#fallinharry10k

[littlemisslipbalm]

“it’s not that important”

Summary: Y/N is in Harry’s band and one night they have a drunken hook up. One thing leads to another and they find themselves engaging in a friend’s with benefits type of situation. spoiler: it is important

AKA: A friends with benefits to lovers story :) with some angst in there

This is for @stylesharrys fallinharry10k celebration so my trope is friends with benefits! prompt is “you have no goddamn idea what you do to me. when i’m around you, i have no control of my emotions or my thoughts” and the tenth picture ^ i kinda just used it in the beginning to descripe what he was wearing - i got really carried away with this story but the prompt is in there !! lol, not proofread tho but would love your feedback !!!! :) love y’all very much 

oh boy i’ve had this done for agesss but i hadn’t written the smut until today so now we’re here i dont even remember what happens - i vaguely remember not loving the end but I hope yall enjoy

Word Count: 15.4k (longest fic to date) | Warnings: smut, angst, fluff, alcohol consumption? i dont remember but i dont think theres anything too heavy in here.

-

“Hey Harold!” You smile as you easily hop over the side of the couch and settle beside your bandmate.

Harry groans, yet can’t keep the small smile off of his face when he sees it’s you. “How many times have I told you to never call me that?”

Your eyes narrow at his faux glare. “And how many times have I told you, I simply do not care?” 

You reach a hand out and tousle his already disheveled, unstyled brown hair. Despite his lack of styling, his hair still looked perfect. His chestnut hair fell into a middle part when he did nothing to it and you found it endearing. It made him look far younger than he truly was, like a boy you might have pursued when you were in your early days at college. The waves slightly framed his prominent cheekbones and chiseled jaw that was sporting a tiny amount of stubble.

He moves his arm from around the back of the couch to pat at his hair, trying to put it back in its nondescript position you had just messed with. After he’s satisfied, he uses the same hand to push up his glasses on the bridge of his nose. They’re chestnut brown Gucci frames that match the natural highlights in his hair. You can safely assume that’s why he bought them. The lenses are clear, but you know they don’t hold any prescription. He looks incredulously at you from behind them still.

“Nice glasses,” you mention offhandedly as you reach out to the coffee table to grab the drink you had left there earlier.

Before Harry had arrived, you had been taking up residence on the couch, in the spot he had actually taken up. You had ventured to the restroom for a moment and gotten held up in a conversation when asked your preference for the Beatles. Having to defend your staunch stance for the Beatles and against the Rolling Stones, you had gotten swept up into an argument with Adam. He believed that because the Rolling Stones toured for longer warranted them the title of best rock band. While you countered that despite their long touring and production of music, the Stones had a rotation of members. The Beatles maintained the four of them and held such a large impact even though they were barely together for a decade. They were one of a kind, or at least the first of their kind, you’d allow. You weren’t really in the mood for intellectual conversation tonight, so upon seeing Harry taking up your seat, you had told Adam you’d continue the discussion at a later date and returned to your spot.  

“Thanks,” Harry mumbles as his gaze flits around the room. He wasn’t sure if you were actually complimenting him, but he would take it as one either way.

The rest of your friends are all up and about, drinking, talking, dancing. It was the usual house party scene: a relatively intimate gathering, music you all actually liked, some friends of friends feeling slightly out of place. There was no pressure in this type of gathering but still Harry wasn’t necessarily in the party mood tonight. Usually, Harry was the one instigating these types of get-togethers with his friends and bandmates. He liked to be the life of the party, but as the tour loomed closer and closer, he felt some tinge of longing for quiet and solitude. He knew he wouldn’t have much quiet while on the road, which mostly didn’t scare him. He loved the stage and the high he received from performing and the gratification he felt from all the people in the room being there to see him. But there was also that other part of him that liked the quiet, the privacy. As the lack of alone time nudged itself around the corner, he had been hoping to enjoy solitude, or at the very least peace before he was on the road. Some sort of blissful state before technical chaos ensued. When Charlotte, the host of tonight’s soiree, had texted their group chat about tonight, Harry had politely declined. Then came the slew of private texts from Charlotte giving him all the reasons he should come tonight. He tried to say no again, but had shown up after the continued begging from her.

His appearance mirrored his expression, choosing a not perfectly fitted white t-shirt and random trousers rather than picking something he really loved, like usual. You could tell something was up and as his friend you were wondering what was wrong with him.

“Don’t sound so excited, Harry, someone might mistake you for somebody who’s happy to be here.” You stick your tongue into the side of your cheek, gauging his reaction.

“Has anyone ever told you you’re not very funny?” He quips, green eyes flashing to meet yours.

Your banter is probably how the pair of you communicated the best, never really falling into the whole serious side of friendship. You never shared those late night talks about the future or your fears. It was a fun friendship, so you didn’t fancy yourself one of his closest confidants. When it came to music, you and Harry were a bit more serious which formed a sort of paradox because the music you would share with each other gave a far greater insight into your souls than you probably realized. As a member of his band, you would discuss his music and what was going on with that sort of business part. But the sharing and discussion of other music that you did was part of your friendship, even if you didn’t see it like that. Because of the countless albums you had recommended to each other and the specific songs you had made note of, Harry and you knew each other much better than you thought you did. Music connects to something deep inside yourself and you have to like it enough and know the other person well enough to believe that they will also enjoy it to recommend it. As much tongue and cheek that you partook in with Harry, deep down, unbeknownst to either of you, you were that friend he shared his hopes and fears with, through the way he knew best, music.

“No, most people find me hilarious...”

You take a sip of your drink, trying to cover up the sting that his remark actually left. Most of the time you were great at keeping up with anyone’s banter, especially Harry’s, but tonight you weren’t feeling it. His tone had sounded so harsh it almost sounded like he meant it. His features soften when he sees the way your face falls, despite your sarcastic tone.

“‘M sorry. I’m just not in the best mood tonight. Didn’t want to come, but Charlotte…” He shifts to face you, arm retracting slightly around the couch, landing his hand at the edge of your shoulder. His fingers fiddle with themselves absentmindedly, he turns his rings around his fingers and they ever so slightly brush against your shoulder. You don’t mind, you know its his nervous tick that he did whenever he didn’t have something to clink them against.

“Yeah, same here, actually.” Your tuck an out of place hair behind your ear, returning your gaze to Harry, who’s tilting his head at you curiously. “But might as well make the most of it, though. After all, this is our last week before tour starts.” You raise your glass and tilt it towards him before taking a sip.

You really didn’t have a plan, you were just trying to make him feel a little better. It was seldom you saw him so solemn at this type of gathering. He usually was the one bouncing from group to group, entertaining everyone with his dazzling charm and quick wit. Sometimes he would bring a date and spend the night with them in the corner, but that was usually at bigger parties than this. At these types of gatherings you often found yourself talking with Charlotte for most of the night. You were both new additions in the band and you had clicked immediately. You would travel in a pair between different groups and talk with everyone. Sometimes you would tell a humorous anecdote about your life and everyone would laugh wholeheartedly. Your ability to retell a story and make it hilarious every time seemed to be your secret talent. You could make any experience into a ten-minute retelling and it always sounds like the funniest moment of your life. It ranged from your embarrassing audition for Grease as a tween to your supermarket run in with an old acquaintance or B-list celebrity the day before. It didn’t matter what it was, it just always had the entire circle of people laughing and wiping their eyes with joy. You’d laugh a little with themselves, but usually you just had a triumphant smile on your lips for the rest of the night.

He nods, sipping his own drink for the first time since you had settled down beside him. “Well, I’m all ears.”

“What?”

“Give me your suggestions on how to make the most of tonight.”

“Drinking, mostly, was my plan,” you laugh nervously as Harry continues to stare at you intently.

“Mostly?”

“I mean, what do you want me to say? I didn’t think to pack my bouncy castle, my bad.”

He bites back a laugh but lets some air escape his defined nose, before staring with a deadpan face at you.

You like to tease him. You simply liked him. Harry was different from other men you knew. You were pretty sure most people could say that though. Harry was just different. It seemed like no one could not have some sort of affection for him. With the playful friendship the pair of you had, you always skirted the edge of flirtation. But you also didn’t particularly ever want to cross any lines with him. He was the employer of you, technically. He had brought you into his backing band and you wouldn’t do anything to harm that position. As well, at the end of the day you knew Harry. His tendencies and the choices he made.

When you were around him at parties like this, you had to try really hard to keep him at an arm’s length. Because on one hand, you would drink and suddenly the boundaries you put up didn’t seem that important, instead his lips started to look rather inviting, but on the other, you knew that he was extremely emotionally closed off to any relationship that was more than either friendship or a one night stand.

Harry doesn’t give you a response, just swings back his drink. The pair of you sit and drink in silence. Before you know it, Harry and you are five drinks in, finally talking after the second. The pair of you decide to move to the balcony outside and continue your conversation there after the third. After the fourth, you're getting really handsy and by the end of the fifth, Harry’s arm is wrapped tightly around your waist and you're laughing breathlessly into his neck. It looks like he’s just shielding you from the cold night air, but both of you seemed to be enjoying each other’s embrace for other reasons.

Finally catching your breath, you lean back and pant softly as you meet eyes with Harry. His pupils have blown out from the alcohol and dark light. The emerald green barely surrounds the black and you swear there’s flecks of gold or maybe brown in them. Your brows scrunch at the revelation and Harry asks what you’re thinking. You don’t respond, too entranced and drunk to even hear him.

“Oi,” he bops your nose, “What is goin’ on in there, little lady?”

Your hand reaches up and widens Harry’s eye manually. His inebriated state has no qualms about you doing such an odd thing. “Why’s your green not actually green?”

“What?” He asks before moving your hand away from his face, it instead falls to his chest. The pair of you shift until your caged between his body and the balcony’s ledge. You pout as you stare up at him. His skin looks soft and taught over every inch of his face and neck. The urge to kiss him keeps nagging at the back of your mind. The idea keeps creeping up closer and closer and the drunker you are the less likely you are to suppress it.

“Do you want to fuck me?” You blurt out.

“Sure.” Harry isn’t taken aback. He had been thinking about asking for a while, so he was glad you had asked first, made it easier for him.

“Okay, let’s go.”

He takes you back to your place, the pair of you catching a cab the short distance between yours and Charlotte’s flats. No one blinks an eye at the pair of you leaving together. Everyone watched the pair of you sulk all night about being there and only enjoying the other’s company, so they weren’t keen on either of you staying. Charlotte was simply glad the pair of you had stayed for as long as you did.

The two of you walk casually until you’re inside your bedroom. Once inside, Harry throws you on the bed and fucks you. Hard. He’s got you spread out in more ways than you had ever thought possible. He’s got you saying things you had never even dreamed of saying. And he’s got you cumming and screaming more than you could have ever wanted. He enjoys himself as well. He loves the way you feel around him and the way your eyes look up at him while he fucks you straight into the bed. He loves the way you sound whispering dirty things and screaming his name. He loves the feel of your soft skin all over your body as he pushes deep inside you. He loves the way you’re able to rip a guttural moan from him every time he cums. And he cums three times that night. While it wasn’t quiet, he did find that blissful state he had been in desperate need of.

After the third round, Harry feels spent. He brings himself into a sitting position, legs hanging off the edge of your bed. You’re lying in your bed, completely overstimulated, cumming at least twice as many times as Harry. He scratches at the top of his head, his bicep bulging as he folds his arms around himself.

“That was fucking good, Y/N. Just what I needed.”

You can only hum in response.

Then he takes your blanket and lays it over you. After that he begins to stand up, getting ready to grab his things and go.

“You don’t have to go…” your voice raises when you realize what he’s doing.

“Yeah, I do. This was just a one time thing, yeah? I enjoyed it, but you know...”

“Erm, I guess?” You rolled to fully look at him, he was pulling his t-shirt back on now, his marked chest disappearing beneath the white fabric. “Do you really not stay over at your one night stands?”

He thinks about it as he begins with his shoes and his glasses at the same time. “Yes? Usually I don’t know the person and I don’t particularly want to sign an autograph when I leave in the morning. Best to leave immediately afterwards.”

“That was exactly why I wanted you to stay...Shit! No chance you’ll give me an autograph now? Could sign my tit, right next to your hickies.”

He laughs, automatically in a better mood after the catharsis of having sex. It was also a relief for him that you didn’t seem to be weird about the hook up. “Shut up!”

“You’re a twat, Harold.” He groans instinctively at the annoying nickname, not caring about the ‘twat’ part. “But be my guest, you can freeze your arse off while waiting for your cab outside at this hour.”

“Rude..” He mutters, standing in your doorway now. “You wouldn’t actually make your employer stand out in the cold at this time of night. I haven’t even got a jumper. Could get a cold and ruin my voice. ”

“You’re the one who says it’s best to leave immediately. Get on it, mister.”

Your hand makes a shooing movement, but he doesn’t budge. You sigh as he makes a puppy dog face - eyes wide and a puckered pout with his flushed cheeks and lips - playing into your actual kindness, that he knows is somewhere. Your sweetness that you were keeping hidden from Harry right now. Nothing was serious between you so it made sense that you were trying not to let your innate ability to care show as he’s about to walk out on you.

“Ugh, fine. Stop looking at me like that. Just grab one of my coats from the bottom right, they’re all oversized so one should fit.” He doesn’t relent on the face. “And you can stay inside until your cab comes.” You sigh and throw one of your pillows at him. He catches it easily and throws it back, much softer than your throw. “Also never pull the employer card on me again when I’m naked in the bed you just fucked me in,” you call as he looks through your closet.

Returning with a patchwork coat you had thrifted tight over his shoulders, he looks at you seriously, “Yeah sorry about that part. Definitely wasn’t trying to exert my power over you, it sounded better in my head. Meant more like you could ruin my voice and both of our jobs.”

You nod and chuckle slightly, finding how inarticulate Harry could be as an endearing trait. His explanation didn’t actually make it sound better. “The jacket fits.” You say, choosing to move forward from Harry’s weirdness, knowing he didn’t mean any harm from his initial statement.

“Yeah, thanks. I think my cab is here,” He glances at his phone, “So I’ll go...See you?”

“I’m sure.” You smile, “We do in fact work together and will soon be touring the world. Would be a bit weird if I didn’t see you.”

“Right.” He nods and adds a peace sign before he walks out of your sight. You know he’s gone when you hear the door click shut. What an interesting night.

-

Love on Tour had just started and Harry couldn’t lie. He couldn’t keep his mind off of you. You were both his most recent partner and the best he had had in a while. He found himself rubbing over the spots on his neck and clavicle that you had given particular attention to during the night you had shared together. When he went to bed it was your body he pictured to get himself off. So, after the first show he’s beelining to you at the beginning of the after party. He’s got an adrenaline high and he needs a release. You’re the solution. He’s whispering in your ear, asking if you’d like to meet him in his dressing room. Your eyes study his face when he pulls back and they widen slightly when the realization of what he’s implying dawns on you. Then you’re nodding and excusing yourself from a random conversation five minutes later.

Inside Harry’s dressing room, you find Harry already unbuttoning his shirt. He grabs your face and shoves his lips onto yours once you lock the door. As he kisses you he tries to make one thing very clear, “This doesn’t mean anything.”

“Got it.” You begin to finish Harry’s job of taking off his shirt.

He pulls back to look you in the eye, “Are you okay with that?”

“Jesus fuck, yes, Harry, just shut up and fuck me senseless again!”

He listens to you and begins to kiss down your jaw and neck. His open-mouth kisses leave a searing trail across your skin. He settles on a spot at the base of your neck and begins to suck and nip at it with vigor. You set to work on finishing his job of unbuttoning his shirt. Then you pull off your own shirt, reaching behind you to untie the bows at the back. The new skin exposed grabs Harry’s attention and he moves down to suck over the cleavage of your tits. He’s happy to be back with his ‘bosom friends’. You smack his head when he says it and he chuckles darkly, only sucking harder on them causing you to moan louder than you would like.

Once you’re both in only your underwear, you find your back pressed up against the mirror behind the dressing room counter. Harry’s body is nestled between your spread legs as he kisses down your skin. His fingers dance along the line of your thong as he looks up from beneath his lashes for position, you only push his head closer to your heat in response. He laughs mischievously before tugging them down off your hips.

“Missed this pretty little cunt...All I’ve been thinkin’ ‘bout,” He mutters as he begins to latch onto your dripping core.

Your brows shoot up at the thought that Harry’s mind has been stuck on you for the past week. You definitely had thought about your drunken hook up a bit, but hadn’t thought it had left a lasting impression on Harry, you assumed he had that lovely of a night with every person he chose to spend intimate time with. These thoughts are forgotten when Harry’s warm tongue is lapping at your swollen bud. You’re already panting for Harry and now you’re heaving with moans and whimpers leaving your mouth with every lick and nip of his expert mouth.

“Fuck Harry, feels so good,” you whine as his tongue travels down your folds and swirls and dips into your hole.

He moans at your words and the way your legs squeeze at his head. His hands move to spread you open wide to maintain his control and he smirks at the way your body rolls due to the friction of his voice against your pussy.

“Be a good girl f’me,” he growls still pressed against your wet heat.

Your body rolls again as you get closer and closer to your first release. Your bite your lip trying to contain all of the sounds that are trying to escape your mouth. Harry notices the new silence and glances up seeing how you’re trying to behave. As much as he likes you obeying his words, he also wanted to hear how he was pleasuring you.

“Tell me how you feel, princess,” he demands.

“So-so good,” you hiccup as his fingers caress over your folds now as he looks you in the eyes, his lips wet with your slick. He kisses you hard, his tongue diving into your mouth and you kiss back passionately, loving your taste on his tongue.

He pulls back and your hands trail down his chest, swirling around his familiar tattoos and hair that grace his lower torso as you move. He grins, enjoying the feeling of you on him and how he was affecting you.

Soon enough, his cock is finding its way back to your glistening folds, wet with your own liquids as well as his saliva. His mouth waters at the sight. He only pushes into you a few times like this. Then he catches sight of himself in the mirror in front of him and can’t resist. He pulls out and flips you over, your squeal leaving your mouth before you can stop yourself. His dick finds your entrance once again, not wanting to be without the wonderful warmth for any longer than he must.

“Ahhh,” Harry groans when he slips back inside.

Your head throws back on your neck, the feeling of him as well as the sight of him gripping your hair in one hand and your fleshy hip in the other. His rings dig into the skin as he’s able to slam more forcefully in this position. You gasp and whine at his motions. The sounds coming from between your legs are turning you on even more and they seem to make Harry happy too. He picks up the pace and drops the grasp of your hair for a second. Your head falls down as you try to keep yourself up on your elbows.

Gripping both of your hips, Harry growls, “Look at me while I fuck you. C’mon now.”

You moan in response and tear your eyes open to see your reflections in the mirror. One hand goes up to hold onto the mirror to give yourself more traction, causing your back to arch even more. The new position has Harry’s cock slamming into you deeper.

“Fuck!” Harry practically yells and can’t keep himself from landing a harsh slap on your ass. You jump forward at the sting but his other hand keeps the pace steady. He keeps burying himself into you all the way to his base, his balls slapping at your now slick spread thighs. He rubs over the red handprint he had just left on your ass. You whimper and bite your lip, truly enjoying the sensation.

Still staring into the mirror as Harry commanded, your eyes water slightly and Harry makes eye contact with you through the mirror. You smile widely and he grins back. “This feels so fucking good. Your pussy takes me so well. Fuck…” Harry babbles, still pistoning into you. You had noticed how vocal he was the first time you had fucked, but thought it had just been the alcohol. Apparently not. But you didn’t mind, you much preferred it to partners who barely spoke or didn’t even moan. Like how were you supposed to know what was going on in their minds? With Harry, you knew he was having a good time.

A few more heavy thrusts and you felt yourself nearing the edge. Your panting was getting faster, exceeding the speed of Harry’s thrusts and he could also feel you were close. Your cunt began squeezing him tighter so he hooked a hand under your knee and brought it onto the table. He hunched over you slightly and snaked his hand to your clit. “C’mon darling, I know you're close. Can feel that little cunt putting a choke hold on my cock.” He rubs at your clit with the vigor of strumming a quick paced song on the guitar. It’s enough to overtake your senses and the laugh that had bubbled from his words turns into your orgasm moan. You try to muffle it into the arm that is holding you against the mirror to avoid a full on scream because it feels that good. You felt like you were having your first ever orgasm, it felt that new to you.

A few more thrusts and you’ve come down from it, but Harry still hasn’t finished. It’s your turn to be the partner coaxing the other to get off. “Faster, Har. Want you to cum too.” He grunts, picking back up the pace. He had slowed to let you ride out your stay. “That’s it...want you to cum in me. Your cock feels so fucking good.” You whine, meaning every word. He smiles again at you and closes his eyes, focusing on chasing his high. You watch as his smile widens to that open mouth grin, “Fuck,” he almost whispers. And there it is. There’s a twitch in his hips that mirrors his expression and then he’s pulling out and cumming on your back. His voice is now even lower and raspier than before as he babbles how good that was and how tight your pussy was. It was sweet nothings, but extremely explicit and you sighed heavily, feeling a small orgasm wash over you again. His final thrusts and voice pushing you off the cliff again easily.

The two of you take a minute to bring your breathing back to normal and Harry goes to clean your back off.

“So..how do you feel about maybe doing this regularly?”  Harry asks sheepishly as he begins to pull his pants back on.

“Like a friends with benefits kind of thing? Or bandmates with benefits, rather.” You laugh breathlessly at your not really funny joke, but you’re now truly exhausted. From the show and the fuck, you felt thouroughly worked out.

“I guess that’s what it is, yeah.”

“Yeah, sure. Sounds good.”

“You’re honestly so chill, Y/N. It’s fuckin’ hot.”

You laugh and flip your hair dramatically. You’re only in your bra and panties right now and Harry licks his lips, finding your playfulness to be a turn on. “What can I say?” You laugh.

“But like I said before...it’s just sex.” He’s buttoning up his shirt and looking at your reflection through the mirror now. He watches you slip the pants you had been wearing back on.

“Oh, Harold, I know.” On cue, he groans and turns around to face you after fixing his mused hair in the mirror. Interrupting yourself, you turn your back to Harry, “Can you tie this, sorry it’s hard for me to get the -” Harry walks to you without any hesitation and begins tying the silk ribbons on the back of your shirt. “Thanks. Anyway,” you turn to face him when he’s finished and you place both of your palms on his chest. “Trust me, I know you’ve got your issues and I’m not looking to be the girl that tries to change you. I know what this is. I only ask that you let me know when you sleep with other people, because once you do, you won’t need me.” Harry nods and you pat your hands against him. You both smile and go your separate ways when you leave the dressing room.

-

Harry and you fucked almost every night on tour. Sometimes it was right after, on the counter in his dressing rooms. Sometimes it was later in the evening in his hotel room or yours. He stopped leaving immediately after your hook ups. He never kicked you out of his room so he decided it was fine for him to stay in yours. Especially because you weren’t a stranger who would be weird with him in the morning. He also didn’t like trekking through the hotel halls late at night.

The first few times you stayed in the same bed, the two of you stayed on opposite sides of the bed, not touching after you were finished engaging in your sexual endeavours. Rigid bodies against the edges of the mattress. Then one particularly long night, filled with multiple rounds, Harry was so exhausted from his performance on stage and off that he collapsed on top of you. He fell asleep there and you didn’t particularly mind. It felt nice to be slightly compressed and held. He shifted in his sleep and when he woke up he wasn’t upset to find you nestled into his side with his arms wrapped around you. After that, cuddling sort of became part of the routine. After you were done having sex, Harry or you would get up to clean up and bring back waters. Then you would settle in his arms. Sometimes in a spooning position and sometimes you cradled softly into his chest. You didn’t talk about it, it just happened.

One night it was your head directly on top of his butterfly tattoo, one leg thrown over his lower torso and your arm snuggly wrapped around his middle. He liked to pet your hair when you laid against his chest in that way. His fingers would fiddle with the strands and you liked it because he usually took off his rings before he would do it and his hands felt so soft and delicate against you. Harry liked the way he felt when he would hold you afterwards. It was calming to fall asleep against your soft skin and feel your fingertips trace lyrics to songs he wasn’t sure the name of against his own.

No one knew about how your friendship with Harry worked. To the rest of the world, you seemed to be someone who had become another close friend in the band. You were similar to Mitch in many respects. Except for when Harry winked at you during a show, it wasn’t a friendly wink, it was a ‘this song makes me horny and I can’t wait to relieve the pressure by fucking you later’ kind of wink. You knew this because Harry had gone over and whispered it in your ear during a quick break, when you had only looked at him weirdly after he did it.

Before the show tonight, you pulled Harry aside, “So what are we thinking tonight? I feel like I might want to ride you...Haven’t been on top in a while.” In the darkness of the backstage, you crane your neck to take Harry’s earlobe between your teeth. He groans softly and grips your hips to guide them against his for a second. “Sounds fuckin’ fantastic, love.” You twitch back, releasing him immediately at the word. You always told him not to call you that and he tried to reason with you, that it was just something he called people. But you disliked it a lot, adding it to the growing list of rules the pair of you had for the do’s and don'ts of being friends with benefits with each other.

“Harold,” you groan and he steps back at that pet name. While he hated this, you refused to let him put it on the list because it didn’t cross any lines with your physical arrangement. Not that there was any physical list to put it on, it was more of a theoretical list that the two of you would speak of occasionally.

“Sorry.” He says eventually, “Didn’t mean it.” You both laugh.

You think about how other relationships were sometimes desperate to hear their partner express their love for them and you believe you’re grateful for the simplicity of your arrangement. The term relationship regarding what you and Harry were doing was also in the ‘don’t’ category on the list. If either of you were being honest, there should be no need for a list and you should be questioning yourselves why you felt the need to set boundaries if one part of it was physical and the other part was your friendship and job. If it truly was just physical why were boundaries constantly needing to be set and followed? But right now honesty was not in the cards.

-

After the show Harry gets delayed with press or fans or something that you don’t really care about. You barely read the text that he sends, only caring about the ‘sorry got held up’ and the ‘be there in thirty’.

You let yourself into his room and wait on the bed, flipping through your phone, completely unbothered by the rest of the world. When you hear a knock on the door, you don’t think twice about getting up and opening the door. You only realize your terrible mistake when it’s Mitch and not Harry standing at what you’re also just realizing isn’t your door, but instead Harry’s.

“Shit!” you say under your breath as Mitch looks at you confused.

The room is dark behind you because Harry would have just entered and gotten down to business. He might turn on a side lamp, but you hadn’t felt the need to have light on while you waited. Forgetting all of that, you had just gone to the door and opened it.

Mitch tucks some of his hair behind his ear as he stares at you. “Is Harry here?”

“Er..No?” It comes out as a question. You rub the back of your ankle with your foot, feeling nervous.

“Is he actually not here or?” Mitch trails off, narrowing his eyes at you.

“No, no he’s really not here. I’m waiting for him, too.” You rush your words, but try to remain calm.

“You have a key to his room. And you’re waiting in the dark.” He says. They’re not questions and you’re not sure just how guilty you look.

“Yeah!” You try to come up with a non suspicious response, hoping there’s a way to still salvage your’s and Harry’s secret, “He gave me his key because he wanted to talk about something and I kept it dark because my eyes always hurt after shows. Kind of like a migraine.” You scratch at your head and smile, trying to convince Mitch. He seems to believe you as he nods slowly and opens his eyes more.

There’s a little bit of an awkward silence and Mitch shifts his weight between his feet, looking at you still. Just as you're about to invite Mitch to come wait inside with you, Harry steps out of the elevator and begins to walk down the hall. His key card is already in hand and your eyes widen. Harry’s expression mirrors yours when he realizes Mitch is standing outside of his door and that you are standing with him. “Mitch!” Harry says, placing his hand on Mitch’s shoulder and sliding his key card into his back pocket with the other. Mitch turns to Harry without seeing him put away the other key card and you look at the pair of them.

“I was just telling Mitch how you gave me your key card so we could talk about...that thing.” You interject, flicking the lights on in Harry’s room as casually as possible. Harry shoots you a look about how you couldn’t come up with an actual reason for being there. You shrug your shoulders helplessly.

Mitch looks between the two of you and feels some weird tension and he’s not sure if it's always there and he’s just noticing or if something is going on right now.

“Yeah, well, I came to stop by to talk about the riff in Canyon Moon. Something is wonky with it.”

“Oh! Sure,” Harry nods to Mitch and then glances at you, “Y/N, we can talk about that other thing later. It’s not that important anyway.” His tone is so casual and nonchalant. You stare at him, thinking he can’t be serious. You had been almost sure he would send Mitch away, but instead you were being kicked to the curb. When he doesn’t say sike or anything of the sort, you nod. “Okay,” then you mumble a ‘good luck’ with figuring out the problem with the song. Mitch walks in the door, but Harry’s eyes stay fixed on your figure retreating down the hallway. He watches you disappear and is only pulled from his thoughts when Mitch calls his name from the couch in the room.

After reaching your floor, you key into your room and get ready for bed. Just as you’re about to drift off to sleep, completely alone for once in a long time, there’s another knock. This time you check the peephole, a habit you realized you were going to have to get better at. It’s Harry. You open the door and walk away immediately once he’s entered the room.

“Why are you here?”

“Thought we could still...” He follows you into the room, trying to make out your face in the darkness.

“I’m not in the mood anymore.” Your tone gives away your annoyance. You couldn’t hide that you were mad at Harry for sending you away. It made you feel weird. The way he did it so easily made you feel like you were extremely disposable and unwanted.

“I’m sorry,” he sighs as he lays down beside you. You turn to face him when he places a hand on the small of your back. You’re face to face and your noses are almost brushing. It’s not really possible to see each other’s features, but after months of hooking up you knew each other’s faces pretty well. You could reach out and pinpoint all of Harry’s freckles and moles on his face and neck right now and be correct. He could likely do the same. The theory is proven correct when he reaches out and his hand dances down your cheek. “Just thought it would be less suspicious if I didn’t get rid of him. Couldn’t make him wait either…”

“I know,” your voice is small and soft, just above a whisper, “I forgive you.” You scoot closer to him and Harry instinctively wraps his arm around you, bringing you tightly into him. You sigh into his neck and he shivers at your warm breath on his slightly clammy skin. When you lick your lips, they brush lightly against his skin. He laughs at the feeling, so you decide to press an intentional kiss to the hollow in his neck. In response, he presses a kiss to your hairline, his lips slightly chapped after the concert.

The kisses are tender, filled with that thing neither of you dare attribute to anything the two of you did in the dark. The word you told him time and time again to not call you. So is just about every touch and word that has been exchanged in this room since Harry entered it. You fall asleep wrapped up in his arms, a soft smile resting on both of your faces. Neither of you seem to mind that you didn’t actually have sex tonight or anything even close to it.

-

When you wake up you feel especially well rested. You shift around and realize your bed is empty besides you. It depended on the day, but it was always a toss up between Harry being there when you woke up or not. However, lately, you had found it was usually the former. You would linger longer and so would Harry in each other’s rooms, lounging in each other’s embrace under the soft glow of the morning light peaking through whatever windows the room had. Today you were cold at his absence. Then you look up and realize you aren’t completely alone. Harry is standing at the end of your bed, staring down at his phone, smiling.

“Hey.”

You wait for his reply, but he doesn’t look up from his phone. “Hey, Harold,” you repeat. His head snaps up, a grimace on his face at the name. He slips his phone in his pocket and ruffles his hair. “Hey.” He finally responds. “I’m gonna head out.”

“Okay.”

Neither of you seem to find it necessary to talk about what happened last night. Harry definitely seemed a little off to you this morning, but you try to shake it from your thoughts. There was no reason to be upset with him being quiet. He didn’t owe you anything, you hadn’t even slept together last night, so if anything it was weird he stayed as long as he did.

It was the second night at the Forum in Los Angeles. This means no travelling necessary. No day off either, tomorrow you’d have a day off before the third and final show at the venue though.

Harry and you were talking normally at the venue, mostly about the setlist - him and Mitch had changed something for whatever reason last night, which was fine. Your banter was to a minimum, but you were trying to convince yourself that nothing was off. Even though it felt like something was different, you couldn’t place your finger on what it was, so you thought it was best to ignore it.

When Harry is about to go out on stage, you don’t pull him aside and when he introduces the members of the band to the audience, he doesn’t say anything fun or silly about you. He doesn’t wink or come up to you at any point in the performance. It’s so unusual the rest of your bandmates are giving you funny looks. Charlotte looks at you from across your keyboard in a way that she’s asking if you’re okay. You shake your head at everyone trying to signal that you’re fine.

Mitch goes over to Harry and whispers in his ear to check in with him, Harry looks at him with a bright smile on his face and says “of course, why wouldn’t I be?” Mitch looks between the pair of you, thinking back to last night and how weird the pair of you were being then. Maybe it dawns on him then what might be going on between the two of you, but if he did, he wouldn’t mention it for a long time.

You falter a bit on your back up vocals tonight. You’re trying to give it your all, like always, but for some reason your voice isn’t sounding the way you want it. About halfway through the show, when your voice comes out the exact opposite of how you would like, Harry finally gives you a second glance. His face practically emotionless, save for the single arched brow. He’s concerned, but not concerned enough where he would go over to you. He just doesn’t understand why you keep missing the right note tonight. You make a shake of your hand to say I don’t know either. He just shrugs and turns back around to continue the show, his lively smile returning while he turns his head.

After the show, Charlotte, Sarah, and you are all checking in, going over what had happened during the show in general. They’re both worried about your voice and you’re simply trying to tell them that it was just an off night. Nothing was wrong. As long as you told everyone else that, then it might turn out to be true.

“It’s fine, maybe I didn’t get enough sleep last night,” you fib, having gotten more sleep last night than most other nights on this tour. They both nod, seeming to take that as a reasonable answer.

Then Charlotte gets quieter as she whispers to the three of you, “Did you guys notice anything weird with Harry? He was super lively, but he barely interacted with you, Y/N, which is so unlike him...”

Sarah nods while you look skeptically on. Sarah adds, “He kept looking up to the boxes, too. More than usual at least. I don’t know though…” She trails off and you cross your arms over your chest, not really enjoying the conversation topic. “I mean, what do you think, Y/N?” Sarah adds.

Your eyes dance between the two women, your fellow bandmates, your friends. You sometimes wished you could share with them what you were doing with Harry. The secret was fun, but it’s also nice to be able to share with your girlfriends about the guy you’re seeing, even if it is a casual thing. The friendly gossip of it all is something fun to share, but sadly that was another thing you couldn’t do. You sigh, “You never really know what’s going on in his mind, y’know. He’s just Harry.” Your response is half-assed at best. You figure they’ll both give you shit for the non-answer you just supplied, but instead someone else speaks for them.

“I am in fact, just Harry.” He says and you swivel around to find yourself almost chest to chest with him. Charlotte laughs while Sarah simply smiles. Your eyes are huge as you stare up at him and you hope your blush doesn’t come out too strongly after being caught talking about Harry by himself. “Enlighten me on when I was being ‘just Harry’ though?” You bite your lip and take a step back from him, forming more of a line with the other women. He shrugs when no one offers a response, laughing lightly.

“Oh and Y/N, I can’t talk about that thing again tonight, I’ve got-”

“A date?” Charlotte asks, trying to understand why Harry was acting a little different tonight still. The part that Sarah had mentioned about him looking up into the boxes had given her the idea that he might have plans with someone after the show. Harry scratches his head, his hair slightly wet with sweat right after the show. He’s taken off his coat so he’s just in the almost completely unbuttoned, sweat soaked shirt he had been wearing underneath. It sticks tight to his skin and you can make out all the muscle lines that hide beneath the fabric that you usually get to caress. Your eyes flit from his body back to his face when he speaks again.

“Erm, I wasn’t going to phrase it like that...but yes, I suppose, it’s a date.” He says finally, he avoids your eye contact and you look at him very confused, trying to hide the hurt. He shoves his hands in his pockets trying to look and sound as casual as possible and ignore the strain he sees on your face. Is that what had held him up yesterday? Making plans with someone else? And he hadn’t told you until now? The past twenty four hours stung a little bit more now that you knew why Harry was being so distant. It simply felt icky finding out this way and it didn’t even seem like he was going to tell you it was a date.

“Okay,” you say simply and walk away. You hear Charlotte asking him details about his date, but you try actively not to hear any of it. Sarah watches you walk away and sees the way you wrap your arms around yourself to comfort you. She feels a twinge of sadness as she watches the scene unfold, seeing something she hadn’t realized was there before.

Harry doesn’t text or call you that night. You hang out with everyone else for a little while in Charlotte’s room before heading to bed, saying you think you need an early night tonight. Before you’re able to walk out of the door, Mitch stops you. “I heard Harry blew off whatever conversation the two of you have been trying to have again. Just wanted to tell you I’m sorry.” You try to smile but it comes out as more of a grimace. There is no conversation Harry is blowing off, it’s simply you. “It’s fine. Like he said yesterday, it’s not important.” Mitch nods, but still looks at you with concern. What he had seen last night, then on stage today, and what Sarah had told him about your interaction after the show it all strung together in his mind. It didn’t seem unimportant at all. But he didn’t know how he could tell you that. He felt like he should talk to Harry about the way you looked when you left Charlotte’s room tonight, but he didn’t know how to bring it up to him either.

You don’t realize you’re crying until you're in the elevator, and it’s slowly rising to your floor of the hotel. You’re only one level up, but it feels like an eternity in there. You already weren’t a fan of elevators, but this ride felt impossibly worse. The walls are all made up of mirrors and you see yourself in the reflection, but you don’t exactly recognize the girl in there. Your eyes are tired from the show, dark circles already formed. Your hands are aching, clenching and unclenching on their own accord. Your body is slumped against the back wall, likely leaving a slight imprint from the smoke residue and dust on your clothes. Worst of all are the tears running down your face, smudging at your makeup, the black mascara you had applied dripping down in sinister raindrops against your skin. The sad girl stares back at you as you sniffle slightly, confused at what you’re seeing. “Why are you crying?” you ask yourself, your voice creaking and then breaking at the end as you struggle to get out the word ‘crying’ before a sob wracks through you. You roll your eyes when your reflection offers no explanation for itself. You laugh at your own patheticness and try to shake the feelings you’re experiencing.

Inside your room now, you flop on the bed and stare straight up at the ceiling. Your arms spread to your sides and your legs lay limply below you. You think about every night before last, every night since the tour started. Every night where you weren’t alone, where you were with Harry. Your mind flits to last night, how Harry’s lips had ghosted over your skin after his apology. How you had told him you forgave him and it had felt so peaceful, so simple. It was all so easy. Thinking about him and the things the two of you did together brought a smile to your face, unbeknownst to you. When you realize it’s there, your face drops immediately, deciding not to think about Harry.

But trying to not think about Harry makes you only think about him more and what you think about him now most definitely doesn’t bring a smile to your face. You’re thinking about him out on his date with some person you chose to learn nothing about. Maybe out of fear of what is happening right now. By knowing nothing about the person, you can’t compare yourself to them. Can’t see what’s different about them that would make Harry go out on a date with them. But it doesn’t matter who they are or what they look like because at the end of it all you know one thing for certain. They’re not you. You correct yourself, you know two things actually, because you also know that Harry chose to be with them instead of you tonight.

You fall asleep with tear stained cheeks that night and absolutely nothing positive on your mind. You want to sleep but know it only brings whatever is bound to happen tomorrow, which doesn’t seem very promising.

-

It’s noon when you wake up and you wake to a knocking on your door. You grumble and throw a sweatshirt over your body to hide the underwear you slept in. Not remembering your new habit, you swing the door open without any hesitation to find Harry. He looks wide awake and happy, the way he almost always looks, a fresh beautiful flower of a man. You look at him groggily, “What are you doing here?”

“You weren’t answering your phone.”

“Because I was asleep?” You tilt your head and look at him incredulously. “What about this,” you gesture to your appearance, “looks like I just went for a 3 mile jog for fun and I love the morning?”

“Can I come in?” He ignores everything you just said and enters the room when you leave the door to get back in bed. You often did that with him, you don’t know why, but when he asked to come in the room it was just simpler to let him in then say anything. He knew what you meant.

He sits at the edge of the bed as you reclaim your spot in the middle of it, tucked slightly under the covers, but still sitting up. “How was your date?” You try to sound nonchalant and it seems to work. Harry doesn’t notice your tense figure, but you notice how he tenses up when you ask.

“Good…Her name was-” You don’t let him finish, you already know the answer to this next question and you don’t need her name in order to ask it, “Did you fuck her?”

He’s silent, green eyes staring straight at you. You meet his gaze, your eyes almost burning holes into him. His eyes are begging you to not make him answer the question, he doesn’t want this to end, even if he also didn’t want the commitment he had felt himself exhibiting the other night.

When he had come to your room the other night after Mitch had almost caught you, he knew he shouldn’t have stayed. He didn’t want you to feel bad so he had come to apologize, but when the pair of you didn’t have sex, he should have left. But he didn’t, he stayed and it wasn’t for you, it was for himself. It was for him to hold you in his arms because he liked to. But when he woke up the next morning he knew he needed to leave. Solely cuddling wasn’t part of your arrangement together. It’s probably on the list of don'ts that the pair of you had. So after he realized the line he had willingly crossed with you, he quickly sent a text to Jeff who had tried to set him up with a model they were acquaintances with the night before - the reason he had gotten held up. Harry had initially declined, not very interested in seeing anyone else but you. But looking back on that choice in the light of day seemed to solidify what this relationship was - a relationship - and Harry didn’t like that. The commitment wasn’t part of the plan, so he told Jeff to set that date up for after the second show at the Forum and give the woman a ticket. That’s why he was smiling at his phone the morning after only cuddling with you, that’s why he didn’t joke around with you during the show, and that’s why he wasn’t in your bed last night.

You watch him expectantly, silently waiting for his answer, your veins cold as ice. He finally starts his answer and he wants to make it clear that it wasn’t as good with the other woman, but he’s not sure how to work that part in. He’s not sure how to explain to you it meant nothing if your arrangement also apparently meant nothing. You barely even let him get in a sentence. “Yes, but it was just a one time-”

“Alright.”

“What?” He doesn’t understand what you mean when you nod your head and cut him off.

“I told you at the beginning, Harry. Tell me when you sleep with someone else because when you do this is over. It doesn’t matter if she’s the love of your life or a one night stand. I will not be a backup plan, so if you’re able to find other people to sleep with, you don’t need to be sleeping with me.”

He sits in silence for a moment, his jaw dropped open slightly. He’s unable to keep it shut as his mind races about what to say. “Are you mad with me?”

“No, I’m fine. This was just sex. Charlotte will be happy that I’ll be going out with her more.”

Harry’s brow furrows as you shift away from him on the bed, grabbing your phone and beginning to flick through it. You feel numb and you’d like to not think about why.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” He asks because he does care about you, worry is written all over his face. He just can’t commit, not now.

“What would I be mad about, Harry?” You look up and your eyes widen at him, silently asking him to truthfully say why you should be so upset about this revelation. You always knew it would eventually come to an end, you just hadn’t expected so soon. You hadn’t known the last time would be the last time and it broke your heart even if you knew it shouldn’t.

He shifts to reach his hand out to touch your exposed knee. You move away from him and he sighs, looking exasperated. “I- I don’t know. It just seems like we should talk about this.”

“You didn’t even think it was necessary to tell me you were going on a date last night, so I think it’s best if we just left it at ‘it’s fine, see you around’.”

He spreads his hands out across the sheets, examining his rings and painted nails thoroughly. You’re right, he doesn’t really want to talk about this. Well, more so, he’s conflicted. He would like to talk enough that you want to continue your arrangement but he doesn’t want to talk about feelings or emotions. Even if he has those feelings and emotions, they’re just not part of the things he’d like to talk about. “But-” You set your phone down at his first word, “Were you even going to tell me you fucked someone else today if Charlotte hadn’t asked you if it was a date last night? Would you just have come to my room tonight and acted like nothing had changed?”

“I would have told you.”

“Sure.”

