around his neck and a matching beanie upon his head too. She liked how his hair flipped up at the ends, sticking out of the beanie.

It has been almost a week since their pizza night together, and thankfully, those wine induced dreams had stopped after that one night, which to be fair were rather innocent compared to some other dreams she had thanks to too much tequila - regardless, it’s making it much less awkward to face him now.

“Hey,” she greets him as she meets his eyes once more. Harry stops by the bench, motioning at the open space to her left.

“Mind if I sit with you?” He asks. Y/N shakes her head and moves to her right just a bit to make more room for him. “Was going for a stroll, thought I was imagining you sitting here by yourself to be honest.” Harry states.

“New York City can seem rather small some days,” Y/N says with a smile.

“Some days, yeah,” Harry nods. “What brings you out to this lonesome bench in Central Park?” Harry asks, looking out at the scenery before them.

“This,” Y/N answers with a hand out to the park.

“It's rather pretty.”

“Very, and calming. And after my day at the office today, I desperately needed to just sit here by myself and disconnect from the world for a moment.”

“Oh,'' Harry says, bringing Y/N’s gaze away from the couple holding hands across the pond and to him instead. “I'm- I'm sorry if I barged in. I just thought it’d be weird if I didn’t say hi.”

“Oh no, it’s totally okay,” Y/N assures him. “I’ve been out here for a good while now.” As if her body realizes at the same time, she shivers beside Harry.

“Did you want to head home?”

“Not particularly,” Y/N hums. Her eyes falling back to the sights before her. The sky is becoming a soft hue of pinks and oranges before their eyes. It warms her heart despite her entire body is cold.

“How about a cup of hot cocoa?” Harry suggests as he sees the cart serving hot drinks just to their right. An older couple and, what seems to be, their grandchildren are being served steaming cups and candy canes too. That seems like something Y/N would like, Harry thinks as he stands from the bench. He's about to offer his hand but thinks twice about it, sticking both his hands into his coat pockets before he can make a fool of himself. “My treat,” Harry adds with a smile.

“I would love that,” Y/N beams while standing from the bench and falling into step with him.

Harry orders for the two of them as they step up to the small cart. Y/N discreetly takes out her phone and opens her Instagram app, swiping to the right to open her camera before she’s bombarded with notifications. She holds down on her screen to begin filming her pointed Versace boots that she had been gifted from work this winter; they had become a staple as the weather grew colder and the snow kept coming down since they had the thickest heel of all the shoes in her closet. Holding the phone up, she catches half of Harry’s body as she films the hot chocolate cart. His back is to the camera, his large coat and beanie covering any angle she did get of him so she’s not afraid to post the story after adding a quick filter to it and typing ‘pro tip: always get a hot chocolate when you’re feeling chilly in central park’ tagging her location as well before hitting post to her story and feeding her nearly five hundred thousand followers with some content for the first time all day.

“Thank you,” Y/N says softly as Harry hands her a to-go cup without a lid since there’s an abundance of whipped cream on top. Her smile turns into a grin as he also reveals he bought her a candy cane. She gasps and is quick to unwrap it and stick it into her mouth.

“Woah, you’re like a toddler itching for a sugar rush, huh?” Harry teases as they begin walking along the path and away from the cart.

“Candy canes are my weakness,” Y/N states as she pushes it to the left side of her mouth in order to talk more clearly.

“Good to know,” Harry smiles over the rim of his cup before opening his mouth and licking off some of the whipped cream. Y/N has to look away as she’s brought back to her dream.

Shaking her head slightly, she brings her phone back up to her face and it unlocks for her. Since it’s still open on the Instagram camera, she holds out her heaping cup of whipped cream and attempts to take a picture as they walk. The first two turn out blurry, then she stops walking, in hopes it’ll turn out nice before Harry can notice she stopped. Only it doesn’t of course, so she ends up furrowing her brows and sucks harder on the candy cane in her mouth before trying three more times to take the perfect snap.

Suddenly, Harry’s hand is in her shot, a blur over her whipped cream. She gasps and looks up to see his forefinger in his mouth, obviously licking off the bit of whipped cream he managed to steal. She’s surprised he did it, and she can tell he is a bit too, but then she huffs out a short chuckle while her mouth is still agape, which makes Harry grin. He doesn’t think twice as he reaches out to swipes his finger over the sweet cream again.

“Stop stealing my whipped cream!” Y/N glares at Harry as he licks his finger clean once more.

“It’s gonna melt anyways, you're taking so bloody long to drink any of it.”

“I'm busy enjoying my candy cane, jeez,” Y/N rolls her eyes and takes the candy out of her mouth, having forgotten about the picture, her phone screen turns blank. Harry shrugs and reaches forward again to steal more. Y/N is faster this time, and moves her cup away from him while bringing her candy cane up and pointing towards him. “Do it again and I'll stab you,” She warns. Harry throws his free hand up in surrender, but both of his cheeks have those deep dimples showing. I’m beginning to really like those dimples, Y/N thinks.

“You get rather hostile over your holiday treats, hm?” Harry questions, raising a brow before slowly retreating his hand to hold his own hot chocolate with his other. He brings the cup to his mouth with both hands and takes a sip.

“Yes, in fact, I do,” Y/N mutters, looking down at her own cup and notices that the whipped cream is nearly gone now. Suppose Harry was right, she missed her chance to enjoy the extra sweetness.

She takes a few sips as they continue to walk together through Central Park. The sky is beautiful as the sunset is in its full glory with dreamy pinks and purples littering the skies. Y/N debates taking a photo but decides against it as she slips her phone into her pocket. Just as she’s about to return the candy cane back to her mouth, she glances over at Harry and notices just as he brings down his own hot chocolate from his mouth that he’s made a bit of a mess.

She chuckles before saying, “you’ve got a little,” Y/N points to her upper lip, “uh, a whipped cream moustache.” She giggles as Harry pokes the tip of his tongue out and swipes it over his top lip. Y/N chuckles some more and offers him her napkin.

“Thanks,” Harry says before wiping it across his mouth, looking back to her to ask, “did I get it all?”

Y/N finds herself staring at Harry for a few moments longer than it would take to give a simple answer if his face was clean or not. She’s never felt so comfortable around someone before, not even her childhood friends or Sammy honestly. There’s this ease around Harry the few times they’ve been around one another, and it makes her heart swell up in her chest. She rolls her lips into her mouth and inhales deeply through her nose, breaking her gaze away from his face and to the ground. In order to not seem weird or awkward, she looks back up and finds his eyes on her while she nods her head.

“Yeah, you’re good,” she tells him. They start their walk through Central Park once more, heading towards home at a slow pace. Y/N has her candy cane back in her mouth, alternating between it and her hot chocolate before it got too cold. She could live off them both one hundred percent; two of the best things ever invented.

“So, tell me about your day,” Harry says, bringing Y/N out of her own thoughts and meeting his gaze again.

“It was a pretty good day, I guess,” she sighs, “we just have a lot of clients that like to do last minute shopping during the holidays and have some pretty crazy demands, but we want to deliver for them so we bend over backwards to do so.”

“I’m sure that can cause you to be rather exhausted then, yeah?”

“Very,” Y/N nods, “but I’m sure your day was much more interesting than mine, so tell me what kind of songs you wrote today?” Y/N asks with a smile.

Harry chuckles and lets Y/N lead the way to their left on the path home, he wasn’t the most confident with getting around sometimes since he usually stuck to the few places in the city that he was familiar with. While he has learned that Y/N is a New York City Native, he trusts her way direction over his, that’s for sure. He thinks back on what he had done today, including a quick run on the treadmill in the gym in their building that ended sooner than he thought as he got a burst of lyrical inspiration out of nowhere.

“I was in my apartment for most of the morning and a bit of the afternoon, then got in a bit of a rut after writing a new song about love, of course. Then I decided I needed to get out of the house and hope for some inspiration from people watching, which I have done a lot since living here,” Harry explains. Y/N takes a big gulp of her nearly cold drink, leaning to her left to get to the garbage they are passing in order to throw out the empty cup. Harry takes the chance to throw his empty cup out too.

“Do you always write about love?” Y/N asks, not thinking twice if it may be a bit too personal of a question. Harry is taken back at first by how that’s all she got from what he had said, but he only clears his throat and shoves his hands into his pockets now that they are free.

“Mostly, yeah,” he nods, “most relatable thing in life, I suppose.”

“Sometimes, I guess it can be,” Y/N agrees and goes back to sucking on her candy cane. She wonders how many times he’s been in love? How many times has she really been in love? Y/N sighs internally and focuses on her steps, avoiding a puddle by having to step closer to Harry. She sniffles from the cold at the same time and is hit with Harry’s scent - lavender, as it always seems to be how he smells. She still thinks it’s lovely.

The two of them make more casual conversation on their fifteen minute walk home through the busy streets. Harry tells her about an elderly couple he had seen just before seeing her, maybe in their 80s, and looking more in love than he’s ever seen before. He wrote a few things about how they looked before going on his way. Y/N tells him about how her grandparents used to go on walks through the park when she was younger, which then brings them into the topic of grandparents in general. Harry tells her about how his grandpa refuses to retire and how his grandma ends up bugging his mom because of how lonely she is. Y/N is smiling the whole time, loving how he must feel comfortable around her too as he’s able to talk about his family like this. Y/N also yawns many times in their short walk. She’s tempted to invite Harry into her apartment for some wine and pizza again but decides against it and simply gives him a smile and soft goodbye at her door, deciding to get into her night routine earlier than normal due to how she can’t stop yawning.

After hanging up her coat, double checking her door was locked, and slipping out of her boots, Y/N pulled her phone out of her pocket to check out what text she missed while on her walk home. She liked how she wanted to feel so present around Harry, having no want to look at her phone but instead being more interested in his little stories about his grandparents. Her face ID unlocks as she looks at the screen. It’s still on the photo she last tried to take for her Instagram. Harry’s hand was a bit of a blur as he stole her whipped cream off the top of her hot chocolate. There was no way to not know it was Harry’s hand, though, his rings being so unique and noticeable in the photo as well - her favourite being his initials wrapped around his fingers in gold. Some would think it’s maybe a bit narcissistic, but Y/N thought it looked good and really there’s no harm in being a narcissist sometimes right?

Y/N saves the photo but doesn’t post it, deciding to simply keep it for herself instead of letting her many followers see into a small yet sweet moment between her and her newest friend. She could call him that right? They were friends? Y/N did hope that Harry thought of her as a new friend too because she was enjoying this time with him a lot, maybe even a little too much.

It had been another day spent at the cafe down the street for Harry. Marking only one last day off till his final studio time this year, he was itching to get to work in a couple days and see his mates too. Over the almost two weeks, he’s written more than he had expected himself to and he knew he could thank a certain new neighbour, or I guess, a new friend, Harry thinks to himself as he turns towards his apartment building. There was no denying the feeling he got around Y/N. He wanted to become more than friends, eventually, no rush of course - but he couldn’t ignore the feeling he got around her; the butterflies and heart racing nearly every moment together. And he couldn’t forget the constant smiling, which he was doing right now just thinking about her.

Harry walks up to the main doors of his apartment building and notices a man beside the main doors. Harry furrows his brows at him. He didn’t look like some strange man trying to find warmth during the beginning of the evening here in the city that had fallen to freezing temperatures as the first week of December came to an end. In fact, he had a brand new iPhone in his hand and rather expensive looking clothes keeping him warm.

“Hey, did you need inside?” Harry asks the man standing by the intercom system. The man looks up at Harry, eyes narrowing at him. He seems Harry’s age, maybe even a few years older judging by the lines around his eyes. He’s got dark eyebrows which makes Harry think he must have dark hair under the beanie he wore under the hood of his thick winter coat. Harry waits for an answer, staring back into the stranger’s brown eyes.

“Yeah, girlfriends not answering and I know she’s inside,” his voice is low and gruff, he then lifts a Starbucks hot cup up - Harry recognizes the holiday pattern anywhere now since Y/N seems to always have one on her even in quick passing in or out of the building. “Even got me to pick her up this stupid drink on my way too, her fault if it’s cold now I guess.”

“Guess so,” Harry mumbles, kind of put off by the man’s attitude. He decides to give him the benefit of the doubt and holds the door open for it. The man walks in without so much of a thank you. You’re welcome, Harry sarcastically thinks to himself.

They walk together to the elevator in an awkward silence. Once the doors open Harry steps up to the buttons and hits the sixth one, not bothering to ask the man what floor he needs as he steps away. The stranger gives the lit up button a brief look before he’s staring down at his phone. As the elevator moves Harry’s mind wanders off to how he’d assert himself into Y/N’s evening today. Maybe he could make her dinner, then ask if she’d like to walk over to Central Park after because he knows how much she enjoys it there, and when they decide to take a break from walking and find a bench he’d finally get the nerve to make a move - maybe reach for her hand during the walk even. One thing was for sure, he liked Y/N and he needed to buck up and do something about it.

He’s still deep in thought about Y/N when the elevator doors open. The man he let into the building steps out first without even glance at Harry. Typical New Yorker, he thinks. Harry finds himself looking at where Y/N’s apartment door is over the man's shoulder as they walk down the hall, he’s debating just walking right up and asking her to hang out right away. But then the man stops in front of the door that reads 602 - Y/N’s door.

Y/N hears the knock on her front door and blinks rapidly at her laptop screen, unfocusing from her long email that she was to send to her boss, Amanda, within the hour with an update on how the first week of December had gone. She glances at the time and sees it’s nearly four in the afternoon. Took him long enough, she thinks while rolling her eyes and standing from the couch. Just as she’s a few steps away there’s another knock on the door. She sighs and unlocks it, quickly throwing the door open to reveal Mark standing on the other side.