“I swear I would’ve. I would never break a promise to you.”

“But you would make a decision that affects the both of us without telling me until afterwards?” Your voice breaks a little and you beg yourself not to cry right now.

“I thought you said this was just sex?”

You laugh humorlessly, in disbelief, “Of course it’s not, Harry! And it hasn’t been for a long time and that’s why you got scared and went and fucked someone else.” He looks at you blankly, unsure what to say, knowing you’re right. You continue, “But I also told you at the beginning of this, that I wasn’t going to try to change you. So this is me not trying to change you.” You sigh when he still says nothing, his expression completely unreadable, even to you. “Why couldn’t you have left it at ‘it’s fine’?” You say finally, barely above a whisper.

He blinks a few times after your final question. He flexes his hand one more time and then stands up from the bed. He adjusts his clothes and stares at you. You feel helpless, but you’re still trying to look pulled together, even after your outburst. You stare back. A thousand words floating through your heads, all the things you want to say and likely never will.

“I know, I’m…” he pauses, trying to get himself to say it, but he can’t. He can’t admit that he’s completely ruined whatever messed up paradise you had created together. “I’ll see you later.”

The apology or lack there of hangs in the air as he walks silently out your door. You don’t move, you barely even blink, still staring at the spot he had just occupied. Your breath finally escapes you, a large sigh. Then some nervous laughter. It was over...just like that. But things like this, left like this are never really over.

-

It’s awkward for a good amount of the rest of the tour. You hang out with your bandmates more and Harry rarely ever comes out with them after the shows. He either hangs out with Mitch on his own or is going out with random people he knows on the road. You and him speak, but it’s never a lot or about anything relatively meaningful. It’s not the fun back and forth of before or the fiery heat of sneaking around. You try to be normal with him, act like his casual friend and bandmate.

He does his best to do the same, but it’s difficult for him. He doesn’t know how to talk to you anymore. He misses being with you, but can’t bring himself to fix it. He doesn’t do much to right his wrongs with you. He also doesn’t even know what he would want if he did apologize. It scared him to think about the step that came after ‘sorry’ so he saved himself the trouble and never did that part either. One night he texts you: “I’m trying, it’s just hard.” and that’s it. You don’t give him a response, he doesn’t need one. You know he’s trying and he knows you know.

Near the end of the tour, he comes out with the rest of you for drinks one night. Only Mitch is between the two of you in the booth, so you feel closer to Harry than you’ve felt in a long time. The group of you are chatting and having a good time. You somehow get onto a story from when you were still in college. You explain how you had narrowly avoided getting Chlamydia right before your Christmas break junior year. You act out the conversations you imagined would have happened at all your Christmas events if you had indeed gotten it. Your impressions of your mother, father, and sister have everyone laughing the most. Harry is shaking with laughter from your story and you smile at him in appreciation when he says, “That is the funniest story I’ve heard in a long fucking time.”

The rest of the night goes really well, for the most part. No one bickers or is short with each other. Everyone is laughing and drinks are flowing. Eventually Mitch gets up to go to the bathroom and you feel Harry slide back into the booth closer to you after letting Mitch out. Your hand had taken up residence next to your thigh, resting on the vinyl of the booth. You sense something next to it now and notice Harry’s hand is resting close beside it. He shifts his hand closer when he sees that you’re looking down at it. He’s almost touching you and you look up to his eyes, wondering if he’ll close the distance. He makes an imperceptible shake of his head, but you know what he means. As you’re about to shift your hand so that your pinky connects with his, Mitch returns and your head shoots up to his figure. You instantly remove your hand from the vinyl and shift closer to Charlotte. Harry gets up, but doesn’t sit back down once Mitch is settled. He instead walks off to get another drink, risking one last look at the table where he makes eye contact with you, but he doesn’t come back. Mitch informs everyone that Harry went back to the hotel because “he was tired” after Harry doesn’t return and Mitch gets a text. You roll your eyes, sure that you saw him slip out of the side door with a woman he found at the bar after he had gotten his drink. If that’s what ‘tired’ looked like on Harry, it was fine.

You start to speak to Harry on a more regular basis after that night out. It’s not funny or lighthearted. It’s just ‘I saw this song the other day, thought you might like to listen’. It went back and forth, it wasn’t everyday but it was something. The last text between the two of you before you began sharing songs again was his ‘I’m trying it’s just hard’ text that he had sent randomly one night. Then after one of you would listen, you would see each other at sound check and mention the song and what you thought about it. It can be noted that it was Harry who sent the first song.

For Harryween, Adam couldn’t be there. He has some family emergency the day of and doesn’t come with the rest of you to Madison Square Garden or the hotel you were staying at. Thankfully, Charlotte also plays keys and you can play bass. The band had to shift around some things on stage and make minimal changes to the setlist since you weren’t rehearsed on the covers Harry was doing. You spent the whole day running through the chords of those songs with Mitch, trying to memorize them so you didn’t mess it up during the show.

It was weird because for Harryween the setlist was switched up a little from the regular set for Love On Tour. Harry was playing the entire new album as well as half of the first album, Medicine, some of his other unreleased stuff, and about six covers, including old One Direction songs. It was going to be a long show and a challenge for you.

Before the show, Harry pulls you aside, to a dark corner backstage, and your mind flits back to the last time you had been in this type of position. The last time he had called you ‘love’, the last time you bit his earlobe - which always drove him crazy, the last time he ground his hips against yours, those and more and you had no idea that it was the last. By then you had already had sex with Harry for the last time, kissed his lips for the last time. It made your heart race to be so close to him and so alone once again. But it’s nowhere near the same as it once was. You shake the memories from your mind and look up expectantly at him.

“Have you got this?” He asks seriously, tone concerned. Of course it’s a music question, nothing more. Like it always was now.

“Yeah, of course.” His stare is unwavering and you try not to falter from it.

“I can get someone else to cover tomorrow, it was just such a short notice today. You know bass really well too, it made sense.”

“I’ve got this. Seriously, don’t worry, Harold.” You pat his chest lightly and for once Harry smiles at the sound of your nickname for him. You had stopped using it after the end of your arrangement. It never felt right to use when you were talking about music, and that was about the only time you had been talking. In this moment though, it felt right. His warm, large hands held your upper arms as you stared up into his big eyes. You missed staring into them, the shimmering emerald of his irises were constantly intriguing. You instinctively reach up to move back a curl that has fallen onto his forehead. He doesn’t shy away from your touch and continues to smile down at you.

“Y’haven’t called me that in forever.” He grins, his lips a shiny pink from the lip balm he had on.

“No, I suppose I haven’t. But where was the groan? The whole point is to annoy you.” You smile coyly. He tips his head back and laughs, releasing your arms from his grasp as he laughs wholeheartedly.

Then he does a soft groan, a playful sound, “How was that?”

“Eh. I’ll give you a four out of ten. Not enough emotion behind it.” You slide from the area the two of you have been occupying and make your way onto the stage to start dealing with the bass you would be playing. You hear Harry call out to you, “I think I deserve at least a five, maybe even a six!” You turn back for a second to look at him with an unimpressed expression and shake your head no. He laughs again and you hear him even when you walk out onto the stage. You smile to yourself as you pick up the bass.

When he introduces the band, he waits to talk about you last. “And sadly this evening Mr. Adam Prentergest, our usual fabulous bassist, was unable to attend our fancy dress party! However! Our lovely Y/N L/N is also a superb bassist and was kind enough to step into his place. - Anything to add?” He saunters across the stage to you and you laugh kindly, feeling at ease in this part of the stage even though you were usually on the opposite side and further back from the crowd. You nod at Harry and he leans his portable mic towards your lips. You wet them quickly and eye Harry before turning out to the crowd. “Just please go easy on me if the bass sounds a bit wonky. It wasn’t on the job description that I’d be playing songs I didn’t know, with a few hours notice, on not my main instrument.” You say this in a kind of list format, holding up your fingers as you tick off all the ways that this was out of your comfort zone. You scratch your head dramatically after you’re finished and the whole crowd laughs and cheers. The rest of your bandmates chuckle along and Harry nods and smiles at you.

“You’ll do great, love.” He leans into your ear and says without the microphone. Then he winks and turns to go back to the center of the stage. You press your lips together to contain your smile, both happy and concerned about the flip your stomach just did.  

The show is going great. Harry is killing it with the crowd. Everything is electric. You’re entirely focussed on your bass playing, but Harry has been coming over every so often to do something fun or have you tell a joke.

“She’s truly the funniest person I know! And I know a fair amount of people I think.” Harry says as he walks over to you have you tell another joke. Mitch has been looking at you and Harry interacting all night and he’s sure that it isn’t your different position that has him coming over and talking to you so much tonight. Something has definitely changed once again. First the pair of you were always together and having fun, then it was silence and stolen glances that neither of you realized you were taking, now it was back to the beginning.

“That’s because you think puns are part of the top tier levels of comedy.” You say easily, “Here, I can guarantee Harry will love this and the rest of you will likely groan.” Then you stop and act as if you’re thinking for a little, everyone’s waiting expectantly. “Sorry, thinking...Well, I’ve got some skeleton puns I could do, they’re very humerus or y’know classic vampire ones..eh but those ones kind of suck. What do you think, Harry?” You look out at the crowd, face deadpan, as Harry laughs beside you. You roll your eyes playfully and push him back to the center of the stage. Leaning into your own mic now, you say, “I told you.” That’s when everyone laughs. Harry throws another look at you over his shoulder and laughs a little more, his smile wide and eyes bright.

A little over half way through the night, it’s time for ‘to be so lonely’. You already knew the bass chords for it before today and you were confident in yourself by now. It wasn’t as hard a song so you were happy for the little break. This song allowed you to not be looking down at the notes you had stuck to the floor in front of you. Harry’s voice comes in after Mitch’s intro and you watch the way his lips move against his mic. You laugh a little as you watch the crowd yell the first “arrogant son of a bitch” line. You used to not particularly like when people did that, but after it had ended with Harry you had started to enjoy it a bit more. Having those people yell the words you couldn’t, but truly felt about him sometimes, was cathartic. Tonight you weren’t angry with him, but you enjoyed the energy in the room when everyone said it. We’ve all got our own ‘arrogant son of a bitch’ that we want to scream at sometimes. Tonight yours wasn’t Harry for the first time in a long time. The song moves along and Harry takes the microphone off its stand, he walks towards your side of the stage. When the lyrics get to:

“I miss the shape of your lips, your wit, it’s just a trick, this is it so I’m sorry”

Harry isn’t looking at the crowd, he’s looking straight at you. You don’t understand the way he’s looking at you. Or maybe you don’t want to understand it. This song, its lyrics, explains Harry really well. You saw the relationship you had with him in the words. Maybe not precisely, but a part of it was in it. Harry had unknowingly foretold your lives with his words. You know he has trouble connecting and committing, you know his issues, and you accept them. But you knew what had happened between the two of you was far more serious than meaningless sex and you knew Harry couldn’t bring himself to be that serious. He ran off and that was fine, but the face that he couldn’t even apologize hurt you the most. But the song lays it all out for you, he’s not one to be able to apologize quickly. The fact that he looks at you and means the apology he sings in the song for you, it’s a big step, but it’s not enough. The banter, the technical apology, it was all a good start, but it’s just that - the beginning. If Harry wants to make things better with you, a lot more needs to be discussed. So when you sing backing vocals for the following chorus you mean the words for Harry completely.

“Don’t call me baby again, you got your reasons, I know that you’re trying to be friends. I know you mean it, but don’t call me baby again it’s hard for me to go home and be so lonely”

His eyes flick to you again and see your lips moving around the words as you play the bass. He sees the emotion in your face and understands what you’re saying. It’s hard for you to go to your room at night and be alone while he’s out with someone else. It’s hard for him to act like everything’s all fine and perfect, back to normal, because for you it isn’t really. He can’t call you ‘love’ and tell the world you’re funny and expect it to be enough. He can’t sing his sorry that was initially for someone else to you and expect you to accept it. And he knows it, too.

After the show everyone decides they’re exhausted and need to rest before tomorrow. You all planned to celebrate the whole day and you knew it was going to be a wicked Halloween. Knowing this, you’re surprised with the knock on your door after about an hour of being back at the hotel. You’ve given up the habit you had once hoped to cultivate and swing the door open haplessly. Truly having no idea who to expect, you are still surprised to find the man standing before you.

“Mitch.”

“We need to talk.” He stares down at you, his shoulders slumped from tiredness.

“Come in,” you usher him in when you hear the urgency of his voice. He saunters in before you and you close the door. You move to the small couch in the room and sit down. Your hands gesture for him to sit as well, but he shakes his head. He stays standing and brings a hand up to smooth his hair back on the right side. His eyes staying on the floor and flickering up to you every so often.

“What is going on with you and Harry?”

“What do you mean?”

“Oh come on Y/N. You’re seemingly best friends with him for a good portion of tour, then you’re barely on speaking terms for the second half, now you’re joking around again. What is going on?”

You sit there in a stunned silence, “I don’t know what to say.” Your arms go to hug your body, feeling anxious about being confronted about this topic.

“Were you seeing each other?” His voice is soft, eyes taking in your body language and knowing it’s a difficult topic.

“I wouldn’t put it like that…”

He holds back the ‘I knew it’ statement because of  how sullen you look, b..ut in his mind all of the pieces he had watched unfold came to fit in a perfect puzzle. He decides to sit beside you when you don’t say anything else.

“We were having sex,” it felt weird to say it out loud, no one but you and Harry had actually known, “But it ended. I don’t know what today was...but it felt different than how it’s been.”

“Why are you so sad if it was just sex?” He places a hand on your shoulder and your tear-filled eyes meet his. “Oh…” He knows why.

“I’m sorry, Y/N.” You sob at his apology because he’s not the one who should be at your door apologizing. You sniffle and lean your head into his chest. He takes you into his arms and holds you as your cries become muffled sounds in his shirt.

You cry without words for a few minutes, Mitch coos some soothing words, his voice soft and kind. He was always a good shoulder to cry on for all of your bandmates, he was extremely strong and you made a mental note to thank him thoroughly when you actually were capable of forming coherent thoughts. “I’ve never told anyone before. It feels so weird even saying it out loud,” you say as you pull back from Mitch’s embrace. You're thankful his shirt is black, no tear stains can be made out.

“Do you want to talk about it?” He asks gently, gauging your reaction. You wipe at your eyes and nod.

Taking a deep breath, you decide to start from the beginning. “Do you remember the party Charlotte had a week before we left for tour?”

Mitch nods and his eyes widen at what you’re saying as he remembers the night. “It started back then?” He’s unable to contain his incredulous question. He had suspected something, but hadn’t thought it had been going on for that long. He was truly astounded. You nod, “Well sort of,” then you go on to recount the last couple of months. All the way up until the Forum shows. “That night, when I opened Harry’s door and it was you standing there...Harry and I didn’t have anything to discuss. It was just…” Mitch nods again. He hadn’t spoken much since you had gotten into the story, wanting to let you be in charge of what you were saying and believing he could probably ask questions at the end. “Then the next night he blew me off for his date with that model and I cried in the elevator because I knew what was going to happen next.”

“So that’s when it ended?” Mitch asks when you don’t speak for a rather extended period of time.

“Yeah, the next morning he came over and I asked if they had sex and he said yes so I told him it was over.”

“But I don’t get why he went out with that model. He had told me she wasn’t his type the night before…” Your eyes shot up and looked at Mitch. His eyes widened when he realized what he said.

“What?”

“When we were talking about Canyon Moon, he mentioned that Jeff had tried to set him up with some woman but he had declined. Said he wasn’t interested. I don’t get what changed between then and the next morning.” He figured it was best to put all the cards out on the table right now. You’d be going your separate ways for a while, now that the tour was over and he had seen how unhappy both you and Harry had been over the last part of the tour.

You shift your leg to have it folded beneath you as you continue to stare at Mitch. “He came over after you and him had your meeting,”  you say quietly. Mitch hums, waiting for you to continue this time.

“He apologized for choosing you over me to talk to. Then we slept together, but we didn’t have sex...I think that’s what wigged him. It had felt too real, sleeping in the same bed with me without having sex beforehand made it feel like something more than just two people fulfilling needs.” Mitch nods and sighs heavily. He looks around the room and then back to you, taking in your full appearance. Again he feels terrible for you, how he had felt the second night at the Forum even though he hadn’t known the full story yet. “Now we’re here.”

“Tonight, it felt like he was trying,” Mitch finally said and you smiled sweetly, thinking back to Harry’s behavior. No matter how far from him you were, all those good feelings you associated with him never went away.

“Yeah, it’s been getting better. He texted me once saying he was trying. Then he came out with us one night and it almost seemed like that would be the night he’d apologize, but then he didn’t. Then we started sharing music with each other again. Then tonight… was tonight. It’s just confusing. He’s confusing.”

Mitch smiles sadly and brings you in for another hug and you’re actually so thankful he

showed up at your door. It was your first time telling anyone all of this, because Harry didn’t even know how you felt about some of these things. It felt amazing to be heard and to be told it was okay to be feeling like this.

Pulling back, Mitch says, “He’s definitely different. But his differences are what make him special and that’s why I think he clings to them even if they sometimes can hurt other people. The fact that he’s trying is a good sign. I hope he can find it in himself to make it right between you two because I had never seen either of you happier than when you were apparently together. Especially those few weeks leading up to Los Angeles. Sarah had kept asking me why Harry was so smiley back then. When I had asked him, he had just said “have you ever found something and realized you wanted to keep it with you forever?” I had no idea what he had meant, but I feel like he meant you now.”

Your awestruck at what Mitch has just told you. He was right about the first part about Harry trying to change, but the last bit, that’s what had left you speechless. You turn your body to face the rest of the room and put your chin against your hand as you think.

“Mitch...I have to go.”

He understands what you mean and you walk out of the door with him. He walks down the hall to his room and you walk quickly past the elevator and opt for the stairs. Before you know it you’re running up the stairs, taking two at a time even though you’re not the most athletically inclined. You can’t stand to wait for the elevator and your mind is racing.

You knock on the door that is Harry’s after reaching his floor. It swings open and reveals a confused and sleepy Harry. Thankfully he’s still fully dressed because that would have been a whole other problem you would have if he hadn’t been. You push past him and walk straight into his room without any invitation. He follows behind you, still unsure of why you’ve come here.

“Have you ever found something and realized you want to keep it forever?” You ask him, repeating the words Mitch had just told you.

“Pardon?”

“You told Mitch that about me before we ended things. If that’s how you felt, why didn’t you do what you said?”

Harry sighs as the words register in his mind. The memory of when he had smiled at Mitch so giddily and asked the vague question, his thoughts only of you as he asked it. The shit-eating grin he had plastered on his face after Mitch had looked at him confusedly flitted across his mind. As well as the way he had gone to his dressing room and had a quickie with you after that conversation.

“It’s not that simple…”

“It is, Harry! Why can’t you just be honest with me for once?”

“Okay, fine. You want me to be honest?” you nod at his harsh tone. The two of you standing only a few feet apart. “You have no goddamn idea what you do to me, when I’m around you, I have no control of my emotions or of my thoughts. I pushed you away because I didn’t like feeling out of control. I got out because what had started as a fun time had turned into me longing to be with you every waking hour. I found myself not caring what we did as long as I got to hold you and be around you, but that wasn’t part of the plan.”

“Plans can change, Harry.”

You step closer to him and he meets your eyes. He had left his music playing softly on his phone before he had opened the door so now as the two of you stared at each other, he must have been playing his Etta James playlist because her voice faded out of the song “I’d Rather Go Blind” and straight into “A Sunday Kind of Love”. Harry had shared her At Last album with you over the Christmas holiday of last year and you had decided to listen to her entire discography afterwards, so you knew the songs. The transition was a little too on the nose and you wondered if Spotify ever listened to your conversations.

His emerald eyes examine your face and take inventory of your features, measuring whether anything had changed since he had looked at you this close up. Your hand goes up to cup his cheek and he nuzzles into it, dropping his head closer to you ever so slightly and closing his eyes at the feeling of you.

“I am sorry,” he whispers earnestly as he reopens his eyes.

You can’t take your eyes off of him even if you tried. He looks so soft in the moment, so vulnerable in this light as the music swells in the corner of the room. Etta sings about how she needs a love that is going to last as the pair of you inch yourselves closer together.

“I forgive you, Harry,” you whisper back.

He nudges his head further down and your lips finally press together, slotting back together after months apart. Your lips are eager to press back against their favorite companion. You oblige them, but pull back for a second, just far enough to say, “I will always forgive you, so long as you tell me when you’re scared so we can work through it together.”

He nods, “I promise to never let you go again.” Before taking you back against his lips and gathering your body up in his arms. His lips missing yours just as much.

-

#fallinharry10k #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles fan fic #harry styles fluff #harry styles smut #harry styles angst #long one shot #first fic in awhile #pls lemme know what you think #I've missed putting work out #im equally nervous and excited #harry styles one shot #harry styles oneshot #harry styles imagine #am I forgetting tags?? #can't remember #oh well #def meant to call this keep it forever but forgot #oops #also lots of mitch #bc I love Mitch Rowland with my whole heart

[stylesharrys]

when i look at you [friends-to-lovers]

authors note: happy 10 years to 1d and happy 10k followers to me! thank you so much. for the continuous love and support, it means so much to me! So, here, have a 35k fic haha biggest oneshot i’ve ever written so get comfy, get snacks and i really hope you enjoy <3

word count: 35,982

summary: harry’s a pop star, y/n’s his best friend. he has an album to write, she has a kid to raise. 

//

“You’re not keeping it, right?”

Her ears are ringing, like she can’t quite understand the words that have just come out of his mouth. She blinks; once, twice. “What?” She finally manages to ask. Her voice is timid and strained, her throat feeling like it’s crushed in a vice-like grip and she can’t swallow down the lump that’s lodged in it.

She watches Anson shrug his shoulders and shuffle closer to her on the sofa. He doesn’t seem distraught and he doesn’t seem happy. His face has remained completely neutral since she uttered the news and she feels sick. “I mean, are you sure it’s even mine?”

Her eyes widen, brows furrowed. She’s gonna throw up. Y/N blubbers breathlessly for a moment, standing from the sofa and holding her head in her hands as she paces in quick successions. “Are you serious right now?” She pipes out, angry. “Of course it’s fucking yours, Anson.”

He sits back, relaxing on her grey sofa and shrugs again. “How could you even say that to me?” she mutters. He doesn’t say anything, just stares and waits for his answer. She shakes her head. “I know we’ve only been together for two years and we’re not even living together, and I know that we didn’t plan this at all, but I’m pregnant with your baby and I’m not getting rid of it.”

There’s so much conviction behind her voice that she scares herself a little. No, it wasn’t planned for her to fall pregnant at 24 while not even being moved in with Anson. It wasn’t planned, but it happened.

He’s nodding his head as he bites at the inside of his cheek, trying to mull over her words. She expects him to agree, to apologise for suggesting everything he did. She expects him to pull her into him and reassure her that everything will be okay, that they’ll get through this together.

That’s not what she gets.

“I don’t want it. So if you’re keeping it, you’re doing it alone.” Her body is shaking, teeth gritted and jaw clenched. She can feel her anger boiling her blood, can feel nothing but hatred and disgust for the man she loved just moments ago and she’s livid.

“Get the fuck out of my house.”

And he does. Anson doesn’t spare her another glance as he walks out of the door and the second it closes, Y/N chokes out a nauseating sob and falls to her knees. Her love, the man she wasted two years on, the one that promised to one day make her his wife, walked out on her and her child. On their child.

She feels sick, she can’t hold it in. She’s heaving over the kitchen sink as sobs wrack through her body. She’s gonna have to do this alone. Her baby is going to grow up without a father. The painful reminders make her sick even more and she can’t get a grip of herself.

She doesn’t know how long she’s been curled up on her kitchen floor for. She doesn’t know when she fell asleep. But when she wakes up, it’s nearly 7 pm and she’s all cried out of tears. She hasn’t told anyone yet, besides Anson, and now she’s anxious at the thought of telling her family.

Y/n lets out a shaky breath as she stands and rubs her head, flicking the kettle on and sitting at the kitchen table. Her phone is sitting in the middle of it, face down and she wonders if she’s got any messages from Anson. Part of her hopes she’ll be met with hundreds of apology messages, that he loves her and he was wrong. The other part of her knows better. She knows it’s all wishful thinking, that she’s better without him.

She reaches for the phone with a sniffle anyway, greeted with a message from her Mum and a missed call from Harry. She doesn’t think she has it in her to reply to either but she opens her mother’s message anyway.

Mum <3

Your dads broke his bloody finger again!! Told him to stop playing around with the washing line but he never listens LOL!! Give us a call later babe, have to go for a coffee or lunch tomorrow. Love u xx

Her heart stammers in her chest and despite her predicament, she can’t help but smile in fondness of her Dad’s stupidity. She takes a deep breath and comes off her texts, decides she’ll talk to her Mum later and instead goes to her call log, ready to call Harry back.

Her thumb hovers over his contact for a moment, hesitantly. She isn’t sure if she wants to call him back, knows he’s going to pick up on her mood straight away. She opts for texting him instead.

Y/N <3

Hey, what’s up? X

She waits for a second, gnawing on her lower lip. He reads the message in a matter of seconds but the bubbles at the bottom of the text chain don’t appear or bounce. Instead, her screen is bright with the photo of them both backstage at one of his concerts a few years ago and he’s calling her. She lets out a shaky breath and clears her throat, accepting the call.

“Hello?”

“Hey, love. Tried callin’ you earlier.” He greets softly, his voice a little gruff and she hums -- tries not to let it sound too strained. “Yeah, sorry. Fell asleep. What’s up?” She rushes out, clearing her throat when she can feel the lump starting to form again.

Harry waits a moment, catches her silent sniffle and she knows she’s fucked. “Wha’s a matter? You been crying? Y/N, wha’s going on?” She can imagine him sitting on the edge of his sofa, brows furrowed as he pinches at his bottom lip in worry. The thought only makes her burst into tears again and she’s blubbering down the line.

“I’m pregnant.” She’s choking on her own words, head falling in her hands and Harry’s frozen. He knows he should congratulate her but he can’t bring himself to. He can’t bring himself to be happy for her knowing exactly who the dickhead father is. But the way she’s sobbing suggests to him she isn’t happy, that Anson isn’t there and she needs him right now, more than ever.

“Put the kettle on, pet. I’m on m’ way round.”

She drops the phone the second he ends the call and she’s shaking as she stands to get two mugs out of the cupboard. She can’t seem to calm her breathing when she spoons two sugars into each cup, can’t seem to stop the trembling as she sets in the teabags.

She doesn’t actually realise how long it takes her to pour the water in the cups but she does know it takes Harry five minutes to drive to her place and she’s only just unscrewing the cap to the milk carton when he’s walking in her home and finding her shaking in the kitchen.

Harry feels his heart plummet to his feet. His best friend, the woman that has helped him through so much, is broken and distraught and can’t even keep herself standing on her feet. He takes the carton from her hands and pushes it away, tugging her into his hold as she crashes to his chest.

Y/N is a blubbering mess as she grips onto his shirt, tears staining and soaking it but he doesn’t care. His own eyes are welling with tears as he rubs her back and kisses the top of her head. “S’okay, love. S’all gonna be okay, promise.” But his words don’t do much to comfort her.

Harry pulls away just enough to cup her cheeks in his palms and wipe his thumbs across her tear-stained cheeks, leaning down to kiss her forehead. He leads her to the sofa, settles her down and finishes off making their tea. When she takes the cup from his hands, she sinks into her seat and Harry rests beside her, hand on her thigh and all Y/N can do is curl into his side, finding strength and peace in his touch and scent.

Harry’s mind is racing but he doesn’t say anything. He waits until she’s ready to tell him what happened, what’s going on. His arm is wrapped around her shoulder as she snuggles up to him, brows still furrowed and eyes heavy and she’s thankful he can’t see her face from their angle.

It’s twenty minutes of silence and Harry hasn’t touched his tea. It’s cold on the coffee table when Y/N pulls away to place her empty mug beside his full one. She turns to face him sheepishly, eyes a little swollen from her tearful evening and Harry sits up to brush her matted hair from her face.

His lips are pursed, worry in his eyes and he’s trying his damn hardest to not look at her tummy. She nibbles on her inner cheeks nervously, fumbling with fingers as she shifts to lean against the arm of the sofa so she can face him.

“Wha’ happened?” he finally speaks and Y/N’s bottom lip begins to tremble. She exhales an uneven breath and licks her lips. “Anson doesn’t want the baby,” she starts, eyes welling with tears again. Harry reaches for her -- intertwining their fingers and he squeezes her hand in reassurance. “Anson doesn’t want the baby, but I do, H. I know it wasn’t planned but it’s my baby, and now I have to do it all alone. A single Mum at 24, great.”

He pulls her straight into him, kissing the top of her head and he feels sick. He’s never particularly liked Anson, but knowing he’s left his pregnant girlfriend makes him red with anger. “Ya got me, babe. Got y’er parents and y’er sister. I’ll move in if ya need me to, y’know? Y/N, Bubby and Uncle Harry.” He tries to lighten the mood and while she’s thankful, she can’t help but cry harder, shaking her head and pulling away from him.

“Can’t ask that of you, H. Don’t be silly,” she tells him. “You’re halfway through writing your third album, gonna be planning a tour by the time I’m due,’ she reminds him. Harry frowns, knows what she means but all of which he can easily do while living with her and helping with the arrival of her baby. “And I don’t think Piper would appreciate you moving in with me and not her.” She adds.

Harry gnaws on his bottom lip. He won’t admit it, but he forgot about his girlfriend of eight months for a hot second. He shrugs. “Sure she’ll get over it.” Y/N snorts, shaking her head with a laugh. They both know she won’t get over it and the thought of the drama gives them both a premature headache.

Harry stares at her for a moment, a small smile on his lips and his eyes are watering. “Y’er really pregnant?” He softly whispers in disbelief and Y/N nods, finally allowing herself to be happy about it. “I’m having a baby,” she whispers back with a nod, hands instinctively finding her tummy and Harry reaches for it too, holding it over her own hand and Y/N has to swallow back the cry that wants to be screamed.

She’s never admitted aloud how she feels for Harry. How a part of her has always had a feeling they might end up together somewhere down the line. They’ve always been too good to not end up married one day. But she’s pregnant now, with another man’s baby, and he’s in a happy, loving relationship.

She doesn’t feel sad about it, at least, not entirely. Her love for Harry has never held one of jealousy or anger to any other man or woman that has come into his romantic life. It’s been a love so strong and safe that never once has she doubted that she will always have him. A love so comforting that her gut has never given her reason to worry. Because she knew deep down that at some point he would one day be hers. Maybe not today or tomorrow, or even ten years from now, but one day.

But now, with his hand on her stomach, caressing the temporary home of her unborn child, she feels hopeless. She feels like now she needs to let go of the silly idea and feeling that he’s the one. She needs to stop thinking that one day he will realise how perfect they are together. She needs to stop and realise that maybe she’s wrong.

“Have you told your parents?” he pipes up after a long while of silence and her eyes widen, lips parted and she remembers that no, she hasn’t told anyone. She shakes her head and Harry rolls his eyes. He takes their cups to the kitchen and grabs her phone on his way back to her, urging her to call them now while she still has the confidence to tell them.

They prop the phone on the coffee table, leaning it against an unlit candle and the FaceTime call connects to Y/N’s mother, Cilla, sitting on the sofa with a glass of wine and a kind smile. “And to what do I owe the pleasure? How are you, Harry?” She speaks up over her wine glass, a grin on her lips at the sight of the young man and he smiles back, leaning closer to be more in the frame.

“Hi, Cills. ‘M okay, how are you?” he asks with a cheeky grin, hand still on Y/N’s thigh but Cilla can’t see it as his body blocks most of her daughter. “We’re all good, Harry. Lovely to see your handsome face. Are you coming to lunch tomorrow with Y/N/N?” She chit-chats and as much as Harry would like to sit and talk to her, Y/N’s knee starts to jitter with nerves and he clears his throat, sitting back to allow her in the frame.

He squeezes her thigh in reassurance and Y/N sits forward, gnawing on her lower lip. “Actually Mum, I need to talk to you quick… are Dad and Akasha home, wanna speak to you all,” she blurts out. Cilla’s brows are pinched, eyes fluttering between Harry and Y/N but she calls for her father and sister anyway.

Harry intertwines their fingers together, a silent act of reassurance and she’s appreciative of it. Cilla, Daniel and Akasha all sit with timid smiles, worry lines etched on their forehead and none of them notices their intertwined hands. “What’s going on, button?” Daniel asks, face somewhat squashed between Akasha’s and Cilla’s.

Y/N purses her lips and rolls them between her teeth, puffing her cheeks out and squeezing Harry’s hand. “Well, um… I’m uh… I’m pregnant!” She blubbers with wide eyes and a frantic heart. Cilla’s jaw falls slack, palms cupping the sides of her face as Akasha screams in shock and joy. “Oh my Christ!” Cilla shrills, teary-eyed but Daniel hasn’t said anything yet.

Harry’s just as nervous beside Y/N, gnawing on his lower lip and he feels out of place, like he shouldn't be intruding on such a special moment. But Cilla notices the way their fingers are connected and her shriek grows louder, feet stomping on the ground in confused excitement because she thinks it’s his.

Y/N follows her mother's line of sight, lips parting and she shakes her head quickly, squeezing Harry’s hand and he catches on quickly to what Cilla is suggesting. “No, Mum. God, it’s not Harry’s.” She sounds pained, they all think and though her family know she’s been with Anson for two years, they can't hide their disappointed expressions that Harry isn’t the one that knocked her up.

It’s silent on both ends and it’s eating away at Y/N’s fragile mind. “Can someone say something, please?” she murmurs, voice shaky and unsteady. “Where’s Anson?” Akasha speaks up first, brows knitted on the twenty-year-olds face and Y/N’s eyes dart away from the screen.

“He’s not going to be in the picture.”

Cilla’s lip begins to tremble and she sheds a tear, hands trembling. “Oh, love…” she coos, shaking her head. Y/N doesn’t want their pity, she wants to know what they’re all thinking. Harry shuffles closer, wrapping an arm around Y/N’s shoulder and pulling her into his side for comfort.

Cilla can’t help but shed another tear. She’s always loved Harry like a son, always hoped he and her daughter would have a life together one day. Y/N stares at her father’s blank expression through the screen and she frowns, licking her lips. “Dad?” Her voice is small, soft -- it reminds him of those times all those years ago, when she’d cry to him, scared and lonely from a nightmare.

He smiles through a silent cry and even though they all know it wasn’t planned, that everything will be messy from here on out, he couldn’t be prouder. “I’m not joining a bloody golf club.”

-----

“I think pink would look good!” Akasha argues for the fifth time. They’ve been standing at the doorway of Y/N’s tiny spare room for the past five minutes, figuring out a way that she’ll fit all the baby furniture she’s yet to buy and Akasha is set on painting the nursery pink.

Y/N’s been shaking her head, arguing that she doesn’t know what she wants yet and that Harry will be the one to help her paint with Daniel, not Akasha. “Have you heard from Anson?” It’s also been three weeks since she found out she was pregnant, which also means three weeks of not hearing anything from her ex.

They’ve just got back from her first scan. Cilla and Akasha had taken her for lunch and to her first appointment with her midwife. She got three copies of her little bean and she found out she’s nine weeks along. She shakes her head. “I sent him pictures of the scan but he hasn’t replied,” she tells her. Her voice is a little solemn as she holds the swell of her tummy.

In the past three weeks, she’s been graced with the starting joys of morning sickness. Given, it isn’t in the mornings, but at any random moment and it’s proved more than a little annoying. It was just the other day she had to tell Harry to shower at three in the afternoon because his usual cologne was fucking up her stomach.

Akasha scoffs. “He’s an actual wanker, Y/N. You don’t need him anyway, Harry can be the baby daddy.” Y/N doesn’t miss the teasingly wiggle in her brows and she swats her little sister with the back of her hand as they make their way downstairs. Y/N’s also beginning to feel the aches and pains in her feet whenever she walks, despite hardly having a bump to weigh her down.

“Go home, don’t want you here anymore,” Y/N groans out, plopping on her sofa and Akasha flicks her arm. “I’m just saying, Harry would never knock you up and walk out of your life,” she tries to reason, but Y/N really doesn’t want to get into her head about the idea of Harry being her baby’s father.

“Harry also only tends to sleep with models, which I am awfully far from.” She shuts her sister’s teases down and goes straight to kick her feet up on the coffee table. Akasha’s always been the same, trying to force the relationship upon them both. Y/N’s always tried to tell her she doesn’t care for Harry in that way and Akasha’s always seen right through it.

She hums, eyes squinted and Y/N pretends she doesn’t see it. She doesn’t really want to spend her evening deep in her feelings. “Well, I’m gonna get going, got that project to get done. Are you gonna be okay here?” she asks, leaning down to kiss her sister’s cheek and Y/N rolls her eyes again.

“Yes, Kasha. I’m pregnant, not crippled.” She huffs. “Besides, I’ve got a bunch of emails I need to respond to and I’ve still gotta get that paperwork sorted for work tomorrow.” Akasha nods, grabbing her purse. “Maybe you should call Harry, though. Get him to come round and help or something, relieve a little of that stress, maybe?” She’s wiggling her brows as Y/N throws a pillow at her face until she’s out of the door.

Y/N does gnaw on her lip, though, ponders over her words. Should she ask Harry to come over? She hasn’t heard from him in a couple of days but she also knows he’s been busy with Piper and her hormones have bubbled a lot of self-doubt within her recently.

She doesn’t want to seem clingy or annoying or overbearing. She wants attention and affection but she doesn’t want to be the one to ask for it. She just wants it and she wants it all from Harry. She doesn’t know what’s gotten into her. She’s always had better control of her emotions and feelings toward Harry, but lately? It’s damn near impossible for her to not cry around him, knowing he isn’t hers to cuddle and kiss and love and cherish.

She hates it. And she’s started to grow an unwarranted dislike toward Piper, too. She won’t ever admit to it, she knows it’s stupid and irrational and completely ridiculous, but she can’t help how her hormones are making her feel lately.

She thinks maybe she’ll just watch a film and start reading on the parenting book she picked up at Tesco earlier today with Akasha, maybe make some snacks -- she’s really craving crackers and cucumber -- and relax alone.

But her phone is ringing before she can force herself to get up and Harry’s caller ID is on her screen again. She answers with a soft hello, rubbing beneath her sleepy eyes. “Hey, you back yet?” He asks through the line, sounding a little out of breath and her brows knit in curiosity.

“Yeah, been back for about an hour. What’s up?” Harry is still panting a little, voice strained as he lets off little grunts and Y/N wonders if he’s on a jog or at the gym. But then she hears a choked cry and she’s suddenly on high alert and her heart is thumping.

“H? What’s going on?” She hears another sob and she stands from the sofa, brows pinched tighter and she doesn’t know what to do. “Can I come round?” He asks through a sniffle, and Y/N doesn’t know that he’s already on his way. That he’s walked out with his heart breaking in search of comfort.

She nods quickly, forgetting that he can’t see her. “‘Course you can, Harry. Doors open, okay?” She promises, hand on the tiny swell of her belly and when Harry ends the call, she makes the quick attempt of grabbing him a beer from the fridge and bracing herself on the kitchen counter for whatever he’s about to tell her is going on.

She hears him open and close her front door, also hears him lock it behind him as he kicks off his shoes and shrugs off his coat. She knows he’s hanging his jacket on her coat rack and slipping his feet in the pair of slippers he’s kept at her house for months and he finds her waiting for him in the kitchen.

His face is blotchy with drying tears and she thinks he must be thankful it’s getting dark out so no one would notice him. His shoulders are sagging and his short hair is a mess, can tell he’s had his hands rubbing through it.

Her bottom lip pouts out and she opens her arms to him, embracing his body in a hold full of so much comfort that he can’t help but blubber into her neck and she soothingly rubs his back. “S’okay, H. S’gonna be okay, babe.”

He’s holding her close, mindful of the grape-sized baby in her tummy and he thinks he needs her close all the time, needs her to be with him to feel so serene and calm. When he pulls away, she’s cupping his face in her palms and wiping away his tears, gently cooing him and their chests are still pressed together.

Harry can’t look away from her and he doesn’t understand it. He looks at her and all he sees is someone that’s been on his side through everything. He sees one of the strongest women he’s ever had the privilege of knowing and he’s consumed with so much fucking love and appreciation for her that he feels like he might scream.

She’s always been the one to drop everything for him, to go out of her way just to see him smile. She’s always been truthful and honest and supported every decision he’s made. She’s always had his back and encouraged him to follow his dreams and ideas. She’s always been there.

So he supposed that’s what compels him to cup her cheeks in his hands and smear his lips against hers in an open-mouthed kiss. He supposes that it’s the shock of the situation that renders her frozen for a split second. He supposes that maybe it’s guilt that makes her kiss him back with just as much gentle vigour as he.

He supposes all of this, but Y/N can’t think straight about anything. Because Harry is kissing her and she can taste the sweetness of his lips on her tongue and she can feel his soul touch hers when she kisses back just the same.

She ignores the anxiety and worry that washes through her mind because she’s selfish and she doesn’t want to ever let go of him. She’s selfish because she doesn’t think she’ll ever get the chance to taste his lips again and her heart is breaking because she’s realising that this doesn’t actually mean anything to him. It’s just in the heat of the moment.

And she’s proven right when he’s pulling away slowly and pinching his eyes shut. He’s taking his hands off her face and covering his own, sucking in his bottom lip with pinched brows and Y/N can feel her eyes start to sting when she looks at him.

She can see the regret in his eyes, can see the twitch in his mouth in what she thinks is complete disgust in himself and Y/N feels sick. She feels so fucking sick.

“I’m sorry — I shouldn’t have done tha’, I’m sorry,” he apologises quickly. Y/N gnaws on her inner cheek and shakes her head, eyes on the floor as she wiggles her toes in her socks and she tries to pretend that her heart isn’t completely breaking.

“Harry, it’s okay.” She shakes her head again as she forces herself to look at him. She has no other choice than to sweep it under the rug and forget about it. She has to because she knows Harry and she knows if they talk about this, things will never be the same and she can’t fucking lose him. Not now, not ever.

So she shakes her head again and reaches for his hand. “Don’t pull that face. It’s okay. It’s just me, H. Never going anywhere.” He can’t seem to stop the tears at her admission of reassurance and he nods, wiping his nose and eyes and taking a deep breath. He lets her guide him in the living room, lets her sit him down on the sofa before she sits beside him.

She’s patient as she waits for him to speak, for him to tell her what’s going on. “She’s been cheatin’ on me,” he lets out in a silent breath and Y/N’s sure she feels her entire world crash in front of her. She feels sick again but this time she knows it’s got nothing to do with her pregnancy and she wants to beat the shit out of Piper. Now she feels like she has a perfect reason to dislike the girl.

“Walked righ’ in on her and some bloke she works with.”

Y/N’s seeing red, standing from the sofa with gritted teeth and tearful eyes. She’s angry. She’s so fucking angry because Harry is the kindest person she’s ever known and she doesn’t understand how someone could do something so damn cruel to him. How someone could willingly go out of their way to hurt him and to break his heart.

“Never fucking liked her, H. Fuck! How can someone -- why would she…. I just don’t understand how anyone could ever hurt you.” She cries out desperately, quickly trying to wipe her tears before they have the chance to slip down her flustered cheeks. She’s trying not to touch her lips in front of him, trying not to let him know how in her head that kiss has got her, how much she fucking needs him.

Harry pulls her back on the sofa with watery eyes and lets out a lighthearted laugh at her reaction. “Jus’ wanna forget about it, honestly. I’ve got you and Mum and Gem, and now your little baby, too. Most important people in m’ life, you four are. Don’t need anyone else righ’ now.” Y/N’s got her lips pursed tight and she nods, intertwining their fingers and bringing his knuckles to her lips to pepper a comforting kiss.