“You are home,” he says, that attitude she knows so well is thick in his voice already. Y/N opens her mouth, about to sass him back, but then she notices a certain tall figure with a mess of brown hair walking behind Mark.

“Harry,” Y/N breathes out, hoping he didn’t even hear it honestly. But he slows his steps and gives her a tight lipped smile once facing her. It’s one she was not familiar with and makes her stomach feel as though it was full of rocks.

“Hey,” he says with a small three finger wave.

“You know this guy?” Mark, her boyfriend, questions. Bringing her eyes from Harry’s green ones and to his brown ones instead. “He was nice enough to let me into this place since you were too busy,” he states.

Y/N tucks her lips into her mouth and looks away from Mark and back to Harry. She knows he’s questioning everything by the look in his eyes. She tried. Well, maybe not hard enough, but she wanted to tell him about Mark, even just casually and quickly. Y/N didn’t intend to give Harry any sort of mixed signals during their times together, she really was just being polite and ended up enjoying being around him so much that she thought there was no harm in making a new friend. But she’d be an idiot to try and deny she felt something more than friendship with Harry.

“Yeah, uh,” she clears her throat and waves a hand between the two young men, “Mark, this is Harry my uh, my neighbour. Harry this is Mark, my boyfriend.”

Well shit, that’s not ideal, Harry thinks as he looks into Y/N’s eyes and prays he heard her wrong. But he knows he didn’t. So, he just takes a deep breath and forces a smile to stay on his face while holding a hand out to Mark, even though it hurt him to be polite to the guy that was dating the girl he’s been crushing on for nearly two weeks now.

“It’s nice to meet you,” Harry says as Mark grasps his hand and shakes it lazily. Shit handshake, he thinks. “I would love to stay and chat but I’ve got some work to get to,” he says quickly after taking his hand out of Mark’s and backing away from the situation towards his own apartment.

Y/N opens her mouth, but the words don’t come out. She just watches as Harry turns on his heels and his posture hunches as he gets to his door and tries to unlock it quickly. Mark is suddenly pushing past Y/N, saying something but she’s too focused remembering the look on Harry’s face just moments ago. She steps back into her apartment and doesn’t look over to where Harry is shutting his own door before closing her own gently.

Really fucked this up didn’t you, Y/N? She thinks as she turns the lock on her door and listens to Mark complain about his day while flinging his belongings around her living room. What is she going to do? What is she going to say? If Harry ever talks to her again, that is. She sighs and closes her eyes before making her way towards where her boyfriend was lounging on her couch, giving him a small smile as he opened his arms for her to sit with him.

“I did miss you these past few weeks while I was away,” Mark says, planting a quick kiss to her hair as she leans into his body - praying he doesn’t question why her heart is beating so fast. She’s sure he wouldn’t enjoy knowing it’s because of her growing feelings for her new neighbour, and seeing the realization in Harry’s face at the fact she wasn’t single kind of hurt to see.

“Missed you too,” she mumbles, lying. Y/N hadn’t thought about her boyfriend all that much these past, almost, three weeks that he was away for a business trip.

“Do much without me?” Mark asks.

Y/N shakes her head, “no, not much at all,” her soft voice replies while she begins to zone out on the wall that was between her and Harry’s apartments, noticing how it made her feel more separated from him now more than ever.

>> part two <<

thanks for reading, please reblog/leave some feedback if you enjoyed it! until next week 😘

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astranva · 4 years

Text

Not One of Them | Pt. 2

Pt 1

Word Count: 4k

Category: Fluff!

Warning: None

Summary: Faith wears her Harry dress, they have breakfast, and 4-year-old Faith has a gift for Harry.

“Mommy?”

You and Harry instantly pulled away before you turned, looking down at your daughter who was rubbing her eyes before you kneeled beside her bed.

“Hey, baby.” You cooed, watching as she squinted before she turned from you to Harry, trying to make sense of who was standing in her room.

Slowly her eyes widened, and it was when Harry smiled and waved, letting out a small “hi” that she gasped.

“A-Are you Mr. Harry Styles?”

You giggled to yourself, looking up at Harry before he knelt beside you on the floor and offered his hand for a handshake. “I am, but call me Harry. You’re the beautiful Faith?”

Faith sat up, putting her small hand in his and shaking his hand before she grinned. “Yes, but call me Faith.”

Harry laughed, gently shaking her hand which felt too small in his gigantic one. “Your Mum told me a lot about you.”

“Really?” Faith beamed before looking at you, “Did you show him the video?” She whispered, although her tone was definitely loud enough for Harry to hear.

You nodded, “I did. He said he wanted to see you.”

“You wanted to see me?” Faith turned to Harry, the smile not leaving her face.

“Very much. Tell you what,” Harry inched closer, “How about you get your sleep and then tomorrow we can meet over breakfast? Would you like that?”

Your heard fluttered, jingled, danced, gleamed, you name it. You turned to look at him with slightly parted lips, looking at him as if he grew two heads.

Eagerly, Faith nodded before looking at you, “Can we, Mommy? Please, please, please?”

You laughed in disbelief, still looking at Harry before shrugging, “I mean I don’t see why not. Only if Harry is 100% okay with it.”

“I’m a 101% okay.” He assured you, giving you a nod and a smile.

“Mommy makes the best pancakes.” Faith said.

“Is that so?” Harry smirked, tearing his gaze from Faith to you, “I think we need to test that, love.”

You chuckled, “Fine. Breakfast here.” You agreed before looking at Faith, standing before bending to kiss her forehead, “But you, missy, need to sleep. It’s past your bedtime.”

“Can you sing me a song, Harry? I like your singing.” Faith asked as she lied down.

“Baby, he ca-”

“I’d love to.” And to assure you, Harry put a hand to your back, eyes set on Faith as he kept his voice gentle.

Your lips parted, staring at him as he inched closer to your daughter, asking her what song she wanted him to sing.

“Canyon Moon.” Faith beamed, reaching beside her to grab her dinosaur and cuddle it against her before she turned to face Harry.

“Canyon Moon it is.” Harry nodded, getting comfortable on the floor and crossing his legs before clearing his throat. “Gotta see it to believe it…”

And you watched. You sat beside him, eyes going from him to your daughter, being too speechless and motionless to react whenever he’d reach to pat her head or whenever Faith would quietly sing along with him. You watched the man whom you met only a day before sing to your daughter, lulling her to sleep.

You watched Harry pull the covers up and on her shoulder as Faith’s eyes finally shut, her breath going steady.

“She’s out.” He whispered, finally turning to look at you.

Not trusting your voice, you nodded, getting up with him on right behind you before you turned on her night light before getting out, leaving her door ajar.

Harry was worried. He feared that he had crossed his limits, doing something that no stranger would do. He wouldn’t have thought so if it weren’t for the lack of words that left your lips as the both of you stood in your living room.

He found himself sighing, taking off your crossbag which he almost forgot he was wearing, putting it on your couch before a hand was placed on his hip, the other one reaching to brush back his hair. “Look, Y/N, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that back there with Faith, I know you probably don’t want her getting the wrong idea or-”

“Do you regret it?”

And finally, you talked.

You looked as nervous as he was, rocking on the balls of your feet as you clutched your hands together in front of your body.

“What?”

“Do you regret it? Singing her to sleep? Meeting her?”

“No. I don’t.” Harry replied in a heartbeat, slowly approaching you, “She’s a lovely kid,” he whispered, standing right in front of you with little space between the both of you. Harry reached up, gently grazing your skin with his knuckles, “You did an amazing job, Y/N.”

And that was it. The lump in your throat, the itching in your nose, your eyes growing tearful, it made Harry frown as he cupped your face.

“Hey, hey, why are you crying? Did I say- Did I do anything wrong?”

“No,” you sobbed, “God, no, far from it.” You sniffled, “I just- Nobody has ever sung her to sleep except me.”

His heart swelled. He didn’t know what to say and thankfully, you went on.

“My mom tried a few times but Faye never sleeps when someone else sings to her.” You cleared, “This is all too much for you and it’s only our first date a-”

And God, he wanted you to stop talking so he took matters in his own hands and pressed his lips against yours, feeling you melt right there and then before you kissed back, your hands going up to hold onto his wrists as he gently held your face in his hands.

It was sweet and short, sufficing to do the job of making you shut up and because Harry just really thought kissing you had to be one of the greatest feelings he had ever felt.

Pulling back, the distance between the both of you remained little. “Then let me take you out again,” he softly said before pecking your lips, “And again,” this time, he pressed a kiss to your nose which had your face scrunched up and had him smile, “And again,” your left cheek, “And again,” your right cheek, “And some more.” Finally, again, your lips.

“This is a responsibility, you know that?” You asked, eyes gazing into his, “Harry, I can’t have her get attached to you just so you can one day decide to leave because you want out of this. I’ve never done this before,” you admitted, “I never had to explain to her the absence of a figure in her life because I never allowed a single person close enough to me like that, to her. I don’t want her growing up seeing temporary partners in my life either.”

“And I admire that, I do.” Harry said, moving his hands until he had them on your waist, “We have all the time we need, that you need. Slow, yeah?”

You nodded, “But you have to make it to breakfast tomorrow.”

“Only if you want me to.” He smiled.

“I do,” you assured, wrapping your arms around him before pulling him into a hug, pressing your cheek against his chest, “Just- No kissing or anything in front of her, okay? We’re just friends to her.”

“Just friends?”

“Just friends.”

“Well, friend,” Harry chuckled, pulling away and looking down at you, “I hope you didn’t friendzone me because I would really love to take you out on a second date.”

“I don’t know, I think I did.” You joked, laughing quietly as you looked up at him, watching as he tipped back his head and laughed.

“Well, just friend, would you mind giving me a kiss goodnight?”

“I don’t like my hair.” Faith groaned from her seat on the kitchen table.

“Faye, we changed your hairstyle 3 times.” You commented, flipping a pancake.

“I just don’t think I like it.”

“Well what do you want?”

“Can you do these buns here?” She asked, putting her hands on her head, showing you that she wanted space buns.

“Alright, final hairstyle. If you don’t like them, just let it down, okay?” You asked, putting the pancake on a plate before turning off the stove and walking towards her.

“When will Harry be here?” Faith asked as you unbraided her hair.

“Should be here in a minute, Nugget.”

“Is he your friend?” She asked as you began twisting her hair into a bun at the top of her head on the side.

You only hummed in confirmation.

“Does that mean you don’t kiss?”

Your eyes widened, glancing down at her to see that she was casually playing with her dinosaur. “Uh, yeah? Why?”

Faith shrugged, “I don’t kiss my friends, but I see Aunt Cece doing it all the time with uncle Sean, and I saw Boyd’s parents kiss, too. So maybe you and Harry don’t kiss because you’re just friends.”

Well damn was your daughter clever.

“Yeah, Harry and I are just friends.” Who went on a date and kissed way too many times but that was a story for another time.

Yours and Faith’s heads turned once the door bell rang, you instantly taming your hair and straightening your blouse.

Faith was out of her seat in a second, running towards the door with you hot on her heels. “Faith, what did we say about you opening the door?”

Timidly, Faith’s movement halted with her hand on the knob before she looked at you with a bashful smile.

You peaked through the peep hole and surely enough, Harry stood with two bouquets, looking to the side.

“Go ahead.” You signaled with a smile, watching her open the door.

“Harry!”

Your eyes moved from your daughter’s grin to the man on the receiving end. In off-white corduroy pants, a striped cotton t-shirt underneath, a black Statesman jacket, black vans, and a black short crossbag across his chest, Harry stood with two bouquets; one was of strawberries – which had you grinning – and another was a single sunflower.

“Come in, come in.” You attempted to contain your grin as you moved aside, Faith jumping up and down in excitement with a wide grin on her face that lit her face up.

As soon as Harry went inside, he knelt down, looking at Faith with a soft and genuine smile on his face, “This is the best dress I have ever seen. You look beautiful.”

“Right?” And as if to add emphasis, Faith gave a twirl in her dress – the Fine Line black tee. “Do you like my hair?” Faith raised her fingers to point at her space buns.

“I love your hair!” Harry’s eyes widened as he exclaimed, “Did you do it yourself?”

Faith shook her head, stepping closer to you to lean on your leg, “Mommy did.”

Harry looked up at you, eyes glimmering, before he stood up, eyes set on you. “Mommy did a great job.”

You smiled, your hand finding its way on her shoulder.

“Oh,” Harry’s eyebrows went up, “This is for you.” He handed Faith the sunflower, watching her gasp before taking it from him.

“Sunflower! Like your song!”

Harry’s heart seemed to make a dance of its own at the comment, smiling bashfully at the 4-year-old before nodding, “Just like my song.”

“What do we say, Faye?” You asked her quietly, feeling like you were about to melt at the interaction.

“Thank you, Harry.”

“You’re welcome,” he smiled before looking back at you, reaching to hand you the strawberry bouquet with a small smirk, “And this one’s for you.”

Your face heated up, taking the fruit bouquet from his hands before tilting your head slightly, giving her an appreciative smile, “Thank you. They’re lovely, but you didn’t have to.”

“Nonsense. I wanted to,” Harry clutched his hands behind his back, “Besides,” he cleared his throat, leaning forward a little as to whisper, “I have to make a good first impression.”

You laughed, rolling your eyes at him, “My daughter is wearing a t-shirt from your merch. I think the impression is quite nice.”

The 3 of you then had walked towards your dinning table where you had set the food prior to Harry’s arrival, the table being beside a huge window which had done a great job at letting the sunlight through, a vase of baby pink and white tulips in the middle while the food decorated the rest of the small circular table.

“Mommy, can I put this here?” Faith asked after she climbed up on her chair, her sunflower in one hand while the other pointed at the vase.

“Yeah, of course.”

Gently taking out the flower from the biodegradable wrapping paper, Faith sat on her knees before reaching forward to place it.

“Harry, coffee, tea, orange, apple, peach juice?” You asked.

“Orange would be great, thank you.”

With a smile your way, Harry stood politely by a chair close to Faith’s, watching you nod before going out of sight to the kitchen.

Knowing your daughter’s favorite is apple juice and yourself wanting orange, you poured the juices in glasses before placing them in a tray and going back to where Faith and Harry were, chuckling to yourself when you saw Harry standing and nodding to the story Faith was telling him, seeming to be very invested in it.

“And then-and then, Mrs. Castillo made me play with her puppy.” She concluded with excitement.

“Really? She did?” In a matching tone of excitement, Harry responded, “That’s so nice of her. Do you like puppies so much?”

As you placed the juice glasses in their places beside the plates, you knew that your daughter had eagerly nodded.

“I want to get one but mommy says we can’t now.”

“Hey, sit,” you motioned to Harry, watching as he sat on the chair opposite to yours, “And yes.”

“Why’s that?” Harry asked.

“Because,” you began as you put two pancakes on his plate to which he mumbled a “thank you” for, “I don’t think I can handle this one and a dog at the same time now. It’s too big of a responsibility.”

“Puppies really are a responsibility,” Harry agreed and nodded at Faith as he cut a piece from his pancakes, “Mummy’s right.”

“But I’ll take care of it.” Faith frowned, holding on to her utensils.

“I know you will, baby, but it’s going to go through a teething phase where they destroy and chew on everything, and it’s going to need potty training, and about 2 walks a day. It’s a lot right now but I did promise you that we’d get one when you’re older, right?”

“Yeah,” she shrugged, “Can we get a fish?” Faith then turned to Harry, “Like the one in your video!”

You chuckled as you saw Harry’s face turn to one of amusement, maybe because he wasn’t sure that she had seen it. “That was a big fish, wasn’t it?” You asked.

“What happened to it? Do you still have it?”

Your innocent daughter definitely didn’t know that the fish was real and you weren’t going to destroy her imagination like that anyway.

Harry glanced at you before looking back at her, “It’s back in the ocean with its family and friends.”

“Did you name her?”

“Yeah,” Harry nodded, before he reached a hand to wiggle it at Faith, “Named her Faith.”

Faith broke into giggles, “No, you didn’t.”

“We’ll never know.”

“How about you eat your food and let Harry enjoy his for a little bit?” You suggested with a chuckle.

A minute later, you and Harry broke into a conversation about lyrics and the writing process of some songs.

“Sometimes I’d have these lyrics written, and I have a tune in my head and things are just- very poetic,” You said as Harry nodded in understanding while chewing on the strawberries you had placed on his plate, “And then the final product would be this upbeat song that completely drowns the lyrics and I just go,” your eyebrows went up, “Oh.”

“I get that,” Harry nodded, “It sucks. Like yes, music itself is amazing and working on the beat is enjoyable but some people just don’t give the lyrics any justice.”

“Exactly,” you pointed at him, “I remember writing this one song about,” you paused, discreetly tipping your head to the side, “You-know-who,” and by the looks of it, Harry had understood that you meant your ex and Faith’s father, “And it was so heartbreaking that I remember being so astonished by it and I wanted to like, release it out there, so somebody linked me with this A-list singer and the first demo session was just-“ You cringed.

“Did they end up singing it?” He asked.

You shook your head, “Nope. Might have lost a good deal but I just,” you shrugged, “I couldn’t have my words drowned out like that, especially these words.”

Reaching forward, Harry placed his hand on top of yours, “You did the right thing.”

Your eyes were on your hands, face heating up as you smiled to yourself while brushing your hair back, Harry clearing his throat with a smirk before looking at Faith.

“So, that fish…”

Faith sat on a chair, legs dangling as she had a pillow on her lap, her sketchbook on top of it as she drew while you and Harry sat beside each other on the couch beside her, low noise coming from the television that played a Mickey Mouse Clubhouse episode.

“You actually bit off the tip of your tongue?” You asked in shock, a hand to your heart.

Harry nodded, “Yup. Jumped out of a window and I just, hit my chin with my knee.”

“Why would you even jump out of a window?” You laughed.

With a shrug, Harry sheepishly scratched the back of his head, “I was high.”

Alright, maybe he didn’t want to let you know that. Maybe you’d think he was a heavy druggy. Maybe you’d kick him out. Maybe you’d ghost him because you couldn’t have your daughter around someone who got high.

“Ah, looking for inspiration?” You asked, no sign of any annoyance or worry.

He nodded, “Nothing too heavy though. Shrooms.” Harry said quietly, making sure that Faith couldn’t hear the conversation.

“I had a friend once,” you giggled, sitting straighter, “She got promoted and where she works, they usually host a party to celebrate, right?”

Harry nodded along, subconsciously smiling like you were, his eyes traveling from your eyes to your lips to your eyes again.

“And she’s just the worst with words. Like, really bad, used to fail so many courses back at uni. And she had to give a speech. So before the party, she had some shrooms and Harry, I kid you not, that might as well have an Academy award speech.”

“No way!”

“Yes! And everyone was just so emotional and it later got posted on YouTube, has about 300 thousand views, and nobody knows that she was high all along.”

You and Harry laughed together, you leaning on the couch on your arm as you were both turned towards one another.

“Put Matthew McConaughey to shame.” You jokingly added.

“And then look at you,” Harry tilted his head, a small smile on his face, “Doing it all while sober.”

“Aw, no.” You waved him off bashfully.

“No, seriously. You’re a lyrical genius, Y/N. Besides the awards, everybody knows when it’s a song that you wrote. There are a lot of songwriters who go unnoticed but-“ he shook his head, “Not you.”

You couldn’t reply. What was there to say? Thank you? A “thank you” wouldn’t have done his words, his tone, or the butterflies in your stomach any justice.

Maybe it was why you felt yourself leaning closer, Harry mirroring your actions slowly, gaze on your lips.

It was soft and gentle the moment your lips were against each other, nothing heated, nothing heavy – just gentle and soft.

So much for not kissing with your daughter around.

“Harry, look!”

You both instantly pulled away, Harry clearing his throat as he turned and wiped his sweaty palms on his pants, biting the inside of his mouth to stifle the wide smile that wanted to break out on his face.

Faith was in front of him in a second, holding out a paper for him.

“I made you a gift.” Bashfully, Faith said quietly as Harry held the white paper, looking at it.

Your shoulder against his, you looked over and your heart fluttered.

Three stick figures were standing alongside one another, a tall one, a shorter one with longer hair, an even shorter one with two small balls on its head, a yellow flower beside the last figure.

“This is you,” Faith pointed at the tallest figure, “This is Mommy, and this is me. And this,” pointing at the flower, “The sunflower you got.”

Right above the figure was a big, asymmetric red heart.

Your stomach fluttered, looking at your daughter for a moment before looking at Harry.

It looked like Faith had taken a liking to Harry – one that was bigger than you had expected.

Harry was speechless, eyes on the drawing as he felt his face heat up from the admiration, the innocent act being enough to have him feel like crying.

“This is the best gift anyone has ever given to me.” And he meant it. Looking at Faith, he looked into her eyes – which he had realized were exact replicas of yours – “Thank you so much, Faith.”

You couldn’t help but feel like tearing up when Faith threw herself on him, struggling but managing to wrap her arms around his neck in a hug.

It seemed to have surprised Harry, too for a moment, but it took a second for Harry to help Faith up properly on his lap, hugging her back.

Faith was affectionate, you knew that, but she was never that affectionate with people other than family and the people she had grown up surrounded by. It was why you backed a little to watch, your hand loosely on your mouth.

“Thank you for breakfast,” Harry said as he stood by the door with you, “And the talk, and everything.”

“Thank you for coming. Faith and I had fun,” you smiled down at the ground before looking up at him, “I’m sorry if it was too much – with the drawing and Faith hugging you and talking your ear off and e-”

“Are you kidding?” Harry shook his head with a small laugh, “That was the best thing to happen to me in a long time. I’m framing that drawing the minute I’m home.” Harry patted his crossbag, where the drawing lied.

“She’s actually never like that with new people,” you admitted, “I’m surprised myself.”

“What can I say?” Harry teased, “I have my ways with kids.”

“Ha ha,” you jokingly rolled your eyes, “You associate yourself with single moms often?”

“No, just the beautiful and talented ones.” He gave you a shrug, “That was very cheesy.”

“It was,” you laughed, “But it’s alright, I liked it.”

“Well then, we’re okay.” Harry nodded with a smile.

“We’re okay.”

A second passed before Harry furrowed his eyebrows, “You doing anything on Friday?”

“Not that I know of, no.”

“In that case,” his face softened, “How does dinner sound?”

“Dinner sounds lovely.” You smiled, clutching your hands together against your front. “But you know we need to start working, right?”

“Then how about we work then maybe cook a homemade meal at my place?” He suggested, “Faith is very much welcome to come.”

“Faith and work? Yeah, right,” you cringed, “I can drive her to mom’s for the day, it’s when my mom has my cousins over anyway so she’ll be alright.”

“If anything goes wrong, just tell me. I can get her anything she needs for entertainment.” Harry spoke honestly.

You smiled, stepping closer to him, “I’ll let you know.”

“Good. 5?”

“5.” You nodded.

“So it’s see you soon.” Harry smiled softly, looking down at you before gently moving one hand to your waist, leaning down to press his lips softly against yours.

“See you soon.” You repeated quietly against his lips as you pulled away.

“Call me?”

You nodded, licking your lips, watching as Harry’s eyes glanced at your lips again. Saving him the movement, you leaned closer to peck his lips.

hes.updatesss: Harry restocked the black and the white Fine Line t-shirts and added kids’ size on his website!

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#wellbeafinelime #not one of them #harry styles imagine #harry styles #harry styles fanfic #harry styles one shot #harry styles fluff one shot #fluff #fluff one shot #harry styles fic #single mom!reader #harry styles fluff imagine

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alldayangst · 3 years

Text

gold rush (Tom Holland)

All of my fics are LGBT and PoC friendly. Inspired by gold rush by Taylor Swift. Everybody wants Tom, but you don’t like a gold rush. WC: 2.7K words.

“Y/N, I just wanted to say again, thank you for coming in today and doing this for us.” Tom’s dad, Dominic, said as he displaced papers across desks, earl grey swaying like an angry lake in his mug. Approaching footsteps hinted that the star of the show was soon to be hold. In other words, Tom was running behind.

The door creaked and light from the corridor crept through like Sun peeping through curtains of the Night. It refusing to shut after Tom budged and pushed was maybe divine punishment for him being so late, and maybe provided the bit of laughter you needed after rolling out of bed at 6am for this, for him. When the door eventually did close, Tom turned around and saw you in all your glory; much taller than he remembered, more assured than he’d imagined, and more gorgeous than drowned out and half forgotten memories of you could ever fabricate.

You and Tom ran in the same social circles, but hadn’t seen each other since Tom’s career imploded when you were both nineteen. As much as Tom felt he owed his heart and soul to the UK, he maintained an almost permanent fixture on the States. It started to feel like his trips back to England were in fact actual holiday. At one point, you were in love with Tom, but meeting became a constant battle of ‘here, not there’ and your heart grew tired of the duck and goose chase. The gravity of the situation was too much for you, whom hadn’t even tasted their twenties yet.

“Y/N!” Tom launched at you and held you in tight embrace. You let go of the hug, but he didn’t. And his dad watched on in momentary awe as you wrapped your arms around Tom once again, who breathed in every part of you with unwavering adoration.

“Tom!” You rubbed along his back as he hummed. “When I was told we were gonna have a ghost writer, I had no idea it was gonna be you.”

Tom and his dad (being an author) were collaborating on a book, a million dollar idea that’d been years in the making. Tom had stalled it, his dad told you out of simple insecurity. Now that the world was a stage, he was worried people would criticise his dyslexia with every line he wrote, that every stroke of his pen would reveal him as a rare type of monster that lacked intellect, he pondered that he wasn’t insightful enough in some way. His dad may have written a book about Tom outfaming him, but Tom felt like he’d always live in Dom’s shadow in this respect. Fresh from Oxford with an English Bachelor’s degree, Dom employed you to get grease on the gears to commence writing. Tom had always come out of his shell when you were around.

Your writing session lasted from 8 til noon, when Tom had promo with LadBible or Entertainment Weekly or whoever had bid the highest from his presence that day.

The door swung open and three men in all black and mics saddled around their waists called for and led Tom out of the room.

“Tom, session’s over. We need to get you to your BBC promo in 30 and we’re already running behind schedule.’ One cloaked Tom in a jacket you were sure was more expensive than your own home and another whispered something into a walkie talkie: “Holland is on the move. Check the back entrance is clear.” With that, Tom rose to his feet and left completely opposite of the way you came in. Without a word, no goodbye.

You and Dom left the building together around ten minutes later, where ten men with large cameras stood, lenses focused on you, glaring at you, not sure what to make of you. One of the men screams “Hey! You dating Tom Holland” and after that all you hear is clicks and all you see is bright flashing lights and Dom clenches your hand and leads you to your taxi cab.

The next time you see Tom is sooner than expected. The Hollands were hosting a last minute dinner party and you found yourself sitting opposite Tom, feeling his hard, hot and heavy gaze on you. The tension in the room was so thick not even a chainsaw cut through.

“Next topic,” You picked up a card from the deck and read it aloud. “Politics!” You said devilishly as you sip on what was left of the white wine in your cup, and now that your thought process is blurred; Tom’s longing gaze puts you at dismay.

“Fuck!” Harry exploded, and you hear their mother hiss. “Fuck I hate politics, there’s no making it out alive!” he remarked as he drummed on the table cloth, drunken excitement brewing a new energy in the room.

You go on like this for hours until dinner party is dinner party no more. And while Dom, Nikki and all of Tom’s siblings have chosen to exit stage left, it’s 1am and you and Tom have yet to leave the scene.