“I have something for you.” She tells him, leaning closer to press her lips to his forehead before she stands and sniffles away the solemn mood. Harry watches her sway to her purse, doesn’t miss the little bump bloating at her lower belly and he smiles.

She’s going to make such a good mother.

“Wha’ you been spoiling me to now?” he teases softly when she sits back beside him, a small brown envelope in his hands and she grins sheepishly. She hands the little package to him, ‘HARRY’ written in blocked letters in Y/N’s neat handwriting.

He side-eyes her for a moment, a gentle frown between his brows and his eyes are still stinging from the tears just minutes ago. He opens the envelope, fingers digging inside to find two pieces of card or rather, when he turns them over, two sonogram photos.

His eyes widen, welling with tears again and all he can see is something small, the size of a grape but fuck if he isn’t already completely in love with the bean in her stomach. “Oh my God,” he breathes with a smile. It’s like seeing the evidence makes it all the more real.

She’s having a baby.

“I’m nine weeks along and right now they’re the size of a grape.” She tells him, proud smile on her face and he lunges for her, peppering kisses on her face and pulling back to hold her belly through her top. Y/N doesn’t want the barrier between them, so she bunches her top beneath her breasts and lets the cool skin of his hands meet her warm belly.

“‘Lo in there, love. ‘M gonna be y’er uncle, m’ names Harry and me ‘n your Mum love you loads.”

Y/N has to blink back tears and bite back a sob. She has to shake her head and remind herself that having Harry in her life as her best friend is better than not having him in her life at all and she’s grateful, of course, but it hurts.

She tries not to squirm when he kisses her tummy softly, tries not to cry when he pulls away to look at the scans again with so much adoration in his eyes. She tries to calm herself down but she thinks it might be hopeless and all she can taste is his fucking lips on hers.

“Can I keep these?” His eyes are still on the photos as she sits up and snuggles into his side. Y/N kisses his clothed shoulder before she rests her cheek on it and admires her baby with him.

“Course you can, H. They’re yours.”

-----

She’s read all over that the morning sickness typically stops around the twelve-week park, but she’s now twenty weeks pregnant and she’s still suffering.

She also has a bump. A thick, round bump and she finally thinks she gets that whole pregnancy glow, despite having swollen ankles and lower back pains. It’s only now that she’s five months into her pregnancy that she’s finally starting to feel like a mother -- like her pregnancy is finally sinking in because she has a damn bump.

It’s cute, so she thinks, admiring it in the mirror as she bunches her shirt up and beneath her breasts, which have also filled out very nicely. She feels giddy with excitement and happiness. Maybe it also has something to do with the fact that in less than an hour, she’s going to find out the gender of her baby.

Harry was a bit reluctant to take her at first, claiming it’s something she needed to experience with her family but Y/N had quickly argued that to her, he is family and she needs him by her side. Of course, after that, he jumped at the chance and she thinks he’s more excited than she is.

She’s had the odd cravings too, ones that have started to come in full swing at three in the morning. At first, she went through a crazy amount of love for jam on toast, and now it’s grown to something more. Pickles and ice cream. She still remembers the look of horror on Akasha’s face when she walked in on her eating them.

Harry’s been teasing her nonstop about it, though if she’s asked him to pick her up another jar of pickles, or a tub of vanilla ice cream, he happily stops at the shop and comes round for a cup of tea and to watch her demolish the whole tub and jar.

“Excited?” He asks, starting the engine and she squeals, nodding her head eagerly. In the past two months, the kiss still hasn’t been mentioned and if Y/N’s being honest, she’s thankful for it. She'd rather it be forgotten than having him tell her he’s never going to care for her in a romantic aspect. She knows she won’t be able to handle that kind of rejection.

“I mean, I don’t care if it’s a boy or girl, but I’m still excited. And honestly… I think it’s a girl.” Harry quirks a brow, pulling out of Y/N’s drive and making through the roads to take her to the nearby hospital.

“Oh? How comes?”

The hospital is only a ten-minute drive away but the two haven’t seen much of each other as of recent. Harry’s been stuck in the studio finishing up the album and Y/N’s been brisked away by the aunts and cousins of her family to fester over her swelling belly. They’re both quite enjoying being able to bask in the other presence.

Y/N shrugs. “Call it motherly instinct.” Harry grins, shaking his head.

She’s been using that a lot lately, motherly instinct. He’s heard Cilla tease about it over the phone when she called to invite him to lunch a few weeks ago. He just knew it was a matter of time before Y/N pulled it on him, too.

“Whatever it is, is gonna be the luckiest kid goin’,” he reassures her. She snorts out a laugh, tapping her fingers against her bump and then she feels it: a forceful tap back that has tears welling in her eyes as she yanks her hand away.

Harry eyes her between looking at the road ahead and she grabs his hand, forcing it on her bump. “Wha’ are ya…” Another kick. Harry’s eyes widen and he shrills and an exciting bolt of laughter, shifting in his seat and gripping the wheel.

“Did they jus’—“

“They just kicked!”

When they get to the hospital, they walk side by side to the reception and get checked in and Harry’s got his hood up. Despite the world knowing about their friendship, neither of them want her pregnancy plastered across the internet. Neither of them really want the fans and media speculating that it’s his baby.

That’s why Harry was so unsure about taking her today.

They don’t have time to fester in paranoia because a midwife is calling out Y/N’s name and taking them both in a private room. They’ve both got big grins on their faces as Y/N greets Zoe, her midwife, again and sits on the bed with her short legs dangling off.

Harry closes the door behind them and takes a seat in the spare chair. He’s dressed casually for Y/N’s appointment -- grey joggers and a black t-shirt with his hoodie over it. Y/N always favours him in comfy clothes like this, thinks he looks like a proper boyfriend, but that’s never been something she could really admit aloud.

“How have we been? Is this Dad?” Zoe asks, nose stuffed in her clipboard and both Y/N and Harry’s cheeks blush crimson. “Oh, God, no. No, we’re just friends. But good! Felt their first kick on the way here.” Harry doesn’t get the chance to entertain the idea of him being the father because Y/N shuts him down the second his mouth open snd he has to pretend the way she quickly corrects her doesn't hurt him.

Zoe blushes visibly, getting a look at Harry and he knows she finds him attractive. “Sorry, my apologies,” she giggles softly and Y/N laughs in hidden confusion and slight awkwardness. She’s acting bashful and shy and Y/N knows for a fact it’s only because Harry is in the room and now she’s starting to wish she told her Harry is the father.

It’s silent in the room for a few moments before Y/N is instructed to lay on the table and lift her shirt below her breasts. This is the first time Harry’s really seen her round bump in person and his eyes widen and lips part at the sight.

“Bloody hell, love.” He makes his way over, standing just beside her head and she reaches for his hand, needing the comfort right now. And maybe to rub in Zoe’s face to back off. Harry intertwines their fingers and leans down to kiss the top of her head, brushing some hair back.

Y/N can’t help but wonder if this is what he would be like if he was in the delivery room when she has her baby. She knows she needs a birthing partner and while she’s aways wanted Cilla by her side, she knows her mother is useless in times of pain and blood.

It was only the other month when Daniel broke his finger again and Cilla passed out over the broken bone. She could have her dad, she supposes, but she doesn’t think she’s that comfortable to have him in the room with her when she pushes a human out of her vagina.

She knows she wants Akasha by her side, there’s no doubt about it. Y/N’s already decided her little sister will be her baby’s godmother, but she also knows that Akasha takes after their mother in the blood department and she really can’t be dealing with her birthing partner passing out mid labour.

She doesn’t have many friends, more acquaintances than anything and she doesn’t know or trust them enough to be in the room with her when the time comes. The only person she knows she can trust and rely on and wants by her side the second her child takes their first breath is Harry.

“Okay, this is going to be cold,” Zoe tells her, smearing the clear blue gel across her tummy and she hisses at the cool feeling. Harry’s pretty mesmerised about it all, eyeing up the equipment cautiously and his thumb is stroking across Y/N’s knuckles soothingly -- an act that does nothing but calm her nerves and melt her heart.

Zoe attaches the wand to the machine and with a flick of the switch she presses it to Y/N’s taut skin and the swishing noises fill the room and their ears are met with the healthy heartbeat of her baby. Tears are prickling at Harry’s eyes and he feels so fucking thankful that she’s choosing to share this moment with him.

“All looks good, sounds healthy. Very strong heartbeat, which is amazing.” Zoe’s tongue is poking out the corner of her mouth as she watches and tries to find the perfect angle for the camera on the wand to get the baby. It takes a few moments, but she gets there and Y/N and Harry can see the bub.

The size of a banana, as Zoe tells them, the baby is just a little under 11 ounces. Y/N doesn’t stop herself from having a silent cry, a giant grin on her lips because she’s so damn happy and excited. “Would you like to know what you’re having?” Zoe finally asks the awaiting question and Y/N’s grip on Harry’s hand tightens.

He squeezes it back. “You know what it is?” she whispers to her midwife, nodding her head and swallowing. “I wanna know.” There’s a moment of silence between the room and Y/N supposes it’s Zoe trying to make it even more suspenseful. She keeps the wand on her tummy as the machine captures stills of the scan.

“It’s a girl.”

-----

“It’s a girl!” Y/N screams into the phone, cheeks aching from her constant smiling but the cheers of her family makes it all the more worth it. Harry is grinning from the stove, watching Y/N speak with her family on FaceTime and his own happiness is rolling off him in waves.

A mini Y/N. Harry’s fucked.

“Oh, baby! A little granddaughter!”

“A niece! I have a niece!”

Harry grins as he stirs the spaghetti in the pan, promised Y/N he’d cook her whatever dinner she wanted tonight and she’s been craving pasta since they left the hospital. “I’m so excited, I can’t wait to start decorating the spare room.” She tells them. “Harry and I are gonna go shopping tomorrow to get madam her furniture and hopefully start painting next week, depends on his schedule for the studio.”

Daniel, Cilla and Akasha all share a look, one that suggests something will eventually come out of the two of them but Y/N gives them a hard glare and shakes her head. “It went alright though, yeah? Harry go home after he dropped you off? ‘Cause we can come round and get a Chinese if you want, darling.” Daniel changes the subject, smile still wide on his face and Y/N’s heart flutters.

“It’s okay, Harry’s staying and we’re just making some dinner now,” Y/N tells them. Harry wanders to the camera, Y/N’s bright pink apron wrapped around his tall body and he’s got a pair of tongs in his hands that he waves at the woman.

“S’cuse me, love. You haven’t got up since we go’ back.” He jokes teasingly and Cilla barks out a dirty chuckle on the call. “You’ve gotta look after her, H. She’s having a little girl.” Daniel curtly nods, tries to play the scary and protective father but it’s all a useless facade and they all know it.

Harry plays into it, though. “Yes, sir. ‘M always gonna look after the both of ‘em.” Y/N thinks her heart sinks to her stomach, nearly shitting it out at his innocent confession and Akasha notices the clear tears that threaten to spring to her eyes.

Dammit, Y/N. Get your hormones together.

The call ends shortly after. Cilla had advised Y/N to stay away from the meatballs, said that red meat was awful on her stomach both times she was pregnant, so Y/N’s digging her fork into some awfully cheesy spaghetti while Harry has about twelve meatballs buried in his.

It’s with a mouthful of the stringy pasta that she calls his name softly, voice muffled but he looks at her mid-chew and nods, taking a sip of his water. If you can’t have a glass of wine, ‘m not gonna have a beer. She finishes her mouthful and wipes her clammy hands on her jeans -- the first item of maternity clothing she’s ever worn and she loves the elastic waist.

“So I have a question, and it’s a pretty important question and I’ll only be a little heartbroken if you say no.” She laughs out nervously. Harry doesn’t like the way she’s avoiding eye contact so he reaches across the table for her hand and snatches her attention.

“Love,” he softly coos. “S’fine, just say what ya need t’ say.” His encouraging words have her nodding her head and with a deep breath, she lets her shoulders relax and she leans closer over the table.

“I was uh… I was wondering if you’d be Daisy’s godfather?” She lets out, eyes hopeful and teary and Harry thinks he can’t breathe. He stares at her for a moment and he doesn’t know what he’s fixated on more. Being asked to be the godfather, or hearing the name of her little girl.

“Daisy?” he chokes. His eyes flicker over to the bouquet of daisies and sunflowers he grabbed her after the appointment when she stayed in the car and he ran to grab stuff for dinner. His heart feels full and so heavy and he wants to sob and sob and sob until he can’t cry anymore because fuck, he thinks he might be in love with her.

She nods, tearful. “Yeah… what do you think?” He blubbers out a laugh and stands from his seat just as she does. “I think I love my goddaughter and her mother very much.” He rounds the table to take Y/N into his arms and she can’t help but feel so safe and complete, having his strong arms around hers as her little girl stays safe and warm between them.

“Thank you,” he whispers into her head, kissing her temple but she pulls away, wiping back tears and asks him to sit back down because she’s not finished. He does, pulls his chair closer to hers so they’re no longer right across from each other, but rather right next to one another.

“Wha’ more could you possibly say right now?” he jokes as he wipes his face. Y/N’s still nervous, knows what she’s about to ask is just as big as asking him to be Daisy’s godfather. She reaches for his hand and intertwines their fingers again -- something that seems to be an apparent comfort thing as of late.

She breathes out a nervous laugh. “Well, um. I was also wondering if maybe you’d like to be my birthing partner? Y’know, go to all those birthing classes with me and hold my hand and be there when she’s born…”

There’s a sickening silence as he just stares at her and she thinks he’s about to walk out, that he’s going to laugh and tell her no, that he has better things to be doing, that it isn’t his priority, that she isn’t his child. She knows she’s being irrational but hormones have fucked her head and all she is right now is a bundle of self-doubt.

“Or not, like I get it if you don’t want to or have better things to do. It’s okay, really, I promise.” Her throat is burning as she tries not to cry through her words and she feels like she has to make it clear it’s okay if he decides not to, that maybe then it won’t hurt so much.

He notices her shaky and uneven tone, the way her voice sounds strangled and strained. He never wants to hear her so doubtful about him ever again. Harry blinks. “I’m gonna be there, through all of it. Gonna hold ya hand and let ya break it when the pain gets too much. Gonna sit behind ya and hold ya belly in all the classes. Gonna be there for all of it, babe. I’m not going anywhere.”

She sobs into her hands, a mess to him, surely. He pulls her into his side, knows there’s no use in either of them finishing their dinner, their appetites long gone but he doesn’t mind. Harry would always put Y/N and her comfort first and she knows it. Maybe that’s what’s got her so upset.

He doesn’t understand that everything he said is everything she wants but in the worst way she could ever have it. And yes, maybe she is selfish. But the heart wants what the heart wants, and hers wants him.

“I’m sorry.” She pulls her head from her face and wipes at her eyes, taking a deep breath and plastering on that fake smile that kills Harry every time. “I mean it, Y/N.” His voice is stern, eyes hard as he holds her. “I’m gonna be here through it all.”

-----

She doesn’t know what disrupts her from her sleep. It’s 1:30 am and she should be sleeping, but something startled her awake. She’s sitting up in bed, ears straining for a possible noise that may have disrupted her once peaceful slumber. When she hears nothing, she gets ready to settle back on her pillow, but a frantic crash is heard from downstairs and she’s belting out of bed and into her wardrobe with her phone.

Her hand is over her mouth, trying to silence her breathing but it’s loud and desperate, even through her nose and she unlocks her phone to text the only person that may possibly be in her home at one in the morning.

Y/N <3

Are you downstairs?????????

The crashes get louder and more frantic, like someone’s tearing apart the downstairs of her house.

H x

What in your house? No x

Why?

Is someone in the house?

Y/N what’s going on????

She doesn’t waste any more time texting him, dialling 999 in half a second and she keeps the phone to her ear, turning the volume down so she can barely hear it over her pounding heart and she’s connected with someone almost immediately.

“I need the police, someone has just broken into my house. I’m upstairs and I’m hiding in my wardrobe.” The operator tries to calm her frantic state, asks for her address and her name but Y/N’s still shaking when she tells her. “Please, I live alone and I’m pregnant and I can hear things smashing and breaking.”

“Stay on the line with me, Miss. Have you seen anybody? Do you know how many people are in the house?” Her calm voice speaks through the near-silent line and Y/N’s a mess, sobbing into her hand and clutching her stomach.

She shakes her head, realises she can’t see her. “No, the noises woke me up. I don’t know how many there are. Please hurry.” She tries to ignore phone vibrating in her hand from the insistent messages from Harry, feels even sicker and she knows she’s worried him.

Her stomach knots at the thought of him possibly coming to her house, to check if she’s okay. She feels sick. What if he gets hurt? “Please, you have to hurry,” she begs, struggling to catch her breath as she whispers out her words in a rushed breath.

“Miss, two officers have been dispatched and they are approximately thirty seconds away.” Y/N inhales a shaky breath, frozen when she smells it; the ashy, burning scent that fills her nose. Then panic settles in. “I can smell smoke, you need to send a fire engine… I think there’s a fire.”

“Police!”

“They’re here, the police are here.” Y/N says, hanging up the phone and crawling out of the wardrobe as quietly as she can. “Hello? Anyone home?” An officer calls out and Y/N feels sick. She’s scared and vulnerable and with her phone clutched in her hand, she takes a step toward her bedroom door.

“I’m upstairs but I smell smoke! I don’t know if anyone’s still downstairs,” she calls out, hands cradling her stomach and footsteps make her back up against a wall in fear, whole body trembling.

A woman in uniform makes her presence known, hands up in surrender and she asks if Y/N is okay, notices the large swell of her stomach and Y/N sees her shoulders fall slightly. “It’s okay. My name is officer Jules, there’s no one downstairs but a fire has started in the kitchen so we need to get you out of here.”

It’s all white noise to Y/N as she lets the policewoman guide her down the stairs. She doesn’t miss the completely trashed home she’s been left with. Her furniture has been thrown across the place, sofa torn and ripped to pieces. Her photo frames are smashed and broken, shattered glass across her floors. There’s graffiti up her walls and on her smashed TV screen.

Her entire life she’s built in this little house is gone, shattered and broken and completely destroyed. She blubbers out a broken cry, pinching her eyes shut tight with her hands on her tummy as Jules escorts her outside.

There’s a police car at the end of her drive, two more officers taking into their intercoms and Y/N is blown into a full panic attack. She can already hear the sirens of the fire engine coming closer, a cold sweat breaking on her skin. All her memories are stuck inside and she doesn’t know what she’s going to do if she loses everything she has.

She’s trying to make sense of the situation, to figure out why and who and what the fuck is going on. She doesn’t hear a car come screeching to a halt behind the police and she doesn’t hear the frantic calls of her name until a pair of hands are on her lower back, gently moving her away from a suspected stranger who’s ignoring the police’s prompts to stand back.

Jules comes between Y/N and Harry as she’s guided over to the other two officers to take her statement and it’s like Y/N still hasn’t registered his presence yet. “Sir, do you know this lady? I need to know your relation to her.” Harry’s ripping hir hair out, eyes flickering from a shivering Y/N to her busted front door where he can see into her tore apart living room.

“I’m her -- I’m her boyfriend,” he blags, distraught and all and he’s itching to have her in his arms. The answer doesn’t seem to satisfy her and she tries to escort Harry back to his car but he’s standing his ground, shaking his head and tears are fresh in his eyes.

“No, please. She’s pregnant wi’ my baby.” His frantic state finally catches Y/N’s attention and she turns around, eyes wide and body trembling at the sight of him. “Harry,” she sobs, pushing past the officers and straight into his arms. He pulls her to the side, arms around her in a tight grip as the fire brigade dismantle from the truck and make their way inside.

“S’okay, babe. I’ve got ya, love. S’okay.” He’s whimpering through his own tears of fear and worry and Y/N won’t let go of him -- won’t unwind her arms from his body as a heart-aching sobs rips through her soul.

She’s incoherent against his chest, a blubbering mess that Harry can’t understand but he makes no effort to pull her away and get her to talk to him. He knows what she needs, knows that she needs to feel safe in his arms and protected and he will do anything to make sure she knows he will always keep her safe.

Through the commotion of it all, Harry has to help her finish her interview with the officers, tells them that he got the texts and came straight over. The firemen tell her she can’t access the building for at least 24 hours and Harry jumps at the opportunity to have her stay at his place.

She’s passed out in the car by the time he gets back to his place and Harry scoops her up in his arms and carries her inside. He doesn’t think twice about settling her in his bed, kissing her forehead and keeping the door open as he goes downstairs to make a phone call.

He tells her parents -- apologises for waking them up so early in the morning but he tells them what he knows and that she’s staying at his place. Tells them he wants her to stay there through the rest of her pregnancy but he knows it’s something he and Y/N need to have a proper conversation about in the morning.

By the time he comes back upstairs, it’s almost 4 am and he’s had time to cancel his interviews for the next few days. He’s crawling in bed beside her, a pair of sweats and a loose t-shirt on his body as he settles on his side. He cuddles up to her, lets her body relax and his moulds around hers.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispers against the shell of her ear. Despite knowing she’d never let him blame himself, he still does. He still hates that she could’ve been hurt, that her baby could have been hurt. He knows she’s due in two months, that her seven-month swell is taking its toll on her and he wants to keep her safe for the rest of his life.

He’s torn. Because on one side, he wants to care for his best friend until his dying breath and on the other, he’s yet to tell her that in the past week and a half, he’s met someone — someone fantastic and funny and smart and beautiful. He’s yet to tell her that he thinks this someone could be the one for him. Because he knows if he tells her, she won’t let him help her, won’t let him dote on her anymore and he doesn’t want to lose her.

And he knows laying beside her, with her fragile body in his arms, is wrong. He knows he has someone that is willing to get to know him, to learn to love him. He knows he has another lover that he feels so strongly for. He knows it’s wrong but he can’t bring himself to let go of her.

When morning comes, Y/N is clinging. He expected it, knew it was coming but it doesn’t make it easy for him to unfold her arms that clasp around his middle to sit her down and talk to her.

How does he do this?

He wants her to stay with him until Daisy is born, and even after, but he also needs to tell her about Kelsey and how he feels about her. Her brows are pinched together when he sits her down at his kitchen table, breakfast finished with.

He can still see the anxiety and fear in her eyes after last night, so he reaches for her hands and kisses at her knuckles. “I need to talk to you about something.” His words have her heart hammering in her chest and of course, she thinks the worst.

He doesn’t want to be Daisy’s godfather. He’s having second thoughts and he doesn’t want to be in the room when she’s born.

She nods slowly, stressing on her bottom lip with nervous nibbles and Harry swallows. “I want ya t’ stay here, wi’ me until ya have Daisy. Jus’ so I know ya safe after last night. And y’er gonna start to really struggle the next two months and I wanna be able to help ya. Even after she’s here, wanna be able t’ feed her in the night so you can get your sleep. Wanna be here for ya wi’ it all, so I think ya should move in for a bit. Can’t exactly go home, can ya.”

She wants to jump and scream, wants to kiss him and let herself believe that this is his way of taking it further, that maybe he’s realising he feels the same as she does, that maybe he wants her the way she wants him. But she sees the flicker of doubt in his eyes and she knows there’s something else he needs to say.

“But…” she spurs him on, her voice timid and a little broken. He frowns. “I know that look, H. There’s a but coming, so what is it?” She looks at him expectantly, ready for her heart to be torn out of her chest and he clears his throat, lets go of her hand. Doesn’t feel like he should be holding her when he tells her.

“S’not necessarily a but…. but I have uh… I’ve met someone.” There’s a pause, a long, crushing pause and Y/N swallows back the bile that crawls up her throat to throw on her best smile and she wraps her arms around him in a tight hug. It gives her a moment to let her facade fall and a tear slip but she pulls away as quickly as she hugs him and wipes her face, grinning big.

Harry’s sceptical of her reaction, tries to see behind the glimmer in her eyes but when she puts up that block that doesn’t let him see anything past what she wants him to, he’s forced to believe her.

He’s grabbing her hands again before she can say anything on the matter. “Doesn’t change tha’ I want you to stay here, though. It’s still all so new but I wanted to make ya aware if you saw her wandering around the place and stuff. Think she might be the one, Y/N.”

She feels frozen, numb. Though she can feel her heart shatter and the pain of it radiating down to her fingertips, she can’t feel anything else. She can’t feel her hand in his, can’t feel his breath on her face from how close they’re sitting, can’t feel his knee bumping hers as he shuffles on his seat. She can’t feel anything but everything hurts.

Y/N blinks, struggles to keep herself sat on her chair and not slink to the floor. She lets go of his hands to hold her bump and she feels all alone again, abandoned. He promised he’d be there through everything, but now she knows that he won’t be.

She’s selfish, to feel so hurt by this, she knows. She knew all along that he would eventually find someone and fall in love again and have his own family. She knew her and Daisy wouldn’t always be his priority, as much as he’d tell her they would be. She knew -- she expected it, but it hurts.

She clears her throat, winces at the way it burns and stings after, like maybe it’s a sign she shouldn’t say it but she needs to take a step back, she needs to stop hurting herself. “Actually uh, I think it’d be best if I moved back in with Mum and Dad. I need to be around family right now and I don’t want to get in the way of you and this girl you’ve met.”

I need to be around family right now.

Harry feels sick and struggles to pretend what she said doesn’t hurt. He doesn’t remind her that only months ago she was calling him family when she wanted him in the room when she goes into labour. He wonders if she still wants him there but he doesn’t bring it up.

Instead, it’s his turn to swallow back the bile and nod slowly. “Y’know y’er never gonna get in the way. Always gonna choose you ‘n Daisy. Y’er always gonna be my main priority.” She doesn’t say anything, doesn’t tell him she doesn’t believe it, that it’ll all change soon enough.

Y/N nods and forces on a small smile, leaning close to feel his body on hers again. They stay like that for a while and it’s like they both know things aren’t going to be the same for a little while. They don’t get it, what the other feels, but there’s still that unspoken understanding that maybe they should take a step back from each other.

-----

She’s got a headache and everything is starting to annoy her. Eight months into her pregnancy and Y/N wants to be done with it. For the past three days, she’s been sitting, looking for a nice two-bed flat but she’s yet to find anything affordable and not in a dodgy neighbourhood.

She’s been back home for an entire month now and has hardly spoken to Harry since. She’s withdrawn for him for her reasons but she doesn’t understand why he’s withdrawn for her. It was awkward at the birthing class last week. He picked her up and they were mistaken for a couple, to which he was quick to correct the instructor and Y/N was left feeling blue.

They were supposed to go for lunch right after, to have a proper catchup and maybe do a bit of flat hunting for when Daisy gets here so she can move out of her parents again. But when they got out of the birthing class, his phone was blowing up and Kelsey was making it more than clear that she wanted Harry and she wanted him there and then.

Y/N had to pretend she didn’t see the striking blush on his cheeks as he read over the messages and she got him to drop her off at her parents and told him she had stuff to do for work anyway. He knew it was a load of bullshit, that her maternity leave started two months ago and yet he left her anyway.

She hasn’t spoken to him since and she misses him. She’s been crying herself to sleep as she coddles her bump at night. She misses him and his touch and his goofy jokes at random moments. She wishes to God she agreed to stay at his place but she also knows she wouldn't have been able to stomach the sight of him loved up with a new girl that he thinks is the love of his life.

“Fuck sake,” she curses under her breath, pushing her laptop away and she takes a deep breath, pinching at the bridge of her nose as she stands from her bed. That’s one thing she’s thankful for. Her parents never changed her room when she first moved out three years ago.

She rubs over the swell of her tummy, wearing just a pair for sweats and a sports bra. She’s been struggling recently. Her back is aching, her feet are always swollen. Her nipples have started leaking and her skin is going through odd breakouts out of nowhere. She’s hating this part of her pregnancy and she has three and a half weeks until she’s due but she wants it over with.

She’s got a wobble when she walks now, holding onto the railing when she descends down the stairs and she supposes that if she moves into a flat, she needs one with a lift because she won’t be carrying a pushchair up and down multiple flights of stairs.

“I have it! I have the perfect place!” Akasha comes rushing into the kitchen, pieces of paper in one hand and her phone waving about in the other. Daniel turns the stove off at her frantic state, Cilla putting down her mug of coffee and Y/N takes a seat beside her mother, kissing her cheek and leaning her head on her shoulder.

The kitchen table is still full of gifts she received from the baby shower Akasha had planned -- decked out with clothes and baby toys and a couple of cute things for Y/N for when she’s able to fit in non-maternity clothes. It was a sweet gesture, just not one that she asked for. And honestly, now that she thinks of it, she doesn’t think Harry got her anything. Not that she’s complaining or could ever -- he’s helped her with more than she’ll ever be able to thank him for.

She knows she could really just move back into her old house but after finding out it was a couple of kids that had easily broken into her home at the dead of night and set her kitchen in flames, she doesn’t want to go back there, even after the refurnishing is finished. She wants to be somewhere else, somewhere safer.

They managed to save most of her furniture and Daniel has opened up a storage unit to put all of her stuff until she can move out. “What are you on about, love?” Cilla asks with a mouthful of toast and Akasha sets the papers on the table excitedly.

“Y/N’s new house, I found it and it’s perfect. It’s two bedrooms, cute garden out back, own garage and all. It’s a townhouse about thirty minutes away and it’s gorgeous.”

Y/N eyes the papers she sets down, the screenshots of the listing that Akasha has printed out and her eyes widen, almost choking on her spit. “It’s also two grand a month rent! I can’t afford that, Akasha.” She feels just as hopeless as she did before her sister showed her the property.

Akasha shakes her head. “Ah, but get this, it’s not. Because I spoke to the realtor and the last tenant died there, can you believe that? So the rent is automatically knocked right down and you’ll be able to move in once you have Daisy.”

Y/N stares at her for a moment, blinking with raised brows. “So you want me and my newborn child to move into a possibly haunted house?” It comes out as more of a statement than a question and Cilla snorts beside her, Daniel giggling as he turns back to the stove.

They’ve all found Y/N’s lack of filter amusing in the past month and often have to bite their tongue and hold back laughter or Akasha gets aggy about it. She huffs. “It's not haunted,” she mutters back and Y/N sighs. “Look, even with the rent dropped, I can’t afford it on my wages, Kasha. It looks beautiful and I’d love to live there but I can't afford it.”

Akasha is gnawing on her inner cheek, biting back a smile and Y/N is getting a little annoyed now. What is it with people having something to say but not actually saying it. She cocks a brow and Akasha pulls a chair to her side, grin on her lips as she clasps her hand on the table.

“Well, what if I told you that Miranda is looking for a new design representative and perks include flexible office hours, working from home, free child care, 50% off and a work car?” She starts, head low but she’s grinning at Y/N from the angle she’s at and Cilla’s eyes are wide as she gawks at her daughters.

“And what if I told you I happened to put your name forward and she’s going to be giving you a call later today to see if you'd be interested?”

It’s no secret Y/N loves her job but not the people she works with, that she’s always wanted to work in design but being a design representative is another level and she knows the company and brands her little sister has worked for since she was an intern three years ago at one of the biggest in the UK.  

“You did what?” She asks, can’t quite believe her ears and Akasha nods, excited and eager and desperate for her big sister to finally get the life she deserves.

Y/N leaps up from her chair in a quick squeal, her hands on her tummy as she pulls her sister into her arms. “I need to call Harry!” She announces eagerly, racing for the stairs and for a moment, she doesn’t remember that she’s a little mad at him for not loving her the way she does him -- she’s too excited to remember.

It takes three rings before he answers her call, panting and breathing heavy just like before but she doesn’t notice it at first. “H! You’re not gonna believe it! We found a house that’s perfect and it’s pricey but I could end up with my dream job at the end of today so this is all gonna work out! Can you believe this! Harry, I’m so happy, you need to come round to Mum and Dad’s!”

Then she hears the creak of the bed and a girlish whine and he pants down the line through a happy laugh. Her smile fades when she realises what she’s just interrupted and she isn’t sure she wants him to come round now.

“Love, that’s amazing! Christ, okay. Lemme get sorted and I’ll be round in about half an hour. Fuck, ‘m so happy for you, love.”

She can hear Kelsey mutter something in a grumpy tone as Harry rushes to get his clothes on. She doesn’t get the chance to tell him not to worry about it before he’s blowing a kiss down the phone and ending the call.

Y/N doesn’t understand why he’s eager to see her after a week of silence. She doesn’t understand that he’ll willingly leave Kelsey in his bed, unsatisfied, just to celebrate the good news with her. She doesn’t understand and she doesn’t let the realisation of it register in her head.

Instead, she focuses on the fact that he’s happy with another woman, that he’s loving up another woman with his heart and body and she doesn’t get that. She focuses on the fact that he’s with her and not Y/N.

When she gets downstairs again, Akasha is on the phone, confirming details with the realtor to get a viewing and Daniel is popping open a bottle of Champagne while Cilla watches with weary eyes, not ready for him to break his finger for the third time.

She hates herself because now she can’t find it in her to be happy about her own news. She’s no longer relieved to have a place to live, she’s no longer excited about the new job, all because of Harry.

It’s twenty minutes later when she hears his voice flood through the house as he lets himself in. He wanders in the kitchen with flushed cheeks and sexed-up hair, holding a bunch of sunflowers and daisies and a bottle of rosé.

Despite her sour mood, her heart still warms to see him and she can feel Daisy start to kick about in her stomach. She’s noticed that a lot, how responsive her little girl is to Harry’s presence and the sound of his voice.

She taps her belly again. “Guess who’s here,” she coos quietly to her bump and she feels Daisy kick her again, a little harder this time and it’s like she senses when Harry gets closer to her.

“Congratulations!” He cheers happily to his best friend, palming off the flowers and wine to Cilla as he pulls Y/N into his warm arms, mindful of her belly. “‘M so proud of you,” he murmurs in her ear, kissing her temple as he leans back and sinks to his knees to cup her belly and kiss it over her top.

“‘Lo, Princess. Hope you’ve been good fo’ y’er Mum,” he chastises playfully and all Cilla wants to do is force them in a room to talk out their feelings. It kills her to see them so domestic yet so platonic.

“Hi.”

All eyes snap to the unfamiliar voice that comes from a tall woman standing at the kitchen door. Harry stands with blushed cheeks as he backs up to her side and all smiles are quickly wiped from Y/N’s families faces.

Harry clears his throat. “Everyone, this is Kelsey, m’ girlfriend. Hope ya don’t mind her tagging along. Figured I’d be introducing you lot to her soon enough anyway.” Cilla’s eyes are wide as she forces on a smile and welcomes her, looking back to her daughter with so much pain in her eyes that Y/N can’t hold eye contact.

“Kels, this is Cilla, Daniel, Akasha.” He waves his hand around to each of them, giving her time to smile and shake their hands and Harry stops at Y/N, a nervous smile on his face but Y/N doesn’t want to have to pretend to be okay in her own home.

But she does, though. For him. “And this is Y/N and baby Daisy.” There’s a proud smile on his face when he introduces his love to his best friend with so much adoration in his voice. Y/N’s family watches the exchange when Kelsey offers her hand to her.

“Nice to finally meet you! I’ve heard a lot about you,” Y/N greets politely, biting back the bitter taste on her tongue and Harry is gleaming, thinks they’re going to get along just fine.

Kelsey plasters on a smile on her perfect face, though Y/N can see right through it. “Wow, you’re huge, nice to meet you, too.” She blinks at the comment, forcing a light laugh to tumble from her lips. “I’m pregnant.” She corrects her through gritted teeth, forcing another laugh as to not seem like a raging bitch.

Harry throws at arm over her shoulder, offering her a glass of champagne as he takes a sip of his beer. “So where’s this house? Have ya viewed it yet?” he makes conversation, taking the printouts from Akasha and looking through them a little smile on his face.

He doesn’t say anything but he can picture Y/N and Daisy living there. Can imagine Y/N reading Daisy bedtime stories in what will be her nursery, can see her teaching her to walk in the cosy living room. He can see himself cuddling them both as they watch a movie, cooking dinner for his two best girls on a Sunday evening, helping Y/N to settle the little monster to bed.

It’s perfect.

“Haven’t viewed it yet. Kasha set up a date sometime next week for me if you’re free and wanna come? Still gonna need you to help me and Dad decorate Daisy’s room.” He nods quickly, a grin on his lips and he moves his arm from Kelsey’s shoulder to wrap Y/N up in another safe embrace.

“‘Course. Daniel said he’s put all the furniture we got in tha’ storage unit so I’ll make sure ’m about to help ya move in, an’ all. S’gonna be good, pet. Ya need this, ya deserve it. And I’m gonna be there through it all, by ya side when ya push the bugger out and take ya back home after.”

Her heart is swelling at the closeness and his words, skin warm and soft and she feels happy, hearing him speak so fondly about her little girl, about how active he’s going to be. But then she hears Kelsey’s voice again and her bubble of happiness is popped.

“You’re going to be in the room when she gives birth?” There's a hint of disgust in her voice and Harry hums, arm still thrown around Y/N’s shoulder and his brows are knitted, like he doesn’t see what’s so wrong with it.

“Yeah, ‘m her birthing partner,” he grins happily. It’s clear that he’s excited about it, to get to watch the birth of his goddaughter, share that magical moment of Y/N holding her for the first time.

Kelsey scrunches up her nose. “Isn't that a bit weird? Shouldn't you have the Dad in there with you?” She's directing it at Y/N now and Harry feels overprotective of her. Kelsey knows Daisy’s Dad isn’t in the picture, he made that very clear on the way over so he’s angry that she’s bringing him up.

Y/N shrugs, shaking her head. She isn’t going to give the girl what she wants. Cilla scoffs and speaks up. “Don’t see anything weird about it. Harry’s been in her life since they were only young. He’s going to be Daisy’s godfather so I think it’s quite fitting for him to be there, really. Besides, none of us deals with blood very well.” She tries to make it a little lighthearted but they all know Cilla.

“How did you and Harry meet, anyway?” Cilla changes the topic and Y/N’s ears perk up as she twists her neck to get a look at Harry. She’s yet to know how they met, too. Kelsey clears her throat, clearly understanding that she not going to get a reaction out of them. “Kelsey’s a model at Gucci, met her in one of the shops when I was getting fitted for a new suit.”

Y/N’s phone begins to ring and she’s thankful for the lucky escape. Her nerves are through the roof, thinks this is the all about the job but when she sees the contact, she breathes again.

All eyes are on her, hopeful, and Harry looks so proud and ready to tackle her in a hug. “You got this,” he encourages and she barks out a laugh, shaking her head and showing her the screen.

“S’just your Mum, said she was gonna FaceTime me yesterday, she wants to see the bump.”

-----

She’s passed her due date and the world knows she’s pregnant. She’s been on the phone to Harry for the past hour, sobs ripping through her throat and he’s stuck in the studio fixing a final track before he can come to her. She told him not to worry, that just hearing his voice is enough but he wants to hold her.

Neither of them knows what happened but pictures of the night of the break-in are surfacing around the internet -- ones of Y/N sobbing into Harry’s chest, others of him holding her belly and looking distraught. Neither of them understands where they’ve come from or why they’ve waited two months to release them but harry has assured her that his team is working on it.

“Everything‘s just getting to me, H. I hurt all the time and I keep getting stupid Braxton Hicks,” she whines over her phone, smoothing over her swollen stomach that’s stretching still with scars to prove.

“I love you, Princess, I really do. But Mummy needs you to come out now.” She directs her attention to her daughter and Harry lets his bottom lip pout out softly. He can’t imagine how hard it is for her, how hard she’s struggling.

He’s been stopping by almost every day, bringing her snacks and movies and blankets and candles. He sat and watched a documentary with her while he massaged her swollen feet and ankles as she stuffed her face with the cookies he got from the bakery.

He’s braided her hair after her bath and had to help her out of it the other day when she couldn’t sit forward enough to get up. She made him close his eyes and hold her wrists when he did it. Told him that he has a girlfriend now so he can’t be seeing her naked, even if he would look respectfully.

She didn’t tell him it’s actually because she feels disgusting in her own skin recently. “Mummy really needs a break, darling. I’m too eager to meet you, Daisy.” Harry can feel his heart swelling at her words, wants nothing more than to be with her to talk to her belly too.

She starts to kick a little, twisting and rolling and pressing on Y/N’s bladder a little. She shifts with a wince and the overwhelming urge to pee is quickly fading and she can feel her sheets dampen beneath her.

She sits up with wide eyes and a stammering heart. She doesn’t know what’s just happened. Did she just pee herself or did her waters just break? “Harry…” she breathes out shakily, hands trembling as she stands up on weak legs and he hums, not picking up on her distressed state.

“H, I think my waters just broke… Mum! Dad! Quick!” She’s sent into a state of panic and frenzy, forgetting all of the calm and soothing words of how to prepare for this when she was at those classes with Harry and his mind has gone blank too.

“Wha’?”

Her parents come rushing to her room, Cilla immediately notices the wet patch on her sheets that she looms over and she reaches for her daughter. “She moved on my bladder and I don’t know if I just peed or if—“ Cilla shakes her head, an excited smile on her face and Y/N doubles over in searing pain, her stomach cramping up as she rubs her back.

“Your water’s broke, love. We need to time your contractions. Daniel, call Harry.” He can hear the hint of panic and excitement behind her otherwise calm voice and he breaks into a sweat at the sound of another muffled cry that tumbles from Y/N’s lips.

“He’s on the phone.” She groans out, phone dropping on the bed and Daniel fetches it, tries telling Harry what he’s already heard, that he doesn’t need to worry but to be on standby.

Harry’s already leaving the studio. Fuck standby, he wants to be with her right now. “I’m gonna be about twenty minutes then I’ll be there, promise.” Daniel tries to reassure him it’s not necessary, that they need to time her contractions to determine when to take her in but Harry isn’t listening.

He can hear her crying for him and it makes him move faster, putting the call on speaker as it connects to his car's Bluetooth and he starts up the engine.

It takes ten minutes to get to her and he sits with her for two hours, rubbing her feet and coaching her through her breathing. He’s freaking out. As much as Cilla has tried to calm both him and Y/N, he can’t stop freaking out.

It’s when the contractions are lasting for almost a minute with barely three minutes break between that they know it’s time and Y/N hasn’t stopped sobbing and crying. Harry carries her to his car, hand on her tummy as he drives to the hospital, still trying to mentally count the breaks and lengths of the contractions.

Y/N’s scared. As much as she’s wanted this time to come, to have her pregnancy over with, she’s scared and she doesn’t think she can be a mother to her child. “Harry, I’m scared,” she whimpers through searing pain, hand on his wrist and she twists his hand so their fingers are intertwined.

His eyes are wet at her confession as he makes a left, nodding his head and he holds her hand tight. “I know, but ya gonna be fine. Ya gonna make such an amazing mother, Y/N.” But she keeps shaking her head and blubbering helplessly, desperately.

“No, I can’t. I can’t do it.” She’s hysterical, holding the bottom swell of her bump and Harry can barely make out what she’s saying but he knows. He knows her and he knows what she’s thinking and right now, he can’t tell her everything he knows she needs to hear, so he settles for something else.

“Fuck, Y/N. You can do this and ya have to. This little girl is gonna grow up so fuckin’ loved and cherished and accepted because you are one of the most incredible people I have ever met. Y’er everything to me and I love you so fuckin’ much. I’m here ‘n I’m with you, but ya gotta believe in yourself, babe. You can do this.”

She nods through tears, crying through gritted teeth and she knows deep down that he’s right. “I can do this. I can do this.” She repeats the mantra as he parks the car, runs around to help her out but she can’t walk -- her feet are too swollen and the pain is too much for her knees to keep her up.

She’s never been good with pain, Harry’s always known this, so he sweeps her back in his arms and carries her through the entrance like she weighs nothing. A nurse notices immediately and rolls a wheelchair over to them, helps Harry settle her in and she grabs his hand in hers; knuckles burning white.

“We called when we left, her contractions are lasting almost a minute and there’s a three-minute gap between each one.” She’s panting when he tells the nurse and as he gets her signed in, another wave of pain shoots through her entire being and she’s begging for Harry to make it stop.