Tom sets down your deck of debate cards in favour of a genuine moment.

“What are you doing these days, Y/N?” Tom’s not looking at you, he’s looking at your knee as he rubs circles on it. You want to look down there too, see what he finds so intriguing; but you decide against it in fear you might spontaneously combust. You don’t know if this moment’s supposed to be intimate or innocent and you’re not sure if you want to find out.

So you put up a wall.

“I should be asking you the same thing, Holland.” You say sarcastically. “What have you been doing these days? I haven’t seen you around.” Your eyebrows scrunched up together but you’ve got a big, idiot grin on your face that’s more than telling. Tom giggles at your facetiousness.

Tom scratches his head in mock thought. He never clocks out, always putting on a show. “I don’t know - uh.” You’re laughing before Tom has even told the punchline, ‘cause I guess anything’s funny when it’s said by the one you love.”I’m kind of -” He snatches an old Spiderman comic off the floor. “I’m kinda doing this acting thing at the moment. Playing, y’know, this guy.”

“Well I wish you better luck in the future.” Tom has stopped rubbing circles but instead places his two hands on your knees as you rock back in laughter.

“I’m serious, Y/N. What do you do now?”

“Um.” You suddenly forgot your entire career as Tom, with no shade of subtlety, stares right into your soul. “I got my degree. I write like little stories, y’know? Have you ever heard of folklore?”

Tom shook his head.

“They’re like these little, old beautiful myths. And I write them for a living. And if I’m lucky, they get published in The Times. If I’m even luckier, I get to work with my old best friend - ” You feel your world stop temporarily as you call Tom your ‘best friend’ and you pause for all of 0.3 seconds to register Tom’s reaction but his face doesn’t flinch. “-Writing a book with him and his dad.” And that makes Tom smile. So he doesn’t have to tell you he missed you, you just know.

‘Undivided appearance’ and ‘undivided attention’ don’t necessarily mean the same thing in Hollywood as they do in real life, and you learn that the hard way in your writing session.

Tom may have been sat right next to you, but he was miles away. He was doing press with Cosmo, who hadn’t stopped tagging him with blue hearts on his Instagram, Twitter and Snapchat stories, causing his phone to go off every two seconds. You looked at the phone and then at him who then got the hint and put it on silent. Then there was a knock on the door. Tom rushed to open it, expecting that Dom had sent down a food delivery to egg you on finishing this chapter. You rehashed his childhood like a million times - in fact, you were part of it - so when it came to writing the parts that hurt, where you took a more supporting role in his life, you needed his help. The fact is, the knock at the door had come from one of Tom’s men (Tom liked to call him Man In Black no. 3) who hadn’t said as much as a ‘hi’ before he made his announcement. “Tom, you’re on the line with Cosmo in 10.” The man stepped back and pulled out his walkie talkie, “Holland knows he’s on the line with Cosmo at 10.” And then continued to pace around the hallway.

Cosmo called as he said they would and you almost felt for. second like tom might enjoy an entertainment magazine’s company more than yours. The interviewer made glaring comments and passive flirts at Tom who just blushed and chuckled and sipped his water like the woman on the phone calling him ‘hot’ was just too much to handle. At one point, she says: “What must it be like to grow up that beautiful, Tom? With your hair falling into place like dominoes.” You’re not expecting it when Tom tilts the phone so you’re in view. “Well I’m with the most beautiful being on Earth right now so..” Tom looks at you as if to ask ‘is this okay?” and you know it’s too late for these kind of questions, because that moment is headline fodder, so you smile not to make him feel bad for opening Pandora’s box. But Tom is merciless and likes to rub salt in the wound. “This is Y/N! Y/N’s helping me write the book with my Dad! We go way back.” He covers his mouth as soon as he says it. “Shit! They’re not supposed to know about the book yet.”

This is the moment, you think, where you believe when they say your first love is the one you never let go.

And you can’t think of anything purer than the love you have for him.

Tom thinks being on land is boring. He likes being strung from chords 30 feet in the air, and drowning in despair through scenes of emotional turmoil. You want to tell him you’re an arrow from Cupid’s bow about to reach him, but you couldn’t recover from the splinters if Tom shut you down. After all, Tom was a gold rush. A treasure that everyone had discovered but nobody owned. How precious is a jewel that anybody could take home with them?

Tom had invited you to a visit to Brighton with him, a city near the coast, for some inspiration on writing his section of the book.

You accepted. And because you did, you found yourself at the beginning of the end, on Tom’s boat in Brighton. “We don’t have to talk about the book right now.” Tom throws a stack of blue tinted paper on the floor. His dyslexia meant that spelling and reading was so much easier when done on blue pages, and you could only guess that was the reason the body of water around you brought him so much peace. So when you saw that something might compromise your best boy’s happiness, you point it out. To give Tom a little bit of time to exit before things got ugly.

“Tom, I see someone in the bushes.”

“Yeah. It’s a pap.” Tom mumbled nonchalantly.

“They’re here to get pictures of me,” He turned to face you. “and you.”

“Me?”

“Yeah, the fans ship us. Think we’d be a good couple after that Cosmo stunt. We would have been a good couple when we were like, 18.” He laughs.

“Huh, yeah.” You look down.

“The best one around.” And you can’t tell if he’s serious.

You rip off one of his blue sheets. “I’m coming. I got hit with inspo.” And you trail to a different section of the boat. A very obvious click of the camera from a shrub nearby coaxes your pen to write without a second thought, How is he so accustomed to this? Fake private moments, protected by sheer glass curtains?

You scrunched your paper, well his paper, into a ball.

Your mind had turned his life into folklore. You weren’t sure if that was crossing a line, so you just put the ball into your bag and hide it until he hits you with the spark again.

“Let me see it.” Tom says.

“No.”

“You ran off to write it and won’t let me see it?”

You held your bag at your hip in defence. “No, Tom. Drop it.”

Tom’s face drops a little bit, but then he reaches into his own bag and reveals a deck of your debate cards. “I know what will cheer you up, good ol’ Y/N.” He sets a card on the wooden table between you two.

“Do you believe in a higher power?”

You toyed with the pendant around your neck which revealed your faith. “Do you?”

“I don’t. But I believe in soulmates.”

You look to the left to really ponder on what Tom is saying, and a paparazzis captures another photo of you in the corner of your eye.

“And you don’t think there’s a higher power that manufactures our souls to make our soulmates?”

Tom feigns a scowl. “That’s ridiculous.”

You scoffed. “How very contrarian of you.”

“What the fuck does that mean.”

“It means you contradict yourself, Thomas.” You laugh as he holds his chest in fake hurt.

“Are you implying I’m anything less than perfect?”

“Never.”

Never. Because you didn’t believe that to be true.

“Good. Cause you’d have to be punished.” Tom picks you up and throws you in the water below before jumping in with you.

On your way home you stop at the yours and Tom’s writing booth, scavenging through your bag to drop off Tom’s notepad, some scrunched up blue and white papers you and Tom thought could still help you write his book. You’d made an addition to your love-hazed scribblings about Tom and reckon you’d die if he found it. You managed to throw the other in the water, excusing yourself with “It’s utterly awful.”, to which you and Tom agreed you wouldn’t throw any more paper in the ocean cause the poor fish already had it hard enough.

You and Tom had a session the next day. Tom was excited for the day, and you could tell because he’d given his phone to one of his big babysitters for the time he had you.

“I think that’s all of yours.” You and Tom made a business out of unscrunching your paper balls to see if they had any useful ideas. You were certain you reached the end of Tom’s. All of his notes had ‘T.H’ written on the back in big and were scribed on blue paper. When it came to your little ‘secret admirer’ notes you weren’t worried - you had an English degree and were quick to think on your feet and was ready to make something up when it came to opening it.

“No, this one’s mine.” He’s confident, so you let him have it. He goes to pick up your tea and then realises it’s nowhere near warm, and was the one you made for yourself when you crept in yesterday evening. Tom has a smile on his face, and then he doesn’t. Before he goes to read it aloud, his eyes tell you he’s reading it again and again and again. “At dinner parties, I’ll call you out on your contrarian shit, and the coastal towns we wondered round will never see a love as pure as it.”

The look on Tom’s face gives you the splinters. He tries to look at you but you know he can’t. You don’t blame him. You can’t look at him either. “I really thought this was a good friendship.”

You hum and nod your head in agreement, pull your lips into a thin straight line as streaks of tears abandon your eyes. This was worse than Tom rubbing salt in your wounds. He’s rubbing dirt in your painful fucking gashes and you are reminded of why this didn’t work before, why it will never be.

And you wouldn’t dare to dream about him anymore.

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gingeralepdf · 4 years

Text

Walk On By - Part 1

shoutout to @harrylefleur for this^ amazing edit!! thanks again for letting me use it, it’s perfect!!

A/N: hello!! i’ve been slowly cooking up this 70s dealer!harry au (also known as shroomrry) fic ever since the first italy pics surfaced. i had a lot of fun writing this, so i hope you have fun reading it! another massive thank you to brailey @daydreamsofh for yelling about shroomrry with me since the very first rough draft. your encouragement and support means so much to me!! ily <3

****DISCLAIMER/WARNING: This fic includes scenes in which characters purchase and consume recreational drugs (psilocybin mushrooms) as well as purchase and consume alcohol. If any of this makes you uncomfortable, please do not feel pressured to read or interact with this fic. And do not consume if you are underage.****

You’re simply buying magic mushrooms from Harry. However, if you keep running into each other, is it going to stay that simple?

word count: ~5k

🌈✨🍄✨🌈✨🍄✨🌈✨🍄✨🌈✨🍄🌈

**August 30th, 1977, Inglewood, California**

The evening sun beats down on you as soon as you step off the bus. You walk away from the door before reaching for the sunglasses hanging from the collar of your shirt and slip them onto your face before wiping the small beads of sweat from your brow.

“Stuffiest bus ride of my life.” Your roommate and partner in crime, Jenny, walks over to your side. She leans her head back and groans toward the sky, as if to broadcast her misery to anyone that will listen.

“Really? I thought it was a five star experience,” you reply flatly.

Jenny scoffs and looks at you in disgust before shoving your shoulder. “What bus were you on then?”

Your laughs quickly turn into blissful sighs of relief when a breeze picks up. A brief intermission from the heat and residual stickiness on your skin from the crowded bus ride.

“You’ve still got the tickets and the money, right?” Jenny asks.

“Yep.” You pat your purse. “You’ve still got that guy’s license plate number, right?”

Jenny reaches into her pocket and pulls out a folded piece of paper, “Yep.”

**********************************

The sign outside of the Forum looms over your heads as you enter the parking lot. The large black letters on the sign simply read ‘FLEETWOOD MAC. NIGHT TWO. SOLD OUT’. Even more gigantic is the Forum itself. You’ve been to a couple of shows at this venue before today, but you still can’t get over just how massive it is. It makes you feel so small even when you’re standing one hundred feet away from it.

Your mind begins to buzz with excitement and anticipation knowing that you’ll soon be inside seeing possibly one of the most in-demand shows of the year. It’s incredibly lucky that you were able to score these tickets anyway. Having a job at a radio station definitely has its perks.

You’re pulled out of your thoughts by Jenny’s nudging elbow. She holds the paper that has the numbers and letters of a license plate number scrawled on it in front of both of you.

“He drives a blue Pontiac Tempest. He said he was gonna try to park in the third row,” she says.

Both of you look at the paper for a minute, trying to commit the number to memory before setting out to comb the parking lot in search of this mystery man.

With all the other people milling around and gathering in the line outside of the venue, you wonder how many of these people are on a similar mission as you and your friend.

You turn to Jenny, “Do you know what this Harry guy looks like?”

“Uh,” Jenny draws out before pulling her gaze from the line of cars beside her. “My cousin Kathryn said he’s white,” she begins listing things off on her fingers, “has brown hair, has a lot of tattoos, and he’s British,” she looks at you and wiggles her eyebrows.

Jenny laughs when you roll your eyes, “Oh my god I know he’s British. You’ve been going on and on about how he sounded on the phone.” You walk a few more paces before asking, “How does she know him again?”

“They work together at the record store. You probably would have already met him if you weren’t so pretentious about where you buy your records.”

You switch from scanning over license plates to squinting at Jenny, “I’m not pretentious, the owner of that place is just an asshole.”

“You say that about nearly every record store owner.”

“Only the ones that are fifty year old men who constantly degrade female customers’ music tastes.”

Jenny sighs. “Yeah, you’re right. Most of them are assholes.”

“Hey, maybe with your business degree you can be the first record store owner that’s not an asshole.”

She smiles at you and taps her temple with her index finger. “That’s not a bad idea.” Her eyes flit over your shoulder. She stops abruptly and grabs your arm, “Oh-- hey, I think that’s him right there.”

You turn to follow her gaze. Immediately you spot the blue car. You both take another look at the note in Jenny’s hand. Sure enough, the license plate on the car in front of you is a perfect match.

So this is Harry. He has his head down and his eyebrows are furrowed in concentration just beneath the frames of his yellow sunglasses. There’s a pencil behind his right ear and his left elbow is resting on the door frame, sticking out of his rolled down window, while his fingers are mindlessly fiddling with his neat mustache. On that same arm, you see scattered tattoos that begin at his wrist and run all the way up into the sleeve of his green and white striped t-shirt. You weren’t sure what you had been expecting of this man, but you can’t help but be struck by how handsome he is. The low hanging sun is casting golden light through his back window, shining through the ends of his brown tousled hair.

The pressure of a hand on your back pushing you forward causes you to whip around.

“Could you go talk to him?” Jenny asks softly.

You give her a ‘what are you talking about?’ look, “You’ve already spoken to him on the phone, Jen, he doesn’t know me.”

“I mentioned you,” she pleads. “Ugh I know I talked to him on the phone but now that I see him in person I’m too nervous.”

You take another look at Harry and look back to Jenny. “Okay, come on.”

As you get closer to his car with Jenny trailing behind you, you begin to hear the music blasting from his radio. Hearing the chorus of “Dancing Queen” somehow makes this situation a touch less intimidating.

You take your sunglasses off your face and hang them from the collar of your shirt. You clear your throat once you feel like you’re close enough, hoping this would catch his attention. When he doesn’t move, you open your mouth only to realize that you have no idea what you want to say.

“Um,” you hesitantly mumble to yourself as you reach up and knock on the top frame of his window.

He slightly jumps and pulls his arm into the car in response. He mutters a ‘fucks sake’ before quickly turning his head to you, his eyebrows now creased in aggravation.

You jerk your hand back to your side. You’re not sure if it’s the pressure of having to do the talking or his intense stare, but you suddenly can't seem to string a full sentence together.

“Hi. Sorry. I, er--, we... um. We were supposed to--”

Harry looks past you to glance at Jenny and his face softens. He reaches over to turn the radio down before pointing his finger between the two of you, “Kathryn’s friends?”

“Yes,” you sigh in relief.

He nods, brushes a few stray hairs from his forehead and tilts his head toward the passenger seat. “Yeah, come on in.”

Hearing his soft British accent is a lot more endearing than Jenny’s annoying impressions of what he sounded like on the phone.

Jenny follows you around to the passenger side door and you pull on the handle.

When it doesn’t open, you reach through the window for the lock. You freeze when Harry’s hand meets yours. You lower your head slightly to look through the window and see him leaned over, still staring at your hands that are both grabbing the lever. He looks up at you and slightly shakes his head.

“Sorry,” he mumbles as he pulls his hand away and reaches to lean the passenger seat forward.

You open the door and gesture for Jenny to climb in first. After you get in and close the door behind you, you plop down in the back seat next to Jenny, who’s sitting behind Harry. You do your best to hold back a hiss when the heat from the light blue leather seats burns through your trousers and the back of your thin t-shirt.

The car smells fresh and is very tidy aside from a few crushed gum packages on the floorboard. Two little tree air fresheners hang from his rearview mirror, swaying in the slight breeze. You peep down to his dashboard and smile.

“I like your stickers,” you blurt out, pointing to the smiley face sticker and the strawberry sticker above the volume and tuning dials on his radio. Mostly, you’re trying to make amends for startling him a second ago, but you’re also trying to dispel some of your nerves that are still fluttering around in your stomach. The mental image of him peeling stickers from a sheet and putting them on there himself seems to be helping a little bit.

“Thanks.” He cracks a smile over his shoulder. You catch a glimpse of a dimple indenting his cheek. You visibly relax your shoulders upon seeing a change in his demeanor. “Would you mind reminding me of your names?” He asks, taking a glance at his rearview mirror.

You both introduce yourselves.

“So it was you that I spoke with on the phone last week?” he asks, turning in his seat and looking at Jenny.

“Yeah, that was me,” she grins.

“Right,” he huffs. “So I know what you’re both really here for but,” he trails off as he reaches into his lap and holds up a folded newspaper, displaying the daily crossword puzzle. “Are either of you any good at these?” He shakes his head, “I’ve got like... three left and it’s driving me crazy.”

Jenny hums as she takes the paper from Harry’s hand and holds it up between you. Coincidentally, Jenny happens to be very good at these puzzles, often taking this same section out of the paper every day.

She puts her finger up to the page and begins counting the boxes in one of the columns. “Fourteen down is ‘questionnaire’.”

As you skim over the page, you catch an error that could be hanging him up. “And seven across is misspelled. ‘Memento’ should start with M- E- instead of M- O-.”

Both of you look back up at Harry and Jenny hands the paper back.

In the same motion he takes the paper from Jenny and takes the pencil from behind his ear. He sets the paper on his center console and brings his bottom lip between his teeth as he erases and fills in the boxes on the puzzle.

You and Jenny exchange a private laugh. If anyone had asked the both of you to predict how this interaction was going to go, this would not be part of it.

“Well. Thanks. It probably would have taken me forever to get those.” He tosses the paper and pencil on the floorboard in front of the passenger seat and uses his finger to push his sunglasses back up the bridge of his nose. “Now, do you have cash with you?”

The shift in his tone catches you off guard, the friendly lilt in his voice being replaced by one more quiet and flat.

Jenny looks over at you.

“Oh yeah, sorry.” You pull four ten dollar bills from your purse and hand them to Harry.

He fans them out before folding them twice and putting them in his pocket. He opens his console. There’s some shuffling before he closes it again and carefully passes you two small envelopes. “Should be one gram in each of those.”

You lean forward in an attempt to shield your actions from people who may be passing by. Carefully, you break the tape seals across the front of the envelopes with your thumb and take a peek inside. Satisfied with the amount of shriveled mushrooms you see, you reseal the envelopes and stuff them into your purse.

“You’ve both taken these before, right?” Harry asks.

“Yeah, a few times before this,” Jenny says.

“Nice. So you know they usually take about half an hour to start working and you’re probably in for about four to six hours of effects and all that?”

“Yeah,” you and Jenny say in unison.

“Okay, I just-- I always want to make sure, you know?” Harry scratches his chin and looks to the side in thought. “Did you drive here?”

You shake your head. “No, we took the bus. And Alice, our friend, is gonna pick us up after the concert.”

He nods, “Okay, good.” He lowers his voice. “The last thing I’ll say is I’ve seen quite a few cops around so… if I were you I’d duck into a bathroom or something to take those.” He slightly raises his hands, “But obviously all of that’s up to the both of you so…” he trails off and shrugs. “Ultimately I hope you both have fun.” He looks at you with a sincerity that puts you at ease. It makes you feel a lot better that he seems to genuinely care about both of you being safe and having an enjoyable experience. You can’t say the same for other dealers you’ve come in contact with.

“We’ll just see what happens I guess,” you shrug back.

“I think we should head in now.” Jenny says, craning her head past Harry to look at the line of people. She pats the back of his seat. “Thanks so much, we really appreciate it.”

“Sure, was great to meet you both.”

“Was good to meet you. Are you going to the show as well?” you ask while reaching forward for the door handle.

He instantly perks up. “I am. Managed to get a ticket. It’s in the nosebleeds but…”

“I had nosebleeds when Queen was here a few months ago and it was still a fantastic show,” you reassure him. You climb out and hold the door for Jenny. “I’m sure you’ll have a great time. Take care!”

You close the door and wave goodbye.

You and Jenny link arms as you’re walking toward the venue, and extra spring in your steps after jumping that hurdle.

She whispers, “I told you he was British.”

“Jen.” You roll your eyes and elbow her side.

You look over at your friend who’s now covering her mouth with her hand, poorly concealing her laughter. You steal a glance over your shoulder. The last thing you see before you turn back around is Harry staring directly back at you.

**********************************

Jenny walks in front of you, weaving through the groups of people as you both search for a water fountain to wash the earthy taste of the mushrooms from your mouths.

You both join the line behind the fountain closest to the main entrance. When Jenny leans down to take a drink, you spot a familiar green and white striped shirt amongst the crowd of people streaming in. Harry is strolling by, heading toward the arena entrance.

He glances in your direction and does a double take. He instantly grins and raises his eyebrows at you, giving you a thumbs up before mouthing ‘have fun’ and disappearing around the corner.

Your cheeks warm and your stomach flutters.

After you’ve had a drink from the fountain, you and Jenny make your way into the expansive arena and join the crowd of people in general admission.

About half way through the opening act, just as you’re about to ask Jenny if she feels anything happening yet, you see her looking at you fervently and everything around you starts to feel dream-like. The spotlights on the stage begin to look like halos, making it impossible for you to turn away. You start to feel as if the music you’re hearing is coming from your own body. The drum beat bursting through your chest and every note from the guitars coming from the tips of your fingers and the ends of your hair.

The euphoria of being surrounded by love and joy takes over you, making you laugh and dance and sing until the music comes to an end.

**********************************

You’re sitting on the sidewalk outside of the Forum, legs crossed in front of you with your elbows resting on your knees and your head resting in your hands. The concrete has finally cooled off after the heat of the day. You’re hunched over, currently transfixed by a trail of ants marching along the smooth surface in front of you.

“It’s like you can hear all their little footsteps,” you say, your eyes open wide in awe.

Jenny, who’s sitting across from you in a similar position, giggles in response to your observation before gasping. “I hear them too.”

Both of you snort and break out into unrestrained laughter. It’s never felt so good to have the sound of laughter ringing through your ears.

After a moment, you start to hear the sound of something else. It sounds like your name is being called, but it’s not coming from Jenny. You hear your name again, closer now. It sounds as if it’s echoing from the enormous wall of the Forum right next to you. Your eyebrows pull together in confusion and curiosity as you slowly turn your head to look over your shoulder.

You’re immediately filled with excitement upon seeing the friendly face walking toward you.

“Harry!” you exclaim, waving wildly.

A smile spreads across his face and you swear little sparkles appear next to his dimples.

You can’t take your eyes off of him as he makes his way over to stand next to you and Jenny. You have to crane your head back to see his face from your position on the ground.

“Hey, you alright?” he eyes both of you curiously.

You simply nod in response.

“What are you guys still doing here?”

Jenny sighs as if this is the twentieth time he’s asked, “We’re waiting for Alice.”

“Well,” he trails off while scratching the back of his head, “you probably don’t know this, but the concert ended about two hours ago.”

For whatever reason, this sends you and Jenny into a fit of howling laughter.

Jenny suddenly stops and looks at you wide eyed. “Hey, lets just take the bus home.”

You gasp and grab Jenny’s shoulder, marveling at her great idea. “The bus! Let's take the bus!”

You rise up to your knees with a newfound surge of energy and Jenny follows.

“No no no no no,” Harry surges forward and presses one of his hands on your shoulder and the other on Jenny’s, urging both of you to sit down.

He sinks to the ground along with you, propping himself on one knee. “Do you have Alice’s number with you? I can try giving her a call?”

It takes you a minute to realize that he’s speaking to you. “Yeah I have my address book in my purse--,” you look down to your side and freeze at the sight of the zipper on your bag. Your stomach drops. You definitely do not want to put your hands anywhere near the jagged edges of the zipper that are suddenly taking on the shape of menacing teeth.

You barely hear Harry let out a breathy laugh. You look up to him and he points to your bag. “Need some help?”

“I….. uh…..” You’re not completely sure what to focus on or how to put your thoughts into words.

Before you can ask for help, he slowly reaches out and takes your bag between his fingers, bringing it away from its resting place on your hip. “S’ this alright?” he asks softly.

“Yeah.”

He slowly unzips the bag and you grimace at the unsettling noise. Once it’s been opened all the way, he slightly tilts it toward you and asks, “Can I look inside? Or do you wanna do it?”

You flinch away and shake your head profusely, raising your hand up as a barrier between you and the bag. “No, you do it.”

He looks down, reaches his hand into your purse and starts carefully poking through it.

Your shoulders relax as you turn your focus to his hair. It seems to be much curlier and fluffier than before. It looks… inviting, like a soft blanket that you want to curl up into. It seems to have its own gravitational pull. You lean forward, bury your nose in it and take a deep breath in. The smell of apples and some cologne you don’t recognize and the scent of his sweat swirl together in an exhilarating way.

Harry slowly lifts his head up and eyes you suspiciously over the frames of his sunglasses that have slid down the bridge of his nose. Now that you’re sitting here eye to eye with him, you notice every single detail of his face that you hadn’t been privy to before. Every eyelash, the crease between his eyebrows and the way one of them is slightly raised. The deep set dimple in his cheek due to the smirk pulling up on one side of his mouth. The thin green irises of his eyes.

The more you look into them, the bigger they get, and the more you’re able to see your own reflection in his pupils. You tilt your head and smile as they keep growing in size. Just as they're getting to a comical level, making him look more like a cartoon character, you notice a blush creep onto his cheeks.

He folds his lips into his mouth, blinks rapidly, and shakes his head before returning to his search through your purse.

Harry finally pulls out your yellow leather address book. The white daisies printed on the cover seem to dance and twirl in place when he holds the book up and opens it.

Your purse is returned to its previous position on your hip before he looks at you again. He points his thumb over his shoulder at the payphone a few feet from you. “I’m gonna go call Alice. You guys just stay right here, alright?”

When he starts to get up to his feet, you blurt out, “I have dimes you can use.”

The corners of his mouth turn up and he waves you off, “That’s alright, I’ve got some.”

You watch as he walks over to the payphone. You watch as he digs into the pocket of his jeans and pulls out a handful of coins in his palm. He inserts a dime into the coin slot and cradles the phone between his shoulder and ear. You watch his every move until the stripes on his shirt begin to ripple as if they’re made of water. This plus the flickering light above the phone becomes too much for you to handle.

You lay on your back with your hands folded across your stomach and begin to take in the stars in the sky, which are somehow less overwhelming than a simple striped t-shirt.

You’re not sure how long you stay like this. You feel like you’re so close to the stars in the night sky that you could reach out to touch one, or maybe even cradle one in your hands to feel its warmth. The sound of Jenny sitting next to you humming some tune you don’t quite recognize only adds to the peacefulness you’re feeling.

A bright light suddenly overwhelms your vision and you look over to your left to see a pair of headlights coming toward you. You hoist yourself up from the ground and bring your arm up to shield your eyes from the blinding light.

The car screeches to a halt at the curb. The first thing you see after the driver’s side door opens is a head of curly hair that can only belong to your friend Alice.