They’re guided down to a private suite, one Harry had paid for without Y/N even knowing. There was no way in hell anyone was going to get pictures of such a personal and private moment to splatter across the internet. He wheels her in, helps her undress and into the gown she’s given and this time, Y/N doesn’t tell him not to look.

Instead, she’s clinging onto him and trying to keep as close to his chest as she can. Everything is a frantic blur to the both of them as she’s laid down on one of the beds, her legs propped open as a midwife walks her through what she’s doing, that she’s checking how dilated she is but neither of them can make sense of it.

She’s clinging onto Harry in agonising pain as he coos her. He feels stuck, doesn’t know what to do. He isn’t sure if he should brush her hair back and tell her it’s okay, or if he should just stand there and let her break his hand. He doesn’t want to smother her but he also doesn’t want to not comfort her.

Y/N is in another state of mind. She’s in pain -- searing and overwhelming pain and all she wants is for her baby girl to be here and for it all to stop. She’s holding his hand and she tries to steady her breathing, can’t make sense of her left from her right.

But she pulls Harry down so he’s on his knees and his face is level with hers. She turns to him with a shaking head, clutching his hand and Harry thinks she’s the most heartbreaking sight he’s ever seen.

“If anything happens to me, you have to be a Dad to Daisy. You have to promise me you’ll always take care of her.”

He sees the fear in her eyes as she blubbers desperately and Harry is shaking his head wildly when Zoe rushes into the delivery suite. He cups her soaked cheek in the palm of his hot hand, trembling as he holds her and he kisses her forehead.

“S’okay, babe. It’s all gonna be fine. I’m here and you’re here and nothings gonna happen. Nothing is going to happen to you. But I will always be a Dad to Daisy, she’s always gonna be like my little girl. Ya gonna be fine, love.”

She doesn’t get the chance to argue back because cries tear through her throat and Zoe is trying to coach her through her contractions. Harry hears everything but he can’t focus, he’s too caught in his head and what she just said to him and he hurts. He never even considered she’d think she might lose her own life during this.

It’s an hour of on and off tears and sobs until she’s given the green light to start pushing. It’s supposed to be a magical moment of sweat and blood and tears but all Y/N can do is sob and want to give up.

She doesn’t feel excited or elated or relieved that her baby is coming. She feels anxious and depressed and terrified because she can’t do this. She can’t be a mother.

“Y/N, I know it hurts but you need to keep pushing, she’s almost here. You need to push.”

Her teeth are clenched, veins popping out of her head and neck and her core feels like it’s on fire, like her body is about to split in two. Her grip on Harry’s hand is abnormally strong, crushing the bone but he doesn’t complain, how can he? He feels mere discomfort compared to her.

She had hoped during birth, she’d be graceful. That sure, she’d break a sweat and shed a tear, but she hoped her hair wouldn’t be a matted mess on her head, that her eyes wouldn’t be stinging and sunken in. She hoped she wouldn’t piss herself but she underestimated child labour more than she thought.

Y/N can’t hear anything, it’s all too loud and too much.

All she can feel is the fire her body is burned by, the tearing sensation of being split in half. All she can hear are muffled praises of encouragement and desperate pleas for her to keep pushing but her body doesn’t feel like it can take much more.

“Baby, a few more big pushes and she’s here.”

She’s shaking her head, hand right on Harry’s as she blubbers hysterically. “I can’t, I can’t!” He’s cooing her, brushing matted hair from her face and kissing her knuckles through his own watery cries.

“Yes, you can. She’s almost here, Daisy is almost here but ya need t’ push, love. Right now.”

She doesn’t know if it’s the pressure on her core or the encouraging words he seethes to get her to hear, but she starts to nod her head with feebly shaking thighs and she pushes, with all of her might.

Zoe’s and Harry’s praises are drowned out by her raw and shattering screams. Her body is on fire, burning and exhausted but she keeps pushing through the pop of relief when Daisy’s head slips out and Zoe manoeuvres her hands to free her shoulders.

The room falls silent when the first cry is heard and suddenly, Y/N doesn’t feel any pain. She’s numb to the searing ache and stabs of her torn heat. She’s completely disassociated from her body as she cranes up with every ounce of energy she can find, to get a look at her angel.

Harry sees her first, as Zoe untangles the umbilical cord from her knee and hands him the scissors. It’s with watery eyes that he snips the cord and Daisy is momentarily whisked to the side to clean up before she’s rested across Y/N’s bare chest.

Her baby is all she can see. Screwed up and bloody, she’s beautiful. Dark tufts of short hair grace her soft head, her lips are pinky and squished as her cheek rests against Y/N’s bare chest. Her quarries of cries have settled and her nimble fingers scrunch as she looks for something to hold onto.

Y/N can’t look away. Her baby is here -- her gorgeous, perfectly beautiful baby girl. “My gorgeous angel.” Y/N’s got tears in her eyes as a shaky hand reaches forward to touch her. Her thumb gently traces the gooeyness of the skin on her cheek but fuck, she’s so perfect and Y/N has never loved anything so much before.

Harry’s no better -- completely besotted with his goddaughter. He’s leaning down to get a look at her, his hand brushing matted hair from Y/N’s sweaty head as he peppers a kiss to her forehead and reaches for Daisy's hand. She wraps her nimble fingers around his thumb; tight grip in her gentle hold.

“Would you like a picture?” Zoe interrupts softly after a few moments of allowing them to bask in Daisy’s birth. They both nod, Harry digging in his pockets for his phone and he stands back to get a photo of the mother and daughter together, vision blurry through teary eyes and his heart only melts when Y/N stares at him.

“Can you get one of all of us?” He knows her question is directed at Zoe and she takes the phone from him as he tugs the chair back to her bed and leans close. Zoe gets three pictures. The first is the both of them adoring baby Daisy, wet smiles on their faces and eyes full of love. The second is the two of them gleaming tiredly at the camera, Daisy snuggled on Y/N’s chest with a small blanket covering her.

And the third, well, it’s a total accident. Zoe’s about to hand Harry his phone back when he leans down to kiss Y/N’s forehead. It’s when he pulls away and they’re gazing at each other with such raw emotion that their lips meet in something so perfect that Zoe snaps the picture.

-----

Y/N aches.

Her whole body is hurting and aching and she can’t quite describe the feeling of not carrying around a bump anymore. She’s in a pair of Harry’s sweats and one of his band tees, hair crafted into two french braids as Akasha ties them off.

Her eyes are on her mother, watching as she ogles and sobs silently over her granddaughter. Daniel stands behind Cilla, trying to hide his watering eyes as he coos down at Daisy. Since she and Harry walked in the door three hours ago, she hasn’t held her baby for more than five minutes.

She’s sitting on the floor, legs outstretched as Akasha combs stray hairs back into her braids and Harry’s massaging some lotion into Y/N’s swollen calves and ankles. Her eyes are fluttering and all she wants is to sleep.

Daisy is twelve hours old and a healthy 7.3lb and the light of her entire family lives. She’s gorgeous -- soft skin and cute, chubby cheeks. She’s Y/N’s daughter with her father's hair.  

“God, she’s beautiful, Y/N. I’m so proud of you.” Cilla whimpers softly, rocking Daisy gently in her arms as she starts to fuss. Y/N’s got a sleepy smile on her lips as she watches the interaction before she gets a bit too fussy and Cilla relents, standing to hand her over.

Y/N’s got her arms out ready as she takes Daisy into them. She doesn’t let it show that she’s shitting herself -- that she’s second-guessing the way she’s holding her, like she’s doubting if she’s supporting her head properly. Y/N knows she is, but this is all so new and so scary that she can’t help but feel uncertain.

“Think she’s getting a bit hungry. I’m gonna take her in my room and feed her.”

They watch as she excuses herself; waddling off to her bedroom and closing the door behind her. It’s a struggle to get Daisy to latch onto her nipple, even with following Zoe’s instructions to gently pinch her breast to angle it better in her mouth.

After nearly ten minutes of trying, she starts to give up and tears of frustration are quick to prick at her eyes. She can’t do this -- be a mother. She can’t even get her daughter to feed, how is she supposed to raise her? How is she supposed to care for her and protect her? She feels utterly hopeless and useless.

And then there’s a knock on her door and Harry is letting himself in. Her chest is covered by her shirt as she stares at him with watering eyes and he thinks he gets the hint. He sits beside her, stroking her back and Daisy’s head in an attempt to coo his favourite girls. And it works after a few minutes, because she latches onto Y/N’s nipple and feeds.

Y/N lets out subtle winces of discomfort at the intrusive feeling but soon settles into it. It’s magical for Harry to witness -- to see his bestfriend mould into this new role she’s been given. Harry thinks parenthood looks good on her already.

She reaches for his hand and intertwines their fingers, a grateful smile on her lips as Harry hums the gentle rhythm of Sweet Creature and she rests her head on his shoulder. “Thank you,” she sniffles out shakily.

Out of all the excitement and thrill of the release of his new album and the incredible feedback it’s received, this is by far so much better. The birth of his goddaughter will forever trump the feeling of releasing a number one album.

He leans down to kiss the top of her head. “You’re amazing, y’know tha’? So fuckin’ incredible, bringing such a beautiful soul into the world. And y’er so fuckin’ stong, too. You’ve got this, babe. And ‘m gonna be here every step of the way. Promise.”

She drinks his words in as her eyes flutter closed and she lets herself bask in the false reality of what they could be right now. Of Daisy being his and him being Y/N’s.

-----

“Are you sure it’s a good idea to be moving in so soon?” Cilla pipes up over her steaming cup of coffee and Y/N shrugs. She’s cradling Daisy in her arms slowly, a radiant smile on her lips.

It’s been three weeks since her birth and Y/N thinks she’s starting to get the hang of this parenthood stuff. Delusional, she knows, but she’s enjoying thinking she’s got this shit down. Of course, she’s had control over everything because of her family's help, but she needs to learn to do this alone and she wants her privacy back.

“Maybe it is a bit early but I can’t rely on you guys forever. I know she’s only three weeks old, but I need to do this. Plus, I’m close to Harry’s house and I need my own space.”

She knows it’s selfish but Cilla knows more that she’s right, and that she needs this. Daisy needs this. She nods her head as she places her cup of coffee back on the table, trying to let herself adjust to the idea of them moving out.

If she’s being honest, she’s going to miss disruptive nights where she helps Y/N wean Daisy back to sleep. She’s going to miss changing her nappies and giving her cool baths. She’s going to miss getting her dressed and burping her until she throws up down her back. She’s going to miss the evening snuggles with her granddaughter. Even though Y/N’s new home is only a twenty-minute drive away, it’s not as close as down the hall.

“Harry’s gonna pick me up in about an hour to go to the storage unit and start bringing stuff back to the new house. Was wondering if you wouldn’t mind watching Daisy for a few hours?” There’s no argument in the matter and Cilla takes her without a word, a smile too wide on her lips.

It’s not long before she’s peppering hundreds of kisses on Daisy’s head before she leaves with the anxiety sitting heavy in her stomach. She hasn’t been away from Daisy for longer than a few hours sleeping and even then, she’s in her bassinet right beside her. There’s uneasy guilt that’s weighing her down and she has to stop herself from overthinking every impossible situation.

She’s safe and she’s with Cilla.

Harry’s quiet in the car, doesn’t make much conversation and the air between them feels awkward -- a little tense and palpable. Y/N doesn’t know what’s going on. She saw him just two days ago when he stopped by with lunch and flowers, so she’s more than a little confused. Plus, this was his idea, to start moving her in sooner so she’d be closer to him.

She clears her throat. “What’s wrong? You’re acting weird.” She’s blunt and to the point and Harry swallows thickly at her tone. “Nothing’s wrong. ‘M fine, love.” He forces on a smile as he shoots a look to her over his shoulder, focusing his gaze back on the road.

Y/N settles back in her seat, gnawing on her inner cheek but she doesn’t push further. Instead, she lets herself swim in the drowning anxiety as it starts to rise to her shoulders. She doesn’t know why she’s getting so touchy and so emotional lately. Isn’t all that supposed to stop after you have the baby?

When they arrive outside the townhouse, Y/N’s got a frown set in her brow. The front door has got a pink bow wrapped around it and a bouquet of balloons and flowers are perched on her small porch.

She’s clambering out of Harry’s Rover when he parks it and he follows her up the steps. The door is open as she pushes inside, Harry right behind her and the second she opens the living room door, confetti is popping in her face and faces are jumping out of the furniture.

“Surprise!”

Her eyes are wide as she blinks in shock. Everyone is there. Her family, Harry’s family, a few friends from work and the tears are pooling in her eyes. She’s shocked to see her mother cradling Daisy in her arms and she can’t wrap her head around how they got to the house before she and Harry did.

She feels the gentle weight of hands on her shoulder before a pair of soft lips press a kiss to her cheek. “Maybe I was acting a bit weird.” He teases, kissing her temple and branching away from her to take Daisy from Cilla’s arms and coddle her close to his chest.

Gemma and Anne are quick to coo over the little angel as Y/N makes her rounds to greet everyone, kindly declining every drink of alcohol she’s offered until she reaches Harry and his family.

“Oh, Y/N… she’s bloody perfect!” She’s got a proud smile on her lips at Anne’s words and she can’t help but beam as Gemma pulls her in for a crushing hug.

Y/N’s too caught up in the sight of Harry coddling her little girl to his chest to realise her surroundings. She stopped by at the house a week ago when the walls were bare and furniture was yet to be purchased. Now she stands in the middle of her fully decorated living room and it doesn’t click until Anne is taking Daisy from Harry’s arms and sitting on the sofa with her.

Her brows furrow and she squints at Harry, pinching his arm softly and pulling him out of the little party. He’s got a grin on his lips, one that suggests his ego is growing from how happy she looks at his plans and she smacks his arm to wipe the smirk off his face.

“I told you I wanted to get all the furniture, H!”

He pouts, eyes soft. “I know, and ya did -- ya chose it all. I jus ’paid for it. Then y’er Dad helped me decorate it all for ya.” Her eyes are starting to water again and her heart feels like it’s about to explode as it sinks to the pit of her stomach.

“Harry…” she trails off, trying to find the right words to chastise him with. He shushes her, hands on her shoulders as he throws his head toward the staircase. “D’ya wanna go and see y’er bedrooms?” He gleams happily but he notices the apprehension on her face as she tries to crane her neck to look back for Daisy.

He shakes his head and ushers her to the stairs. “She’s fine, babe. She’s wi’ Mum and Gemma. Jus’ come on for a minute.” She follows him up with a lump in her throat and when she gets to the top of the stairs is when she notices the colour paint on the walls that she chose out a while ago.

Her heart grows bigger and sinks lower.

He shows her to her bedroom first and it’s perfect. A gorgeous oak, queen bed with all matching furniture and he’s left a bunch of boxes in her open closet, ready for her to hang her clothes and put her things away respectably.

She’s sniffling when she sees a photo on her nightstand — one of the three of them just after she’d given birth. She’s ready to cry but Harry has more to show her. He takes her next door to Daisy’s nursery and it’s about then that she loses her inhibitions.

The walls are painted a soft yellow, small blooms of daisies hand painted from the ground and she could recognise her father's handiwork from anywhere. The furniture is all white, and above her crib hangs a mobile of daisies and sunflowers, crafted from wood. Her eyes take over the dresser and sitting above it, besides a stuffed monkey, is a photo of the two of them — of Y/N gazing down on her baby girl and brushing those gorgeous brown tufts of hair across her head.

Harry watches her take it in from the door, leaning against the frame with his arms crossed over his chest. He pretends his heart doesn’t hammer as hard as it does — pretends he doesn’t want to kiss her softly before showing Daisy her new room. He pretends he doesn’t feel any of that, because he can’t. It’s wrong.

“Harry…” she breathes.

Y/N spins around to him, tears slipping down her rosy cheeks and she crashes into his chest, arms right around him. He lets her hold him tight, because he holds her with just as much desperation and tenderness as she does. He doesn’t let go because he needs this, needs to feel her close like she needs him.

He didn’t do this because he wanted to help her out. He did it because he wants her to understand that no matter what, he will always take care of them both. That even if he’s supposed to be writing an album or going to dinner with his girlfriend, he will always choose them.

But Y/N doesn’t see it that way. Instead, she sees his act of kindness and something to help her out. She sees this as a way for him to get her settled, to make her feel better for a while. Which is nice, of course. But she doesn’t want to feel better for a while, she wants to feel better for good and she wants to feel better with him lying beside her, with him feeding Daisy with her, with him there every step of the way.

Because even though he’s promised he will be, she knows he won’t.

-----

It was a long shot, but she knew he was the best bet. One, he’s closest, and two, he’s likely to panic as much as she is. She tried her Mum half an hour ago but the call went straight to voicemail. Not that she expected anything less. It is three in the morning.

But Harry groggily picked up on the second ring and promised to run to the 24-hour pharmacy just a few minutes away before coming over.

It’s nothing serious, so the pharmacist told them but Y/N is a first-time mother living alone and she’s going to overreact to everything and anything that happens. Really, Daisy’s just got the sniffles with a bit of a temperature but that isn’t stopping her from sitting beside her cot until Harry gets to her place.

She doesn’t know how to react to such a situation. She expected Daisy to be screaming the townhouse down, red in the face as she thrashes in her mother’s arm. But Daisy is peaceful as she lays on her back and kicks her legs up, arms reaching above her as she makes grabby hands for the mobile that hangs over the crib.

She knows in theory, it’s likely nothing to worry about at all if she’s completely content with her own company as she gurgles away but Y/N can’t help herself. She’s watching her baby wiggle on her back through the white wooden bars of her crib.

Her hair has grown, lightened out to longer brown tufts that curl softly at the ends. She’s still got the same blue eyes she was born with but they’ve grown brighter and her lashes darker. Y/N falls more and more in love with her whenever she looks at her.

Daisy is dressed in a dark green baby grow, her name stitched in white across the middle of her chest. She’s too focused on the little details of her child that she doesn’t hear her front door open and close, and she doesn’t hear heavy footsteps make their way upstairs into Daisy’s room until she sees Harry from the corner of her eye, leaning against the doorframe.

His hair is dishevelled, eyes dropping — clear signs that he’s not been awake too long and Y/N notices a heavy stubble that’s growing across his jaw and chin. She appreciates the sight of him dressed in a pair of sweats and an old Rolling Stones shirt that’s partially hidden beneath his brown Gucci coat, and he’s got a little plastic carrier bag in his hand.

“Hey,” Y/N greets him softly.

She doesn’t bother standing from her slouched position on the floor, so Harry kicks off his shoes by Daisy’s bedroom door and joins her by her crib. He settles down, long legs struggling to cross without kicking anything and he looks extra cuddling under the dim light to Y/N.

He places the plastic bag in the small space between them and ruffles through it. He pulls out the medicine, the one that the pharmacist recommended based on Daisy’s age and symptoms, a little green dinosaur teddy bear and a pint-sized tub of cookie dough ice cream that has Y/N’s eyes widening and her mouth watering.

She snatches it from his hand playfully, blowing him a kiss as she sets it down beside her. While Y/N gets Daisy’s medicine ready for her, Harry reaches into the crib for the babe. Daisy’s got her hands up, soft squeals of excitement at the sight of the familiar man and Harry can’t help the grin that breaks out upon his lips at the sight and sound of it.

“Hi, baby.” He puckers his lips extra so his scratchy beard doesn’t irritate her perfect skin and she smacks her hands across his cheeks in greeting, leaning forward with wet, parted lips as she gummily gnaws on the tip of his nose.

“Missed ya too, pet.” He grins, craning his head back away from her as he supports her whole body to his chest. Harry lets her nuzzle her face into his neck, never gets over how responsive she is to his touch -- how at ease she always seems when in his presence. He also never gets over how unbelievably adorable she is.

Y/N watches with a fond yet aching heart and she pulls enough medicine into a syringe before coaxing it to Daisy’s lips. She takes the dose with praise and snuggles back into Harry’s hold. Y/N reaches to rest the back of her palm against her forehead and Y/N thinks it seems a little cooler but she lets Harry coddle her for as long as he pleases.

He smiles down at her. “D’ya wan’ me t ’settle her if ya go and get some spoons for the ice cream?” he proposes, brows raised in a convincing kind of way and Y/N looks to her baby girl, like she’s having an inner battle as to whether or not she wants to leave her with harry or not -- which is ridiculous because she knows she’s always going to be safe with him.

So she forces herself to nod and kisses Daisy’s temple before she leaves her nursery; taking the ice cream with her. Harry waits until he hears her potter about in the kitchen downstairs before he starts to gently rock the three-month-old in his arms. He hums a little tune under his breath in a breathy tone as he strokes her back in a soothing pace.

He wants to revel in the moment he’s having with his goddaughter -- he wants to cherish it because, with the argument he had with Kelsey just hours ago, he worries something will keep him from seeing his baby and he doesn’t want that. He doesn’t plan on telling Y/N that they argued -- that they argued about how he only ever seems to think about Y/N and Daisy -- and he doesn’t plan on telling her that he actually hasn’t slept at all because of it.

It’s merely a few moments more of the gentle rocking before he lowers Daisy down in bed and sets the little dinosaur down beside her. His heart bursts in his chest as she rolls a little and lets fingers latch around the dinosaur’s tail and he’s suddenly got the overwhelming urge to thank Y/N for giving him a goddaughter so fucking pure and sweet.

He meets her downstairs after he switches off the light and puts on her night lamp. His shoes are in his hand as he throws them by the front door and shrugs his coat off to hang it on the new rack Y/N recently purchased.

She’s waiting for him in the living room, tub of ice cream on the coffee table with two metal spoons stabbed into it and beside it, on two grey coasters, sit two large mugs of hot chocolate. Y/N’s cuddled under a blanket with some old reruns of Friends on the telly and Harry makes himself comfortable beside her.

She coddles into his side, head on his shoulder and Harry kisses the top of her head before letting his cheek rest atop it. One of her hands are thrown over his middle and one of his is thrown behind her and cross her shoulder -- gently rubbing the soft skin of her arm.

Neither of them says anything as they sip their hot beverages and nibble on the sweet treat; they both think they need to bask in the silence of one another’s company and sometime within the hour, upon the most domestic of tasks, they slip into a peaceful state of slumber.

Maybe they both somehow know it’ll be their last moment together for a while.

-----

“Put the kettle on. I’m on m’ way round.”

The phone is tucked between her cheek and her ear, head cranked to the side to keep it in place as he speaks through the line. She hasn’t seen him in almost three months -- only once or twice since the night Daisy had a fever -- and though they’ve spoken most days on the phone, hearing him say he’s on his way over suddenly has her stomach churning.

She’s wiggling the iron across a cotton t-shirt, pressing the steam button on a particularly creased spot and the ironing board creaks under the harsh movement. She needs to get a new one. She’s also trying to distract her mind with anything other than the fact that for three months she’s been trying to come to terms with his sudden unexplained absence that she’s certain actually has everything to do with Kelsey, but she won’t let him know she thinks that.

“Who says I’m home?” She replies dryly, tongue peeking at the corner of her lips. She hears him chuckle and kiss his teeth. “Where else would ya be?” he quips back and she fights the urge to scoff and roll her eyes.

It’s silent for a moment. “I can hear ya ironing. I’m round the corner, be two minutes. Leave the door open fo’ me.” When the call ends, the phone is still stuffed between her ear and shoulder and she’s switching off the iron and throwing the warm T-shirt over her body.

It’s 10 am and Y/N’s been graced with the rare occurrence of a lay-in. She wasn’t awoken with screams until 8:30 and she’s more than a little behind in her housework.

Folding down the ironing board, Y/N tucks it back away in the cupboard in the stairs and she can hear the front door opening from across the living room. There are feet shuffling against the welcome mat and she hears a coo before she sees the face.

“Good morning t’ my favourite little Princess,” Harry greets softly, pulling up his loose fitted pants as he crouches down to the baby bouncer.

Daisy blubbers out a wet giggle at the sight of Harry before her. She reaches for him in her little walker, chubby hands hitting at his stubbly cheeks and he kisses her tiny wrists. He reaches over to ruffle the thick brown locks on the 7-month-olds soft head.

She squeals delightfully under his touch, a sweet noise that has Harry’s heart fluttering. He leans in to press a pert kiss to her forehead, careful not to let his prickly stubble touch her unblemished skin as he rises back to his feet.

Y/N watches the interaction with a fond smile as he turns to her with a tired smile. It’s been too long since they’ve all been together. Harry’s bringing her in for a warm embrace, kissing lovingly at her temple as she snuggles into his warmth. “Morning, babe,” she hums into his chest.

He’s still got that same, cinnamon and mint scent about him and Y/N’s thankful that hasn’t changed. Physically, he looks the same. He’s a little thinner than she last saw him, and not in the way he usually thins out when he frequents the gym. This is the type of thin he gets when he’s stressed or going through a rough patch and her heart breaks -- thinks she’s got an idea as to what’s going on.

“Mornin’, love.” Harry rubs her back soothingly, allowing her touch and vanilla and cinnamon scent to ground him a little. He clings onto her presence like an anchor, always has. Hates himself for not seeing her for the past twelve weeks. He pulls away with a gleaming smile but Y/N isn’t stupid, she sees right through it.

His brows pinch at the silence of the room, can only hear Noddy playing from the TV, one of Daisy’s new favourites. “Though’ I said t’ put the kettle on?” he asks, brow raised teasingly and Y/N swats his side playfully.

“You never drink your brew anyway, it’s just a waste.” Harry watches her get straight back to her cleaning; folding Daisy’s little onesies and tops and his heart swoons at just how much bigger they are than the last time he saw her. The guilt really starts to eat at him.

There’s a flicker of silence as he watches his best friend in the most mundane activity before she sets a pair of leggings on the table and turns to him with her hands on her hips, arch of her brow raised and Harry thinks she’s got the Mum Look down to a T.

Harry raises a brow questioningly, like he’s trying to figure out what he’s done to warrant the scolding expression. “Are you gonna tell me what’s going on? Why you suddenly show up after three months of not being around? ‘Cause if not, you can help me fold the washing.” His shoulders sag with a heavy sigh and his eyes are squeezed shut. He can never get away with keeping anything from her and he doesn't want to. He feels like complete shit for the way he handled things.

He turns his back to Y/N and makes for her daughter instead. Daisy is beaming up at him, bouncing her little body in her walker as her sock-clad feet push against the oak floors. She’s got her hands in the air as Harry outstretches his arms, eager to be in his hold.

Y/N’s always joked that Daisy loves him more than she does her mother and Harry has always assured her it's just the charm he has with the ladies. She watches him hoist her baby in his arms, listening to the squeals of delight at the familiar face and she snuggles her head in the crook of his neck.

While the sight has always been one to warm Y/N’s heart, today it does nothing but sting. It’s forcing her to remember that Daisy only has that constant male role in her life because of Harry, that she lacks a fatherly bond and it makes her sick and angry all over again. And even then, he disappeared for three months, only calling and texting every few days.

She has to bite back the urge to vomit and plasters a soft smile on her face when Harry coos at her Princess and rubs her back soothingly, another arm looped under her bum to keep her in his arms. Harry turns back to her as he kisses Daisy’s temple.

Harry shrugs and Y/N thinks she might know what’s going on. She watches him silently for a moment, doesn’t miss the way his eyes start to well, how he sucks his bottom lip in his mouth to stop it from quivering. Her shoulder slump. “Oh, Harry…” She approaches him quickly, arms outstretched as she cuddles into him. His arm wraps around her, keeping both Y/L/N’s close and with a sniffle, he blinks back tears.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers again against his shirt, arms squeezing around his middle and she wants to take all the pain away — wants to bear it all for him, let it sit heavy on her shoulders instead.

She pulls away to look up at him, hand reaching for his face and she cups his jaw in her palm, stroking her thumb across his cheek soothingly. Her heart breaks for him, breaks for the heartache he’s always put though. Harry smiles under her touch and keeps his hold tight on Daisy as he cranes his head to kiss Y/N’s wrist.

They both knew things were rocky between Harry and Kelsey, that things hadn’t been good in a while, it’s been no secret. But seeing Harry close to breaking down after the ending of almost a year-long relationship is heart-aching.

“S in the past now, innit. Got two o’ my best girls here, s’all I need.” He tries to lighten the mood with a smile but Y/N wants nothing more than to coddle him for years and never let him go. Maybe it’s her maternal instincts — she’s been awfully protective over her best friend since she fell pregnant with Daisy and she supposes that’s why she’s so smitten with him.

“You know we love you, more than anything.” She promises and Harry’s thankful smile graces his lips. He nods his head, bouncing Daisy softly in his arms and she lets out a blubbery giggle, clapping her hands and wiggling a dance in his hold. Harry’s smile is contagious when he feels her move and Y/N can’t help but watch with complete adoration.

“Don’t we, Daisy? We love Harry loads and loads, ain’t that right.” The baby voice the three have adapted to makes an appearance and Harry’s heart bursts at the interaction between her and her daughter.

He watches Daisy reach for her, watches the way Y/N holds her close and coos and comforts her when she starts to get aggy. He watches the bright flickers of pride and love wash through her eyes and he’s full of complete and utter happiness for his best friend.

He helped her through her entire pregnancy, stood in the delivery room with her, holding her hand when she pushed for hours, when she sobbed and begged for the pain to be over. He helped take her home and get her settled, cancelled interviews and radio shows for three weeks to help her care for Daisy.

Harry won’t tell Y/N the real reason he and Kelsey split. He won’t burden her with the guilt of knowing it was because of her and Daisy. He’ll never admit that Kelsey made him choose. Them or her. He’ll never tell her that he chose them and will always choose them. He’ll never abandon them as Daisy's father did.

He swallows back the lump in his throat and shoves his hands in his pockets. He sways on the balls of his feet, nibbling on his lower lip. “How about I take m’ two favourite girls out for lunch then?”

-----

“Daisy, you need to eat, bubby. Come on.”

They’ve been sitting in the little cafe for over an hour and Daisy hasn’t even eaten a spoonful of her mushed up food. She’s shaking her head, moving away in the high chair from the spoon and making desperate grabby hands for Y/N’s chest instead.

Harry’s watched her the entire time, an amused glimmer on his face as the infant struggles and presses her lips closed whenever Y/N brings the spoon to her mouth. She’s been giving him side-eye evils after every little laugh and Daisy seems to think it’s just as funny until the spoon is by her mouth again.

“Baby, come on. Just a little bit, please.” Y/N’s feeling a little desperate now. She knows exactly what Daisy wants and while she’d give it to her if they were home, they’re in a public restaurant and Y/N forgot to grab her bottle when they left.

Daisy struggles again and Y/N drops the spoon, rubbing her temples as she tries not to get too aggravated by her daughter's stubbornness. Harry shuffles his chair closer to the little girl and picks up the spoon, offering it to the girl with aeroplane noises and she opens up and takes the spoonful straight away.

Y/N gawks, jaw slack and eyes heavy. Harry howls out a soft laugh and she shakes her head, eyeing up her besotted girl. She always seems to listen to Harry, always does whatever he tries. But Harry goes to feed her another spoonful of the mushy goop and she turns it away, dribbling out the previous mouthful and this time, Y/N’s the one to snicker.

“She wants milk,” he notes when she starts making grabby hands for Y/N again and she sighs. “I forgot her bottle,” she sighs in admittance and Harry quirks a brow, shoving the spoon back in the bowl of mashed vegetable soup.

“Aren’t ya still breastfeeding, though? Jus’ do it tha’ way,” he shrugs, unphased about the idea of her waking her tit out. Though she supposes he’s seen her chest enough times with breastfeeding in the past that it wouldn’t be much different for him to see her do it in public, but she’s never done that before.

Y/N lets heat sit heavy on her cheeks and she shifts in her seat as she picks Daisy from her highchair and settles her in her lap. “We’re in public, H. I can’t just flop out a tit and breastfeed her,” she speaks her fears and Harry can’t help the frown that’s plastered on his face.

Throughout her pregnancy, Y/N always made it clear that she wouldn’t allow others to shame her if she ever had to breastfeed in public. She wouldn’t let strangers tell her it was disgusting and inappropriate because her child’s needs are more important. Harry wonders if now she’s presented with the opportunity, she’s scared of actually going through with it.

He knows she’s struggled a lot with her self worth and such since the late stages of her pregnancy, that it’s been hard for her to walk the streets alone with Daisy, worried someone will attack her for pushing the buggy wrong, or for not making herself more presentable when she’s out, because just because you’ve had a child, doesn’t mean you should let yourself go.

But Y/N won’t admit to that.

“Course ya can. She’s hungry and if anyone wants to try an’ say anything, I really don’t mind giving ‘em a piece of my mind.”

Ultimately, he is right, but she’s still shaking when she nods her head and settles Daisy across her arms. Y/N’s only wearing a white T-shirt so Harry shrugs off his zipped hoodie and stands from his seat. He rounds the table to wrap it across her shoulders and he holds it over her chest when Y/N gets comfortable and lifts her shirt and bra enough to allow Daisy to latch onto her nipple.

She seethes through gritted teeth under the first harsh suck and Harry helps cover herself and Daisy. “This is gonna do wonders for your image, being papped with a mystery girl with her tit out in a cafe,” she snorts as he steps back to sit beside her.

He’s moved his chair to sit right next to her at the table, arm across the back of her chair and Daisy’s feet rest on the edge of his thigh. He twists his body just enough to block a partially exposed part of Y/N’s chest so passersby are unable to see the underswell of her breast and he grins sarcastically.

“The mystery girl tha’ everyone knows has been m’ best mate for about ten years.” He corrects, eyes rolled and Y/N stifles a nervous laugh. Harry squeezes her shoulder, leaning in to brush his lips to her ear. “Stop worrying, ya fine. I’m here.”

She nods and lets off a breath of relief, leaning into his hold so her head rests on his shoulder. Harry brushes her hair from her face, kisses the top of her head and keeps her close. They can both feel eyes on them and he knows Y/N’s starting to feel uncomfortable under their judgemental gazes. Harry hopes no one will take pictures if they recognise him. He doesn’t care that he's being seen with his best friend breastfeeding her baby. What he does care about is people plastering images of it over social media and no doubt slamming her for feeding her child.

“As uncomfy as I feel, it’s also kinda liberating. Like yeah, my tits out and my baby’s feeding from it. And what?” She mutters to him through a nervous smile and he feels his heart burst with pride. He kisses her temple again. “It’s ‘cause you're a badass Mum.”

She giggles at his claim, shaking her head as she peeks into the hoodie to make sure Daisy is okay. She’s happy as can be, eyes drooping and suckling softly. Y/N brushes her fingers through her sparse dark hair as her eyes flutter closed while Harry strokes Y/N’s shoulder soothingly, trying to rid her nerves.

They’re both admiring the little bubba when a shadow looms over the three and a woman stands tall with her own young child on her hip, toying with a teething ring. Y/N sucks in an audible breath, heart stammering but Harry doesn’t move. “I just wanna say, you’ve got balls of steel to do that in here and I admire you for it.”

Both their shoulders sag in relief and Y/N smiles appreciatively, nodding as Harry squeezes her arm. “Thank you,” she manages to choke out and the woman smiles back just as kindly. Y/N wonders why everyone can’t be as kind as her. “Anyway, enjoy your lunch. You have a very beautiful family.” She compliments.

Y/N’s eyes widen as the woman begins to walk off. “Oh… No, we’re--”

“Thank you!” Harry calls after her, cutting Y/N off and settling further into his seat. She stares at him with parted lips and gently furrowed brows. “You need to stop doing that,” she mutters under her breath, taking a sip of her water and he frowns, lips pouted slightly.

“Stop doin’ wha’?” She sets her glass down and gives him a look, rocking Daisy in her arms. “That. Letting people think we’re a family. Someone’s gonna overhear and you know people already speculate that you’re Daisy’s Dad. I don’t need the harassment and you don’t need the bother.”

He gnaws on his inner cheek, quiet. He didn’t realise what he was doing was upsetting her so much. It’s not the first time he’s done it, and he doesn’t know why. Even when he was seeing Kelsey, he always allowed strangers to think he and Y/N were together. Maybe it’s because he craves a family of his own, or maybe it’s because he thinks of Daisy as his little girl, too.

He nods, though. He understands where she’s coming from. “Okay, y’er right. Won’t do it anymore, love.”

Later that night, Daisy is sleepless and sobbing for hours, and Y/N doesn’t know what to do. In the seven months of her life, Daisy has never spent a night in such tears and Y/N is stressed. She’s tried coddling her, rocking back and forth and reading her lullabies. Y/N tried feeding her, burping her, changing her. She’s tried singing, though she can understand why that would make her cry harder, and now she’s completely lost.

She doesn’t have a temperature and Y/N’s felt around her gums and can’t feel any trace of little teeth just yet. “Come on, baby. You’re okay, it’s okay.” She’s close to tears herself and she’s losing her grip on her sanity. It’s 3 am and she’s yet to have a wink of sleep. She’s exhausted and she needs a break.

“Should we try some music? Huh? Let’s try some music, sweetheart.” Y/N carries her from her nursery and into her bedroom, sitting on her bed and keeping Daisy close. She opens up her Spotify and shuffles her playlist, a smile tugging on her lips at Harry’s name that plasters on her screen. The gentle guitar riff of his cover of Girl Crush starts to play and Daisy’s cries immediately soothe.

Her ears are straining at the unfamiliar sound and as she’s about to start fussing again, Harry’s tender voice meets her ears and the look of discomfort on her face morphs into one of serene fatigue and her lashes begin to flutter softly.

Y/N’s bottom lip starts to quiver as she gently rocks her baby. Tears are welling in her eyes, a few stray slipping down her clammy cheeks and she doesn't know why. Maybe because her daughter has finally stopped crying and she’s so fucking burnt out. Or maybe because it hurts to know the effect her best friend’s voice has on her daughter. That the sound of Harry’s voice is enough to immediately soothe her little angel and she’ll never experience that with her real father.

Maybe it’s because Y/N’s reminded why she’s so fucking in love with him and it kills to remember how different their lives are, that he will never love her the way she loves him and she has to be okay with that. Maybe it’s because she watches him with Daisy and all she can think is what he’d be like if he lived with them, if he coddled her back to sleep at 2 am, if he fed her and bathed her, if he taught her to walk and to talk.

Maybe it’s because Y/N knows it’ll never happen.

-----

“Ya have a wha’?”

His heart is sinking while hers is skipping. He doesn’t think he just heard her right -- there’s no way -- but she doesn’t make any effort to correct what he thinks he misheard so he’s stuck with the bile taste that sits heavy on his tongue.

“I have a date.”

There it is. So he didn’t mishear her. She has a date. A date. Harry blinks, lips parted as he swallows down the lump in his throat. They’re all sitting on the floor in Harry’s living room, Daisy crawling between the two but Harry can’t take his eyes off his best friend.

Y/N hasn’t even mentioned another man since she fell pregnant with Daisy almost two years ago and now she has a date? How does she have a date? Who is he? Where did she meet him? How does she know him? Does he know about Daisy? Has he met Daisy?

Harry’s mind shouldn’t be spinning with the overwhelming amount of questions, but it is. He doesn't have the right to be hurt or upset by her words, but he is. His heart fucking hurts and he doesn’t know why. It’s stupid of him to think she’d never explore a love life again, just because she’s a mother now. It’s stupid of him to get so upset and distraught by it.

She nods. “I have a date. His name’s Charlie. He’s from work but he works in the website department. He asked me out the other day for dinner and I said yes.” She shrugs with burning cheeks and a glimmer of giddy excitement in her eyes.

She’s excited and nervous but she needs to get herself back out there. Y/N needs to stop letting herself think she and Harry are going to happen. She needs to wake up and put herself first just once and see where it takes her.

Harry nods, like he’s trying to process her words. He forces a grin on his lips and Y/N’s none the wiser, thinks it’s pretty genuine. Or maybe she knows it isn’t but it’ll hurt her too much to think he’s disappointed by her news. She doesn’t need her heart to be played with any more than she’s already let it be.

“Wow, that’s exciting! When is it? Where are going, has he told ya?” He busies himself by taking a sip of his water and Daisy rolls on her back, pulling her socks off her feet and waving them around in the air. He reaches to tickle her little belly.

Y/N nods. “Some Italian restaurant, you know how much I love pasta! It’s uh on Saturday, actually, and I know you’ve got a few days off from interviews and stuff and the studio… so I was wondering if you wouldn't mind watching Daisy for the evening? You can stay at mine or here and I’ll be back by like eleven the latest to get her? It’s just -- Mum and Dad have had her so much recently and I know they don’t mind but I wanna give them a break. And Akasha just got that big promotion so she’s working weekends and stuff so she can’t--”

“Babe, relax. ‘Course I’ll have her.”

His words are replaying in his head and Daisy hasn’t stopped screaming. Y/N warned him when she dropped her off that it’s a new thing she’s doing -- screaming bloody murder when nothing is even wrong. He laughed it off when she told him but now he’s got a splitting headache and she doesn’t want to do anything but scream.

There are no tears in her eyes or signs of distraught on her face. It’s all noise -- a noise Harry never wants to hear again. “Daisy, baby, that’s enough.” He’s been using a firm voice for the past thirty minutes and she isn’t listening. It only makes her scream louder and Harry can’t think straight.

She was fine when Y/N first left an hour ago but now it’s 7 pm which means it’s Daisy’s bedtime but she isn’t having any of it. He managed to bath her without an issue, only graced with the sound of her sweet belly laugh and gummy smiles. Now, she’s a little demon terrorising his home and he isn’t sure how much more he can take.

As much as he wishes Y/N wasn’t out on a date, he isn’t ready to message her begging for help because he can’t calm her daughter down after caring for her for just over an hour. One, Harry is far too prideful for that and two, he doesn't want to take her away from a bit of romantic normalcy.

But Daisy doesn’t have the same mindset on the situation and she’s trying to get a reaction out of Harry. It’s another three and a half minutes of deafening screaming when Harry has had enough. “Daisy Anne Y/L/N! Tha’s enough! There’s no need fo’ all o’ that noise!”

His voice is hard and loud, firm and clear and she’s silent for a solid ten seconds as Harry tries to compose himself. Guilt is quick to drown him and he’s ready to scoop her up before she starts crying, ready to grovel and apologise and let her have as many of those malted rusks as she wants.

But the tears don’t come. Instead, the silence is broken by an intoxicating giggle and Daisy is clapping to herself as she bounces from her seat on the carpet. Harry can’t quite believe his eyes but he says nothing else and lets the guilt wash away as he sits back on the sofa to close his eyes for a moment.

He doesn’t know how Y/N does it, if he’s honest. How she cares for her and makes sure she’s happy and content and fulfilled at all times. He’s always had so much respect for his best friend but now he thinks she’s on another level. Harry’s silently praising all the single parents out there.

He lets his eyes flutter open after a few moments and he spots Daisy crawling toward the coffee table. He doesn’t understand how her mood has changed so quickly, but he isn’t about to say anything about it in fear that maybe she’ll start screaming at him again.

He watches her little hands grasp onto the ends of the oak table and hoist herself to a standing position. His eyes are wide as he regards the young girl for a moment. He and Y/N have seen her stand herself up but she’s yet to take any steps alone and as magical as the moment will be, Harry isn’t prepared to be privy to it before Y/N is.

He reaches for his phone -- careful not to make any sudden noise that may startle the girl and he rounds the coffee table, standing toward the end of it with a fair amount of space that offers nothing for her to hold onto when she reaches the end.

Harry’s got the camera pointed to her, his brows raised just a little in anticipation as he settles across the room with his legs spread and arms open, beckoning her to him. “Ya gonna come t’ Harry, babe?” he coos softly, watching Daisy’s grin grow as she starts to pull herself along with the help of the table.

Harry’s hands are trembling just enough for it to be picked up in the camerawork and all he wants to do is scream Y/N’s name to have her witness it all. Harry’s bursting with adoration and pride and when she gets to the end of the table, she falls to her bum with a gummy grin that shows the little white stubs of her teeth.