“Holy shit you guys. I’m so so so sorry.” She rushes over to where you and Jenny are sitting. Only half of the words she’s saying are even registering in your mind. “I ended up falling asleep and then there was a car wreck on the freeway and traffic was backed up for miles and-” She stops in her tracks once she’s standing in front of you and snorts out a laugh. “Oh my god you guys are so fucking high.”

Her laughter is interrupted by Harry. “Are you Alice?”

“Yeah, who are you?” she replies with a slight edge to her voice.

“Sorry. I-- I’m Harry. I... uh… I gave them the…”

“Oh you’re Harry. Well. Thanks so much for sticking around with them but I can take it from here.” She shakes hands with Harry before extending a hand to Jenny, helping her stand up and walking her to the car.

Meanwhile, you slowly make your way to your feet and walk over to Harry. He grunts when you clumsily wrap your arms around him in a hug.

“Thank you Harry. You’re a very nice person,” you mumble into the fabric of his shirt.

“You’re… You’re welcome.” The vibration of his chest when he chuckles travels all the way down to your toes. You also pick up the thrumming of his heart beating wildly against your ear. His hand lightly rubs your back.

You soon hear Alice’s voice behind you saying your name. The feeling of her lightly tugging on your t-shirt coaxes you away from Harry and into her arms.

Before you know it, you’re settled into the backseat of Alice’s car next to Jenny and Alice is shifting to drive.

As you slowly pull away from the curb, you steal a glance over your shoulder to see Harry standing on the curb. He has one hand on his hip and the other is scratching his jaw as he watches your car move away. His figure is getting smaller and smaller as you leave the venue. Just before you turn the corner, you see him step over to the payphone again.

**September 1st, 1977, Los Angeles, California**

You take a long sip of your coffee as you carefully place the needle on your record player. After a few seconds of rustling and popping, the first kickdrums of The Five Stairsteps’ “O-o-h Child” fill your living room, followed by a chorus of trumpets.

Jenny left for work early in the morning and you have a day off, so you’re relishing in the freedom of having the house to yourself.

You walk through the doorway into the kitchen where your fried egg is sizzling on the stove. With your free hand, you take a plate from the cabinet and set it on the counter before grabbing a spatula, turning the burner off, and carefully lifting the egg out of the pan onto your plate. You pluck the piece of toast from your toaster and turn to set your plate on the table along with your coffee mug. The only thing missing is the newspaper, which is most likely still sitting at the end of your driveway from the morning delivery.

You pad through the hallway to the front door, turn the lock, and swing it open. As soon as the early fall air hits you, however, you come to a halt and let out a shocked gasp.

An equally startled Harry is standing on your front doorstep with one hand behind his back and the other hovering over your doorbell. All of your systems stall for a moment, as if you’re trying to connect whatever dots you can to make this scene make sense in your brain. You can feel heat quickly spreading all over your face each second you both stand there in silence, which you both break at the same time.

“What are you--?”

“Sorry I--”

You press your lips together and wait for him to continue.

“I’m sorry. I, um,” he clears his throat before dropping his hand by his side, “I should have called ahead of time.”

“What-- uh,” you stop to rephrase your question since What are you doing here? sounds a little more blunt than you’re wanting to be. “What brings you here?”

“I just thought I would stop by on my way to work.” He pulls his hand from behind his back, revealing the yellow and white cover of your address book in his hand. “Wanted to return this to you.”

He must have picked up on your confusion as you take the book from his hand and run your thumb over the cover.

“I’m sorry. I accidentally left it on top of the payphone after the concert. Didn’t realize until you had already driven off. But your address and everything is written in the front so… thankfully it wasn’t hard to figure out how to get it back to you.” He gestures to the book before jamming his hands in his pockets.

“Oh,” you draw out as the realization dawns on you. In the process of debriefing your trip with Jenny and Alice, you thought that Harry had given your address book back to you, concluding that it must have been somewhere in your house. You figured it would turn up someplace unexpected, and technically you turned out to be right. You laugh to yourself, “I thought I lost it somewhere in my house or something. I-- Thank you.”

You spare a glance at him for long enough to catch the tight grin on his face, causing his dimples to indent on his cheeks.

As you’re taking in his loose fitting white shirt and ripped jeans, you’re quickly becoming aware of the fact that you’re only dressed in cotton shorts and your old UCLA t-shirt you had slept in. If this whole interaction had been timed better you at least could have run to your bedroom to throw on pants or a sweater before answering the door. You reflexively cross your arms in front of you.

“So you had a good time, I hope?” Harry’s question interrupts your thoughts.

“Oh, yeah. Alice just brought me and Jenny back here and we sat around listening to music and talking. Then we pretty much spent all day yesterday sleeping so.” You shrug.

“Did your bag give you any more trouble?” he squints, pausing around the word ‘bag’ and giving you a sly smirk.

You scoff and shift your weight to lean against the doorframe. “No, it did not,” you mutter defensively toward the ground.

He breathes a laugh through his nose and you urge yourself to steer the subject of conversation slightly away from the specifics of your high state the other night.

“Also, thanks so much for staying there with us. I mean, who knows what we could have gotten into.”

“Oh, it was no problem. I’ve done some pretty stupid stuff while on shrooms, even when I’m supervised so…” he trails off into a chuckle.

You smile at his confession, somehow you can’t imagine this level-headed man doing anything stupid.

He continues. “Just wanted to make sure you were okay.” After a brief pause he adds, “You and Jenny.”

Your eyes snap up after he corrects himself.

He looks down at your doormat, scratching his chin. His cheeks tinge a light shade of pink.

“Well thank you. And thank you for coming to return this,” you say through a deep sigh, raising the book in your hand.

“Of course.” He looks over his shoulder at his car parked on the curb before turning back to you. “Well, I better get going. Was good to see you.” He nods before turning toward the street.

“Yeah, see you around.”

“Take care!” he calls over his shoulder, throwing a peace sign in the air.

Once he’s walked away, you retreat into your hallway and close the door. Your house is now quiet since the record you were playing has reached its end. There’s nothing to mask the sound of your heart beating out of your chest. You stare at the door for a moment, replaying the conversation in your head.

“See you around?” you mock yourself. “Where are you going to see him around?” You rest your forehead against the door and let out a deep sigh that gradually turns into a groan.

Harry’s car rumbles to a start outside. You don’t want to release the tension in your shoulders until you’re certain he’s driven away.

A thump on the other side of the door makes you jolt back. Your eyebrows furrow in confusion when you look through the peephole and see Harry climbing into his car and shutting the door.

You reach down to the door knob and open the door halfway, barely poking your head out. You can’t seem to find the source of the noise until you look down and see the newspaper rolled up in a rubber band sitting on your welcome mat.

You glance back at Harry just in time for him to flash a smile, give you a wave, and take off down the street.

*************************************************

thank you so much for reading!!

if you enjoyed part 1, please remember that reblogs and/or nice messages mean the world to fic writers. <3

you can find my masterlist here and my inbox here

-> PART TWO <-

#my writing #drugs tw #shroomrry #harry styles #harry styles fanfic #harry styles x reader #harry styles writing #harry styles reader insert

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moonchildstyles · 3 years

Note

the guys at the shop probably poke fun at harry too! like someone went on a date and they’re talking about how hot it was and how hot the girl is a harry is just not interested???? and they say it’s because he’s so whipped for her and say things like “Harry doesn’t fuck he makes love doesn’t he?” and he rolls his eyes at almost everything except if they start talking about how hot y/n then he just can’t handle them even thinkin about her like that

omg ur sososoosos right🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

Maybe, they all had gone out together but h stayed home bc ofc he did, there’s no other place he’d rather be than with his girl. A couple days later, everyone is back in the shop and Niall tagged along with Louis to get another tattoo. They’re all talking and exchanging stories after they all had split up that night, and Harry is just... uninterested. Even when they get into the more wild aspects of the stories, H instead just texts (Y/N) and starts taking a look at the books for tomorrow so he could plan out taking her to dinner after he finished up. It wasn’t until Zayn nudged his shoulder, having splayed himself over the couch in his office while Harry sat at his desk, that he perked up to listen to what was being said.

“Harry, are you even listening?” he had laughed, raising his brows as Niall divulged details that once would have Harry joining in on the fun and interjecting his own experiences. Now, it just seemed rather boring.

“Uh--Yeah,” he mumbled, nodding his head though he was sure his lie wasn’t bought.

“Yeah, and you’re not texting (Y/N) either,” Liam joked, the attention now being placed on Harry.

“Oh, is Harry too ‘in love’ now to listen to our stories?” Niall smiled, rolling his eyes with his chest rumbling in a laugh.

“Nah, he’s just whipped,” Louis interjected, pulling more laughs from the group around them.

Harry huffed a laugh, his lack of details being shared being the running joke of the shop for the past couple of months. “Is it so bad to go home with the same person every night?”

“Not if you’re getting laid when you go home, but you haven’t said a word about anything like that since you started seeing her,” Niall poked, prodding for information they all knew harry wasn’t going to divulge.

“That’s cause ‘s none of your business what we do when I go home,” Harry cemented, checking his phone to see if (Y/N) had messaged back yet.

“Oh, that’s right!” Niall perked up like he had a eureka moment, “It’s cause you don’t fuck anymore, you make love, right?”

The room erupted into laughter at Niall’s comment. Harry couldn’t help but quirk a smile at his words. (Y/N) didn’t seem to mind when he referred to it as such, so he didn’t really care what the boys thought.

Today seemed to be Niall’s day to pick at Harry as he didn’t appear to give any of the other boys a chance to butt in. “I don’t know how he keeps it so clean, though,” he pondered aloud, seeming to address the room instead of Harry alone. He quirked a brow at the tone of voice Niall implied, wondering just where he was planning on taking this. “I wouldn’t be able to keep it all in if my girl had an ass like (Y/N)’s.”

Muffled laughter came from his left, Zayn covering his mouth as Louis nudged him. Liam adverted his eyes from Harry completely, turning his back to him to avoid all contact. They all knew how this was going to end, but Niall seemed ready to see just how far he could take it before that end would be ushered in.

“And she’s got that good girl thing going for her, could only imagine just how sweet she is between the sheets.”

Zayn wasn’t able to keep his laughter in at that one, his final line of defense manifesting in a fake cough to cover the outburst. Harry’s attention was directly placed on Niall with his arms crossed over the broad of his chest, his jaw set and eyes hard. Niall cast his eyes in Harry’s direction, his teasing smile flushing his skin the more he held in his own laughter.

“Keep going, would love to hear what else y’think about my girl,” Harry prodded, daring his friend to further over the line he had crossed the second he bought (Y/N) into their discussion.

"H, c’mon, you know I’m just kidding,” Niall relented, knowing that if he pushed Harry just a hair further he might be banned from the premises (again, the first time being when he took his friendly flirting with (Y/N) a bit too far for Harry’s taste).

“’S not funny,” Harry deadpanned, “Y’can talk about those girls y’take home all y’want, ‘s none of m’business, but we don’t bring (Y/N) into this.”

Harry didn’t want to be a buzzkill, but he knew just how uncomfortable (Y/N) would feel if she heard any of the speculation leaving their mouths. She didn’t want to share any of those details with anyone but Harry.

“Alright, alright, I’m sorry,” Niall apologized, raising his hands with his palms out in surrender, “Just think she’s pretty, is all.”

“And that’s where y’can leave it,” Harry dismissed, shifting his attention to the texts waiting on his phone from his girl. He didn’t even pay attention to see if the conversation drifted onto other avenues, only focusing on the plethora of heart emojis filling his screen from the blue messages on his phone. She seemed happy with the dinner plans tomorrow.

Until Niall peeped up again.

“And she has a nice ass.”

“Niall, I’ll ban you again, I don’t need you here.”

#I love the idea of them teasing him over her it makes me really soft🥺#anon #ask #concept

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ciggylungz · 4 years

Text

Benefits

Rivals blurb: 2.8k word

Request: y/n & harry go to a bar and someone from harrys office flirts with her and he gets jealous

Work parties were never very exciting, so when Y/n and Harry had a combined company benefit party at one of the upscale lounges in London she was hardly excited. Her publicist had decided it would be good to do it together to get more hype and press on it by proving even though their companies split years prior there was ‘no bad blood’. She only agreed because some of the profits were going to different charities and that gave her the stamina to stick out a work event, and well free booze was a plus.

She had just enough time to make a pitstop home to change into a formal appropriate cocktail dress, pumps and fixed her hair before making her way towards the bar. Upon arrival she could already hear Harry’s distinct fake laugh, her eyes rolling automatically knowing he was cheesing up to some rich beneficiary to milk as much cash out of them as he could. She headed straight to the bar, ordering a vodka soda with lime deciding she’d need a little help getting through the night If she’d be trapped with that prick in such an enclosed space.

After two vodka sodas she was feeling a good buzz, good enough that her uptight nature seemed to unravel enough for her to entertain the gentlemen who decided to start talking to her, joining her at the bar. He wasn’t too bad looking, typical business man look with a crisp suit and hair styled with some sort of product that made it stiff. He was well groomed and she had recognized him as one of Harry’s employees. Mark was his name, and as long as he kept her drinks coming, she was more than willing to keep chatting with the man. Seemed like a good trade to her, booze for flirting- a win-win for both parties.

“How old are yeh doll?” the man was giving her the typical flirty eyes, she’d typically cringe at how thick this guy was laying it on already but she was too tipsy to care. “ ‘m 23, you?” the man had a sly smirk on his face at that, rubbing his chin slightly before taking a sip of his whiskey. “I’m 46, props to you fo’ havin’ such a big company at your age. I was just getting’ coffee for asshole bosses when I was your age. A business woman is sexy you know? You like older men hun?” his game was truly weak, almost embarrassingly so for someone of his age. She questioned if he could be a 40-year-old virgin, or he was just a terrible flirt. Yet she answered truthfully, not caring much since she’d likely never see this bloke again. “Depends, been with ‘em before but it’s not a preference or anything.”

His eyes flicked over the expanse of her body, his smirk not dropping at her answer as he licked over his lips. “Oldest you’ve been with?” his question made her roll her eyes starting to get a little tired of him now, knowing full well he just wanted to bang her which wasn’t going to happen. “I don’t kiss and tell Marcus.”

The pair weren’t aware of the irritated glare that was watching their every move, reading their lips from across the room as they talked. Harry was the peeping tom in question, staring the two adults down with a strange feeling in his gut and a tingle in his palms- like he wanted to punch his employee but- why? It’s not like he had any real reason to, but still a flare of…jealousy crawled up his spine and burrowed inside the ripples of his brain. He had been in this position before, when him and the girl were younger and he’d see her makeout with another guy or her boyfriend of the time or when he’d hear them fucking in a neighboring room while a young Harry grew overly irritated at the fact someone else was feeling what he’d felt before. He was being immature he knew that, but he didn’t care as he marched over to the pair acting casual despite his mood when he leaned against the dark wood of the polished bar.

Harry rubbed his pointer finger over the wood, collecting a small amount of dust on the digit before tapping his knuckles on the wood getting the attention of the bar tender and the pair he’d been practically stalking since he noticed them together. “Gin and tonic please, love and another one of whatever Y/n had. Put it on my tab, thank yeh” he was always a polite guy, his mother truly raised him well in that aspect and it was refreshing for Y/n to hear the man talking to someone kindly instead of the usual bickering they partake in.

Y/n turned to him on her swiveling barstool, giving him a tipsy soft smile and nod in acknowledgement not noticing the side eye he was giving the man on the other side of her. “Hello Harold” she greeted him using the name she knew got on his nerves, his name was simply Harry yet everyone assumed it was a shortened version of the rather old-fashioned name typically tied to it. Yet, he didn’t bother getting irritated or retorting with something annoying no- his focus was more on the man he had an itch to fire at the moment. He managed to keep his professional nature regardless, “Evening love, hello Marcus what are you lot talkin’ about?” Y/n was more confused on the pet name he’d used towards her than about the harsh gaze he was sending toward the man on her left.

Mark seemed to sense the animosity, knowing his bosses irritated look very well. He opted to respond to his employer with an awkward chuckle a shrug added to it, “Nothin’ much, business and such. Was admiring how she’s runnin’ a company so young just like you. Would be lying if I said I wasn’t a bit jealous.” His free hand went up to scratch the back of his neck, sipping his drink to have a way to cover his nervous lips whilst Harry stared him down. Y/n was honestly a bit amused at the situation at hand, wishing she had some popcorn to go with her fifth vodka soda to enjoy the little testosterone standoff happening. She’s seen Harry get like this a couple times, so she shamelessly added fuel to the fire.

“Yea, and askin’ me if I like older men then following that up with askin’ the oldest man I’ve slept with. It’s been a very professional conversation H, no need to worry.” She knew exactly what she was doing, and she got the reaction she wanted when Mark nervously fiddled with his tie and Harry’s jaw clenched, the action still noticeable in the dim lighting. Y/n was tempted to laugh at the surge of tension she had just created, opting instead to sip her drink as she waited for what was to come next.

Harry straightened himself up, turning to look at the man with a raised eyebrow. “Oh really? That hardly seems appropriate for a work event.” Harry was trying his best not to show the possessive feelings he was having, rather opting for a reprimanding boss act to fit the occasion. “erm…uh was just some casual banter Mister Styles. Might have had one too many, wasn’t using my best judgement…I apologize Y/n” he was rushing his words, obviously anxious to escape the confrontation which Y/n found even funnier. Harry gave the man a curt dismissal with a request to see him in his office on Monday, and in true Y/n fashion she decided to add a second dose of fuel to the fire- calling out to the fleeing man- “The oldest was 54 by the way!” this of course made Mark scurry away faster and Harry lower his gaze to the woman before him with a irritated yet quizzical look.

“54?” his tongue darted out to lick over his lips, a sting of gin hitting the tip of his tongue from the drop lingering on his bottom lip. Y/n shrugged, crunching a rouge ice cube between her back molars while she nodded. “Vegas, tequila, he had major sugar daddy vibes and 19-year-old me was into it.” Y/n was always rather shameless when it came to sex, she’s been sexually active for the majority of her life so the shyness of talking about it left her long ago. Harry snorted slightly, shaking his head with an amused grin at the girl. “Naughty! you’re somethin’ else Y/n. I’m gonna tell your dad.”

“I don’t think his heart could take it, he did an awful lot of blow back in the day so I’d appreciate it if yeh didn’t do that sir.” She rolled her eyes, taking a subtle jab at her less than respectable antics of her filthy rich father. “Seems like you were doing an awful lot of a different version of blow to me.” the man smirked at his own joke getting a light slap on his bicep in return. “Shut up, I haven’t forgotten when you got gonorrhea when you were 18. You’re just as bad as me.” Y/n poked his ribs making Harry groan at the memory, “I got that treated you asshole. I’ve learned to wrap it before I tap it since then and be selective with what I put my dick in now. For the record, all my std tests have come back clean since so fuck you.”

Y/n gave him an innocent smile back, resting her cheek on her fist. “Is that an offer?”

The response wasn’t one Harry was expecting. Not by a long shot, he hasn’t been inside her in a little over a year so her response to his jab took him by surprise. His eyes immediately met hers, finding a curious glance coming from her orbs. Setting down his glass the man turned towards her, facing her completely before responding.

“If you want it to be.”

Y/n smiled at him, standing up from her stool to get closer to the man pulling him down by his collar to talk in his ear. “Your place or mine?”

After a painful ten-minute taxi ride, they’d made it to Harrys home. They were well aware of looming neighbors and press so they kept it professional till they were inside the four walls of the mansion- rushing up to his bedroom like two teenagers scared of getting caught. Anxious rushing of feet up the stairs hands struggling to stay to themselves on the way to the king-sized bed waiting for them.

After what seemed like forever, the pair burst into Harry’s bedroom the door hitting the wall with a loud bang as the man lurched forward to smash his lips against hers. It was frantic, sloppy and rough- it was fucking hot.

“you drive me up the fuckin’ wall you know that?” His voice was gruff, heavy with lust and jealous rage. Shoving the woman onto his bed with little care, he knew she liked it rough. A fact confirmed to him after he’d seen the rather violent bdsm porn she had saved to her computer and the various sex toys-including restraints, collars and clamps in a box in her closet 2 years ago when she moved into her current home and forced him to help her put everything away.

Y/n let out a small gasp when her body flew onto the mattress, kicking her heels off after she had settled with a smirk painted on her pretty lips. “Do i?” her tone way teasing, hands moving to unzip her dress while the man moved to stand before her yanking the fabric down her body to leave her in only a silk bra and matching thong, his eyes shamelessly taking in the sight of her body- intimate parts only covered with think sections of emerald green silk fabric.

“Ya know I didn’t appreciate you tellin’ that bloke about other men fuckin’ you, was rather impolite y/n.” Harry gave her a stone cold glare whilst tugging his belt out of the loops of his dress pants, tossing it carelessly behind him as the woman dove forward to work the button and zipper of his trousers undone. “Why? You jealous? Are you jealous because I let other men and women fuck me? Are you mad that you never get to taste me, fuck me and cum with me like they do?”

Y/n’s comments were soon cut off by a ring clad hand wrapped itself around her neck with enough pressure to stall her speech. “You never know when to shut the fuck up huh? We both know full well, no one can fuck yeh the way I do. Now, are you gonna quit your blabbering so I can fuck yeh or do I have to shove this skimpy excuse for underwear down that gabby throat? Hmm? Because I like to hear your dirty moans but I’m not a fan of this snarky mouth baby. Are you going to behave or shall I go have a wank instead?”

The pitiful whine accompanied by a pout coming from the woman made Harry’s cock twitch, she was so desperate for it and he had her right where he wanted her. He soon felt her hands pawing at his crotch, tugging the material of his tight dress pants down his legs before returning to pull his cock from the flap in the front of his boxers. It had been entirely too long since he’d held her small soft hands on his prick, watching with baited breath as her right hand moved to rid herself of the sorry excuse for undergarments she had on.

“Want it in, H please”

He obviously couldn’t say no to that, not when she was giving him those eyes and leaning back to show the web of wetness dripping from her slit onto the sheets below her snapping when she swiped her finger through it to rub on his already leaking tip. She had his head swimming, chest heaving and balls pulsing with every move she made.

The man tossed her body further up the bed, getting between her legs giving her no warning as he sunk completely in. The pressure and harshness of the thrust took her breath away, an overwhelming fullness almost uncomfortable as he gave her no time to adjust before driving into her beautiful body. The sound of her wetness clicking when coming in contact with his hips and filthy groans of pleasure filled the space, the slapping of skin harsh in their ears with every nailing of his pelvis into hers.

“This what yeh needed? No one else fucks yeh so good you can’t breathe do they? Got your face goin’ almost purple, feel my cock in your chest don’t you baby?”

His words were filthy, yet held truth. He pulled halfway out to give her a chance to take a few breaths, the dark redness of her oxygen starved face starting to fade to a flustered pink before he continued his rough ramming. Her nails pierced the skin of his tattooed arms, screams of pleasure rawing her throat when she felt her orgasm about to reach it’s peak.

“Holy fuck!”

Her exclamation was loud, filthy and drenched in sultry bliss as the knot in her stomach unraveled. She tried desperately to climb away from his hammering hips, the stimulation making her entire body feel like it was screaming yet his hands kept her pinned to the bed fucking her relentlessly through her orgasm.

“Fuckin’ hell! Cummin’ hard huh? No one else can make you cum like this, say it. Tell me baby, admit it”

His teeth were clenched painfully tight as he spoke, Y/n struggling to get her words out with the surge of feeling rushing through her nerves managing to ramble out the words almost incoherently.

“That’s fuckin’ right doll, only I can do this to yeh.”

Even with his body on fire, he held his cocky persona pounding into her a few more times until he jerked his hips out just in time to spill his seed onto her heaving stomach. Watching the ribbons of thick white cum paint her flushed sweaty skin, her body trembling from her orgasm violently while being painted with her ‘enemies’ hot cum.

The bed shook when Harry dropped down beside her, breathless and worn out. a proud smirk painted on his sweaty red face when he turned to the woman who was looking at him already struggling to remember how to breathe. Placing a smacking kiss to her swollen lips, a strong arm tugging her into his sticky side.

For the first time in a long time, they felt content in each other’s grasp. Making them both silently wonder if these feelings weren’t just lust, but something else entirely.

#harry styles smut #harry styles angst #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles blurb #harry styles drabble #harry styles writing #harry styles fluff #harry styles series #rivals #CEO!harry #CEO!yn #harry styles concept #harry styles au #harry styles x reader #harry styles x yn

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littlemisslipbalm · 4 years

Text

“You get me” Pt. 2 -- aka “I got you” (famous!y/n x harry)

Harry x famous!y/n - FLUFF pretty much

ahh you all are so kind and literally you all mean so much for liking, reblogging, and commenting! Means the world to me! NOT PROOFREAD

also if anyone wants to let me know how to properly do a tag list ?? as of now I have a couple people on the tag list so yah but if it grows i might need some tips

Taglist: @marauderswhisperer, @morgannope, @daddystevee

Now for Pt. 2 - feedback super welcome, maybe we’ll have a part 3 and please no stealing of the work :)

Dedicated to all the peeps out there who find themselves constantly in line with Harry and his vibes but feel weird agreeing with him constantly because people think you’re only that way because you’re in love with him

Word Count: 3.5k

Warnings: kissin’ and stuff, nothing graphic

Pt. 1

“Am I right? I- I could be wrong” you rushed.

“No, no, I got you, don’t worry...I got you” his eyes outshown his smiling lips but nonetheless he reassured you.

It’s seldom that one person meets someone so perfectly matched to themselves. So similar yet not annoyingly so. Two pieces of clothing from the same custom collection, perhaps. You couldn’t believe you’d spent almost seven hours just talking with Harry. Your conversations ranged from silly situations to music inspiration to any dreams you had unfulfilled. Your answers always lined up - not the same, but exceptionally similar and the other was always quick to say “wait, me too” and jump into their own story.

It was the next morning after hanging out at Harry’s and you’d had trouble sleeping, worrying about not having your phone with you. Luckily, that meant your body was quick to wake you up in the morning even without your usual alarm. When you woke up, you quickly dressed in sweats and a tank top, shuffled some shoes on, and freshened yourself up with some quick hygiene care - teethbrushing, facewashing, and the likes. Then, you jogged to your car, anxious to reunite with your phone and the prospect of seeing Harry again so soon moved your legs far quicker than normal. You had figured you wouldn’t see him very often, despite the amazing friendship the two of you had already cultivated, he lived in England mainly and you lived in the United States - California specifically, the furthest you could get from the Harry within the continental United States, sadly. This mistake gave you the chance to see him much sooner than expected and you were very grateful for it.

As you drove out to Malibu, you kept the windows down and your sun roof open. It was a lovely day and you could never get enough of the warm wind whipping around you as you belted out the lyrics to the old rock radio songs. When you sensed you were getting closer to Harry’s you felt yourself begin to tingle, your nerves were gone this time, only excitement filled you as you took in the now familiar surroundings. Harry’s home was set further back from the street so that random pedestrians and street noises never reached the house. You noticed more and appreciated the total beauty of the grounds while you walked up to the house this time, the daytime sun and the lack of nerves both allowing you to soak it all it.