“Good job!” Harry praises as she claps with squeals of excitement. He can’t quite believe what he’s just witnessed for a ten-month-old. He ends the video and sends it straight to Y/N without a second thought, throwing his phone to the side and crawling over to the girl.

He hauls her into his arms, zooming her across the air while still in his hold but Daisy loves it and her sweet laughter is melodic to Harry and he thinks she’s the sweetest creature he’s ever had the privilege to know.

“Ya such a clever girl! Ain't ya! Cleverest girl I know.”

He holds her to his chest, bouncing back and forth and she’s clapping still. Despite her earlier meltdown, she’s the happiest baby Harry’s ever known. Since she was born, Y/N instilled nothing but positivity in their lives when raising Daisy. She’s been an excellent mother and she’s shown Daisy that it’s okay to cry and be upset, but to always pick yourself back up after and if you need help, that’s okay, too.

Daisy has grown with a loving mother that has praised her and encouraged her throughout her milestones. Y/N has done everything in her power to make Daisy’s surroundings bright and positive and fun. She’s going to grow into such a wonderful, strong woman one day and Harry can’t wait to watch.

“Dada!”

He blinks, startled back to reality. Daisy is smiling softly, curls of hair crazy on her head but her cheeks are a healthy pink and her lips are wet from drool as her stubs of teeth sit above her gums. She claps her chubby hands again and reaches for Harry’s face.

Daisy smacks at his cheeks, wiggling in his hold as she babbles. “Dadadadadadada.” Soft giggles follow quickly after and Harry’s heart swells as it sinks to his feet. His mind is swimming as he keeps her close to his chest and he doesn’t know what to make of it.

Not only did Daisy just blabber her first word… she thinks Harry is her father and he’s trying to understand where she’s heard Dada from -- he knows for a fact Y/N has been trying to get her saying Mama so he’s overly confused.

Maybe she didn’t say Dada… maybe she was just blabbering about in the baby language she does. But she’s saying it again and again and Harry doesn’t know what to do.

His mind is blank in overdrive as he settles Daisy to bed. She’s out like a light in the pop-up crib he’s put by the sofa and as he sits with a cup of coffee and the TV on low, he’s battling with the decision he should make.

Does he tell Y/N what she said? That not only did she almost miss her first steps, but that she also missed her first word which happened to be something he knows would kill Y/N. Harry doesn’t think he has it in him to break such heartbreaking news and he convinces himself that it was just childish blabbering than her actual first word.

It’s nearly 8 pm when there’s gentle yet frantic knocking on his front door, and when he answers with a heavy frown, his eyes widen as a body is colliding with his. “She started walking? Are you kidding me?” Y/N pulls away, kicking off her heels and scurrying to the cot to coo at her sleeping baby.

Harry blinks back his confusion and closes the door behind her. She’s taking off her coat as she leans down to look at Daisy with pride and love and Harry gets a proper look at her. She’s dressed in a gorgeous black dress, one that hugs her middle and flares out in a slight skater skirt over her hips. Her breasts are fuller than the last time he ever saw her in a dress of this kind and she’s curled her hair and applied a little more makeup than usual.

She looks fucking gorgeous and Harry doesn’t think she’s ever looked as radiant and beautiful before. He knows she’s been a little self-conscious over her body since having Daisy, but he thinks that bit of extra, cushiony weight looks incredibly sexy on her. He chokes on his own saliva when she turns to face him and he suddenly remembers how early she is back from her date.  

Before he asks, she sighs and pinches the bridge of her nose, shaking her head. “It was horrible, don’t wanna get into it. Besides, even if it was good, I’d have walked out anyway after getting that video of her walking with the table. Fuck, what was I thinking? Going out on a date? Almost missed her first steps.” She throws herself down on his sofa and rolls her head over the back of it, knuckling at her eyes even if she knows it’ll ruin her makeup.

Harry thinks she’s too hard on herself, that she needs to let loose and remember that she’s more than just a mother. She’s a young woman with needs and friends and a life of her own, outside of her daughter.

He watches her get comfy and nick his coffee from the table, taking a quick swig and wincing at the bitterness. She's always known Harry doesn’t take sugar with his coffee, yet every time she takes a sip, she’s always shocked.

“Besides, I didn't feel much of a connection with him. I’d much prefer a night in with you two over a fancy dinner date anyways.”

Harry decides not to tell her about Daisy’s first word.

-----

It’s been a success.

As Y/N bids goodbye to family and friends, she closes the door behind them and lets out a tired sigh. Her shoulders drop at the idea of no longer having to entertain guests for the rest of the evening.

“Mama, mama!” Little arms wrap around Y/N legs as Daisy tugs on her dress. She’s still got her party hat sat on her head and a pink 1 Today! sashay draped across her tiny torso.

She’s got a piece of cake in her hand as she brings it to her lips — the treat smashed and crumbled between her fingers and Y/N sighs inwardly at the stain it’ll leave on Daisy’s white dress and Y/N’s pink top.

“Bufday!” She jumps on her little feet and Y/N grins down at her, nodding and scooping the girl in her arms. She can still hear Harry scraping plates into the bin so she follows the noise into the kitchen and pops Daisy in her high chair so she can help and keep an eye on the now one-year-old.

“Yeah, baby. It’s your birthday!” She tickles her stomach, wandering past her to start loading the dishwasher.

The pair fall into an easy rhythm and before long, Y/N’s washing and Harry’s drying what wouldn’t fit into the dishwasher. Daisy is still babbling to herself, smashing two new dollies across the tray of her high chair and making explosive noises through her cake-smeared lips.

Y/N knows she’ll be on a sugar high for the night but she’s willing to sacrifice her sleep to know her baby had a good first birthday.

Harry had come over during breakfast — helped Y/N decorate the townhouse with balloons and banners and everything else they needed. He picked up the cake from the local bakery that Y/N’s grown to love and made the playlist where he shamelessly added a few of his own songs. (In his defence, Daisy loves his music and a lot of his songs from being in the band.)

And as much as Harry has adored seeing his goddaughter toddle around on her chubby legs and rip open her presents while sat between Y/N’s legs, and spit all over the cake when blowing out her candles — he hasn’t really been able to enjoy it.

His eyes have been stuck on Y/N the entire afternoon and early evening with a look in his eye that he knows resembles guilt and pity. He doesn’t want to tell her but he knows he needs to. He knows she hasn’t been able to keep up with everything going on in his career, and he understands — but he should’ve mentioned things sooner and now he’s dreading breaking the news.

“There’s this new Italian diner opening up by work next week. Thought maybe we could go next weekend? See what it’s all about?” Her proposition is expected, if Harry’s honest. He heard about the diner opening up a few weeks ago and he was waiting for the moment Y/N was going to make plans for it.

Harry gnaws on his inner cheek as she quirks a brow at him, handing him another plate. He cautiously takes it and begins drying it off with her grey tea towel. “Actually, uh… I’m not gonna be here next week…” He trails off with a cough, clearing his throat and glancing at her from the corner of his eye.

Y/N stills, hands submerged in the soapy water of the sink. He catches a certain glint of something wash over her face before she tentatively hands him a clean glass. She raises her brows to herself, tries to roll her shoulders back up but there’s something about his choice of tone that has her a little sceptical.

“Oh? What, have you got more interviews lined up again for the album?” Her question is asked as innocently as it’s intended. If she’s honest, she doesn’t know much about his career lately, and she feels awful for it. But she’s barely making it through raising Daisy and working her own job in the office as well as from home. She’s nonstop and on the odd occasion Harry does tell her anything about the album promo or eventual tour, it slips from her mind sooner than she’d like to admit.

But Y/N is certain she’d remember if he told her he’d be gone for a bit… especially as soon as next weekend.

Harry puts the tea towel down on the counter and turns to her. He doesn’t need to say anything for her to know he wants to talk, so with pursed lips and deflated shoulders, she shakes off her hands and joins him at the dining table, hands clasped as they sit on the surface.

She’s got her teeth gnawing on her bottom lip, eyes refusing to hold contact with his and Harry’s known her long enough to know this is how she handles uncomfortable situations in which all she knows is uncertainty and change. She knows he’s about to tell her something that’ll have a big impact on her and Daisy and she isn’t sure she’s ready for it.

She thinks he’s about to tell her in the few 5 months he’s been single, he’s met someone new. She’s scared he’s about to tell her he’s fallen in love with another woman and that she doesn’t like him spending so much time with the mother and daughter. She’s scared he’s about to inwardly tell her that yet again, she doesn’t stand a chance to him.

Daisy’s none the wiser to the change in mood, too busy squeaking softly and playing with her Barbies.

“I managed to push the interviews back a couple of weeks ‘cause I didn’t want t’ miss Daisy’s first birthday… but next Thursday I’ve gotta fly out to LA then to Jamaica and Japan and New York for promo for a couple of weeks.” She hears his words through a muffle, like she doesn’t actually want to know what he’s about to say.

Harry watches her nod her head, still gnawing on her lower lip and he inwardly winces at the thought of her making it bleed. “Okay,” she nods her head, releasing her lip and finally meeting his eyes. “When are you back? We can go to the restaurant then, it’s no biggie -- know you’ve got millions of fans to please, H.”

Her voice is lighthearted and joking but Harry can still pick up the hint of anxiety in her voice. He doesn’t know why she’s anxious now, she doesn’t know that the worst is yet to come and it’s hurting him knowing what he’s going to say. “Uh, October.” She nods again, a little cheerier than moments before and she cracks a smile.

She parts her lips with an optimistic smile, ready to say it’s not too long but Harry can’t let her think too positively about the situation, so he opens his mouth before she can speak. “October, next year.”

His words echo in her mind like they’re screamed through a tunnel and she’s on the other end of it. Her mouth feels dry and she feels like she’s staring right through them. With two months, she could deal with that. An entire year? How is she supposed to survive without him? How is Daisy supposed to cope without him?

“Tour starts in three months, after all the promo.” Harry leans across the table for her hand, caressing her palms in his hold and he’s blinking back his own tears.

It feels surreal to her, like she had forgotten he’s this rockstar with millions of fans and a world to tour. Because he’s always been just Harry to her -- she never associated herself with the famous side of him. He’s always been her best friend and now Daisy’s godfather. He’s always been someone she adored and admired and relied on. And in the past two years, since he promised he’d be there the day he found out she was pregnant, he’s always somehow been more.

He’s been more than a friend, more than a godfather. He’s been constant and Y/N’s let herself fall into the trap her mind set of them falling in love. She’s let herself think that how they are now, is how they’ll be forever -- that things will only get better from there. But he’s leaving for a year and maybe those thoughts have been twisted into the crushing realisation that she’s a foolish idiot. That maybe if Harry felt even an ounce of the same way she does, he would’ve told her sooner.

Y/N thinks it’s the saddest case of unrequited love, but she couldn’t be more wrong. She doesn’t understand how much this situation is killing Harry, too. How badly he wants to bring her and Daisy with him but he can’t ask that of her. He can't ask Y/N to up her life and daughter for a year to follow him around the world. He can’t ask that of her when he isn’t her partner or Daisy’s father.

Y/N doesn’t understand how painful it was for Harry to hear she was going on a date, or how fucking happy he was when she came home early to spend the rest of the night with him and Daisy. She doesn’t understand how much he has grown to love being part of her new life, of being around them both every day and doing everything with them.

Y/N doesn’t think he wants her romantically because she’s not good enough for him, because he doesn’t find her attractive and never could. Harry thinks she doesn’t want him romantically because she has a child and she can’t risk losing anything constant in her life to a selfish whim, because he’s not Daisy’s father and never will be.

But they’re both wrong.

Y/N wants nothing more than for Harry to be her lover, to be Daisy’s father. She wants nothing more than for them to come home to one another, to take it in turns to coddle Daisy back to sleep on her sleepless nights, to teach her to write and count and spell her name. She wants Harry to hold her at night and kiss her tenderly and never leave. She wants him and his heart and his love.

And Harry wants the same. He wants to introduce Y/N as his girlfriend, and Daisy as his daughter. He wants to lay in bed with both his girls and he and Y/N coo over their little girl in the mornings when she comes running and tickles her stomach until she can’t breathe. He wants to take Y/N out on a date, to show her how she should’ve been treated by every other man she’s been with. He wants to write a shrine of songs about her and not feel like he can’t tell anyone who they’re really about.

He wants to settle Daisy to bed and run them both a bath, to hold her close as they sip some expensive wine and make love as the water sloshes over the sides of the tub. And maybe it’s taken him a while to realise this. Maybe while Y/N always knew part of her loved Harry more than platonically, he’s always been too afraid to see what’s right in front of him.

Because as he sits across from her, her hand in his hold, he realises she’s always been exactly what he’s wanted in his life. When he looks at her, he sees his future -- he sees them raising Daisy together, as her mother and father, he sees his hands on her swollen belly when she’s about to burst with his own child, he sees a ring on her finger and a white dress on her body as she walks down the altar. When he looks at her, no matter the state he’s in, he finds peace.

And now, it feels like any hope the two secretly had, has gone to shreds. And maybe they both know it, from the way they glance at each other across the dining table with empty stares. Maybe they both understand that unspoken acknowledgement of how they’re feeling. Maybe deep down, they know they feel the same in this moment, but doubt is reason enough for them not to believe it.

“A year.” Y/N swallows back the bile that bubbles up her throat, nodding to herself like she’s trying to shake the thoughts until they make sense. She doesn’t question why he didn’t tell her -- she isn’t sure she can handle the pain if he reasons that she wasn’t a priority to know. Part of her knows that isn’t the case, so maybe she’s scared of learning the truth.

Nothing more is said between the two -- they’re both too confused and conflicted within themselves about the situation. Because what do you say to your best friend that you’re secretly in love with, after telling them you’re going away for a year. It’s awkward, like they both want to cry and console the other but why? Why is now different to the last time he went away on tour? Why does it hurt so much this time around?

Why does it feel like, for the past two years, everything they’ve unintentionally worked towards is going down the drain? Why does it feel like it’s more than friends supporting friends through parenthood? Why does it feel like this year away will break them? That when Harry returns home to them, things won’t be the same? That every moment they’ve spent together will all be for nothing?

Though they only singularly had the hope that one day, this would turn into more, they feel hopeless now, together. They both know what this means and yet, it still hasn’t registered that they feel the same way. It shouldn’t be this hard, this painful. But they both know why, and yet, they’re not grasping what this ‘knowing’ could mean for them.

They just have to say those words, those three words that can make this perfect -- that can promise a future that they could try to work on when he comes home. But they’re both too fearful of the looming, unrequited feeling that weighs heavy on their shoulders. So neither of them say a thing.

-----

“Daisy, baby! Put your toys away for me, please. Dinner’s ready!”

Y/N’s dishing up two plates of spaghetti and meatballs and she bites back a yawn. It’s been a long few weeks if she’s honest and she can’t wait to relax this evening once Daisy finally settles to bed. Don’t get her wrong, she adores her little bundle of energy more than anything, but Daisy’s recently reached that age of her terrible twos and while she’s still polite and respectful, she has a habit of questioning Y/N’s every word.

“Okay, Mummy!” A smile tugs on the corners of her lips at her compliance and she thinks maybe she won’t kick up a fuss for bathtime after dinner.

Y/N’s been doing well considering she works full time and is a single parent. She’s tried not to rely on her family too much when it comes to taking care of Daisy and she’s proud of herself for barely having a breakdown.

But it’s been hard.

She isn’t going to lie and say it’s been a piece of cake going from unconditionally support from Harry, to no longer being in his presence and therefore having to physically do everything herself. But it’s given her a taste of what life would be like without him and while she can cope, she doesn’t much like it and neither does Daisy.

The two and a half year old comes bounding into the kitchen, dark curls atop her head bouncing and she’s got a proud grin on her lips. “Done, Mummy!” She claps her hands together in self-praise and Y/N smiles softly, reaching down to ruffle her hair a little.

“Good girl, go sit at the table.”

They sit down together to eat, Y/N taking sips of her water and Daisy from her sippy cup. She wears more dinner than she eats but she cleans herself up the best she can when she’s done so Y/N can’t really complain about it.

“Mummy, phone! Wan’ see Harry!”

She stops midchew, eyes blinking slowly and Y/N knows she should be used to this by now. It’s all Daisy’s been able to do in terms of seeing or speaking with Harry since he left. She doesn’t remember the times when Harry was physically around, and she’s grown accustomed to this being the norm to her and it pains both Y/N and Harry.

She isn’t used to it, though. Ever since she learned Harry’s name a few weeks after her birthday, it’s all she waddled around the house saying -- completely abandoning mummy and nanny and any other babble words she knew. It was Harry this and Harry that. It’s been a constant head and heartache for Y/N and she hasn’t told Harry just how often her new habit is.

Y/N sets down her fork and leans closer across the table, finishing chewing her mouthful. She reaches for Daisy’s hand as the little angel gazes lovingly up at her. God, Harry’s going to be shell shocked when he sees her again. “Harry is busy tonight, baby.” A frown is quick to replace the hopeful smile and though the young girl had grown accustomed to his face through a computer screen, she’s also grown around the words busy and tomorrow.

Y/N shakes her head and offers her baby’s hand a gentle squeeze. “Because... Harry is on his way here to see you tomorrow! How does that sound?” Y/N’s got on her excited Mum voice and the sound of it kindles somewhat of a conditioned response and Daisy’s smile is lighting up the room again, a gentle squeal tumbling from her lips and Y/N thinks she’s the proudest and luckiest parent alive.

In the year Harry’s been away, he’s missed so much. Sure, FaceTiming Daisy every couple of days has kept him up to date but he’s missed things physically. He hasn’t been around to watch her grow taller and wiser. He hasn’t been in the emergency room for the few times she bumped into some furniture or took a tumble off the swings. Sure, he offered soothing words of comfort over a call and blew kisses to the screen, but he wasn’t there to coddle her like Y/N knows Daisy needed.

It’s odd, really. While Daisy has only ever called Harry by his name (that Y/N’s aware of), part of Y/N wonders if she thinks of Harry as her father. Y/N has never told Daisy about Anson -- she’s far too young -- and come to think of it, Y/N isn’t sure she’s even implemented the idea of having a father. Maybe Daisy just has that bond with him -- a bond she doesn’t understand fully.

“Here! He comes here?!” There’s an untold amount of excitement in her voice that Y/N’s never heard before and the sound of it makes her a little sick.

She nods though, pushes a fat smile on her lips and reaches over to tuck brown locks out of her face. “Yeah, honey. Harry’s gonna come here and see you tomorrow. So you need to eat your dinner and have a nice, smelly bath so you can be all ready, okay?” She watches Daisy nod her head quickly, smile wide and beaming and as she shovels another cut piece of a meatball, Y/N watches with soft eyes.

She knows Daisy’s attached to him, knew it was bound to happen and she’s okay with that, really. Or she thought she was. Maybe she is, because she knows that even touring the world, he’s always going to be present in Daisy’s life. But the bigger part of her isn’t okay with it, and she knows why -- she gets it. Because although he’s always going to be part of her life, he won’t be the role she’ll grow to wish he was.

Because one day, Harry will have a wife and a child or three of his own and Daisy won’t be such a priority anymore. Because she will have to grow watching him raise his own children and forget about her.

The more she thinks about it, the more she pushes an obvious fact to the back of her mind. Maybe it’s not a fear she has for Daisy but a fear for herself. Because she’ll be the one that has to watch him love up another woman, to marry another woman, to start a family with another woman. And as his best friend, she’ll be there to support him and bite her tongue and pretend it doesn’t hurt. She’ll have to watch him father a child that isn’t Daisy and care for a woman that isn’t her, and that hurts.

She wants to save Daisy the same pain she knows she’ll inevitably face. But she’s too selfish to split them apart, to distance from him. Harry means too much to them both and she doesn’t think Daisy would be able to forgive her if she did. She doesn’t think she'll be able to forgive herself.

It’s all the same thing that’s in her head when she cleans up the dishes and gives Daisy a warm bubble bath. She can’t bring herself to giggle at the way Daisy shrieks at her pruning fingers and toes and she doesn’t laugh as hard when she gives herself a bubble moustache.

Settling her into bed in some fresh pyjamas with a bedtime story is another kind of difficulty. Y/N barely feels like she’s acknowledging the words on the pages as she numbly lists them off and Daisy scolds her for not using the voices like she normally does. All Y/N can do is sigh inwardly and try again, forcing out a monstrous voice for the Gruffalo and a tiny one for the mouse.

It’s enough for Daisy, though, because toward the last page or so, she’s drifting to sleep and it’s when her breathing evens out that Y/N really starts to feel sick. She’s alone now, nothing to distract her with and she glances at the clock on Daisy’s wall. Harry will be there in a matter of minutes and she’s going to have to face him.

She tries not to think about the opportunity they had to see him some couple of months ago when he had a few days free in Paris -- tries not to think about the bullshit excuse she told him just because she was too nervous to see him again. She hates that she’s so scared to be in his presence. Maybe she’s worried he’ll notice she’s acting odd, that he’ll somehow figure out she’s fucking in love with him. Or maybe she’s worried he won’t find her attractive in the year they’ve been apart. But then again, she tells herself he didn’t find her attractive before, so what difference is it going to make that she’s managed to tone herself up a little.

Either way, she doesn’t get much time to dwell on it because as she’s turning out Daisy’s light, the front door is slowly opening and Y/N can hear shoes scraping across the welcome mat. Her heart feels like it’s lodged in her throat, lungs feel like they’re caught in a tight fist and she can’t fucking breathe.

Part of her wishes it’s just her Mum, maybe even Akasha dropping by, but she knows it’s not when she hears a heavy bag fall to the floor. She knows he’s come straight to hers from the airport and she purposely left her phone in the kitchen all day so she wouldn’t see any update messages on his flights and whereabouts. She didn’t need the added anxiety of knowing the exact second he’d show up. Maybe now she’s just as bad as she would’ve been.

“Y/N?”

There it is -- his voice. The voice she hasn’t heard in person for a whole year and she can feel tears stinging her eyes. She knows he likely rushed from the airport to get here in time to see Daisy before her bedtime. He probably hoped Y/N would’ve kept her up a little longer, just to see him and maybe even let him settle her to bed.

But as Harry stands by the front door, shrugging his coat off and hearing complete silence, he’s reminded that Y/N has no reason to do that for him. Why should she keep her daughter up past her bedtime just to see him? Just so he could read her a bedtime story? Harry knows Y/N doesn’t do that for any other family friends, so why would she do it for him? He knows he’s more than just a family friend, but to what extent? He isn’t Daisy’s father, he needs to remember that.

“Y/N?” He calls out to her again, toeing off his shoes and stacking them on the shoe rack to his left. He’s tucked his bag to the side and as he wipes clammy hands down his cream, flared pants, he feels his heart quicken at the sound of the floorboards creaking at the top of the stairs and that’s when he sees her.

Standing in her motherly glory in a pair of sweatpants and a white camisole, she’s smiling through teary eyes as she bounds down the stairs quickly, hands on the railing to steady herself. Harry thinks he might cry -- has his arms outstretched and he catches her when she crashes into him.

There are no reservations like they both had thought. Y/N wraps her entire body around his and Harry uses his strength to keep her as close as he possibly can. They make no attempt to pull apart, too caught in the moment and basking in the other’s physical presence again.

He still smells the same, cinnamon and mint but his hair has a hint of coconut to the mix and Y/N thinks he’s even more intoxicating than the last time she saw him. And Harry? Well, he can’t believe she’s finally in his arms again. She’s just as perfect as he remembers and if he’s honest, holding her as close to him as he is, is giving him the strongest sense of safety he's ever felt.

“Hi,” she greets softly in the crook of his neck and Harry lets out a choked but hearty laugh. “‘Lo, love.” His voice is gruff and deep and Y/N wonders if he’s even slept on his way back to them.

After a few more moments of silent caressing, they both pull away and Y/N settles her feet back to the ground. There’s a moment between them -- they both know it -- a moment where it’s been too long they both have the overwhelming urge to meet in a touching of lips. Y/N swears she sees him slowly start to lean in so she clears her throat and takes a step back with a smile, scratching her cheek softly and pointing to the living room.

She tries not to think about it, about how his body was slowly starting to lean into hers, about how his lips were subtly starting to pucker to a pout. She tells herself it’s just her mind playing tricks on her -- showing her what she wants to see -- so she shrugs it off and beckons him to sit on the sofa beside her.

Meanwhile, Harry tries to blink back the slight embarrassment he feels. He doesn’t know what washed over him and he wonders if she knows that’s what he was trying to do? If she saw his lips pout softly and eyes flutter a little slower. He figures she didn’t really react so he lets himself believe she didn’t notice.

Harry joins her on the sofa, a thickening silence looming over the pair and Y/N thinks she needs to act like a fucking adult and not let herself sit and cry over what they won’t become.

“How was tour?! Come on, tell me everything!” She’s eagerly crossing her legs as she faces him on the sofa, wide smile on her lips and they both think she’s got him fooled. He doesn’t say anything on her odd mood, decides to entertain what she’s asking because he hasn’t seen her in over a year and he’ll take what he can get.

He cracks a smile and twists to lean his back against the armrest, eyes noticing Daisy’s purple toy box by the TV and the little portable dolls house that he sent her for her second birthday that’s tucked under the coffee table, worn a little on the edges and it makes Harry smile a little to himself.

“It was good! Crazy, sold out every show and the energy in Copenhagen was unreal!” He gushes the best he can, tries to think back to every show and every amazing night he spent touring the world. But he can’t. His mind is a numbing blur of nothingness and he can’t concentrate on anything other than the overwhelming, nostalgic feeling of homesickness.

She raises a brow, like she wants him to continue and delve into the stories she knows he has, but he doesn’t. Instead, he swats her knee and reaches for her hand, intertwining her fingers and she tries not to show how her heart skips a beat and heat prickles at her skin. She’s thankful for the dim light of the living room as to not let him see her softening eyes and somewhat quivering lips.

“Tour stories are always the same, love. Wanna hear about you ‘n Daisy. How’ve m’girls been? Missed ya both loads.” She breaks into a smile, one of heartache and love and she shrugs shyly but Harry won’t let that do. He cranes his neck to meet her gaze and Y/N feels warm under his intensive hold.

With a sigh, she blinks away her rose-tinted view of the man before her. Though he hasn’t changed much in the year they’ve been apart, his hair has gotten a little longer and it’s starting to curl around his ears. He’s got a bit of a stubble, too, a longer one than she’s seen on him before and she can’t help but think he looks like the perfect father figure.

The thought makes her heart drop and stomach churn. Stop it, Y/N.

She clears her throat and knuckles at the corners of her eyes with a yawn. “I mean, you haven’t missed much as we’ve been FaceTiming so much. Daisy’s excited to see you, though -- didn’t quite understand that she’d be seeing you here and not on the screen, but she’s excited. Drew you a picture and everything. She’s missed you.” she tells him, figures the safest bet for her is to just stick to Daisy but that’s not all Harry wants to hear about.

She watches how his smile grows with every word about her daughter and he’s left grinning with a soft pink tint to his cheeks when she finishes. “Cor, she’s the most precious, ain’t she. Fuckin’ missed her so much. Missed both of ya so much.” His voice breaks off into one of a gentle whisper -- a lulling, dulcet tone that Y/N thinks she could easily sleep to.

“Wha’ abou’ you?” he asks.

Y/N raises her brow, head tilting ever so slightly to the side and a light smile nervously graces her lips. “What about me?” she repeats his question, snuggling into the sofa and she knows now is the time for the proper catch up, to learn the type of things they’ve been getting up to that they weren’t able to talk about over FaceTime.

Harry rolls his eyes. “Oh, come on. Wanna know how you’ve been, love. How’s work? Mum and Dad and Kasha? Any possible fellas? Come on, I wanna know.” It’s expected for him to ask about work and her family, but about a possible partner has her spluttering silently to herself.

It’s something Harry tried to throw in casually but his heart is hammering after he awaits her response that shortly follows after a snorted chuckle. “Family’s okay, Dad’s been promoted so he’s got a proper office and stuff now, he loves it. Akasha’s met someone, a decent guy this time and he’s sweet, he’s really nice.” She lists off slowly, eyes on Harry’s shirt as she plays with the hem of her sock.

Her feet are bunched beneath her bum as her knees are bent and somewhat cuddled into the sofa. She’s pulled a pillow into her lap during her little update and Harry thinks she looks too cosy. He also notices how she’s trying her hardest to not talk about herself at all.

He nods his head, brows raised and when she finally looks up at him, she knows he isn’t going to stop that face until she tells him all that he wants to hear and more. She doesn’t know why she gets like this -- why she hates talking about herself so much. She’s known Harry the majority of her life, she thinks she should be able to update him on her life without problem by now.

Maybe she’s too worried he’ll realise how boring her life is as a parent. Or maybe she just doesn’t want to admit to him what she did when he was away.

“And I’ve been alright.” She starts off with a shrug. “Works fine, I got a raise after this huge project I put together and it’s now leaning more toward a promotion, so that’s exciting.” There's a smile on her lips and Harry knows she’s happy about it but he can see a sense of hesitancy in her tone and eyes -- like she doesn’t want to continue and tell him anything else.

But she reminds herself that he’s her best friend no matter what -- even if he’ll never love her as she loves him -- she can’t pick and choose what she wants him to know about her life and what she doesn’t. “And I tried dating for a bit but that didn’t work out.” she shrugs it off quick and nonchalant, and Harry has to do a double-take.

He blinks quickly at her, wondering if he heard her right. His stomach is churning a little and the thought of her seeing other men settles something uneasy in the pit of his belly, but then he finally registers the last part of her sentence and he’s forced to worry that someone had hurt her, used her. He frowns. “Didn’t work out? Wha’ ‘appened?” he asks gently and Y/N’s sure it’s a pity question and she wants to cry.

She shrugs and shifts, swallowing down the lump in her throat. She feels uncomfortable and she shouldn't feel that way when it comes to Harry. She isn’t going to let herself feel that way now, just because she’s a little exposed and vulnerable. “I mean that’s the thing -- nothing happened. I dunno, just couldn’t get past like a third date and most the time when I told someone I was seeing that I had a kid, they ran off, so…”

Her lips are pursed and Harry thinks he wants to punch and thank every guy it didn’t work out with. His heart doesn’t feel any lighter on the fact that nothing worked for her. If anything, he feels sad and sick that no one committed to her, that no one’s been showing her the love and adoration she and Daisy deserve.

Maybe it’s also a blessing, too.

Y/N shifts again so her legs are crossed and a smile is back on her face, palms of her hands drumming teasingly on Harry’s upper thighs and he tries not to let his mind wander at the innocent gesture. “What about you? I’m a sad single Mum, my love life is nothing to talk about. I wanna know about the rockstars one-night lovers.”

She doesn’t.

He splutters nervously, shaking his head with a grin and when she settles back against the armrest of the sofa, arms folded around her cushion and a loving smile on her lips, Harry decides he doesn't want to deceive her. He decides that he’s reading her right, that she’s being a little distant from him and that maybe it has something to do with the fact that she feels the same way he does but she’s too scared to say anything about it.

Harry doesn’t want to be afraid anymore. So he tells her the truth. The painfully exposing truth.

“Actually, my love life is no better than yours, love.” He doesn’t miss the confused frown that etches its way between her brows and he smiles to himself. If only she understood the impact she has on him from across the world. “Could gear myself up for it wi’ a bit of self-encouragement, but couldn’t actually let m’self sleep wi’ anyone. Could barely kiss anyone, if ‘m honest.”

Y/N’s blinking slowly, shaking her head like she can’t understand what he’s saying and what he means. “What? H, why? That’s not like you.” she notes, shifting closer to reach for his hand. Despite acting as the thought of him being with other women doesn’t pain her, she knows better that Harry finds sex extremely important and is something he can be so casually and yet so personal and passionate about.

So to hear he’s gone an entire year and not been able to have sex is a little concerning for him.

He smiles through a shaky breath, holding her hand a little tighter as an onslaught of butterflies flutter through his tummy. “I mean, it’s definitely your fault.” He tells her and Y/N’s frown deepens but she doesn’t pull back. She shakes her head softly, trying to figure out what that’s supposed to mean.

“Bein’ on tour, away from you and Daisy fucked wi’ my head too much. Missed you both so much, made me think a bit and realise a lot of stuff.” His words come out strong and steady in his usual dulcet drawl, despite being breathed through an uneven exhale.

Y/N’s head is tilted more, lips parted as she tries to find the connection. A part of her knows what he’s trying to get at -- the part that tells her heart to beat three times faster, that encourages her palms to grow clammy and sweat in his hold. It’s the part that’s always offered a disgusting amount of hope, the part that Y/N’s always tried to bury. The part that suggests he feels the same.

“Made you realise what, H?” she asks gently. Her tone is barely one of a whisper, something so soothing and reassuring and Harry feels so safe. He swallows, thinks he needs to get himself together before he tells her what’s been plaguing his mind the past year. “Can I see Daisy?” he asks her in a mirroring tone but he is riddled with desperation rather than reassurance.

She nods softly, standing from the sofa. With their pinkies still linked, Y/N guides him up the stairs and quietly into the nursery he had decorated before the two moved in. She sleeps in her bed, peaceful and beautiful, just like her mother. Tears of pride and love are what pool in his eyes as he silently pads closer to her toddler bed, leaning on the rails and pressing a featherlight kiss to her delicate skin.

Y/N remains barely two feet behind him, wanting to give him this moment with her but also not wanting to miss it. It’s a few moments before he rises back to his feet and he knows she’s eager to know what’s going on with him -- worried. He joins her side, an arm thrown around her shoulder and Y/N lets herself cuddle into the warmth of his side.

Harry presses a kiss to the top of her head. “She’s got so big, and I missed so much of it,” he notes, a sniffle soon following and Y/N cranes her neck up to get a look at him in the dim light of her daughter’s bedroom. “I don’t wanna miss anymore, Y/N. Don't wanna miss anything about her or you, and being away for a year made me realise that.”

Her hand is on his torso, resting upon the clothed skin and she feels his heart pick up under her touch at his own admission. Her own starts to tick faster than before and she thinks she knows what he’s about to say, but she isn’t ready for this. In all her life of being head over heels in love with him, she never expected for one day, he might tell her he feels the same.

“I’m in love with ya, Y/N. Always have been, and being away for so long made me realise tha’ you’ve always been it for me. Always been the love of m’ life. Always been the one I’ve chosen first, the one I’ve put before everything else. I'm in love with you.”

He stares down at her, a look on his face she’s never seen before and she knows she looks frightened. Her eyes are stinging with tears and there’s a massive lump in her throat. Anxiety is washing through her in overwhelming waves and she can’t handle it. She can’t handle this type of confession, even if it is all she’s ever wanted.

“Harry…”

“I’m in love with you, and I’m in love with her. I want t’ be a Dad to Daisy. I want t’ raise her with you and I want to be your partner -- your boyfriend, and one day your husband. Y/N, I love you so fuckin’ much, and I know ya love me too. Can see it in y’er eyes, baby.”

She’s shaking her head, taking a step back and inhaling a heavy breath. This can’t be happening. She feels sick, like she’s about to throw up her organs and cold sweat washes over her as her body starts to burn. She fans herself, shaking her head still as she shrugs off her cardigan.

“You can't…” she struggles to get her words out, swallowing down the lump in her throat and her lips quiver, stray tears racing to her jaw. Another sniffle. “Harry, you can’t just come back from a year-long tour and spring that on me -- on us!” Her hands gesture from herself to her sleeping daughter and she shakes her head again, trying to stop her mind from running as she and Harry leave Daisy’s room.

He follows her downstairs, hot on her tail as he tries not to collapse. His certainty is slowly dwindling to a wavering state of anxiety that she doesn't want him the way he thought she did, and he definitely cannot take the hard rejection he’s starting to worry she’ll give him.

“Of course, I love you, H. But you cant spring that on me after a year of being away. You can’t just leave for a year and then say to me you want to be a Dad to Daisy. It doesn’t work that way. Fuck…”

He approaches her slowly, tentative steps until he reaches her in the middle of the kitchen and she stares up at him, teary-eyed and hopeless. It’s a look he didn’t think he’d see when he told her how he feels, and it’s a feeling she didn’t think she’d feel. Yet here they are.

She lets his hands reach for her face, to cup her warm cheeks in his soft palms and his thumbs brush across her wet skin to dry the salty tears. She’s craning her head up to look at him and he’s dipping his chin down to see her -- to really see the pain and desperation written in her eyes.

“I’m here now, love. I’m here and I want to stay. I love you and I love Daisy. We can do this, baby. You and me, how it’s always supposed to be.” There’s a heaviness of light and excitement in his voice and it kills her, because as much as she wants this -- as much as she’s ready to smear her lips against his and finally let herself have him, they aren’t the only two in the equation anymore.

Y/N’s hands reach up and hold gently to hold his wrists, keeping his hands cupping her face as she sniffles with a small smile. “I love you so much and I always have.” She’s choking on her words and Harry can’t keep his thumbs in a pace that wipes all of her tears. “But I can’t make this kind of decision so quickly. I need to think of Daisy and how this is going to affect her. Just give me some time, okay?”

He understands, more than anyone could know. He knows it was selfish of him to throw it out on her like that, but more than anything, he knows the weight it’s lifted from both of their shoulders and the chance it’s now given them. He knows it’s not just them, that Daisy plays just as big of a part in this relationship and he wants what’s best for them both.

So he nods slowly and lets his forehead rest upon hers, their breathing mixing as she shifts her head to kiss the palm of his hand. She’s looking back up at him through wet lashes and a thankful smile. There’s an aura in the room, a comforting blanket that promises safety and warmth and they know things will be okay, no matter what happens.

“However long you need.”

-----

His back is starting to hurt but he won’t admit that out loud -- not to the two-year-old, that’s eagerly wiggling her toes as Harry tries to paint them a lilac shade of purple. She’s laying on a pillow, a Barbie doll in her hands that she hovers above her head and makes a show of an overly dramatic American accent.

“Daisy, you’ve gotta stay still, babe.”

Harry’s gently holding her ankle in place to stop her from kicking about but he seems to have underestimated the young child’s strength and he almost knocks over the bottle of kiddy nail polish on Y/N’s yellow rug.

“Barbie! Barbie’s nails!” The plastic doll is shoved in Harry’s face before he can even move back and the leg of the toy pokes his nose, making Daisy blow out a bubble of small giggles that has Harry’s heart thumping in adoration. He takes the dolly from her hand and places it on the coffee table, lifting her ankle to his face so he can blow cool air on her painted toenails -- something that only makes her giggle harder.

“Tickles, it tickles,” she blabbers out breathlessly, soft squeals of happiness flooding through Harry’s ears and he doesn’t think he’s felt so complete in a long time.

He howls out an animalistic growl, playfully nibbling on her ankle before he crawls closer and lifts her pyjama top up her stomach, blowing gentle raspberries on her delicate skin and Daisy’s little hands make for his head, trying to push him away with all her little might.

“Gonna eat ya all up, Daisy.” He warns her in a playful tone, one that’s got a hint of a promise but even the toddler knows he’d never hurt her. She squeals again, though, trying to turn on her stomach to crawl away but he’s quicker, and as she makes it to her feet, he wraps his hands around her middle and hoists her in the air.

Harry’s running around the living room, hands under her arms as he sways her through the air. It’s a beautiful sight, he can imagine. Daisy can’t stop laughing, can barely even catch her breath, so he settles them both down on the sofa with a sigh and a plop and Daisy cuddles into Harry’s side with a wide smile.

“Again, again!” His eyes widen at her proposition and he looks to the clock above the fireplace. 6:50 pm. Harry shakes his head with a sigh, craning his neck to kiss her head and readjusts her pyjama top. “Not tonight, petal. Bedtime now. Gonna let me read you a story, yeah?” he asks.

Daisy crawls out of his side and toddles over to her toy box. She’s got a stack of books under the TV unit and pulling one out that he knows is Y/N’s, she hands it to him, climbing back onto the sofa again. She claps her hands, bouncing slightly. “That one!” she tells him, tiny legs crossed as she claps her hands softly, waiting for him to look at her.

His eyes dart over the cover of the book. The Sun and Her Flowers. He quirks a brow at the two-year-old and she leans closer to point her painted fingernail on the cover of the book. “Flowers. Mummy said I’m her flower.” Harry blinks. It’s the first time she’s mentioned Y/N since she left for work this morning and Harry had fully expected a meltdown by now, but she hasn’t had one yet and he isn’t about to let her have one now.

He nods. “Okay, baby. Flowers it is. Come on, let’s get you settled to bed.” Daisy puts her arms up, let’s Harry coddle her to his chest as he carries her upstairs and to her bedroom. She pulls her covers back, climbing in and she lets Harry tuck her under her covers, takes her stuffed dinosaur from him and gets comfy.

Harry’s never had the pleasure of settling Daisy to bed before. Sure, in the past two weeks he’s done it a lot with Y/N, but never on his own. He jumped at the chance when Y/N asked him to have her while she was at work all day and most of this evening. For the past two weeks, since he came home from tour, he’s been with her every day. He’s been proving to her that he’s serious -- that he meant what he said.

Last week, the three of them went to Holmes Chapel for the day and Daisy was quick to rename Harry’s family. Nanny Anne and Aunt Gems. Their hearts had all burst at the little girls' names for them and Harry let himself bask in it, in the little family they’re becoming.

“Okay, ready?” he asks her, sitting on the ground just beside her bed and she nods her head, knuckling at her sleepy eyes and Harry smiles softly to himself. He opens the book, clearing his throat and finding a random page within the book. He clears his throat.

“Rise, said the moon, and the new day came. The show must go on, said the sun. Life does not stop for anybody. It drags you by the legs whether you want to move forward or not. That is the gift. Life will force you to forget how you long for them. Your skin will shed till there is not a single part of you left they’ve touched. Your eyes, finally just your eyes. Not the eyes which held them. You will make it to the end of what is only the beginning. Go on, open the door to the rest of it.”

His soft and dulcet tone lulls Daisy into a soothing state of sleepiness and he can’t help but mull over the poem in his head. His heart sinks when he rereads the words over in his head. Because this is what he would be doing, how he would be telling himself to move on if Y/N didn’t feel the same way.

He’d be shedding his skin of every inch she’s touched, praying to the moon for the sun to bring a better day. And maybe he has made it to the end where it’s only just beginning. Maybe he’s made it to the end of their friendship and the start of their forever. Maybe it’s wishful thinking that things will work out, or maybe it’s pure certainty.

“Go to sleep,” he whispers to the toddler. He closes the book and leans over the low rail on her bed, pecking a tender kiss to her forehead as she snuggles further into her blanket.

“Nuh-night, Daddy.”

His heart stops. He blinks quickly. His throat feels like it’s swelling, like a thick lump is lodged as his hands grow clammy and he struggles to know what to do next. He didn’t think he’d ever hear her say it again but this time it’s hit him harder than the first.

Because when she first blabbered it to him, she was barely ten months old and was only just figuring out what words were. Now she’s two and a half and she knows what she just said. She called Harry her father by choice because Y/N’s never taught her to say it, never gave a suggestion that Harry is her father. And that’s what makes it all the more special and daunting for him.

He thought he understood it before, when Y/N said she had to think of Daisy’s best interest. He thought he understood entirely because he knows the impact he’ll have on her if they’re more than just friendly. But now he’s seen it -- heard it -- first hand and he doesn’t want to run for the hills. He wants to hear her say it again and again and to Harry, this is the most precious moment of his life.

Being on stage every night and performing for thousands is nothing compared to hearing the little angel call him her father.

With tears welling in his eyes, he places another tender kiss to her cheek. “Goodnight, petal.” He wants to stay longer, to sit and watch her sleep, to protect her from any bad dreams that dare try to creep up on her. He wants to be by her side until morning rises when she can say good morning, daddy and he can spend every waking hour with her.

But he hears the front door open and close and keys jingling as they’re placed on the little end table by the stairs, and he stands from his crouched position and wipes away and his glossy eyes with the back of his hands.

He leaves the bedroom, pulling the door closed and slowly making his way downstairs. Y/N’s in the kitchen, flicking on the kettle and pulling out two mugs for herself and Harry. He’s got the book in his hands still as he finds her, places it on the counter and he greets her in a warm hug.