Your actions mirrored those of the previous night, just in a slight fast forward - everything moving faster. You had began to worry slightly though, ‘what if he is upset that I woke him up, what if he is out and I can’t get my phone, what if he has early morning company?’. Still you proceeded to knock and hoped to hear Harry’s footsteps any moment. Thankfully, your ears were greeted with the sound of rustling and soft, slow steps behind the door. You then heard the deadbolt turn and again Harry was before you. His hair fell into his sleepy spectacle-clad eyes, barely open, but he had raised a hand to rub out the sleep from one of them as he opened the door, skewing his glasses. You took in his disheveled appearance, you had obviously woken him, his sweatpants hung low on his hips and he had a hoodie on that was askew, showing a hint of his tanned olive skin - a corner of one of his laurels if you were being honest but you forced yourself to believe it was just a shadow. His feet were bare and you noticed his toenails were painted electric purple and a deep green.

“Hi,” you squeaked, biting your lip. Harry blinked hard and opened his eyes and raised his brows, just trying to wake himself up, but also slightly confused to see you at his doorstep. He had texted you last night, asking if you’d made it home safely, but had never heard back. He hadn’t worried, just assumed you weren’t always on your phone. His was a light sleeper and had heard the knock on the door echo through the house, so he slipped on a hoodie and went to see who it was, when it was you it was definitely surprising. Your presence was shining through his stupor, a small smile graced your face, but it radiated light as strong as the sun.

“Y/N... s’lovely t’see you again, but why’re you ‘ere, love?” He almost whispered your name, his voice catching in his throat due to the lack of use during his slumber. He quickly cleared his throat to get rid of the rasp and groggy sound he heard emit from his own voice. Your smile grew at the sound of his melodic voice, how he pronounced your name - like it was something fragile and needed great care, how it was rough from sleep, but it mostly grew from his use of love, so common for him, yet it felt so special for you. “I left my phone here last night, actually. Sorry for barging in, and, uh, waking you up, I’m assuming,” you said as you took in his appearance once again. He nodded and mustered enough strength to chuckle.

“When’d you realize you’d left it?” Harry asked as he let you in, as he swung the door open, he hung onto it, to keep him upright. “Oh! Right when I got home, of course!” you started as you began to talk with your hands again. You walked ahead of the slower Harry, through the house, back to the sitting room where the two of you had entertained yourselves last night with each other’s company. “Barely could sleep at all, was so worried you’d have jetted off again already and I’d have to figure out how to break in and heist it out of here.” More laughter. Being around you like this was like a shot of espresso straight to Harry’s veins. He perked up at the sound of your sweet voice and your accompanying hands. He noticed they were void of your rings this morning, he guessed you took them off to sleep and forgotten them this morning, due to the rush.

He pushed his hair out of his face with both hands and huffed out a breath as you looked around the room. “Where could it be?” you asked slightly desperate, more to yourself than to Harry. He suggested the couch, walked over, and began to take the leather cushions off. You sighed and began to help Harry with his search of the couch. The last cushion to be removed from the couch uncovered your abandoned phone. “Finally!” you both exclaimed. Then, you looked around, “We made a mess...shit, I’m so sorry, Harry.” “Don’t, don’t be silly, its an easy fix, and y’needed your phone, c’mon Y/N.” He was quick to discourage your apology, despite your surroundings looking like someone had ransacked his room. All the cushions were discarded haphazardly, some blankets had fallen to the ground, and magazines were strewn across the coffee table and the floor.

“Well I’m not leaving you here to clean up a mess I caused,” you stated matter of factly, quickly beginning to repiece the room. Harry threw on a couple of the cushions then said, “S’alright, really, but if y’insist...I’ll start a pot of coffee. Do you?..” he trailed off, but you understood his question. It was kind of him to offer, but you assumed it was more for himself than you. “Nah, I don’t love coffee, sorry, now tea, that’s another story, but I’m fine really.” Harry glanced over to you and there was that smile again. It’s like it lived full time on your face, Harry thought, no wonder you’d already seen such success, not only were you technically a good musician, you were also a good person. He quickly nodded with a breathy laugh. You two went about your self-given tasks, cleaning and “cooking”. Neither of you spoke much as you worked, but you glanced up when you heard Harry begin to play some song from his phone after he had set up the coffee pot. The moment was domestic and tranquil, like the two of you tidy the house and make coffee every morning together.

A whistling sound cut through the soft moment just as you were grabbing the final magazines from the ground. “I thought you said--” Harry cut you off before you could finish, “I made both, love. Any preference for your tea?” You moved into the kitchen and leaned against the bar top, amazed by the man before you. He’d gotten down two mugs, gotten out an assortment of tea, put on the kettle and the coffee pot, making you what you preferred despite your claim to be fine with nothing. He held the two mugs out to you, “Which?” he questioned moving them back and forth from his chest encouraging you to choose, raising his brows for added effect. One was a wide and short ceramic speckled mug with a line painted fish. The other was a taller cream ceramic mug with a shiny red interior with a colorful scene of a town around the outside, the sun was shining in the little town. You crossed the kitchen to him and placed both hands on the red town mug, encircling the little people and houses smiling up at the two of you.

“Good choice, very treat people with kindness of you.” Harry smiled down at you. Whenever you were in closer proximity to him, his body so obviously towered compared to yours. It would seem intimidating, but really just felt comforting, safe. This moment far tenser than any previous moments that morning. He stared into your eyes and you returned the gaze. His hands still holding the mug you had chosen, you felt the heat radiating off of him and warming up your cheeks. There and then it was gone, you turned from him and went to the stove where the kettle sat. You filled your mug with the boiling water and fished a packet of some pink floral Parisian tea you saw and dropped it in the mug. Again you turned and leaned on the counter. Harry had poured his coffee and was opposite you, leant against the counter as well. Like a silent conversation had gone on between the two of you, Harry said, “Creamer’s in the fridge.” You nodded and went and grabbed it. You scurried back to your place against the counter. Harry set his mug down and crossed the short distance between you. His movement was so sudden and disturbed the peacefulness occurring in the kitchen, the synchronous movements between you two. You tensed and your heart began to race when he didn’t stop moving closer. His body was almost against yours when his left arm reached above and past your shoulder, opening th cupboard, and taking out a box of brown sugar cubes. Slowly, he moved the package between the two of you, either side resting on parts of both of your bodies. His warm coffee saturated breath fanned your face.The smell was warm and all consuming when it mixed with the scent of just Harry, probably a combination of shampoo, laundry detergent, and sweat. “Sugar’s right ‘ere,” he spoke just for you, lingering in the bubble your proximity had created. He couldn’t pull away and neither could you. But you had to. You nodded and took the box of sugar cubes, plopping a few in your tea. With that, Harry huffed an inaudible sigh and grabbed his coffee.

Happy witht the taste of your drink, Harry and you journeyed back to the couch where you been last night. Careful to set your phone in eyeline, you got comfortable, tucking your legs under you on the couch, leaning back and gazing at Harry. Comfortable silence fell between you, but again it was like the two of you were communicating in someway that didn’t require words. You noticed you were situated closer to Harry on the couch than you had been last night. Maybe you were less careful or maybe Harry had chosen to scoot closer to you as well. “So, I’ve been thinking, I know we like literally just met, but I’m just so in awe of how well we get along, Harry. Honestly, when I was little I was a huge fan and when you said you wanted to meet to discuss my work I was on a new level of existence, seriously,” you stated, “Hey! Don’t laugh, I’m being for real,” you feigned hurt when Harry giggled from your word choice. “Anyways,” you emphasized and playfully gave a pointed look towards Harry’s shaking body. “You’re like image in my head that I never thought was attainable and now...feels like we’ve been friends for ages,” you finish softly. You weren’t exactly sure why you were sharing this thought with Harry, but the moment in the kitchen had set your heart beating. You had to say something to try and explain how you were feeling. Harry had grown silent again as you had pressed forward. His brows had slightly furrowed as he had watched you speak. You sensed you’d messed everything up, you believed the silence was a sign of your overstep. You both seemed always to be on the same page and now you’d jumped chapters and Harry was still behind. Learning a spoiler can always be upsetting, sometimes even ruinous.

Shit, you thought. “Am I right? I- I could be wrong” you rushed to add, hoping to salvage any work relationship possible after crashing and burning so hard with this presumptuous statement. “No, no, I got you, don’t worry...I got you” his eyes outshown his smiling lips, but, nonetheless, he reassured you. He reached out and cradled your exposed shoulder, his thumb brushing up and down. “I feel it too…s’a bit weird, innit?” Harry kept smiling and you had to smile too. His lips were perfect, you noticed, shape and color. Every feature of him was like that, perfect shape, perfect composition. In your heart, you felt the words of a song beginning to piece itself together just from his face. You wanted to explore its every nook and cranny, the slope of his nose, the peaks of his cheeks, the sleek lines of his jaw, the depressions under his eyes, all of it. You didn’t want to leave a single piece of flesh untouched. It stayed silent and you noticed Harry had leaned in to hold your shoulder and you shifted comfortably towards him in return. And you were about to reach out and touch want you wanted so badly, your faces closer than ever before, when a doorbell rang throughout the home.

Harry twitched his hand away from your shoulder and pulled back from your face exploration activity, throwing his head back on his neck in some sort of disappointment. You were in disbelief, pulled from the trance that was Harry’s beautiful skin, ‘I didn’t know there was even a fucking doorbell here’. “‘S one momen’,” Harry grumbled, running through the house to the front door. You took a deep breath, trying to cool yourself off from what you were pretty sure was just about to happen. You grabbed your mug and took a sip. You strained your ear to hear anything at the front door, but it was all completely muffled, but the conversation seemed to be coming to an end after a couple minutes. You looked inquisitively at Harry when he returned, he waved you off. “Unimportant...what were we doing?” Harry said as he regained his position beside you. “You were about to kiss me,” you replied, taking the arm underneath your resting head and grabbing at his hand. You intertwined your hands as you had last night, when you first noticed that Harry was being vulnerable with you and getting to actually know you. Harry was caught off guard at your forwardness in the moment, but melted at the sight of this confident and caring woman in front of him. You had been so true to yourself on your album he realized after your first conversation last night. You were beautiful inside and out. He looked down at your hand in his, “No rings today…” “I forgot them...had to get over here.” “Were you excited t’see me again?” Harry questioned somewhat out of the blue. “Of course. What about when I showed up at your doorstep?” It was fine Harry hadn’t really addressed your kiss comment, you were so comfortable with him, it didn’t bother you. “I’d ‘ave thrown anyone else out after they’d found their phone if they’d been the one t’wake me up this morning.” He raised his free hand up to your hair now and ran it through until he cupped your ear, then he ran his hand down your jaw and up onto your cheek, his hand cradling your delicate face. “Can I?” He looked into your eyes intently.You bit your lip and leaned forward into Harry. Your lips connected and the kiss was so tender and filled with mutual respect and care, passion just below that surface of soft kindheartedness. Your plush lips pushed against Harry’s and the two of you moved in unison. Soft touches and faint whispers.

The chaste kiss began to turn when you pushed Harry further into the couch and crawled into his lap, your legs seated on either side of his sweatpant clad leg. One of your hands held his jaw in a strong yet loving grasp, while the other was tangled in his hair massaging his scalp. You arched your back as Harry ran his fingers down the back of your spine to land on the side of your hip, his other hand on your neck. His tongue pushed into your open mouth and you made a noise of appreciation and your tongues danced in each other’s mouths. His touch was liquid fire on your skin, seemingly harmless yet burning you everywhere he felt. His hands traveled to the bottom of your ass, slowly sliding over its entirety and squeezing at the bottom. You squealed and Harry grinned, “Easy.” You couldn’t help it, your clothed core was pressed against his toned thigh, his hands were on your ass pushing you down and to top it all off, he was an amazing kisser. He kissed your lips one more time before moving to the corner of them, then your jaw, and finally your neck. He left open mouth kisses on your neck, soft and tender. He was slowing down, taking more time to run his tongue over your neck, massaging it in a way. This was just as amazing as the rougher makeout session that had just occurred. You resumed massaging his scalp and brushing through his curls. Then, you ran your hands down to his broad shoulds beneath his sweatshirt. You drew patterns over his skin and he hummed. “Mm I’like tha,” he whispered into your skin and looked up at you.

You both wore matching smiles, basking in the warmth the two of you had just created. You dropped your head into the crook of Harry’s collarbone beneath his neck, “We should do that again.” “We should definitely do that again, Y/N,” Harry responded emphatically, giving your bum a final squeeze before moving his hands to encircle your waist. You two sat there silently for awhile and then changed to a better cuddling position where you could both still drink from your mugs. You discussed your upcoming schedule, press, time off, and upcoming tour dates. Harry would be in town for a couple more weeks, but was going back to London afterwards. “You should come visit me when you’re on break before tour. We can go out and do somethin’. Tha’d be fun.” You agreed that it sounded fun and that you two should schedule something when it was closer. Harry was largely free during the time that you were on tour. “I dont wan’t to be presumptuous, but… if you wanted, you could come visit me while I’m on tour, we could explore when I’m on my Europe leg?” you said hesitantly. It was Harry’s turn to agree, “Sounds like a great idea, love,” he ran his fingertips up and down your arm idly. You continued to plan the future, nothing had to be defined, it was clear the two of you loved to spend time together, everything just seemed to flow when you were together. Everyone and everything else could fade into the background, as long as you had each other, you were pretty sure you’d be alright.

“Thank you,” you said quietly, breaking some silence that had settled over your cuddled figures. “What for?” Harry looked down at you in his arms. “For getting me,” you smiled for the thousandth time that day. You were sure you’d grow extra smile lines if you continued seeing Harry so constantly like this. Harry returned it and pressed a soft kiss to the top of your head, “I got you.”

Pt.3 🥺

#harry styles #you get me #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x reader #harry styles fluff #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x you #harry styles fanfic #mine #my writing #not my gif #love you h #hope you all enjoy #PART 2!#famous!y/n #famous!reader #my writings

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