She lets herself melt into his embrace, keeping her arms strong around him and the sweet scent of cinnamon and mint ground her, relieving the stress of work. He kisses the top of her head.

“Hi,” she sighs softly, rubbing his back in a soothing manner. He doesn’t say anything back, doesn’t even mumble anything that can be considered somewhat coherent. She pulls away with a frown, tries to read his glassy eyes and pink cheeks. She thinks the worst, though she knows she shouldn’t.

A frown slowly etches its way between her brows. “What’s the matter? Are you okay? Is Daisy okay?” Her voice rises an octave with each word and Harry shakes his head quickly, cooing her to a state of calm as he breaks a smile. “She’s fine, tucked up in bed after a story. She’s been an angel,” he reassures her. Harry tucks a piece of hair behind her ear. “Go sit down, I’ll make the tea.”

With a comforting kiss to her forehead, Harry brushes past her and Y/N makes for the living room. It’s tidy, pieces of paper strewn across the coffee table and as she leans closer to inspect them, she can see the pictures Daisy and Harry have been drawing and how he’s been trying to teach her to write her name.

She smiles wide, appreciative and full of love and warmth. Y/N was expecting a phone call from a stressed Harry and a teary-eyed Daisy but she didn’t. She got a few texts, ones with some pictures of Daisy drawing or with the bubble moustache Harry gave her when he bathed her earlier this evening.

In the past two weeks, he’s endlessly spent with them, they've had a taste of life together. He stays late, comes over early. He’s there most hours of the day, when he doesn’t have to run off to the studio for anything or a meeting. He cooks most evenings with Y/N, helps her settle the little rugrat and read her to sleep. But today and tonight he’s done that all on his own. And sure, one night doesn’t equal a lifetime, but he’d never be spending a lifetime alone caring for her, and neither would she.

Placing the drawings back on the coffee table, Harry joins her with two steaming brews in his hand. He offers her the tea first, settling beside her and resting his black coffee in front of him. She watches with sceptical eyes, can tell there’s something bugging him, something he needs to get off his chest and a small part of her is nagging and saying he’s about to take it all back. That after tonight, he’s changed his mind. That he doesn’t want them now.

“H… what’s going on?”

He watches her settle into the sofa just like Daisy had only thirty minutes ago and he doesn’t think he’s ever felt such serenity before. But there’s a pain in his chest at the idea that she doesn’t agree with what he’s about to tell her and he’s not sure he can stomach it.

“Daisy, she uh… she called me Daddy.”

She feels like she’s been hit in the chest, her eyes dry as her lips part and she blinks at him. He’s cosy in a pair of cream cotton trousers and a black t-shirt and he’s freshly shaven, longish wisps of hair curling around the cap he’s got on his head. Y/N thinks he looks the perfect part and her eyes start to sting with tears.

“She did?” her vision is blurred -- cloudy with pride and happiness -- and there’s a tightness in her voice, like it hurts to speak. He nods hastily, like he’s hesitant about how she’s taking the news and he can’t stomach the idea of her telling him it’s too soon.

But Y/N breaks into a gentle grin and a blubbering mess is what soon follows. She laughs as she wipes away her tears and all Harry can do it stare and wait. She nods until it turns into a head shake. “I guess she’s made the decision for us then.”

His eyes hold nothing but hope and excitement and his shoulders are no longer drooping and low. The weight of the world doesn’t feel so heavy right now. “Yeah?” he asks, voice light and he’s got his own tears welling. She licks her lips with another strong nod, shuffling closer so her knees touch his thigh and she connects their hands together, bringing his knuckles to her lips and she knows she’s making the right decision.

“Harry, if we do this… you can’t suddenly decide it’s not for you a few months in. If we’re doing this, we’re in it for good. No backing out.” Her words are spoken carefully, force behind each syllable as the pair of them grin from ear to ear like mad, Cheshire cats.

He nods his head, his turn now to bring her knuckles to his lips to kiss them with such tender vigour, he’s scared she’ll disappear if he lets her go. “No backing out, baby. I’m here and I’m here forever,” he promises and she knows he means it.

His hands reach to cup her face again, just like the night two weeks ago when he told her how he felt and she feels it’s only right for her to reach up to hold his wrists too. They’re smiling wide, can’t help but feel complete and utter bliss and this time they both know it won’t end with an aching heart and just leaning foreheads.

“Okay,” she whispers against his lips, eyes still on his as he grin grows impossibly wider. He’s trembling as he holds her, the excitement and rush almost too strong to contain. “Okay?” he asks her, like he needs all the validation, like he needs to keep hearing her say it so he knows he isn’t dreaming.

She nods her head, repeating his words and his lips are inching closer to hers. She can taste his breath, minty and warm and it’s intoxicating. “S’tha’ mean you’re my girlfriend now?” he teases through his smile and she can’t help the drunken-like giggle that bubbles from her throat as she nods giddily.

“Can I kiss you?”

His nose brushes against hers softly as their eyes flutter closed in contentment. She licks her lips, as does he, but neither can see the other. “If you kiss me, you’re stuck with me,” she teases back but she isn’t met with a laugh as she expected.

Instead, she’s met with soft lips pressing against hers and the wind is knocked out of her lungs. She lets go of his wrists and tangles her fingers in the hairs at the nape of his neck. His hat falls from his head as he kisses her harder; lips enveloping lips as they sway the dance of a never-ending tale.

He tugs her closer, has her straddling his lap as he licks into her mouth, gentle yet eager and they can’t get enough. Butterflies swarm around in their stomachs as warmth fills their body and neither have ever felt a sense of happiness so strong before.

He wills himself to pull away, to peck her lips again as he brushes the hair from her face. His eyes flutter open, adjusting to the light and all he can see is her. When he looks at her, he sees the love of his life, the woman of his dreams. And when she looks at him, she sees the man that’s never left her side -- she sees their future.

Harry noses at his lovers’ jaw, kissing a trail to her lips again and they blink through their rose-tinted view as tears of utter bliss and love slip from their eyes.

“I wanna be stuck with you. With both of you.”

-----

If you made it to the end, you could be entitled to compensation. Thank you so much for reading and sticking through with this rollercoaster!!! I’ve had so many doubts while finishing and editing this fic that it wasn’t that great and it was a waste of 35k, but I also loved writing it too much?? There will be a bunch of spinoff oneshots and blurbs that will come and you can also send requests if there are certain parts of Daisy, Y/N and Harry that you’d like to see. And thank you again so much for over 10,000 followers! I really cannot believe we hit that milestone, so thank you!

Feedback on this piece would mean so incredibly much to me, I’d truly appreciate it so much. Thank you again for reading!! <3

#yiiikesss it's hereee!! finally omg ok I'm nervous pls be nice to me #harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles oneshot #harry styles fic #harry styles smut #harry styles angst #harry styles fluff #harry styles imagines #imagine harry styles #harry styles x you #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfic #fallinharry10k

[ediths]

The View From Both Sides of The Mirror

Pairing: Harry Styles x Reader

Word Count: 23.5k

Summary: Who would have thought that being stuck on a boat with your worst enemy would be a good thing?

Warning(s): Cursing, some mentions of yachtrry, Harry being a softie, Harry also being a dick, reader being down on herself

A/N: So this is my submission for @stylesharrys​ 10k follower celebration! I chose the picture above, the trope enemies to lovers, prompt “That’s not what I meant, I swear. I know I can be an asshole but I'm not that heartless.”  I’ve been working on this for quite a while and I really debated deleting the entire thing a few times, but here she is, all finished and ready to be enjoyed!!

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*

Harry Styles is a lot of things. Annoying, over the top, self obsessed, judgmental, self indulgent, careless, overly flamboyant, rude, narcissistic. He’s a lot of things, but perfect is not one of them.

The media continuously had a lot of ridiculous ideas about him, most of which were laughable. You’d often scroll through your social media and snort at the things that people would post about him. You had seen some things that were quite funny, but nothing compared to the article that your best friend, Lexi, had shown you. You full body cackled after reading the title, and who could blame you? “The Perfect Man the World Didn’t Know It Was Missing” was top tier comedy.

There were a plethora of things wrong with the title that the up and coming news station had so foolishly chosen.

The most obvious of which being the fact that he was literally 26, and he’s been in the spotlight for over ten years. The world hadn’t been missing him at all. He’s been shoved in everyone’s face for over a decade and they find a new reason to act like he’s the best thing that ever happened to the universe. They over exaggerate everything, make it seem like he was either born an hour ago or just discovered yesterday. Which was definitely not the case, as you had been told numerous times by the man himself. 

The second being that they all acted like they knew him when really they had absolutely no idea who he is. The ones that covered the stories acted like they knew him as well as his childhood best friend when really they had taken a statement, at most. They had no clue who he actually was. They couldn’t tell you his favorite number, or how he fixes his toast. They don’t know the reason why he no longer wears skinny jeans. They don’t know why he’s so open with who he is and how he presents himself. None of them know anything about any of that, and it’s more bothersome than you’d like to admit. But it’s not just the people that praise him that rub you the wrong way. No, it’s even the ones that say bad things about him, that claim that he’s Satan's spawn. It was still exasperating to hear them say things about him. They acted like they knew him well enough to hate him, to paint him as the villain in their article.

Yeah, sure, you and Harry didn’t get along, but at least you had a reason. Most of the people that didn’t like him were just upset because basically everyone wanted something to do with him, and they were all mad because he was seemingly perfect. He never lost his temper (he definitely did, just not in public), he was nice to everyone (yeah, besides you), and he would never turn down a picture with a fan if it was safe to do so and he had time (that one was true. The one part of him that you don’t absolutely hate is the love that he has for his fans. He’d be nowhere without them, and he realizes that. And, although he’s not appreciative of a lot of things, he is of them).

And the final thing about the article, the one that irked your nerves the most, was that they were yet another news group to paint the picture that he was perfect, that he was the golden boy. That he had never once done something that could be seen as wrong. Which, yet again, goes to show that they don’t really know anything about him, at least not personally.

Sure, Harry Styles came off as perfect. He had to. He’s in the public eye, spotted everywhere that he goes by at least one person. He had been coached from the ripe old age of 16 to come across in that way. In his career, there has never been any room for error. One mistake could have brought down everything that the managers of One Direction were trying to accomplish.

He was conditioned into media perfection long ago. He had been told how to speak, how to act, what to wear, what to sing. Anything that could possibly cause an upset in the fandom was immediately changed, edited to make it look better. He was shaped into the boy that the world had come to love. 

But Harry, the guy that you spent the majority of your waking hours with, due to the numerous mutual friends that you had, was annoying at best. Most of the time, though, he was a complete prick.

There was nothing about the man he was behind closed doors that was perfect. He was utterly and completely himself. Most people would think that’s a good thing, him being comfortable enough to himself to the fullest extent. But you? You absolutely hated those times. He was much easier to deal with when you were out in public, when he was too worried about keeping up appearances to do anything particularly shitty. 

The two of you had never gotten along. From the very moment that the two of you had met, there was a tension. It was like there was an immediate distaste for one another. All of your friends could tell that the two of you would never get along, but they tried to force it anyway.

That night, he had seemed completely uninterested, like he’d rather be at some party that only had A-List celebrities on the guest list than there meeting you. At first, you had been hurt. But then you came to accept it. Came to accept the fact that you just weren’t good enough for him. You weren’t like the rest of your friends. All you did was work in photography, and you weren’t even one of the well off photographers. Sure, you didn’t struggle, but you weren’t on the same level as the rest of the people that you had formed friendships with.

Your mutual friends had tried their best to ease the tension between the two of you. They had done everything in their power to force the friendship. You had to give them props, they pulled all the stops, but there was nothing that anyone could do that would make you not loathe the mere thought of him. Maybe it was the fact that he made you doubt who you were. Maybe it was the fact that he gave off the asshole vibe. Or maybe, it was just because he seemed to not like you, but from that day forward, you weren’t on good terms with him.

Things had gotten so bad with Harry that you had even tried to find a new group of friends. You were tired of feeling like you were the odd man out, feeling like you had ruined every outing because you couldn’t just suck it up and get along with him. There had come a time when you didn’t even feel like you had belonged. All of the people that you had surrounded yourself with were extremely successful. Most of them were CEOs of something. But when Harry had met them, he had introduced the singers, writers, and musicians into the group. You weren’t any of those things. Sure, a lot of people saw you as an artist, but you could barely be seen as anything compared to the others, and that haunted you until you began to believe that your occupation as a photographer wasn’t valid.

So, you searched for new friends. You tried to find people that would make you feel like you belonged, like you were their equal. You just wanted some people that you could relate to. You hadn’t felt that in way too long, and being around Harry and his super successful, extremely famous friends wasn’t helping any.

You tried for a few weeks before realizing that it was pointless. He found a way to weasel himself into that aspect of your life as well. 

Every single time you met someone new, the same thing happened. You’d talk to them for a few minutes, get to know each other a little. But each time, without fail, they’d ask “Hey, aren’t you that chick that’s friends with Harry Styles?” And each time, you’d immediately walk away, never looking back.

Nobody cared about making friends with you, they just wanted to have a way to Harry. Every cell in your body was filled with regret. You had made the decision to openly be in the same friend group as him. You hadn’t taken into consideration that once you were spotted with him repeatedly, your life would never be the same.

It left you wanting to rip your hair out. Or at least go back in time so that you never had to meet him, never had to be in public with him. It sucked that no matter how hard you tried, he wouldn’t stay out of your life. He was present even when he physically wasn’t, and it was aggravating beyond belief.

It was safe to say that you hate Harry Styles.

It was also safe to say that Harry Styles hates you.

You were so uptight, always sticking up your nose at everything that he did. You had done it since the moment that you had met him and it seemed as if you had never stopped.

You had given him a look that could only be described as one filled with disdain the moment that you met him, and from that moment on he had tried his best to distance himself from you. With the both of you running in the same circle, though, that was pretty hard.

So, he had just tried his best to ignore you. That didn’t work very well either, seeing as you always had a reaction to everything that he did. And none of those reactions were ever positive.

You acted like there was something wrong with him spending the money that he earned. It got on his nerves more than just about anything. What was he supposed to do with it? Was he just supposed to let it sit in his bank account for the rest of his life? He donates a large chunk of everything that he earns every year, it wasn’t like he was just blowing his money on meaningless things. He had his priorities straight.

He had come to despise nights out, knowing that you would be there. You always had something to say. Or not say, rather. You’d never tell him that it was exactly that made you so upset with him. Every time you would send him a look, he’d ask why, but you’d simply turn on your heel or slip out of the booth, heading to the dance floor to be as far away from him as possible.

He was a simple man, really. He just wanted to go out with his friends, buy something strong off the top shelf, and drink until he was in the cuddly mood that his mind automatically switched into when there was enough alcohol running through his veins.

But with you there? Oh, he couldn’t do that. God forbid he buys something expensive like that. God forbid that he spend his money on what he wanted to. Every time he’d order his drink, you’d curl your nose up, as if you were completely disgusted by his choice. And every time that he would get overly touchy and want to cuddle someone, he would automatically seek you out. He didn’t know why, and he despised his brain for thinking of no one else but you. 

He knew that the fact that he never chose someone else to agitate probably made you hate him even more than you already did, and he went home every weekend feeling awful about it. He never meant to annoy you. Sure, he hated you, couldn’t stand the way you acted like you were better than him, like you were higher up than him even though he saw the two  of you as equals, but he never meant to purposefully get on your nerves. He never went out of his way to cause you to hate him even more. 

However, that didn’t stop you from thinking that he did. Didn’t stop you from thinking that he’d do anything in his power to pester you. It didn’t stop you from hating him more and more every day.

*

When your friends had called you and told you that they wanted to go on vacation, you were excited. You could use a break, a bit of time to forget about all the stress and just relax on a boat with your friends. Plus, you had never been to Brighton, so there was no way you were going to say no to that experience.

However, the initial glory of the idea wore off the moment that you realize Harry’s the only one with any kind of boat. Which means in order to have the relaxing getaway that you want, you'll have to deal with him for at least a few hours every day, if not every moment that the sun is up. If you’re completely honest, you don’t even understand how he’s going to get the yacht to Brighton when it’s kept in the States. You didn’t question it, though, because that’s the reason that Lexi gave you. Which means that has to be the reason that he has to go.

To top it off, it won’t even be like it normally is. If he gets you worked up enough, you can’t even just walk away and leave, you’ll be stuck on his boat in the middle of a body of water, with no way to swim to land without risking something bad happening.

You had already paid the deposit for the house, but you were fully willing to let someone else take your place on the trip. Were fully willing to give up the vacation because there’s no way in the world that you could spend an entire week with Harry without something terrible happening. Plus, there was only room for four people and there were many more than just that in your friend group. They could easily find a replacement.

When you had called back to tell Lexi and Sam that you weren’t going to be attending, they all but guilt tripped you into coming along, saying that they had invited you for a reason and that they would be really bummed out if you decided to stay behind and give someone your spot.They also gave you the look, the one they always hit you with when you back out of something just because of Harry. 

You felt bad, always ruining plans because you were in a constant argument with him, so you tried to put your pride to the side for a moment and at least listen to what they had to say.

Against your better judgement, you agree to go, but only because you would have your own room with a private bathroom attached, and your friends confirmed that they wouldn't say anything about you hiding away from Harry if he got to be too much. They also assured you that you and Harry would be separated for the majority of the trip. 

They knew that the both of you need a vacation, but neither of you can stand the other, so they promised that you would have an adequate amount of alone time to have the relaxation that vacations are supposed to bring.

After doing your shoot that night, you go home and pack the suitcases you'll need for the week that the four of you plan on staying there. You don’t pack much, just a single suitcase and a carry on. You check to make sure that you have your passport and that it’s valid, and that you have all the items from around the house that you’ll need.

Once everything is settled and put together, you flop down on your bed, switching on a random Netflix show that you’d been obsessed with lately and allowing yourself to drift off to sleep..

*

You’ll never know how your friends had let them talk you into letting them plan the entire trip. The only thing that you were told was how much your portion of the bills were and when they were due. It has annoyed you to no end, seeing that you are the type of person that likes to know every detail of what’s  going on. You had been on more than enough trips that had absolutely everything that could go wrong do exactly that, leading to ruined trip after ruined trip, that you’d rather know all the plans, maybe even make a list or two so that there are no missteps or slip ups when it comes to the actual vacation.

You texted Lexi a few hours before you had to leave to board the flight to ask if you could scan over the plans and the details of the trip, not to change anything, just to double check. Of course, she said no immediately, not understanding that you just wanted to look over it and make sure that everything was in order to calm your nerves. You didn’t want to explain this to her, though, knowing that she would begin to feel guilty for not letting you see it immediately, and that’s not what you wanted to happen.

If you had talked to her and she had actually allowed you to check literally anything for the trip, though, the first thing you would have ensured was that you wouldn’t be stuck on a plane right next to Harry for hours. You’ll never understand how she could put you in this situation, making you sit next to the most loathsome person in this world, who she knows that you can’t even be in the same room as for more than a few hours.

By the time the situation registers in your mind, however, he’s already loaded his carry on and sat down in the seat. Which means that it's definitely too late to do anything about it. Yeah, you’d rather not sit next to him for hours on end, but you’re definitely not going to cause a scene on an airplane full of people. Especially not when half of them already have their phones out, trying to discreetly take pictures of Harry.

Besides, the flight attendant is already coming around checking belts and the pilot is introducing himself and spouting out information that seemingly no one is paying attention to. This flight will be over in no time. At least that’s what you tell yourself to get through the next ten hours.

You groan, rolling your eyes at the irony of the situation. Of course something like this would happen. You had only agreed to a vacation because you needed relaxation. You needed a break from all the stress. But here you were, stuck right next to one of the biggest stress inducers in your life. Yeah, Lexi had promised you that you’d have plenty of time away from Harry at the rental house, but you were definitely making up for all the time that would be lost right now.

If you didn’t know better, you would think that Lexi and Sam were plotting against you. But that’s crazy, right? They wouldn’t do something like this on purpose, would they?

You lightly shake your head, pushing the thought from your mind. They wouldn’t do that.

You pull out your phone, queuing up the playlists you had downloaded prior to boarding. You knew that you’d want to shut yourself off from the world for the duration of the trip there, so you prepared accordingly.

You take one final glance around the cabin, seeing that everyone else has begun settling in and nobody else is announcing something important. You slip your headphones in your ears, ready to relax as much as possible throughout the flight. You know that the only way to completely avoid being pestered by Harry is to completely block him out.

The first song that comes on makes you want to laugh. You obviously don’t do such a thing, knowing that the outburst would cause every single person on the plane to look at you like you’re crazy. 

You couldn’t catch a break today. Of course one of his songs would be playing in your ears while your face was less than a foot from his. Of course it would actually be one of your favorites. You had never once in your life pressed the skip button on this song, but knowing that he’s as close to you as he is, you’re hesitant to even listen to the opening chords of the song.

“Carolina” blared through your headphones for a split second before you made up your mind and hit skip. You couldn’t risk being caught by him. There’s no way you would survive this if he found out that you listened to his music, especially since you have it saved to your playlist. There’s no way that you’d be able to play that off as you simply listening to it so that you could make fun of him for it later (which you wouldn’t do in general, you know how important his music is for him, and you’d never dampen the light that appears in his eyes when he talks about it. You’re not that cruel.).

It was quite frustrating, really. His music is fantastic, a perfect blend of the basic attributes that hook audiences that hear songs on the radio and a uniqueness that you can’t find anywhere else. His music was absolutely amazing, but the man that sang it… he was a different story.

You didn’t like to judge his tracks based on how fond of him you were when you first heard them. If you did that, you’d never listen to them in general. 

You’d never admit it to him, but every song of his, even the covers, was scattered throughout your playlists. And every once in a while, when nobody was around, you would listen to them and genuinely enjoy them. Sometimes you’d even dance along, and that’s a secret that you’ll take to the grave.

You wanted to drift off to sleep, but didn’t want to risk him hearing if one of his songs came on. Lord knows that he doesn’t need the ego boost. So, you turned the volume down until you were confident that nobody else could hear it. You lean your head back against the rest and let your eyes slip shut, finding sleep in seconds.

*

What seems like moments later, you’re being awoken by someone. You think that maybe it’s Lexi at first, but then you feel them, the rings that he never seems to take off. You jerk your body away from him, not wanting his hands to be on you. 

“Hey, it’s time to wake up. We’ve landed.” You open your eyes and glare at him, taking your headphones out. You can tell that he’s holding in a laugh and it makes you want to punch him right in the jaw. You choose not to do such a thing, however, because you’d rather not cause a scene on an airplane. So, you settle for flipping him off.

He chuckles before mimicking your action. You roll your eyes, standing up from the seat and grabbing your carry on. Harry steps back, letting you walk ahead of him. You think nothing of it until he pushes at the back of your knee, almost making you fall to the ground. What is he? A middle schooler? 

You can already tell that this is going to be a long trip, regardless of what Lexi and Sam had assured you. So far, what they had said had turned out to mean absolutely nothing to you. Not for the first time since you woke up this morning, you find yourself wishing that you hadn’t given in. That you had just said no and not let them talk you into it.

You walk with a bit more speed after you step off of the airplane, trying to get as far away from him as possible. You don’t want to have to add falling over in the middle of the airport to the list of reasons why you despise flying. You had only agreed to get on the plane this time because it was absolutely necessary in getting to Brighton.

You meet up with Sam and Lexi by the luggage pick up and all of you wait for your bags. You put all your effort into ignoring Harry, only looking in his direction or humming an approval when the conversation called for it.

“Alright, well. We need to get to the car rental service and then I have to go rent the yacht.” Harry says, making you snap your head up, looking straight at him. After a second, you turn to Lexi and Sam, looking between the two.

“Oh, no, no, no. Tell me you’re fucking joking.” You spit. “Harry just had to come, huh? And you wouldn’t let me back out? Harry’s the only one with a yacht? Yeah, he’s the only one with a yacht but he’s fucking renting one.” You can’t believe this. “Look, if I had known that me being stuck in a foreign country with him wasn’t completely necessary, I would have given someone else this vacation in a heartbeat.”

“Y/N come on…” Sam starts, but you cut him off.

“What, Sam? Want me to hold my tongue yet again so I don’t hurt Harry’s feelings?” You scoff. Why did they care about his feelings when he had never once taken yours into consideration? “Well, you know what? Fuck Harry’s feelings. He’s rude to me for absolutely no goddamn reason and I’m tired of it. I wanted to come on this god forsaken trip so that I could relax. Both of you,” you point back and forth between Sam and Lexi, “promised me that I would get to relax, that I would only be around Harry on the boat. But it seems like your word is bullshit, doesn’t it?”

Your luggage rolls around and you yank it off the conveyor. “Let’s go get the stupid ass cars. And Harry?” You turn to him, pointing your finger at him and tapping his chest. You ignore the way that the contact sends shivers up and down your spine. “Don’t you dare fucking say a word to me on the way there. Don’t touch me, for any reason. You know what? Just don’t even look at me. That should make everything a little more bearable, got that?” 

He nods, and with that, you walk towards the exit of the airport, knowing that there was no way you could continue that argument without bursting into tears. You weren’t upset in that way, you just had the habit to start crying when you were pissed off at someone to this point. They had really lied to your face. You know Lexi though, she’ll use the fact that she ‘technically didn’t lie because Harry is the only one with a yacht.’ 

You wait outside, knowing that they have the address to the car rental place, and there’s no way that you want to get lost here. You don’t look at any of them once they come out the doors, and they don’t make any effort to talk to you. 

The entire walk to the shop, you stay a few feet behind them, not wanting to be too close to any of them. It’s not even so much so that you were mad anymore, that had subsided. You were hurt. The fact that they lied to you? That was something that all of you had promised to never do to one another, even you and Harry. And what hurt even worse was the fact that the people that did lie to you weren’t who you expected to ever lie to you. If anyone was going to do something like that, you expected that it would have been Harry that did it, not them. It probably wouldn’t have hurt as much if it had been Harry, but only because you had mentally prepared yourself for him to betray you, had kept your walls up against him since the moment that he showed you who he was around you.

The walk to the rental store was a short one, leaving you barely any time alone with your thoughts, which you were completely fine with. You didn’t really want to be in your head right now.

Lexi walks in, leaving the three of you outside. She comes out a moment later with two sets of keys. “Alright, who’s riding with who?”

“I’ll ride with Sam, give Y/N some time away from me.” If he hadn’t said it with the hint of sarcasm that he did, his words could have been mistaken for sweetness. But you know how he is. He makes everyone else think that he’s such a sweetheart when really he’s a prick.

*

The house is nice. Really nice, actually. The moment you walk in, you’re met with the high ceilings of the entryway. You must admit that Lexi and Sam did a great job on picking the house that you’d be staying in for the week. You walk through the entryway and see a kitchen off to the side, it’s really modern, looks like it was just redone. There’s a sitting room directly adjacent to where you’re standing. And you can see multiple doors and a hallway that leads to other rooms, which you assume are bedrooms and the half bath that would be used for guests.

You immediately go to pick a room, knowing that nobody else really plans on being in their rooms at all, so it’s not like they’ll mind. You venture down the hallway and see a few art pieces. You smile to yourself. The house is really cute. You wouldn’t mind living somewhere like this when you find someone and settle down.

You look through all the rooms before choosing the one at the very end of the hallway. There’s a large four poster bed sitting in the middle of the room. There’s a bookshelf to the right of the bed and a nightstand with a cute little lamp on it to the left. Upon walking further into the room and scanning the entirety of it, you see that there’s a dresser against the wall opposite the bed. There’s a tv sat upon the dresser. To the right of that, there’s a door that leads to the bathroom.

Even if Harry does get on your nerves during this trip, you can always come in here and escape from it all. You smile at the thought. That was truly the first thing that had been seen as a positive since you had left your house that morning. 

Since it was already pretty late, you decided to hop in the shower. Grabbing your clothes for the night and walking into the bathroom. As soon as the door is closed, you begin peeling off your clothes. Just doing that puts you in a better mood, you had been wearing those clothes for far too long. They probably didn’t smell the best, having sat on your body for an entire plane ride.

You fiddle with the temperature settings on the shower for a moment before stepping in. The moment that the hot water hits your skin, you let out a sigh of relief. You can feel the muscles that had tensed up throughout the day start to relax.

After spending what feels like an adequate amount of time in the shower, you towel off and get dressed, making your way to the bed. You crawl under the plush comforter and immediately feel the exhaustion rack your body. You turn off the lamp and roll onto your stomach, letting sleep pull you into the blissful state where nothing bothers you

*

Lexi busted into your room early the next morning, shaking you awake until you turned to face her.

“Do you need Sam and me to get you anything from the store?” She chirped, far too giddy for any normal person to be this early in the morning.

That makes sense, though, because Lexi is far from normal. She has this electric personality, usually bringing out the absolute best in everybody.

She has been your best friend since high school. She took you under her wing during your sophomore year, her junior year.

Since then, you have been through a lot together. Crushes, relationships, heartbreaks, you and her yelling at the guy or girl that broke the other’s heart. You helped each other pick up the pieces when nobody else was there to help do so.

You had been through dozens of friendships since sophomore year, but the only one that has been a constant is her.

Sure, the both of you had changed. But you had changed together and supported one another through every decision.

You had seen her cycle through different haircuts - she had chopped off her brown curls during her senior year and instantly hated them, choosing to let them grow back out to their rightful place, right below her shoulders - and hair colors - when she cut her hair, she also dyed it a bright red, which you’re still convinced is the real reason she hated the length of it as well. You had also experienced her ever changing sense of style, which was actually a plus for you most times, because when she changed her taste and cleaned out her closet, she’d give you all of the clothes that no longer satisfied her, leaving you with a new wardrobe at least once a year.

And she had been there for you too, sticking with you through your ‘whore phase.’ Which really just consisted of you dating the ‘hottest guy in school’ - he wasn’t really that hot - and then rumors spread the next year that you were messing around with the ‘hottest girl in school’ - that one was the one that got you the label, all the guys being mad that they couldn’t get with her, seeing as she was strictly into girls. 

Lexi had also dealt with your late night calls, riddled with anxiety, not knowing what it is that you could possibly do with your future. She had calmed you down multiple times, talking through options with you. She was the reason that you came to realize that you wanted to be in the fashion industry in some way. 

She had already known what she wanted to do, had been aware of her dreams since before she even made it into high school. She used to tell you all the time, “Y/N, one of these days, I’m going to own a Fortune 500 company.” And that’s exactly what she had done. 

Which is the only reason that you got to be friends with all the people that you do. She’s also the one who introduced you to Harry, starting the rivalry between the two of you.

“No, I’m fine.” You groaned, rolling back over.

“Alright, sleepy head.” She chuckled, walking back out of your room and latching the door.

Once she’s gone, you reach over and grab your phone, checking the time. Seven A.M. You groan. Was she crazy? 

You’re definitely not pleased that you’re up this early. However, you decided to go ahead and stay up. Your alarm would be going off in two hours, and you know that you’ll be grumpy if you go back to sleep just to wake up then.

You pull yourself out of bed, trudging to the bathroom. You run through all the steps of your morning routine and emerge from the bathroom, ready to take on the day.

Your way of taking on the day is going to be picking a book from the bookshelf and laying in bed until around ten, when you’re scheduled to go out to the water for the day.

*

It’s almost ten when you get the text from Sam.

We’re running late, you and H go ahead and get on the water, we’ll rent jet skis to get out there. X

You roll your eyes, of course they’d be late. And of course they’d leave you to fend for yourself with Harry.

You quickly get dressed in your dark blue bikini, the one that accentuates all your curves perfectly. You then throw an oversized band tee over your head, making sure that you’re covered enough before walking out and making sure that Harry's ready and has everything that he’ll need for the day. You’re really not in the mood to have him forget something and have to come all the way back to the house.

When you reach the living room, he’s already by the door, dressed in a pair of yellow swimming trunks and a cream colored tee. He has the yacht keys in hand, along with his phone. He already has the cooler and the bag Lexi had packed with supplies for the day (sunscreen, portable chargers, etc.). 

You just stand there for a moment, looking him over, trying to ignore the feeling that you got in your stomach. You couldn’t place exactly what it was, but it had to be one of disgust, right? You couldn’t stand being around him, he was unnecessarily rude to you and you can’t tolerate him. That feeling couldn’t be anything good, it had to be disgust, or maybe it was resentment. Either way, it stopped you in your tracks.

“You coming or what, loser? It’s enough that it’s just us, do I need to hold your hand too?” He smirks.

You push down the rising feeling in your chest, and push past him, walking over to the passenger side of the suv that he had rented for the week. 

He takes his sweet time strolling over, popping the trunk and placing the bag and cooler in before slamming it shut again. He unlocks the doors and you slide in, buckling your seat. You refuse to look at him, knowing that if you make eye contact with him, he’ll be more inclined to say something dickish to you.

The ride to the water is mostly quiet, the only sound in the car being the music from the radio. Some top 40s song that you haven't heard yet was filling the air, causing the silence between you and Harry to be slightly less awkward. 

“What’re you gonna do when we get there?” He asks. You’re taken aback for a moment. Why was he even talking to you, let alone asking what your plans were for the day? Why was he being weird? “Because, honestly, you should probably tan, you look like a ghost.” There it is, the snide remark that was missing.

You scoff. “Harry, maybe don’t check me out every two seconds and you won’t notice.” You joke, knowing that he’s the last person on the planet that would ever check you out.

You expect him to hurl an insult back at you, tell you that he’d never check out someone as ugly as you, or tell you that he was only scanning to see what he could make fun of, but he doesn’t. He doesn’t say a word, and when you turn to him, you see that the tips of his ears are red and there’s a blush creeping up his neck. Was it really that embarrassing to be accused of checking you out? 

You don’t push him, thankful for the returning silence. It only takes a few more moments to get to the docks anyway, so it’s not like the silence is stretched out for too long.

You grab the cooler and the bag this time, knowing that he’ll have to drive the yacht, and you don’t feel like hearing about how lazy you are because you didn’t do enough.

The walk to the boat is silent and filled with tension. It’s like both of you want to say something, are dying to talk to the other, but you won’t. You don’t want to talk to him, you just want to talk to someone. It’s not the same. 

Once Harry gets everything ready, you climb onto the boat, setting everything down and pulling out the sunglasses that you had decided to bring at the last moment.

“So, where do you think we should go?” You ask, knowing that he’s been here before. He’ll know how far out you can go while still being able to anchor the yacht.

“Out on the water, duh.” His words are laced with sarcasm and it makes you want to throw him overboard. Too bad he’s the only person on this vacation that’s ever had enough down time to actually learn how to handle one of these things.

“You know what the fuck I meant, stop being an idiot.” You spit, hating how easily he got a rise out of you.

He chuckles before waving you off with a, “I know what I’m doing, darling, don’t worry about it.” 

He seems to catch what he says as soon as it slips out of his mouth, his eyes widening and the blush coming back to his features. You choose to ignore it. You’d rather just go up to the deck and tan.

For a split second, you debate on whether or not you should lay out, knowing that he would think you were doing it because of the comment that he made. But then you realize that you don’t actually give a fuck about what he has to say or what he thinks with his final two brain cells. 

So, you head up to the upper deck, stripping yourself of your shirt and laying out a towel for you to rest on.

You stay in that position, only moving to flip over so that each side gets an even amount of sun, until you hear jet skis approaching.

You push yourself up, wandering down to where Harry has set up his towel. Apparently he decided to sunbathe as well. It’s not like he needed it though, he has a tan that any woman would absolutely die for. 

You quickly give him a once over, halting when you realize that he’s put a stupid hat on his head. And not even just that, he has it on backwards. What was he trying to do, absolutely kill you? 

Here’s the thing, you hate Harry, sure. But you aren’t blind. You can see how attractive he is, how his tattoos run over his tanned skin, making you want to trace each detail with the tip of your finger, or more honestly, your tongue. His muscles always accentuate everything that he wears, regardless of whether it’s one of the custom Gucci suits or a random Nike tank that he threw on to go on a run. His face is damn near perfect, so much so that it makes you want to throw up. His cheekbones are high, jawline sharp. He was blessed with the dimples, which are only made even better by his eye crinkles. And God, his hands. His hands that are constantly adorned with rings, all of which could probably pay your rent for at least a year.

It’s really not fair. In all honesty, him being as completely flawless his physical attributes seem to be is absolutely not fair. You used to scoff at the fact that people were blessed with good looks. It was all genes, right? Wrong. Sure, Anne’s gorgeous and you’re sure that Desmond had to have had something going for him when Anne met him, but Harry? He came out to be a whole lot more attractive than anyone you had ever seen. And just to add on to everything, he was the person that you hated the most in the world.

You’re broken out of your thoughts by Lexi pulling up to the side of the boat and climbing in. She doesn’t even look at you, just walks farther into the yacht. You don’t think to question her, she’s probably annoyed by something that Sam said. But then you notice that Sam isn’t getting off his jet ski, does he plan on just not taking his shirt off the entire time?

Lexi comes bounding back to where you and Harry are standing, but she again doesn’t stop. She just keeps walking, clambering back onto her abandoned vehicle. You’re confused for a second, what’s going on? But then you see them, the keys dangling in her fist. You’d know those keys anywhere. They were put on Harry’s keychain the moment that he had picked them up. She has the yacht keys.

Before you can say anything about it, she’s driving off, yelling, “Have fun!” into the wind.

“They did not just-” You start, only to be cut off by Harry. Usually, you’d be annoyed by him, but this time, you have another source of irritation.

“Yeah, they just pulled an Outer Banks on us.” He sighs, walking back to where he had originally been laying. 

“Are you not mad?” You try to stop your eyes from tracing the expanse of his back, but it seems to be impossible.  The way that his muscles are flexing under the expanse of skin drawing you in.

“No, are you?” He sounds like he couldn’t care less, which is odd. Shouldn’t he be upset that he’s forced to spend an entire day alone with the person that he hates?

“Um, yeah.” You groan. Of course you’re mad, you don’t want to be here. How can he seem so calm?

“Why are you so fucking uptight all the time?” He blurts, catching you off guard. The words hit you like a train, knocking all the air out of your lungs. So this is why he hated you. You just thought that you gave him the wrong vibes or something, he seemed like the kind of person to judge based on that type of thing.

“What do you mean?” He looks over at you and rolls his eyes.

“I mean, why are you so uptight all the time?” For some reason, your chest tightens up and you feel like you’re going to cry. You’d known that he couldn’t stand you, that he’d rather not be around you, but hearing the real reason? Hearing what he really hates about you? That fucking hurts.

“Is that why you hate me?” At most, you had thought that maybe he just looked down on you, thought that you weren’t good enough to be part of the friend group because you didn’t own a fortune 500 company, or sell houses for the richest people in America, or sing to thousands upon thousands of adoring fans. But apparently not. Apparently he had an actual, legitimate reason, and for some reason, that stings.

“I don’t hate you.” You scoff and roll your eyes at him. Did he really think you’d believe that? “I just think that you’re uptight and you get on my last nerve.” 

“You hate me, Harry. Don’t try to lie about it.” He can say what he wants, but people that don’t hate you don’t act the way that he does.

“I don’t hate you, I just strongly dislike you.” This makes you snicker. He’s such an idiot sometimes.

“That’s literally just you saying that you hate me with a different word choice.” He looks over at you, and you see the little tufts of curls sticking out from the side of his hat. The sight makes your chest ache, why does he have to be so fucking cute? Why couldn’t you be blessed with an ugly enemy?

“Whatever.” He sighs, brushing the conversation to the side.

You want to continue, but you’re almost scared to. You could just walk back up to the upper deck and continue tanning, or you could even go for a swim, but instead, you stay right where you are. You subconsciously start to play with a loose string on the shirt that you had slipped back on before coming down to Harry.

“I’m not uptight, by the way.” You say after a few moments of silence. 

He scoffs, “Yes you are.”

“How so?” You’d love to hear him explain this one, even though it’ll probably either hurt you even more or infuriate you. But you’d like to know why he thinks you’re so uptight,

“You think you’re better than everyone, especially your friends. You have the money to do what you want but you turn your nose up at the finer things in life and give all of us dirty looks when we drink from the top shelf or buy something super expensive.” You’re speechless for a moment, but he doesn’t seem to be done, so it doesn’t really matter. “You act like there’s something better about you getting cheap tequila and wearing the same clothes over and over again. Well, think about it this way, yeah, I buy from the top shelf and I wear a lot of new clothes, but most of those clothes, I get sent. Most of them I don’t even pay for. Which honestly, you’ll probably find to be worse. But yeah, you’re uptight.”

After a moment, the words ignite a fire in you. “First of all, that shows how little you know about me, Styles. I don’t have the money to do what I want. I have money, sure. But not that much. I have enough money from my job to pay for rent, bills, food, and then have a little bit to splurge on myself.” You really don’t want to have this conversation with him, you don’t like to talk about your financial situation with anyone, let alone him. “But nowhere near enough to spend excessive amounts on alcohol or drop almost a grand on a striped t-shirt with a pig on it that’s literally the size of my fingernail. Not all of us can be big shot CEO’s or superstars.”

He looks shocked by your words, which just further added to your point. He didn’t know you, not at all. He pretended to know you, made assumptions about you, all of which seemed to make him hate you more and more.

“Well you still give us dirty looks.” You almost snort at his feeble attempt to save his argument.

“I literally don’t but okay. I don’t really care what you think about me. Hate me if you want to. You’ll be annoying either way.” You turn on your heel to get as far away from his as possible, but he stops you with his words.

“I’m not annoying.” This time, you actually do let out a chuckle. Him thinking that he’s not an annoying little prick is honestly better comedy than the specials they try to run on TV.

“The fuck you aren’t, Harry. All you do is make snide comments.” Who did he think he was? A saint?

“I do not. Don’t start your shit, Y/N.” He glares at you, but his looks don’t have the effect that he wishes this time, they just add fuel to the fire still burning bright inside of you.

“Don’t start my shit?” You snicker. He has to be fucking kidding. “You tell me how trashy I look in outfits that I think I look great in. You tell me my makeup looks like shit and that if I was trying to impress someone, I failed, even though all I do is put it on for myself. You tell me to stop trying so hard to get attention when I’m literally trying to blend in as much as possible.” You’re trying to hold the emotion back, to not cry in front of him, because you’ve already spent enough time crying over the things that he’s said. “You call me a slut when I have a one night stand like you don’t literally bring a different girl hom every fucking night. So I don’t wanna hear it, Harry.”

If looks could kill, the one that he’s giving you at the moment would have you six feet under. “You don’t fucking know me. I don’t bring a new girl home every night, you make me sound like a fuckboy.” 

You roll your eyes. “I could make you sound a lot worse. And maybe there’s not one every night, but there’s at least one a week, and I have a one night stand what, maybe once every couple months? If even that?” You let out a shaky breath. “Yeah, maybe I don’t know you, but that’s not my fault. I didn’t make the choice to not know you. You pushed me away the second you met me, even though I did nothing to you. You didn’t let me know you. But you don’t know me either.” The tears are gathering in your eyes and threatening to spill onto your cheeks. You look up towards the sky, trying to make them subside. Once you feel confident enough in the fact that they won’t drop, you look back at him. “You’re not just annoying, you’re a dick. The shit you say? God, if you knew how much that shit can hurt someone.”

“Don’t come at me and say that any of that hurts you. You fire right back and then go on with your day.” The smirk that he has plastered on his face makes you want to knock him into a new dimension, but you compose yourself. He isn’t worth it.

“Yeah, of course I just let it roll off my shoulders while I’m around you. Have you ever thought about why that is? About why I seem to not care?” Your voice has slowly but surely become louder. “It’s because I’m not going to cry my eyes out and let myself wonder if maybe you’re right, that maybe I do look like shit and should cover up as much of my body as possible, right in front of you!” By the end, you’re screaming, and you don’t even care. 

You take a deep breath and continue, “I can’t give you the fucking satisfaction. Because Lord knows that you’ll just hold that over my head too.”

That seems to have some sort of effect on him. His face falls almost immediately, that god awful smirk disappearing. His eyes seem to get softer, and a part of you wants to walk over and hug him. But you don’t. Of course you don’t. He’s the guy you hate the most.

“I didn’t know you felt that way.” He mumbles as you’re getting ready to head back to the upper deck.

“I’m sorry.” He tries, but you’re not going to let him off the hook that easy.

“Sorry doesn’t fucking cut it, Harry. It’s not like you're even sorry anyway. You don’t care about me, so don’t start acting like you do now.” With that, you turn on your heel and make your way back up to continue tanning.

Once you get back to your towel, you let the few stray tears fall. You hate that he has the power to make you cry, but you can’t help it. He just gets to you, regardless of how hard you try to guard yourself from him.

He comes up after a few minutes and you look over at him, waiting for an explanation.

“I’m going for a swim. If you need anything, I’ll be in the water.” He states, and you turn back around.

“Have fun.” You spit, the words laced with sarcasm. 

He doesn’t reply. You hear his footsteps receding and then a splash signaling that he’s jumped off of the boat.

For some reason, you have a bad feeling in the pit of your stomach. At first, you ignore it, but then you stop hearing the sloshing of the water. You can’t help but let yourself get a little panicked. You may not be the biggest fan of the guy, but you can’t just let him drown.

You stand up from your spot on the towel and walk over to the side of the boat that you heard the initial splash come from.

You make your way back down to where you and Harry had fought. You grimace at the thought. Had that really been one of the last things he ever heard? No, you can’t think like that. 

You look to your right and notice that all four life jackets are still hooked on the railing. Of course he didn’t take a life jacket. Anything could have happened to him and now you wouldn’t even be able to float. He could be sinking to the bottom, never to be found again.

Yeah, he can swim. He’s actually a really good swimmer, but he could have hit his head on the boat when he jumped in. Or he could have dove down under the water and ended up getting caught on something. 

You rush over to slip one of the life jackets and grab an extra. The last thing that you needed was to find him and not be able to drag him back to the boat because he’s too heavy.

You jump in, the life jacket keeping you afloat. With there being no need to concentrate on not drowning, you focus all your efforts on finding Harry. You can’t see him anywhere in the general vicinity, so you start looking under the water as long as you’re able to.

You’re trying your hardest, but you can’t find him. 

You start to panic. Suddenly you find it hard to breathe and the tears are streaming down your face. You immediately blame yourself. You should have just stopped earlier, should’ve realized that there’s a better time to argue with him. Maybe if you had just been a little nicer, the two of you could have gotten along for the day. Why didn’t you just stop? Why didn’t you at least accept his apology?

You’re pulled out of your thoughts by a strong pair of arms wrapping around you. You scream, not knowing who it could possibly be. You twist in their arm, realizing that it was only Harry.

You push away from him. “What the fuck, Harry? I thought you died!”

“Really? And you came out here to look for me?” He asks, and for a moment, you think he might be grateful, but you can already see the smirk forming on his lips. You choose to ignore it for the moment, though.

“Yeah, I couldn’t hear you swimming around anymore and I thought maybe you had hit your head on something or gotten pulled under or something like that. Where were you?” You’re trying to wipe the tears off of your face, but your hands are just as soaked as your face, so it does absolutely no use.

“The other side of the boat, why didn’t you just check over there?” His smirk is present in full force now.

“I don’t know, slipped my mind, I guess.” You mumble, knowing that this could have all been avoided if you had just looked on the other side of the boat.

“Seems pretty fucking stupid of you.” He chuckles.

You push even further away from him, throwing the life jacket you had brought for him in his face. “You’re such a fucking dick! Sorry that I cared too fucking much about your life to check the entire perimeter of the boat before trying to save you!”

You can’t believe him. You didn’t think of one thing, in the heat of the moment, and now you’re stupid? Wow. Okay, next time you’ll just let him drown.

You start to swim back towards the boat. He’s following you, but you don’t care enough to acknowledge it.

“I’m sorry. That’s not what I meant, I swear. I know I can be an asshole but I'm not that heartless.” You don’t even turn back to him.

“Problem is, Styles, you really are that heartless.” You spit, climbing back onto the boat, trying to get as far away from him as possible.

He clambers up after you, trying to get your attention. You actively ignore him, though.

He grabs your wrist, wrapping his fingers around the joint. You spin on your heel.

“Let me go, Harry.” you demand.

“Y/N, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.” His eyes are pleading with you, but you genuinely can’t care any less. 

“Seems pretty fucking stupid of you.” You throw his words back at him.

His face immediately falls, not liking how the words hurt him. He deserves it though. All you were trying to do was help him and he was an absolute prick. 

You storm back up to your towel, laying down and trying to dry yourself off. 

Not too long after you head back up, he brings you a sandwich that he made with the supplies he had packed in the cooler.

“Thought you might be hungry.” He mumbles when he sits the plate down. He doesn’t wait for you to respond, just turns back and heads to where he came from.

You wait until he’s gone to eat, only doing so because it’s already made and you wouldn’t want the food to go to waste.

*

What seems like eons later, but was definitely only hours, Lexi and Sam get dropped off at the boat by a random couple you’ve never seen before.

You rush down to where they are.

“Did you guys get any closer?” Sam asks. 

You just roll your eyes and stick your hand out. “If you don’t hand the keys back this fucking instant, I will not hesitate to jump off this boat and swim back to the docks.”

Lexi looks at you with wide eyes and hands over the keys. The moment that you have them in your hands, you stomp over to Harry and chuck them at him.

“Drive this stupid ass boat back to the docks, and don’t you dare fuck around or you’ll get thrown overboard and I won’t bother to come looking for you.” He doesn’t argue with you, just picks up the keys and makes his way to the wheel.

“What happened?” Lexi questions, but you just brush her off.

“Ask him, he’ll tell you with a fucking smirk on his face.” You walk over to the bench and sit down, not wanting to talk to anyone else throughout the trip back.

*

It only registers with you that you’ll have to ride back to the house with Harry after you get to the docks.

“I’m walking home.” You announce, knowing that it’ll only take fifteen minutes tops to get back to the rental.

“What are you talking about?” Harry and Sam ask at the same time.

You ignore Harry, turning back to Sam. “I’m walking back to the house. It shouldn’t take me long, and there’s no way in hell I’m riding with him.”

With that, you turn and start walking. The road is secluded, lined by trees.

After a few minutes, they drive up to you. Harry rolls down his window. “Y/N, come on, I’ll walk if it’s that big of a deal.”

You raise your hand, flipping him off. “Wouldn’t want to ruin your Gucci shoes.”

He sighs, rolling the window back up and continuing to drive. He knows better than to argue with you right now. There’s no way that he’ll win.

You slow your stride, wanting to prolong the walk as long as possible. You only speed back up when the clouds start to turn into a viscous shade of gray.

The one thing that could bother you more than Harry is thunderstorms. And you can tell by the state of the sky that a bad one’s coming.

*

You sneak back into the house, pushing the door open as quietly as possible. Thankfully, there’s nobody in the living room. Everyone seems to have retired to their rooms. 

As you’re creeping down the hallway, you hear Harry talking to Lexi. Her door is slightly ajar and you can’t help but stop and listen.

“No, no. Lexi, I know. I fucked up. I shouldn’t have called her stupid. All she was trying to do was help me. God, I’m such a fucking idiot.” You can hear his voice waiver and you think for a moment that he might be crying. You quickly push the thought from your mind. Why would Harry be crying over you?

“Yeah, you did fuck up. Harry, this isn’t how you treat people that you care about.” Every trace of air leaves your lungs at that. Since when does Harry care about you? You want to blame it on him lying, but why would he? It’s just Lexi. And they have no way of knowing that you’re here. He must be telling the truth. 

“I know, I know. We were arguing before then, She told me about how shitty I make her feel and it absolutely tore my heart into pieces. I don’t mean to make her feel that way.” You can’t deny that he’s crying, hearing the sob come less than a millisecond after he finishes.

“I know that, H. But she doesn’t, She thinks you get a kick out of hurting her. She really thinks you hate her.” You can visualize what she’s doing, knowing how she comforts like the back of your hand. She’s running her hand over Harry’s back, trying to soothe him. And if that doesn’t work, she’ll push his hair back and wipe the tears from his face, tell him that it’ll all be okay.

“I’m aware. But I don’t, I hate hurting her. That’s what I hate, not her.” If he doesn't hate you, then why does he act the way that he does?

“Then go show her.” You smile, Lexi knows you so well. She knows that you judge people off their actions. And that you don’t believe a word anyone says until they show you that their words actually mean something.

“Alright. I will when she gets home.” The determination in his voice makes your heart swell. 

You hear him get off of his bed and you scurry to your room, not wanting to face him, and really not wanting to get caught eavesdropping. You slip inside and close your door just in the nick of time. Half a second after you’re out of sight, you hear his feet padding along the hallway to his room.

You sigh, a million thoughts running through your head. 

Could he really care about you?

If he does, why is he so rude to you all the time?

How does he expect to make this up to you?

You decided to take a shower. Not only to get clean, but also to clear your head. The second the water hits your skin, you know that there’s no way this shower is going to be as quick as you had planned. For a long time, you just stand under the stream of water, letting your mind run rampant with the thoughts of Harry. 

Is it a good thing that he could care about you? Sure, you see how he is with everyone else, and you’ve always craved to have that with him. And hating him is absolutely exhausting, most of the time you’d rather just fall into the easy conversation that he’s able to have with the rest of his friends. 

But would it be that easy? Probably not. Nothing was ever that easy when it came to him.

Are you willing to work for it? If Harry takes the initiative and tries to show you that he does care, then yes.

Once you come to that conclusion, you realize just how long that you’ve been in the shower. Your body is starting to prune, and the water has gotten significantly cooler.

You step out and throw on the shirt that you slept in the night before, but not slipping on the shorts.

You open the bathroom door and trudge over to the bed, flopping down and switching the lamp off. 

Usually, you could never fall asleep comfortably during storms, but after the day that you’ve had, your eyes are shut and sleep is overtaking you in mere moments.

*

Far too soon, you’re being shaken awake. 

The first thing you notice is that it’s dark outside. Who in their right minds is waking you up before sunrise, you don’t know.

The second thing you notice is the chill of someone’s cold rings on your skin. The contact makes a shiver run down your spine. 

You immediately roll over and face him. The sight of him is not great. He’s soaked from head to toe, water dripping on the floor. You almost have the nerve to scold him for not drying off, but then you realize that he has no reason to be wet. What did he do? What happened to him?

“When did you get home?” He asks, voice sticking in his throat.

“Earlier. Why are you wet?” Your voice is hoarse from sleep and you pray that you don’t sound revolting.

“Went out in the storm.” He shrugs. “None of us heard you come home. I guess when I checked in here earlier you were in the shower or something.”

“Why did you guys go looking? You could’ve just called or texted.” You say, then realize that you may have seemed ungrateful. “Not that I’m complaining, thanks for worrying about me.”

“Well, you see, Sam and Lexi thought you’d be fine. You know the way home, after all. They just thought you had stopped somewhere to cool off and wait out the storm. I went looking though, I was really worried. And I didn’t text or call because I, um, don’t exactly have your phone number.” He lets out a dry chuckle, running his hands through his hair.

Your heart swells. Harry went looking for you. He walked right out into a thunderstorm because he was worried that you were stuck out there by yourself.

“Hey, um, so I didn’t mean to eavesdrop or anything, but I heard a snippet of your conversation with Lexi earlier while I was walking to my room.” You gulp, hoping he doesn’t think you’re creepy or anything. “Did you really mean what you said?”

“Which part did you hear?” His question is laced with anxiety and he looks like he’s seconds away from passing out.

“Um, from the part where you said you fucked up and didn’t really hate me.” You mumble.

“Yeah, I meant every word. I also meant it when I said I was gonna show you that I care about you.” He looks up, meeting your eyes. You can’t help the feeling you get in your chest. This man just went out into the pouring rain, lightning falling all around him, just to look for you.

“I think you already did, H.” Regardless of how he treated you in the past. Hell, how he treated you in the past twenty four hours, you can’t help but see tha the really does care about you. Lexi and Sam, the two people in the house who were supposed to not hate you in the slightest didn’t even go looking, but the one person who was supposed to not give a fuck about whether you’re breathing or not did.

“Did you- you just called me H?” He stumbles, and a smile comes to your face.

“Yeah? So?” He said it like it was a good thing, but you could never be too sure with him.

“So, you’ve never done that before.” His expression is unreadable. Usually you can tell exactly what he’s thinking, but right now you’re coming up blank.

“Do you not want me to? I can stop saying it.” You wouldn’t ever want to do something that he’s uncomfortable with, you just thought that’s what everyone called him.

“No!” he blurts. “No, please don’t stop. I like the way it sounds coming from you.”

“Alright.” you grin “H.”

The smile that breaks out over his face is the biggest that you’ve ever seen. “Wait, what did you mean I already did?” He wonders. 

 “You just risked getting sick to go out in the pouring rain to try to find me.” Which reminds you, if he doesn’t get in a warm shower and some dry clothes soon, he’s going to catch something.

“It’s the least I could do.” His cheeks are turning a light shade of pink, and you really hope that it’s a blush and not him being cold.

“Yeah, but that shows me that you care, H.” You say, getting up from the bed and checking to see if you had brought the extra sweatpants and sweatshirt. Unfortunately, you hadn’t. 

“I’m sorry, by the way. Like really sorry. I hate myself for what I said. I’m so stupid. You were just trying to save me and I was a dick.” You appreciate the sentiment, you really do, but right now, that’s not your concern.

“It’s fine.” You mumble, because, really, it is.

“No, it’s not.” He doesn’t want to believe it, but it really is. You wouldn’t be letting him drip excessive amounts of water on the floor if you were still mad at him. 

“Yes, H, it is. Now come on, let me go get you some clean clothes. Go get in the shower, there are towels in the bathroom.” You’ve come to the realization that you’d have to retrieve his clothes, seeing as you hadn’t exactly planned for something like this.

“Y/n, it’s fine. I can just go take a shower in my room.” He tries, but you immediately refuse.

“No. You can take one in here so I know that you take one and don’t just change into dry clothes.” The look he gives you lets you know that was exactly what he was planning to do.

“I’m not gonna win this, am I?” You chuckle, pleased that he knows well enough to not argue with you any further on this.

“Not a chance, now get your ass in there.” You put your hands on his shoulders and nudge him towards the bathroom. You try your hardest to not think about the way his muscles ripple underneath your digits.

“Alright, alright. I’m going.” He concedes, trodding into the bathroom.

You wait until you hear the water running before you exit the room to find his clothes. You make the journey to his room, grabbing boxers and a pair of sweatpants from his bag. You don’t bother trying to find a shirt, knowing from the countless times that he’s stripped out of one to take a nap at a friends house that he never wears them to bed.

You make your way back to your room, sitting the clothes down on the small table sat outside the bathroom door.

His vast collection of rings is placed on the table as well. He must have taken them off and sat them there after you left. 

Without thinking, your hand reaches out and picks up the rose ring that adorns his hand more often than not. It’s gorgeous, and you can’t stop your fingertips from running across the designs. The band is etched with leaves and vines, and upon further inspection, you feel that there’s a little caterpillar seemingly hidden on the inner part of the ring.

It’s heavy in your hand and you can't help but wonder just how much metal was used to make this ring. It’s obvious that it was hand etched, so your mind tries to picture how big the piece was before the carving started.

After a few moments, you place it back on the table, picking up his Cartier ring. You wonder for a moment how something so simple could cost the ridiculous price that it did. Sure, it’s absolutely gorgeous, but the price tag that you know it carries is enough to make the appeal fade. You don’t have the luxury of dropping thousands on a ring.

He opens the door and you immediately drop the ring, cheeks burning from being caught. You know how much he adores his rings, and you’re scared for a split second that you’ve overstepped, crossed a boundary that he wouldn’t be comfortable with.

All your worries are washed away, though, when he says, “Wear it.” He reaches over for his clothes, a towel wrapped around his waist.

You gawk at him. Was he serious? “H, I can’t do that.” You go to scramble away, before your eyes get caught on the way that the water droplets from the shower cling to him, the sheen making his tattoos even more vivid. God, what you would do to trace every line and seemingly miniscule detail.

He gives you a soft smile, and your heart speeds up to a rate that has to be unhealthy, especially since you’re sitting still, your back rimrod straight. “Yes you can. Go ahead, put it on.” He urges.

You sigh, picking up the Cartier ring that you had been admiring moments prior and slip it on your ring finger, that being the one you wear all rings on. You glance up at him through your lashes and you can see the way that his eyes seem to have lit up. You try to ignore the way your stomach flutters, the butterflies going absolutely wild.

He chuckles, looking down at your finger, where the ring sits, looking about five sizes too small. You join along, letting a lighthearted laugh slip through your lips. It truly was ginormous on you, but you expected no less. He does have large hands, after all.

“I’ve got a chain around here somewhere, keep the ring.” He says nonchalantly, like he’s not gifting you a fucking Cartier ring.

“Harry, no, it’s too expensive.” You can’t possibly accept this ring, so you really hope that he doesn’t fight you on it. You’re pretty sure you’d say yes to just about anything if he keeps looking at you like he’s just seen the most precious thing in the world.

“If you don’t keep it and wear it, I’ll never wear it again, so it might as well be worn by you.” He argues, giving you the stern look that you know well. It’s always the one that says not to argue back, that he’ll just continue pestering you if you do.

Knowing that the argument would go on for hours on end if you didn’t, you reluctantly agree.

He gives a triumphant smile before returning to the bathroom, clothes in hand.

A moment later, he comes back out into your room and your ability to breathe is gone. You swear he’s the most perfect person you’ve ever seen. Sure, you’ve seen how pretty he is before, but you’ve never let yourself truly see how perfect he is. Maybe you prematurely judged that article. Maybe they had a point. 

The muscles in his upper body ripple under his tan skin, making your mouth damn near water. You avert your eyes from his shoulders to his chest, admiring the butterfly inked onto his abdomen. You had always adored that tattoo, at times you even wished that you had thought of the idea before he had. You see the way that the ferns underneath trace his lower stomach, the endings leading a trail right to the band of his sweatpants. 

God, why would you get him gray sweatpants? At this view, your mouth actually does water, wondering how good he would look with even less on.

Him shuffling over to pick up his rings is what breaks you out of your trance, your cheeks heating up from the thoughts that had been running through your mind.

He places each of the rings carefully back on his hands, sans the Cartier ring. He left that one on the table, looking up at you with a smirk.

He begins to make his way out the door, but you stop him.

“H,” you give him your best puppy eyes when he stops and looks over his shoulder at you, “Will you stay with me? I’m scared of thunderstorms.”

“Are you really?” He doesn’t say it in a mocking way, it’s more in a perplexed way. You’re not confused by this in the slightest, as far as he used to be concerned, you’re not scared of anything.

“Yeah,” you admit, “but I also want to get to know you. Feel like we’ve missed a lot while hating each other.”

He sighs, “Never hated you.”

You smile, “I know, I know, but I thought you did. Made me not able to get to know you very well.”

“Alright.” He agrees. “Let me go put my rings up and get that chain for you and then I’ll stay.”

You wait patiently as he does just that, wondering why you had never just taken the time to talk to him before. Would it really have been that simple? 

“Here you are.” He speaks when he reenters the room, walking over to the stand and placing the ring on the chain. Once he’s done, he gently sets it back down, ensuring that the chain doesn’t get tangled, and then trudges over to you.

He sits on the edge of the bed, probably just intending to stay until you fall asleep, and at first you’re fine with that. But then you start to get progressively more tired, and your clinginess starts kicking in, that fact that you’re touch starved not helping.

“H.” you groan, making his ears perk up and his eyes snap to yours.

“Hmm?” he wonders.

You make grabby hands at him. “Come cuddle with me.”

A smile breaks out on his face and your stomach does the flippy thing that makes your heart race.

He slowly crawls towards you, as if he’s giving you enough time to take back your words, to give him any sign that you regret ever asking him to come up to you. Once he’s right beside you and you’ve made no move to stop him, he slips under the covers and pulls you close.

You immediately sigh in content and place your head on his chest, the sleepiness taking over more and more as you listen to his heartbeat against your ear.

RIght before you completely drift off, you mumble, “You’re not as bad as I thought you were.” You hope he hears you, but you don’t have the time to check, sleep overtaking your body and pulling you under.

*

When you wake up the next morning, you let your eyes stay shut, not wanting to be greeted with the sunlight just yet.

You shift slightly and realize that you’re still laying with Harry. You can feel his solid chest under your head, your legs are tangled with his. 

After a moment, you can feel him looking at you, “It’s rude to stare, H.” You joke, expecting him to laugh.

He doesn’t, though, instead he just whispers, “Can’t help it. You’re beautiful.” 

You immediately blush, burning under the compliment. You’re still not used to being this close to Harry in general, but receiving compliments from him is even weirder.

“Can I tell you something?” You look up at him, waiting for him to accept your question.

“Yeah, anything.” He holds eye contact with you, your faces mere inches apart. You could very easily push yourself up and attach your lips to his, but you refrain, not wanting to push too far. You had just started really talking to each other last night.

“I never hated you either.” You say, the words barely audible. You’re ashamed of it, of the fact that you pretended to hate him, probably making everything worse than it had to be.

“Really?” He looks hopeful, like he’s praying that you’re not joking with him. 

“Really. I just thought that you hated me. Figured that we should at least balance each other out.” You let out a humorless laugh, trying to make light of the situation, but you still can’t shake the guilt. You probably could have been lying in bed with him a long time ago had you just made it clear that you didn’t hate him.

“So all this time, neither one of us hated the other, but we both thought we did?” He has a smirk etched on his face, and a very large part of you wants to close the space between the two of you. You can’t handle the smirk right now, not when his chestnut curls are framing his face the way that they are. Not when his bare chest is still pressed against you, warming you up in the most delightful way.

“Basically.” You can’t help but giggle. The situation really is quite ridiculous.

You move to get up and he pouts, holding onto you and trying to get you to stay in his arms, he’s enjoying the warmth that you’re radiating. 

“Where are you going?” He whines, making your throat constrict. He sounds so pretty when he whines.

“I’ve gotta pee, I’ll be right back.” You promise, knowing that the words will soothe him.

“Don’t go…” He tries giving you puppy dog eyes, but they won’t work this time, not when you can feel the urge to use the bathroom growing.

“I have to pee, but I promise I’ll come back to exactly where I was when I’m done.” You reach over to him and push a stray curl behind his ears, reveling in how soft that his hair is.

“Good, I wanna keep cuddling.” He mumbles, and you can’t help but feel the butterflies return yet again. You can’t believe that Harry was just begging you to stay curled up in bed with him.

It all seems a little off, having him in your bed, cuddling with you. Less than twenty four hours prior, you were screaming at each other on a boat about how much you can’t stand each other, and now neither of you do? You come to find out that the both of you were faking it this entire time? The entire situation is a little confusing, but you’re a lot happier with it than you were with being at each other's throats all the time.

Now that the two of you are being more honest with each other, you figure it’s probably time to start being more honest with yourself. And that starts with admitting the feelings that you’ve been suppressing for him. 

You had seen how attractive he was the moment that you had even laid eyes on one of the numerous articles about him. You aren’t shallow though, that’s not what made you have the feelings that you had developed for him. You could also see just how nice he was to everyone else, how he lit up every room that he walked into. How everyone was always put into a better mood just by his presence. You began to fall for that version of himself, the one that he was with everyone else. You had caught feelings before he even said a word to you. There were times when you had been at the same party or event, and you’d be able to feel the effect he had on everyone else. And at first, that was intimidating, but then you felt a pull to him. Like the two of you were magnets and were destined to be together.

But then you actually talked to him, and everything went south.

Now, though, you’ve realized that he’s only like he is with you because he thought that you hated him. Which is absurd to you, but you were quite distant that night. You had been overwhelmed, thinking that you were inferior to him in every way that night. Maybe that’s why he thought that you hated him, because you didn’t show that much interest, because you seemed like you didn’t want to get to know him.

You don’t really know how to process that information. This entire thing had initially been your fault, had you just gotten over yourself and realized that you’re good enough to talk to him, all of this could have been avoided.

As you wash your hands and get ready to exit the bathroom, you can’t help but wonder what everything’s going to be like. How are you going to act around each other? Is it gonna change? Are you still going to bicker or are you going to act like everything’s perfectly fine? 

You scoff at yourself, of course you’re still going to bicker, that’s who you are. Plus, nobody’s perfect, all friends argue about something at points.

When you come out of the bathroom he’s sitting on the end of the bed. You raise your eyebrows in question. “Thought we were gonna keep cuddling?” 

He quickly rises when he sees you. “Had a slightly better idea.” He holds out his hand and waits for you to take it.

“I’m more of a touchy kind of person.” He starts after you take his hand. “I show that I care about people by physical touches.” He pulls you closer to him, wrapping his arms around your waist. “If we’re gonna tell them that we don’t hate each other, we’ve got to at least make it believable.”

“Stop making it sound like we’re pretending.” You laugh. “You just cuddled with me throughout the night. There’s no way in hell we hate each other. But yeah, I’m that way too, so I don't mind the touches.” You assure, pulling back and reconnecting your hands.

He gives you a reassuring look as you walk out of your room and into the sitting room. Sam and Lexi stop the conversation they were having immediately and look over at the two of you. Their jaws are on the floor within moments, obviously not believing what they're seeing. 

“Why are you holding hands?” Sam blurts, breaking the silence that had blanketed the room.

“H, you only do that with girls you’re dating or girls that you’re friends with. What’s happening?” Lexi adds, a hopeful glimmer in her eyes.

“Wanna explain?” Harry asks, squeezing your hand.

“Sure.” You say.

You begin to explain it to them, making sure to get all the details. Harry’s mostly quiet beside you, only inputting anything when you forget something.

For a moment after you finish, the silence is back. Lexi and Sam look at you like you’re absolutely insane. After a minute of letting their brains process the information, they finally let smiles break out on their faces, jumping up from the couch to hug the both of you, excited that you guys can finally get along.

*

After a little while of the four of you sitting around and talking, it’s decided that everyone should go out on the yacht. This time, though, nobody will be stealing any keys.

Once you get out to the desired spot on the water and anchor the boat, you turn to Harry. “Hey, H?” 

“Yeah, love?” He used the term like it’s no big deal, but it makes your stomach churn in the best way possible.

“Wanna go swimming? Promise not to think you’ve drowned again.” You chuckle.

Harry doesn’t seem as amused though, still feeling guilty about how he treated you. “Sure, promise not to be a dick again.”

You walk over to him, wrapping your arms around his neck and pressing your head into his chest. “I told you it was alright, H. Stop beating yourself up over it.”

He sighs, nodding his head. You grab his hand, pulling him along the deck to the edge of the boat.

“Wanna jump together?” You look over at him and see the smile break out across his face, the dimples and eye crinkles out in full force.

“Yeah, love, let’s do it.” Before you can think too much about the second use of the word, he’s counting down from three and then you’re jumping, body submerging into the crystal water.

If you had been paying more attention to anyone besides Harry, you would have seen the way that Lexi and Sam were caught up in watching you, wondering how in the world the two of you had done a full one eighty in less that twenty four hours. Sure, they wanted the two of you to get along, but they never expected you to get this close as fast as you did.

After a while of swimming around with Harry, you decide to get out and try to tan, seeing as not everyone can be actors that get paid to go swimming and get tans.

As you do so, you can feel Harry’s eyes on your body, but you choose not to acknowledge it. For a moment, you want to invite him to come tan with you, but you don’t want to make your feelings too obvious to him.

*

When it starts to get dark, Lexi proposes that everyone head back to the deck. You agree, ready to go home and get out of your bikini. 

Harry tries to get you to drive the yacht, even trying to teach you, but to no avail, you have absolutely no skill when it comes to driving boats.

Once you get to the docks and clamber off the yacht, the group splits up, Lexi and Sam going towards their car while you and Harry head towards his.

“Are you hungry, darling?” He ponders once you’re settled in the car.

“I mean a little bit, why?” You reach over to turn on the radio, letting the soft sounds of music play through the car.

“I saw this cute little diner when I was looking for you last night.” He says, handing you his phone. “Plug up the aux cord and play something from Spotify.”

You scroll through his spotify, seeing that his work out playlist is just One Direction songs. You almost snort, but don’t want to give away the song you’re going to choose.

After another moment of scrolling, you turn the volume on the speakers all the way up, clicking on “What Makes You Beautiful” and letting the opening chords play through the car.

He smirks, looking over at you. “I hope you know that you’re expected to scream this with me.”

Your features mirror his, “Oh, trust me, I planned on it.”

*

When you reach the diner, you see just how cute it really is. But then you realize that the two of you had been in the car for almost twenty minutes, which arguably isn’t a long time, but to walk this far it would have taken forever.

“H, you walked this far looking for me?” You ask, although you already know the answer.

“Yeah. Well, technically, I walked further.” He blushes at his words and your heart melts in your chest. You can’t help but feel a little guilty, though. It had been storming, full on thunder and lightning every few seconds. He could have gotten hurt, yet he put his safety to the side because he thought that you hadn’t come home yet. If only you had put aside your pettiness and just let everyone know that you had arrived home safely, he wouldn’t have had to walk out in the storm at all.

You walk into the diner, shaking the thoughts from your head. Harry leads you to a booth near the back, one that’s placed right next to a window with a wonderful view.

Moments after you’re settled into your seat, a waiter comes up to you and takes your order. You notice that he’s paying special attention to you, and it makes you slightly uncomfortable, so you turn to Harry after reciting your order. “What do you want, baby?”

He gives you a questioning look but ultimately goes along with it, not even missing a beat. He gives his order to the waiter and waits until he walks away to turn back to you. “What was that about?”

“He was staring at me, looking me up and down, it made me really uncomfortable.” You say, looking down at your hands. “Thought if he believed we were together that he’d stop, which he didn’t.” You scoff at the audacity of the waiter. “Sorry if I ended up just making you uncomfortable too.”

He reaches over the table, taking your hands in his. “Hey, it’s alright. I wasn’t uncomfortable, just took me by surprise, is all.” He gives your hands a gentle squeeze. “If he comes back over and makes eyes at you, I’ll put him in his place, okay?”

You chuckle, nodding at him. Hopefully, the waiter would get caught up with other customers or would learn some manners so that he didn’t say anything, but either way, you knew you’d be okay.

“So, anyways, how can you be so bad at driving the yacht? It’s just a boat.” Harry asks, obviously trying to hold in a laugh.

“It’s really not that hard to be bad at it.” You defend. “I know plenty of people that can’t drive a boat.”

“Have they ever tried?” His eyebrows raise.

“No.” You mumble, flicking your eyes from his gaze.

“Well that explains that.” He pauses until you meet his gaze again. “No, but seriously, it’s way easier to drive than a car.”

You clear your throat. “I’m not that good at that either, H.” 

“Really?” He looks embarrassed, sorry to have pushed you, like he was worried that he had gone too far. 

You really didn’t mind, though, it’s not something you’re ashamed of, you just don’t really like driving. “Really. Ever noticed how I don’t drive anywhere?”

His eyes widen in realization. “Yeah, actually. If nobody else is available, I used to drive you places.” 

“Yeah, well, that’s because I suck at driving.” You say, looking down at your hands, which you realize are still being held by his. “I just feel more comfortable with other people driving me around.”

You feel him squeeze your hands again, the rings biting into your skin slightly. “I thought maybe you just didn’t have a car.”

Your head snaps up, eyes meeting his. You flash him a dirty look and go to pull your hands from his. Before you can, though, he squeezes tighter, making you stop for a moment.

“Not like that! It’s just that everything you do is in close proximity to your house.” Your hateful look subsides. You had seemed to forget for a moment that you weren’t enemies anymore. You were… friends? “There’s not really a need for you to have a car unless you were to drive somewhere far away, but usually that’s only for work and you fly.” He continues.

“Well, yeah, that’s true. But I do have a car, I just prefer not to drive it myself.” He nods his head, seeming to understand enough to let it slide.

You fall into a comfortable silence, his hands still clutching yours. You let your eyes scan over his face before wandering back to his seafoam green eyes. God, his eyes are beautiful. Everything about him is beautiful, honestly.

You’re broken out of your examination of him by the waiter coming back with your food and beverage choices. He sits Harry’s down first, and then places yours down. He doesn’t look at Harry again, just looking at you as he asks if there’s anything else that’s needed. You see his eyes trail downwards, and you give Harry’s hand a squeeze, causing him to clear his throat at the manager.

“Excuse me, sir?” This catches the waiter’s attention, making him turn back to Harry. “Could you maybe not eye fuck my girlfriend right in front of me?”

The waiter balks at him, and then tries to deny it. “I- I wasn’t!”

“Let’s not lie about it, you definitely were.” His voice is raspy and it makes your heart rate pick up. “And you were making her uncomfortable, so how about you explain to one of your coworkers why you need to switch them tables, yeah?”

The waiter just nods, walking away without so much as a glance back.

“Thank you, H.” He doesn’t reply, just squeezes your hands to let you know you’re alright. He lets go to eat, but you can see the way that his jaw is clenched.

“Hey, what’s up, you’re tense.” You try to meet his eyes, but he won’t look at you.

“I just don’t like the way he was looking at you.” He mumbles. 

You make the split second decision to walk over to his side of the booth and slide in next to him. He immediately makes room for you, lifting up his arm so you can crawl into his side.

“I’m alright, you know. I just don’t like being looked at like an object.” You whisper into his side.

“I know, love. I know you’re alright, you’re strong.” He squeezes you closer to him and you feel a smile come to your face. “And I don’t like it either. I’ll punch him next time he looks at you like that.”

You reach up and run your hand through his hair, smiling at him. He leans into your touch, and that’s when you realize just how close you are. He’s got you pulled into his side, one of your thighs is slung over his, and your faces are what seems to be only a few millimeters apart.

Every part of you wants to close the difference, to press your lips to his. Every fiber of your being wants to know what his lips feel like, wants to know how they taste. You don’t lean in, though, not wanting to ruin what the two of you have going on.

You look back down, pulling your food over to you and finishing your meal.

After the check is paid, he drives you home, the only sounds in the car being the radio and the tap of his fingers against the steering wheel. 

*

The next day flows by smoothly, everyone just chilling on the yacht and going for a swim.

When you get back to the house that night, though, Sam and Lexi come to your room to tell you that they’ll be leaving early, babbling on about some really good sale on jeans or something. They ask if you want to go with them but you politely decline, having absolutely no interest in jeans that, even when on sale, probably cost thousands of dollars.

They bid you a goodnight and let you know that they’ll be leaving early in the morning, most likely before you get up.

You wish them a safe trip and then roll over in bed, thinking about what this would mean. It would just be you and Harry for a few days. Would you spend a bunch of time together? Would you even talk that much? 

You don’t know how to spend that much alone time with Harry, mostly because you’ve only been close enough to spend any amount of time with him for a few days.

You’re anxious, probably more than you have been in a while. You can feel your hands sweating and your breath getting caught in your throat.

Suddenly, a knock comes at your door and you immediately yell, “Come in!”

You expect it to be Lexi or Sam, but it’s Harry.

“Hey, don't you mind if I hang with you?” He asks, fiddling with his fingers. “I’m kinda bored, plus the other night I saw that mini puzzle you brought so I was thinking maybe we could do that?”

You smile at his observational skills. “Yeah, it’s no problem. Come on, I’ll get the puzzle.”

You walk over to the carry on that you had packed and grabbed the puzzle. It’s only a hundred pieces, but each one is so small and oddly shaped that you had never been able to get the placement right. You had figured you’d try to do so on this trip, but you hadn’t seemed to have the time.

You trudge back over to the bed, sitting down a piece of cardboard that you had found in a storage closet when exploring the closet a few days prior, and spread out the pieces.

You immediately get to work, him doing the same. Every time he would reach to grab a piece, his rings clack together, and you can’t help but gaze at them. You love the way that the rings look on him.

He looks over at you, catching you staring at his hands. He chuckles, before hopping off the bed, seeming to remember something.

“I’ll be right back.” He promises, not waiting for your response before coming back with one hand behind his back.

“Hold out your hand.” He demands, and you do so, holding out your right hand. “No, no, palm side down.” You flip your hand over and then he slides a ring onto your right hand. 

After it’s placed on your hand, you look down, realizing that it’s a replica of his rose ring, but this one actually fits you, which means that he would have to have bought it specifically for you.

You can feel your chest tightening and your eyes begin to get a little blurry. His gesture is so cute and all you want to do is wrap him up in your arms.

“H, when did you even get this?” You say, gesturing to the ring.

“The other day after everyone went to bed, I drove to London and got it.” He says, shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly. “I saw you looking at it the other day, figured I’d get one that would fit you so that we could match.”

“Thank you, H. That’s so sweet of you.” You wrap your arms around him, and without thinking, you crawl into his lap, straddling him. “How do you even think of things like this?”

He doesn’t say anything about the way that you're sitting, just wraps his arms around your back and pulls you impossibly closer.

“When I’m not pretending to hate people, I’m actually pretty smart.” he chuckles, and you can feel the vibration of the action throughout your body.

“Don’t get too ahead of yourself, Styles.” You mumble into his neck. “You’re still an idiot.”

“Hey!” He whines, pushing you off of him only to tackle you into the mattress, tucking his head into the crook of your neck.

Subconsciously, you raise your hand up, digging into his hair and beginning to play with it. Neither of you say anything, just enjoying each other’s presence. After a while, you start to feel Harry getting heavier and heavier, his breathing getting more even. 

You try to stay in that position, loving the feeling of him wrapped up on you, but he’s a lot bigger than you and all the muscle he’s put on makes him a lot heavier than you can handle, the weight being too much on your chest and making you feel like you can’t breathe.

You roll him off of you, trying to be as gentle as possible so that you don’t wake him up, but you fail epicly. The second that you’ve got him completely off of you, he grabs your waist, pulling you over to lay on him like he was on you moments prior. Your legs are tucked between his, your face pressed into his neck. His warmth is radiating into your skin and his scent is swirling around you.

“Night, love.” He mumbles, angling his face down to kiss the top of your head.

“Night, H.” You murmur back, pulling the blanket over the two of you.

You focus on the way that his chest feels rising and falling underneath yours. You can feel his heartbeat, the way that it seems to be slightly faster than usual. You don’t think too much of it, though, he’s probably just hot.

Slowly, your thoughts begin to slow down, the prospect of a good night’s sleep pulling you further and further under until you’re dreaming about Harry.

*

When you wake up the next morning, you’re sweating. At first, you don’t think much of it, you were sandwiched between Harry and a wool blanket, after all. But then you realize that there’s something off with the way that Harry feels.

He’s radiating more heat than he normally does, which is already more than most people do.

You’re worried that he could be sick, so you scurry to the bathroom to find the thermometer that you saw when you first started staying in the house.

You make quick work of cleaning it off with an alcohol wipe, not wanting to risk him getting anything worse than he possibly already could have.

You shake him awake, ignoring his groans of protest, and make him put the thermometer under his tongue. You press the button and wait for it to beep, signifying that it’s done. 

You feel like you’re going to be sick when you look at the digital number that’s being presented to you. 102 degrees. That’s not ideal. 

“Hospital, H. Now.” You demand, not giving any room to argue on this. There’s no way that you’re going to let him lay in bed with a fever when you don’t even know what’s causing it. Maybe some people would, but you refuse. There are countless reasons why he could have this high of a fever, and each of them had different recommended treatments. You weren’t going to risk it and treat him for the wrong thing, only to make something worse.

He grumbles a “no” and you shake your head. Of course he would fight you on this.

“I’m not risking your life, H. Get the fuck up.” You wait for a moment, watching him shake his head no again. Once you know he won’t get up, you wrap your forearms underneath his arms and lift, dragging his lanky figure out of bed. 

Once he’s completely off the bed and standing next to you, you lift his arm, wrapping it around your shoulders so that you can support his weight. You grunt from the added stress on your shoulders.

You begin to make your way out to the car, making sure to stop on the way out the door to grab the keys from the hook and a water bottle from the fridge for him.

You unlock his car and all but shove him into the passenger seat, leaning across him and buckling his seatbelt for him.

Once that’s completed, you rush around the car and slip into the driver’s side, buckling your own seatbelt before inserting the key in the ignition and turning the car on.

“You hate driving, you can’t get me there.” He tries to argue, and you just laugh.

“You couldn’t drive even if you wanted to. Plus, I can get you there. I’ll be fine.” There’s no way that you were going to chicken out of this. Sure, you hated driving, but you hated the idea of something happening to him even more.

“No, y/n, it’s fine, if you don’t like driving you shouldn’t have to drive me.” The fact that he’s thinking of you right now, of all times, makes your heart rate quicken. How was he always so sweet? “I’ll be alright. I’ll just sweat it out.”

“No, Harry, you will not just sweat it out.” You say, rubbing a hand over your face. “You could die if it gets too much worse. There could be something seriously wrong. And you’re probably like this because you went out in the rain looking for me.” Sure, it’s been a few days, but that doesn’t mean that it wasn’t from that. The symptoms could have just not been showing up until now. “And trust me when I say that I am most definitely not letting you die.” You give him a look when he starts to protest again.

The drive to the hospital is shaky. There’s a few times where you think you’re going to freak out, but each time, Harry reaches his hand over and squeezes your knee in reassurance and you instantly feel your breathing even out again. 

Thankfully, you make it there safely. Throughout the trip he had drank the entire water bottle and he seemed to be more alert than he was when you woke him up. You still come over to his side of the car and help him hobble into the hospital, though, not wanting him to accidentally fall and break anything.

You sit him down in one of the chairs and walk to the counter to check him in. You come back with the paperwork that the lady handed you, and you’re surprised to know that you know the majority of the answers. You only have to pester him when you get to the section about his family’s medical history and when you need him to sign the paperwork.

You quickly go back to the counter to give her the pages back. She smiles and assures you that she’ll get everything entered and that the doctor will be right with him.

The doctor comes out and calls his name. He takes one glance in her direction and then grabs your hand. “Y/N, can you come back with me?” He gives you the best puppy dog eyes that he can manage.

You chuckle, agreeing immediately. How could you ever say no to that face?

Once you get to the room that the doctor led you too, she begins to ask a few questions. After answering them, she takes Harry’s temperature, the thermometer that she uses reading the same as the one at the house did. She decided to do a few tests, some of which nearly make Harry throw up, and then comes back with the results a little while later.

“It seems like he has the flu. Nothing too serious as of right now, though. I’ll give you a prescription to get filled for him since it doesn’t seem like he’ll be doing much for himself until his fever goes down, at least.

You smile, thanking her for letting you know, and gather Harry and the prescription paper. On the way back to the house, you drop off the prescription and wait for it to be filled. 

“Can I go in and get some candy?” He asks as you get out of the car to go pick up the medicine.

“No, H,” You see him pout at you, so you quickly continue, “but I can go in and get it for you.”

The smile that he gives you makes your world slow. All you want to do for the remainder of time is just make him smile and bask in the light that it gives off. But you can’t focus on that right now, you have to go in and get his candy and his medicine and then get him back home.

He tells you what he wants, whining about how it’s his absolute favorite candy. You go buy it for him, deciding to get a few of them so that he’ll have some for later, hopefully for when after he feels better. You also get him another water bottle, knowing that he’ll have to take his medicine once you get back to the car.

You quickly go to the counter, giving them his information and then walking back out to the car. 

After paying for everything, you rush back to the car and give him his medicine. After he’s taken it, he begins to munch on his candy as you drive the both of you back to the rental.

Once you reach the rental, the ride back goes much smoother than the one there, you take him back to your room and lay him on the bed.

“I can’t sleep in here.” You frown, wondering why he’s had the sudden change of heart. “You’ll get the flu too.”

You roll your eyes at him. “I’ve slept in the same bed as you already.” You sit on the bed next to him, reaching up and combing your hair through the sweaty tendrils. “I literally woke up on top of you, if I’m going to get it, I’ll get it whether you sleep in here tonight or not.”

He grumbles, but ultimately doesn’t put up that big of a fight, knowing that if he doesn, he’ll lose. 

“Do you wanna take a shower?” You mumble, still letting your digits card through his hair.

“Are you trying to tell me I stink?” He tries to laugh but it comes out more as a cough and you can’t help but want to wrap him up in your arms and take any and all of the pain that he could be feeling away.

“No, you actually smell really good for being sick, but you have a lot of dried sweat on you from your fever.” You smile down at him, seeing him give you a lazy, lopsided grin in return.

“Can I take a bath?” He asks, eyes lighting up at the prospect of being able to sit down but still get the sweat off of him.

“Yeah, that’ll work, bubs.” You don’t even think about the pet name until it slips out of your mouth. You want to take it back, scared that he’ll hate it.

All your worries, along with any trace of regret, washes away when you see his smile grow, the dimples popping deep into his cheeks.

“If I put bubbles in the water so that you can’t see anything, will you wash my hair?” He questions, and there’s no way that you’re going to say no to him. And you realize that it’s not just because he’s sick. It’s because it’s just so easy to give into him, to want to give him everything that he asks for, just about no matter what it is.

You’re not going to let him know just how easily that you want to agree with him, though, so you drag it out just a little longer. :You’re really milking this for all it’s worth aren’t you?”

“I mean, I guess. I don’t know.” He sighs, looking like he’s trying to find the right words. You stay quiet, waiting for him to find the ones that he’s searching for. “I just really like it when you play with my hair, and I’m assuming that it’ll feel even better if you were to wash my hair.” His cheeks flush crimson. “Just really like having your hands in my hair, I guess.”

You feel like you’re going to explode with the overflow of emotions that you’re currently experiencing, so you decide not to drag it out any more than you already have, knowing that you’ll regret it if you do. “Fine, yeah, H. I’ll wash your hair for you.”

The way that his eyes light up makes it all the more worth it. You’d do anything to see him have that look on his face more often. You used to see a lot more of that, before things started happening that scared him. You found yourself wishing, more often than not, that he had never had someone find his address, and that he had never had people hold him at knife point. He had been slightly less open after that, kind of like he didn’t trust that many people anymore. And, even though you hadn’t admitted it since you were pretending to hate everything about him, you had missed the way that his eyes would sparkle at the simplest things, and how he would be the first to jump at the idea of a night out.

“Thank you!” He lunges up from his spot on the bed to hug you, wrapping you in his arms and not letting go for a moment.

After letting him keep you in his embrace for what you deem is long enough, you push him towards the bathroom.

“Go get the bath ready, I’ll go get you some clothes.” You nudge him, but then realize something. Before you walk out, you take his hands in yours, sliding his rings off this nimble fingers one by one until they’re all in your palms. “I’ll take these to your room and put them up, alright?”

“Yeah, do you still have yours?” You nod, pointing to the rose ring on the dresser, sitting right next to his Cartier ring on the chain. He smiles, then waddles into the bathroom.

You make your way to his room and rifle through his suitcase, trying to find something that isn’t another pair of sweatpants or swimming trunks. You want him to be comfortable but not too hot, and you don’t know if he’d be comfortable in just boxers. 

You end up finding a pair of shorts at the very bottom. You grab those and some boxers, along with a hoodie of his for yourself, before heading back to your room.

You don’t hear the water running when you enter/ “Are you ready, H?” 

“Yeah, you’re good!” You slip on the hoodie before entering the bathroom. You place his clothes on the counter, out of the way from everything, and come sit on the floor next to the tub. 

The water and the bubbles come up to the bottom of his butterfly tattoo. You trace it with your eyes, and before you can even think about what in the world you’re doing, your hand is reaching out to trace it. You stop yourself halfway there and look up at him, your cheeks aflame.

“Go ahead.” He urges. “You can touch.”

You let your hand travel the distance to his abdomen. You begin to trace the lines of the butterfly. The wings, the patterns, the antenna. You can feel the muscles in his stomach clench as you venture towards the bottom of the wings, so you travel back upwards with your hand. 

After you finish tracing what seems to be every line in the tattoo, you look up at him, slowly moving your hand north, but stopping slightly above the butterfly. Once he gives his nod of approval, you move up to the swallows, loving how they look on him. 

Before you’re even done with those, he nods again, urging you to continue. So, you do just that, tracing the lettering on his body and moving down his arm to run over the ship, the rose, the hands. You trace everything that you can, ending at the little cross tattooed on his hand. 

“You missed a few.” He rasps, and you quirk your brow in confusion. The only ones that you know of that could have been missed are the ones submerged under the water. 

He doesn’t say anything, just lifts up his arm to show you the tattoos. You immediately reach back out, tracing over the bird cage and the masks, along with the lettering there. You can feel his body shiver at your touch, and you can’t help but mimic the action. The feeling of his skin under your own is electrifying.

“They’re all so beautiful, H.” You whisper, not completely trusting your voice yet.

“Thank you.” His voice isn’t much higher than yours.

You shake your head, trying to rid your head of the thoughts of him. You clear your throat and reach for the shampoo bottle. You pour a generous amount into your hand and begin to lather it into his hair, massaging his scalp with your fingers as you do so.

He lets out a sound that’s a mix between a pleased sigh and a moan and you almost choke on the air that you’re filling your lungs with.

“Feels so good.” He mumbles, letting his eyes slip shut. You can’t help but smile at him, the way that he looks so peaceful, so relaxed and utterly himself that all you can do is grin at him.

“Does it?” You inquire, knowing for a fact that it does, just wanting to keep the conversation going for a little longer. There’s something about the raspiness in his voice that makes you never want to stop hearing it.

“Yeah, feels better than just about anything else I’ve ever experienced.” This time, he lets out a groan that’s so close to a growl that you have to take a moment to breathe.

“I’m glad.” You all but squeak.

After you rinse his hair out and begin to apply the conditioner to his hair, he looks up at you. “Hey, mind if I tell you something?”

“Yeah, go ahead, bubs. You can tell me anything.”

He seems to mull it over in his head for a moment and then speaks up again. “Promise not to get weird or anything?”

You’re beginning to get slightly worried. Part of you is scared that he’s going to tell you that he killed someone and now he needs help hiding the body or something extreme like that. Although, if he asked, you definitely would help him, that’s just the kind of friend that you are. “Yeah, I promise.”

He looks up at you through his lashes, making sure that he’s holding eye contact with you. “I kinda, um, like you.”

You smile, he’s so dramatic for no reason. “I kinda like you, too. You’re not as awful as I thought you were.”

“Thank you, but that’s not really what I meant by that.” He has a slight grimace on his face, like he’s scared that what comes out of his mouth next will hurt him in some way.

“What did you mean then?” He still seems hesitant, scared even. “You can tell me, bubs. I don’t bite.”

He takes a deep breath, settling himself. “I meant, I have feelings. For you.” You feel like your heart stops. All the breath is sucked from your lungs. Harry Styles? Likes you? “I don’t know for sure when they turned from ‘oh, she’s pretty and seems sweet’ to ‘I Wish that she didn’t hate me so maybe I’d have a chance’, but they did.” You feel him reach out and take your hand in yours, and all the emotions running through your body threaten to spill out. “And, trust me, I know that I treated you like shit and I don’t deserve you or your love but I just had to tell you.”

“Are you telling me that Harry Styles has a crush on me?” You ask, slightly chuckling.

“If that’s what you wanna call it, yeah.” He says, cheeks getting more and more red by the second.

You shake your head, not wanting to get too excited. He had a fever. Fevers can cause confusion and can make people think things that they don’t mean. “You don’t mean that. You have a fever, you'll feel different when you wake up in the morning.”

His face falls, and you immediately want to take back what you said. “I promise you that I won’t.”

“How do you know that?” You don’t think you could just forget the words that he’s saying to you.

“Because I didn’t just start feeling this way.” Relief surges through your body, and you can feel the tears start to prick at your eyes.

“Really?” You really won’t be able to handle it if this is all a side effect of the fever.

“Really.” He assures, brushing his thumb in soothing circles on your hand.

“Well, lucky for you, I happen to understand why you acted like you did and I think that you deserve me. I’m the one that doesn’t deserve you.” You had never thought that Harry would like you as any more than a friend, even before you actually met. All your friends had told you that you guys would be great together, you just had to meet him. You always had your doubts, though.

He scoffs, “Yeah, alright, we can pretend that’s true. You’re literally perfect.”

Your heart expands at his words, how does he always seem to know exactly what to say? “So are you, H. I’ve seen it for a long time, just didn’t wanna be the girl that loved you even though you hated me.”

HIs eyes widen and a smile covers his face. “You love me?”

“I’m getting there.” You admit.

“Come here.” He gestures for you to get closer.

You scramble towards him, getting as close as possible without physically climbing into the tub.

He leans in, closing the gap between the two of you, letting his lips ghost over yours for a moment before you pull back.

“Let’s rinse out your hair and then finish up and I’ll kiss you for real, alright?” There’s no way that you’ll be able to kiss him the way that you want to while he’s still sitting in the bathtub.

He nods and lets you continue. You rinse the conditioner out of his hair, then get up to leave the bathroom so that he can get dressed. Before you can walk away though, he grabs your hand and pulls you back. He makes a kissy face and you lean down to peck his lips, knowing that he’ll just pout until you give in.

Moments after you exit the bathroom, he walks out looking completely perfect. You can see the tiger tattoo on his thigh, and you make the mental note to kiss over it later.

“Kissy?” He asks, coming towards you and wrapping his arms around your waist.

You sling your arms around his neck, slotting your hands into your hair. You nod, leaning in to kiss him, for real this time.

He wastes no time in kissing you back, this one holding a lot more passion than you ever thought a kiss could hold.

Your lips are molding with his, fitting together like they’re the missing piece that you needed to complete your puzzle.

His tongue slides over your bottom lip, asking permission, which you gladly give, opening your mouth and letting his tongue explore.

You pull away after a moment to catch your breath. Looking up at him, you see everything that you had been missing. “Promise me this doesn’t change when we go back to our real lives.”

He brings his hand up, cupping your cheek. You lean into your touch. “I promise you that, as long as you’ll have me,” he kisses your forehead,  “I’ll always be right here to tell you that you’re beautiful,” your temples, “that you’re all I can think about.” your cheeks. “And, as long as you’ll let me, I’ll kiss you over and over again.” He finally lets his lips glide over yours again.

After he pulls away, you breathe, “Good, because I don;t think I’d be able to go back to normal after that.”

“Neither could I.” He assures you. “Come on, love, let’s go lay down.”

With that, you crawl into bed next to Harry, cuddling into his side. After a moment, he decides you're not close enough, pulling you in until your head is on his chest and your leg is thrown over his thighs. 

You smile in content as he kisses your forehead. Who would have thought that you’d be in this place, with him? Never in a million years could you have dreamed this up for yourself. And honestly, if someone had told you a mere weeks ago that you would be kissing Harry and falling asleep next to him, you would have laughed in their face, probably even asked them if they had gone mental.

But now, here you were, laying cuddled up with the man that makes your entire world seem to light up, and you couldn’t be happier. It had been a rocky road getting here, but you would go through that day on the yacht a million times as long as you ended up back here, held tightly in his arms.

Listening to the beat of his heart, to the way that his breaths are evening out die to the comfort that having you near him brings, you drift off to sleep

*

You’re being shaken awake much too earlier, and you turn to gripe at whoever chose to wake you up. But then you realize that it’s Harry, and your face immediately softens.

“Hey, you.” He says, pecking your nose.

“Hey, why are we up so early?” You grumble.

He chuckles. “We’ve got a plane to catch.” You audibly groan, probably a lot more dramatic than it has to be. “Come on, it’s time to get out stuff together. Gotta go back to the real world.”

You sigh, not wanting to go, but you know that you have to, so you stumble out of bed and get all your stuff together. 

You scramble to ensure that everything’s ready, even making sure that you clasp your new necklace on your neck and slide the new ring on your finger.

Once you zip up your bag and stand up, wracking your brain to make sure that everything is in order, Harry comes up behind you and wraps his arms around you. You immediately lean into his embrace.

“You look really fucking cute in my clothes.” He mumbles, pressing his face into your hair.

“Why thank you, never got your tour hoodie, thought I’d see how it looked.” You smirk, knowing that you had, in fact, received a tour hoodie, you just hadn’t worn it yet.

He says nothing about that, though, just groaning, “It looks fantastic.” before pushing away from your body.

“Are you ready?” He asks, looking over all the packed bags, and then over to you. HIs eyes stop at the ring around your neck, heart swelling in pride that you’re wearing his ring.

“Yeah, don’t wanna go, but I know I have to. I’ve gotta go back to work.” You groan.

“I meant what I said last night, you know?” He blurts, and you can’t help but feel relieved. He had been acting like he meant it, but the verbal confirmation made you feel even better.

“Which part?” You say, playing coy.

“All of it.” He promises. “Every single word.”

You hum in content, walking back into his arms and pressing into his chest. “I mean what I said too.”

You pull away after a moment, walking to pack your stuff into the car.

After dropping off the rental car and going through the motions of getting ready and boarding the plane, you finally sit down, right next to Harry. This time, though, you aren’t dreading the plane ride.

*

After the plane lands, Harry throws you his keys, telling you that Sam and Lexi were supposed to have dropped the car off with his extra set an hour prior. He assures you that he’ll get your luggage.

“I can tell you’re tired, sweets, go on to the car, okay?” You nod in agreement before heading out to the parking lot to find his car.

On the ride back to your apartment, you doze off in the passenger seat, his hand on your knee and fingers tracing random patterns lulling you to sleep.

He wakes you up by kissing all over your face, and you must admit that it’s probably the best way for someone to wake you up. Well, not just anyone, just him.

He gets your bags from the trunk, walking you to the door. As you’re about to go inside, he kisses your cheek, letting his mouth linger there for a moment. “Can I come over later? Gotta put up my stuff and check the mail, but I wanna see you again.”

You smile. You’d like to see him again, too. “Yeah, sure. Just come over whenever.” 

He leans down and gives you a quick peck on the corner of your mouth before heading home.

In the time that you’re alone, you put everything away that you ended up not wearing and throw the dirty clothes in the wash.

As you’re fixing yourself dinner (which is arguably enough for two, but that’s just a coincidence...maybe), you hear a knock on your door. 

You rush over, checking through the hole to make sure that it’s Harry. When you open the door, he immediately sweeps you up into a hug. “God, I missed you.”

“You were gone for less that three hours, H.” You breathe.

“I know, but I still missed you.” He pulls back from you slightly, still keeping his arms wrapped around your waist. “Am I not allowed to miss my girl?”

Your heart skips a beat. “Your girl?”

“Um, fuck, I- you don’t have to- don’t feel pressured.” You cut him off by placing your lips on his.

“Calm down, H.” You urge.

“It’s just, I don’t know, do you want to be my girlfriend?” He asks, eyes looking down between the two of you at his shoes. 

“God, yes.” You clear your throat, realizing how desperate you probably sounded. “I mean, yeah. But I’m not gonna be able to be like all your other girlfriends were.”

“What do you mean by that?” He wonders.

“I can’t just drop everything and come with you while you’re on tour.” You give him an apologetic look. You know how much he loves having his girl with him while he’s performing. “I can’t go on excessive vacations with you, and by excessive I mean for months at a time. I don’t get paid to stand around and look pretty like the rest of them did.”

“I don’t want you to be like the rest of them were. I want you to be you.” He says, stroking your cheek with his hand. “Plus, I mean, you could technically come on tour with me as part of my crew if you wanted.” He suggests. “Be one of the photographers, or help me get everything ready. That could be your new job if you were interested.”

“Harry, I couldn’t ask you to do that.” You argue. “That’s just another person that’ll have to be paid. I didn’t do anything to get those positions anyway.” You know that all of the people on his crew were exceptionally talented, and that just wasn’t you.

“You let me see how wonderful you are at photography, that’s what you did.” You’re surprised that he remembers that. You had only shown him your work once. And it was the only time when the two of you were enemies that he didn’t have anything rude to say.

“H…” You’re still not sure about the idea. Of course, it would be fun, but you really have no business being there.

“Please? I don’t think I can go months on end without seeing you.” He whines. “I could barely go three hours.”

“Fine.” You give in. “But only if I get to stand in the audience and watch the show at least a couple times.” You had always wanted to see one of his shows from the audience, to see how well he interacted with everyone.

“Deal.” He says without hesitation.

“Alright, fine. I’ll go.” You concede. He does a mini celebration, shimmying his body slightly.

“You wanna go tell our friends after dinner, baby?” You suggest.

“Baby? I like it.” He says, blushing because of the pet name.

“I mean, you are my boyfriend now.” You reason, but also just liking the way that it sounds coming out of your mouth.

“That’s true, love. And yeah, let’s go tell our friends after dinner.” He leads you to the kitchen, fixing the both of you a plate and sitting down with you to eat.

*

After you clean up from dinner, you head out to the bar that your friends told you to meet them at.

You walk into the bar hand in hand with Harry. He sits in the booth first, dragging you in after him. 

“Do you wanna tell them?” You lean in and whisper into Harry’s ear.

He just nods, turning to Lexi and Sam. “Um, guys, we’re kinda, um, dating.” 

“Okay.” Sam says. Lexi nods, looking completely unfazed.

“What?” How are they being so calm about this?

“We figured it would happen. The chemistry between the two of you is impeccable. You had more passion towards each other when being dickheads than either of you have for anything else. It was just a matter of time.” Lexi explains, as if it’s completely obvious.

How they knew it was going to happen, you have no clue. You couldn’t even see yourself ending up with him. But maybe it was because you didn’t have the outside perspective. 

*

A few months later, you’re on a tour bus to the first venue, and you can already feel the adrenaline running through your veins. 

The very first show, you watch from the audience, taking in the scene. Seeing how his fans react, how he works the audience.It was good to study the subject before photographing them. 

Also, though, getting to watch your man live his dream is pretty exhilarating. And getting to go along for the ride with him is even better.

*

Thank you for reading!! You can come discuss with me here!!

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[all-my-love-for-harry]

Shower thoughts and long walks.

summary: Harry forces Y/N to go for a hike. 

word count: 1.4k

a/n: i decided to join @fallinharry ‘s celebration a wrote a little something, hope you like it <3

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Y/N hated hiking. In fact, she hated any physical activity that could possibly make her sweat. There was something about having literal water coming out of her pores that made her creep out.

Harry, her boyfriend, of course knew about this, however he did enjoy a good hike. He was a very active person, always going for morning runs and constantly spending time at the gym. But right now they were stuck in California in the middle of a pandemic, so he had to stick with his daily runs.

But besides loving hiking, Harry also loved spending time with his girlfriend. And would constantly try to convince her to go outside with him in the mornings, as she has been in the house for far too long in Harry’s opinion. He was very persistent but Y/N was yet to agree to his idea.

“You haven’t been out in a week” he said to her one morning.

“That’s not true, i watered the plants in the garden today!” she defended herself.

Harry gave her a look. “That’s not what I meant, love. When was the last time you got out of the house?”

“I don’t know, wednesday? Kind of hard going outside while being in lockdown” she shrugged.

“You can’t stay in the house for that long, it’s bad for you” he said while flipping a pancake. “What about you join me for a run tomorrow and-”

“Can’t I just get the groceries next time?” she groaned.

“No, you know I don’t want you to expose yourself like that”

“But you wanna take me for a run in the streets?” she raised an eyebrow. Y/N knew he just wanted to look after her, but God, she hated running.

Harry sighed, knowing that despite his best efforts, he wouldn’t even be able to get her out of bed the next day. He thought for a little bit before a grin formed on his face, giving away to her that he has had an idea.

One that she would probably hate, but an idea nonetheless.

“I’ll take you on a hike” he said with a big smile, as if he didn’t just made her want to die.

“Ugh, nooo” she frowned. “You know I don’t like hiking. It makes you sweat and be sticky, you’d also take me very high and I’m scared of heights”

Harry rolled his eyes at his girlfriend’s excuses. “Then I’ll take you in the afternoon, before the sun sets. That way, you’ll not sweat as much and the sun won’t bother you”

“But what about the height?”

“We will not go that high” he shrugged.

“And the bugs?”

“There won’t be any, Y/N” he groaned, starting to grow frustrated. “Stop making excuses”

Y/N sighed dramatically before saying “Then I guess I’ll go” at her words, Harry started cheering, making a little victory dance before lifting his girl in a hug.

“We’ll have so much fun watching the sun set, you’ll see”

°°°

Afternoon came quicker than Y/N thought. She spent all day trying to make Harry forget about their hiking date, making him watch a movie or two and even gave him a blowjob in the middle of one. But no matter what she did, Harry was just so excited to do this with her. He couldn’t stop grinning like a little kid in a candy shop, making her want to both melt in his arms and punch him in the face.

You’ll think she was overreacting, but she wasn’t an athletic person at all. She was the least coordinated person you’d ever meet, so she gave up at trying sports a long time ago. Plus her hate for sweating, and heights… and bugs.

But every time she looked at Harry, all happy and excited for taking her hiking, she remained herself that she had to do her best to at least not die before they got there.

Y/N started changing after Harry, taking her time to undress herself, slightly hoping and praying he would change his mind before it was time to go.

But of course he wouldn’t.

“Why are you still in your underwear? We gotta get going, darling” he burst into the room, already dressed in a pair of black shorts and a black hoodie. “You haven’t change your mind, haven’t you?”

Yes.

“Of course not, baby”

Grabbing a pair of baking shorts and a hoodie from Harry’s merch, she changed quickly before sitting on the bed to put her shoes on.

“Lemme help you” Harry kneeled before her to tie her sneakers, knowing he would do it faster than her. “Okay, we’re ready to go” he said excitedly.

Y/N had to take a deep breath before getting out the house and told herself she was going to have fun with her boyfriend, so she needed to stop whining.

They got on the car and Harry drove to the Griffith Park. After no longer than fifteen minutes they arrived to their destination. The park looked very intimidating in Y/N’s eyes, but she remembered Harry told her they wouldn’t go that high and her nerves died down a little.

“I packed water and sunscreen, oh and don’t forget the mask” he said, handing her a black, reusable face mask. “Ready?”

“I can feel my death already, let’s go” she dramatized, hopping off the car.

“If you’re nice I’ll carry you back” he joked, pushing her shoulder playfully. She narrowed her eyes.

“I hope you eat a bug”

°°°

The couple had been walking for half an hour now. Y/N had taken off her hoodie, after feeling a thin line of sweat on her forehead, leaving her in a black sports bra.

She looked like she was dying, but Harry was thriving. He was having the time of his life, enjoying the beautiful view Los Angeles had to offer them and holding the love of his life’s hand the entire time. It wasn’t until Y/N tripped over a rock that she noticed how high they actually were.

She immediately clung to him as if her life depended on it, growing terrified when the same rock she tripped over fell off the cliff.

“You said we weren’t going high!” she protested but kept walking anyway.

“I know I did, but if we want to watch the sun set we’ll have to go a little higher. The view it’s worth it, I promise”

“If I fall, I’m taking you with me” she pointed a finger at him.

“Yes, ma’am”

Harry led the way to his favorite spot to watch the sun set, and kept a strong grip on her hand, knowing that in any moment she will grow anxious by being this high. And when she was feeling anxious, she wouldn’t stop talking.

“Most dogs have siblings that they will never see again” she blurted.

Here we go.

“That’s… and interesting thing to think about” he said.

“If you die before someone else does, does that mean you’ve beaten them to death?” she asked.

“I… guess?”

“If Pinocchio says his nose is going to grow… will it grow?”

“I don’t think so” he tried to keep up with her questions.

“You live the anniversary of your death day every year without knowing”

“That’s pretty dark, love” Harry chuckled.

“When you close both eyes you see black, but when you close one eye it sees nothing. Have you notice?” she said, closing both of her eyes then opening just one, trying to prove her point.

“That’s oddly true” he said, trying it himself.

She was lost in thought for a second before looking back at him. “Hey... what do you think happens? You know, like, after we die and stuff.”

He blinked, amused yet concerned about how her mind would come up with so many things at a time when she was anxious. He knew she just wanted to divert her attention off of the fact she was literally climbing a cliff where she could potentially die, not that Harry would let that happen anyway.

“Okay, enough of the shower thoughts, we’ve arrived!” he exclaimed, dropping her hand just so he could wrap his arms around her shoulders. “Look at the view, my love” he sighed happily, squeezing her slightly.

Y/N visibly relaxed at his touch and sighed happily herself. The sun was setting and the sky was a mix between yellow, orange and blue… or was it purple? She didn’t know because she was too busy looking up to the man who was responsible for her being there. He wore a dimpled smile, already feeling her eyes on him but refusing to look down at her.

“Oi, what are you doing looking at me when we have this view?”

“Surprisingly, you’re so much prettier to look at”

“What do you mean surprisingly?”

#harry styles imagine #harry styles #harry styles one shot #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #harry styles fluffy imagine #harry styles fluff #harry styles fluff fic #harry styles fic #harry styles imagines #harry styles fanfic #fallinharry10k

[iwannaholdyoutight-]

Oh, my love (pour me that jack and coke)

Summary: only one more time won’t make any difference, right?

Warnings: FWB!harry, smut. Just the life I wanted to live, honestly.

Wordk count: 3K (small one, sorry, my job and uni are kind of hard right now)

My masterlist

A/n: heeey guys I’m back this time with a fic for @stylesharrys 10k celebration. I got the prompt FWB!harry: “you’re alright, love? You seem a bit flustetered”. Don’t forget to support the other authors who are participating on the challenge HERE. And the singer they listen at the festival that takes place in the flashback is this ONE. 

PREVIEW

Natalie Portman was dancing with her pink wing on the tv and y/n could feel Harry’s eyes on her, hands touching her right arm in a flirtatious behavior. He was wearing a white shirt and black running shorts. She looked at him and his intense eye stare was running through her, she was feeling his desire; the sensual scene only adding to the fire that was always between them and since last satuday increased to a wildfire. She wanted to sit on his lap and give the actress on the tv a run for her money, giving him the best lap dance ever. 

“Have you ever recieved a lap dance?”

“Yeah. Have you ever given one?”

“No” she said timidly, suddenly feeling insecure.

“Do you want to give me one?” Harry asked with hooded eyes and a smirk on his face, tha last rays of sunshine paiting his face a beautiful golden tone, letting his eyes look clear, almost blue. 

“Do you think is a good idea that we do this one more time?”

He smirk at her, his hands fully incansing her face:

“I mean... only one more time won’t make any difference, right?”

They were sitting together at the coffee just down from their work place. Y/n was staring at the judgmental eyes of her best friend, Natasha. Her black eyes looked like two grapes because of her wide stare. 

“It’s not a big deal” y/n said, drinking from her cappuccino with a douple shot and a hint of mint essence. 

“He’s your best friend”

“Who can I trust more to fuck me without breaking my heart than my best friend?”

“You don’t think NOTHING could go wrong?”

Nat was raising her voice, a little bit surprised that her childhood friend just told her that Harry fucked her just  6 days ago, at the Lights festival

“I don’t know if I want to know more or ask you to never talk about it”

“Are you sure you don’t want me to tell you if the rumors are true?”

“You are a little bitch. Tell me all of it”

6 days ago...

She was seeing the worlds in colors. The woman singing on the staged was called Sevdaliza and she had the most sensual music ever.

Harry, just like her, was high and they both ended up loosing their friends in the middle of the crowd. Y/n looked at Harry with his glittery yellow shirt and white jeans. He looked like he fit the part: graduated from film school, always writing poetry and reading them at the coffee next to his house. He was celebrating: his script was going to be shot, the small production office decided to endorse his project and he was on cloud nine.

Quite differently from the time she met him: undergrad student, insecure about his art. She worked as a designer and photographer and met him at a visual arts masterclass a few years back, when they were both on their early twenties. Now, each day closer to reaching the big 30s, they were the best of friends. Always together.

Y/n always thought they had nothing but friendship, but now, so close to him, listening to Sevdaliza voice melt the audience of the festival, with his cinnamon smell so tangible in the air and his bird warmt so close: she wasn’t so sure if it was just friendship.

And she can’t deny, she was curious if the rumors were true: was he THAT good in bed or all the lovers of his she ever met were just easily impressed?

What she didn’t spect was for Harry to also have the same questions. He was just behind her getting closer and closer till both of his arms were around her waist and he was crouching so his face could fit like a pluzze in the curve where her neck met her shoulder.

“You smell good” Harry said in a low voice that was meant just for her

“H, what are you doing?”

“I was just wondering...” he was using his hands to turn her around but not releasing her from him, his nose touching hers, his mint breath blinding all of her senses “we are so good together, always helping each other out, figuring it out exactly just what the other wants. So... maybe... you and I could make quite a pair on the sheets...” that only thing Harry got wrong the night was about the sheets: they fucked in her living room.

Now

If you ask y/n she doesn’t remember who kissed who. But they kissed till the show was over and next thing she knew they were sharing a uber back to her place. Nat was staring at her like she had comitted a crime. She wasn’t planning on telling anyone, thinking it was a one time thing. But she was surprised when during a presentation during work she god a text from Harry asking if she wanted to go back to his place after work and maybe have a repeat of last Saturday and Nat was right beside her.

So she had to tell. But judging by Nats reaction, it would have been better if she had lied about it.

“You’re still going to his place. Even if you know what might happen?”

“I mean... is another time really going to make any difference?”

Latter that day

The bus was moving slowly, the 5 o’clock traffic was the worse: nobody had patience, everybody with a 9-5 job was just crazy to finally get home and be able to rest.

From the bus window y/n could see the sky painting the city, the golden light was starting to make itself aware, combining with the aesthetic of the old buildings and bridges.

That’s probably one of her favorite things to do: observe the town she lived in; that city was just so beautiful. There was a contrast of the old with the new. The sun reflecting on the river, calm as ever, while people were running across the streetwalks, dreaming of a homecooked meal and a place to rest.

The bus was taking a left, ready to cross the revolving bridge. Harry’s place was getting closer and she could feel her stomach starting to turn with anxiety  all of it in the forms of butterflies.

Harry’s place was above an old movie place, people say the building dates back to the 1930s: 5 floors, the first being an old movies that still worked, only showcasing indie movies and oldies from the 40-80s. She remembers the first time she ever visited Harry, they talked for hours to end and then they went to the screening of a Doris Day festival. She went home that day singing to herself the theme song of the movie Pillow Talk, thinking to herself why she never went to an old movie theater till that day.

After getting off the bus, she walked just around 10 meters till she was face to face with the old movie theater sign. Today they would have a screening of shorts films from the 40s from 6 to 8 pm and then they would showcase the new movie based on Gloria Steinem’s best seller memoire called The glorias. Maybe if they were done till 10pm she could catch the movie.

Harry’s apartment was on the second floor, with a wooden door, a cat tapestry underneath saying: meowcom. She never thought it was funny but when they saw it at the street fair last year he laughter so hard at it she decided to give him as a Secret Santa gift.

“Don’t you look tired yet dashing this fine evening , miss” said his voice once he opened the door. Stepping aside so she could come in.

She went for a hug, he went for a kiss: they nocked their foreheads.

“Fuck why does your head have to be so big” she asked while taking her shoes off and walking towards his strawberry shaped sofa.

“You can’t expect me to be a movie genius with a small head, right?”

“The question is: what head are you talking about?”

“You know I have both heads quite big, so I don’t know why you asked” he took her purse from her, resting the object on the small table he had set closer to the door so he could always throw whatever he had in his hands there. Y/n took the moment to appreciate how he looked today: baby pink flare trousers and a graphic shirt, he was barefoot but with his rings still on his fingers; she knew he got home not too long ago.

“Harry what is that smell” she was referring to the tangerine smell that was all around his place

“Oh, it’s this tangerine essence oil I got from my upstairs neighbor... you know that one that always reads your tarot?”

“You’re talking about the witch?”

“Yeah, she prefers to refer herself as Wicca but yeah, her. She gave it to me to clean my energy now that I have this big project. And it smells quite nice, doesn’t?”

“Yeah it does” she could feel his eyes on her while she was playing with her nails “so what do you wanna do today?”

“I was thinking we could watch a movie here and then we can see where we wanna go from there?”

“do you have any jack and coke?”

He smirked at her and said:

“With ice?”

The night was young and it was only starting...

After a few glasses and a heated conversation about what movie they were going to watch, they both settled for closer because of the crush they shared on the cast.

Natalie Portman was dancing with her pink wing on the tv and y/n could feel Harry’s eyes on her, hands touching her right arm in a flirtatious behavior. He had changed his outfit, now wearing a white shirt and black running shorts. She looked at him and his intense eye stare was running through her, she was feeling his desire; the sensual scene only adding to the fire that was always between them and since last satuday increased to a wildfire. She wanted to sit on his lap and give the actress on the tv a run for her money, giving him the best lap dance ever.

“Have you ever recieved a lap dance?”

“Yeah. Have you ever given one?”

“No” she said timidly, suddenly feeling insecure.

“Do you want to give me one?” Harry asked with hooded eyes and a smirk on his face, tha last rays of sunshine painting his face a beautiful golden tone, letting his eyes look clear, almost blue.

“Do you think is a good idea that we do this one more time?”

He smirk at her, his hands fully incansing her face:

“I mean… only one more time won’t make any difference, right?”

With that being said, he turned the movie off and she got up from the couch, going to the bathroom and started to look at herself on the mirror

“You know what you need to do. You’ve never done it yourself but you know, I know he has more experience but he is your friend. Nothing can go wrong because he can help you. You both thrust each other and when it comes to sex consent and thrust are the two most important things. You have both with him.”

While y/n was having a mental breakdown over a lap dance, Harry was excited with the idea, cleaning the pizza they were eating and taking the now empty cups of jack and coke back to the kitchen.

He didn’t tell anyone but he was so glad they fucked last Saturday. It just made everything better. She didn’t have to know about how he always had the hots for her. She didn’t have to know that sometimes he would take people to his bed and picture they were her. And she definitely didn’t have to know that another time does make a difference to him.

Diming the lights and looking for the perfects songs to go on about this night. He was shaking with anticipation. After choosing to just play Childsish Bambino (you can never go wrong with that guy) he sat on the couch and that was the moment she opened the door of his bathroom. She had taken off her pants, just with her social shirt loose on her body, with the buttons down to the middle of her chest, her hair always messy and her very colored lips looking so delicious, just waiting for him to say “come here” and she would go... like a little puppy.

“I have never done this so you need to be nice to me”

“Darling... I’m always nice”

She walked over to him, but stopping halfway, going on her fours and crawling her way to him.

“I still have a lot of bite marks on my boobs that prove the exact opposite” now standing in front on him, on her knees, spreading him open, with her tint hands massaging his thighs, marking her way to his short “you don’t mind if I take off your shorts right” she was with her face inching closer to his legs, resting her head right on top of the tiger tattoo, teasing him “I have never given someone a lap dance but I do know that the less clothe, the better if feels”

With both of her hands she took off his pants while he got rid of his shirt. Standing still she admired his body, why did she waited so much to get on it with him? He was soft on the sides but with a strength beneat the bones, with a few abs and chest bigger than most. Green fucked up eyes and rosy lips. He deserved to be on all of the screens, all of the stages, not living in a small flat above an old movie theater.

“You know” Harry broke the silence “for one to give a lap dance she must actually be on top of him”

She didn’t answered him, instead sitting herself on his knees not allowing him any more than that touch. With the tips of his fingers he started to trace her face, admiring her. She was a beacon of light, with every color shining inside her eyes, every sin could be found in her lips but every prayer was found on the way she would blush at his words.

Putting her hair behind her shoulder she got closer and closer to him, using her knees on either side of his body to help her move. Feeling his warmth. She didn’t know how to give a lap dance but she knows him. She knows what makes his knees buckle and what makes him shiver. She was going to make him her little puppy. So with all the confidence she could muster, biting his vein that was always apparent on the neck, her hips started to move.

He was semi hard but the more she moved, the more she could feel him getting harder. That was one of the things she loved the most about sex: the foreplay.

“You know” she got back to talking, not stopping her hips, using her hands to tease all of his body “when we are like this is when I remember how much I’ve always wanted you”

“Fuck, love. You’re going to kill me”

“Oh my love, you have not seen a thing” with one of her hands she started to take off her shirt, leaving her with a rose gold brallete that matched her barely there panties “You alright, love? Look a bit flustered.”

She was mocking him, trying to copy his British accent but that only got him a side smile while his eyes were fixated on the way her nipples could be seen through the piece of glittery fabric. She was having so much fun

“You know” Harry said trying to get a bit of his control back “when you talk like this, you drive me fucking mad” with one hand climbing on her back, till he reached for her roots, tugging on it, now she didn’t knew it she was the one in control  “when you mess with my neck, or when I pull your thighs further apart and I can feel just how wet you actually are and then you kiss me and I’m closer to the point of no return”

With a hand behind and knee he got up, changing position and spreading her all over the tapestry on the floor, the fluffy blood red velvet matching with her skin. He now had the upper hand and he was going to make a good use of it.

With his kisses going down her neck, he started to rut his body against her. Her moisture could be felt throught his underwear and there was nothing that Harry wanted more than to fully ravish the defenseless girl panting underneath his tattooed body. Glistening with sweat and moaning without an ounce of regret.

He wanted her to know he was the only one that could do this to her. With his hand playing with her breast while the other was getting closer and closer to her mound, he looked at her. With her open mouth and closed eyes, out of a painting that deserved its place on the Louvre. He decided to use her own words against her:

“You alright, love? Look a bit frustrated”

“You asshole just fuck me already”

“Yeah, I’ll fuck you good. But only if you promise to stay the night”

“Is this really a good idea?”

“One more time won’t make any difference, right?”

Laughing at the irony she pulled him closer. They had a deal... because it won’t make any difference, right?

But it did.

#harry styles #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles smut #harry styles x reader #fwb harry #harry fic #harry styles blurb #harry styles imagine #fallinharry10k

[hstyleshoney]

flawed - h.s

AU she has a new roommate and he’s not the worst 

Wordcount: 13K // slow-burn fluff with a small hint of angst and mutual-ish pining I suppose, strong language, alcohol use, sexual content

AN: This is my little College/Uni AU piece for @stylesharrys fallinharry10k celebration writing fest! And I got carried away. I’ve had the start of this in my drafts for like two years and this challenge kind of just got me motivated to finish it. I’m really happy with some parts of it and some I’m not so sure about...I hate endings... BUT I had really fun writing it and that is all that matters and hopefully someone will enjoy it. I’m just happy I managed to finish it after such a long time. I’d also really really appreciate some feedback on it so please share your thoughts! I don’t have too much experience writing like this so be nice pls haha. ENJOY! <3 

“Harry, you left your dirty dishes by the sink...  AGAIN!  Dunno how many times I have to remind you to clean up after yourself Put it away. Thx. :)”

Y/N took a deep breath to calm herself down and re-read the pink post-it note infront of her. He was going to be the death of her. He really was. Harry was in every other way the perfect roommate, well perfect was perhaps a bit excessive but he wasn’t the worst, except for the fact that he never took care of his stupid dirty dishes. It drove her mad. It took all her willpower to not smash his stupid little kermit the frog teacup into tiny little pieces whenever she saw it.

And yes, maybe it was irrational of her to get so worked up over a few dirty cups when everything else was going so well. But Y/N liked it when things were in order.

In the past two months that she had lived with Harry she had lost count of how many times she had asked him to wash up his used pans, plates and cups. The first time it happened she didn’t really mind. The second time -- also fine. But the third? That was when she started to get a little bit bothered. Because not only was it his dirty dishes from the same day. No. The plate and cup from the day before were still there on the counter as well. That was the first time she asked him to clean up after himself.

It was still fine though.

Y/N just told herself it was because Harry had previously lived in a student accommodation with a bunch of unruly boys and wasn’t used to picking up after himself. It was fine. He’d soon get it.

Only, he didn’t seem to get it.

Because weeks later she still had to remind him to wash up after he was done in the kitchen. It was like what she said to him went in one ear and out the other. It took her another week before she started suspecting he was leaving it out on purpose to irritate her, which well, it worked. It only annoyed her further.

The amount of tea that boy drank was truly worrying. She had been told she drank a lot of tea, but she seemed to have met her match in Harry. At least judging by all the cups he left around the flat. They were everywhere. Literally. She had even found one under the bathroom sink just a couple days ago and she didn’t even bother asking him how it got there. She had simply just left him a post-it note asking him to put it away.

Because she was certainly not going to go around and pick up after him. He was a grown boy and therefore capable of cleaning up after himself. She wasn’t his mother.

It was basic housekeeping.

She ripped the little pink post-it note off the pad and stuck it up on Harry’s bedroom door so he couldn’t possibly miss it. She stared at it for another minute, pleased with herself, before getting her backpack and left to go to her lecture. It was her own way of telling him off; leaving post-it notes for him. A more passive-aggressive approach had always been her preferred strategy, it made her feel slightly less annoying, and anytime she had left him a note in the morning the dirty dishes had magically disappeared when she came home later.

So there was no reason for her to stop leaving them for him.

--

Apart from that Harry really was the best roommate she could’ve asked for. The best one in the short amount of time she had had to find a new one anyways. Lexi, her very good friend from home and roommate before Harry, had decided to drop out of uni a week before courses were due to start again after summer; leaving her alone with a flat she couldn’t afford on her own. Y/N couldn’t be mad at her though because she knew how unhappy Lexi was in Manchester. She wasn’t enjoying her course and she missed her family. Y/N couldn’t force Lexi to stay just because she didn’t want to find a new roommate. She wasn’t that selfish.

It just wasn’t ideal. Everyone she knew already had a place to live and she was feeling pretty defeated about the whole thing. She liked her flat and didn’t want to give it up. Her parents offered to help her pay rent until she could find someone to live with again but she didn’t want to take her parents money. It didn’t feel right. So when her friend Lucy mentioned that her boyfriend Nate had a friend who needed a place to live she offered the mysterious man Lexi’s old room without a second thought.

Then Harry showed up outside her door two days later with a large suitcase and a couple of moving boxes.

They didn’t really talk all that much their first week of living together. He mostly kept to himself, trying to get settled in and get used to being back at uni after a long summer. All she knew about him at that point was that he was the same age as her and that he was studying music. Something she probably would’ve figured out sooner or later on her own, because every evening she could hear him play his guitar from inside his bedroom. She couldn’t complain though. It was quite soothing actually, and she wanted to tell him that.

But she also didn’t want him to feel uncomfortable knowing she laid awake listening to him play and then stop because he didn’t want her to eavesdrop.

So Y/N never said anything.

Their second week of living together was when she picked up on his annoying habit of leaving the kitchen a mess. It was also that week he offered to make her a cup of tea for the first time and she would never admit it outloud but it was probably the best cup of tea she had ever had.

But since he left his own cups all around the flat she also refused to tell him that.

By the third week they started having dinner together and asked each other about their days. They were slowly getting to know one another and Y/N realised for the first time that she did in fact enjoy Harry’s company. That Sunday they spent the entire evening binge watching the first season of a scandinavian crime drama on netflix and shared a tub of ice cream.  

Then they were suddenly in the same group of friends.

Because with Lexi gone Y/N started hanging out with Lucy more and Lucy was dating Nate and Harry was always hanging out with Nate. Which all just led to Tara, Declan and Connor always being around as well. Their flat had, since Harry moved in, turned into the hotspot for the gang to hang out at. She didn’t mind much, because she liked them and she had never really been a part of a group like them before. It was nice. Lexi moving had in a weird way been a blessing in disguise.

So there really wasn’t anything else to complain about when it came to Harry as a roommate.

Well, maybe one more thing.

And she usually met that reason every Sunday morning in their kitchen after a night out.

That Sunday however took a different turn than what she had gotten used to.

“You told me you didn’t have a girlfriend!”

“Harry,“ Y/N said slowly and narrowed her eyes at him. The girl next to them, whose hair was dyed a rich red color, was only clad in one of Harry’s old band t-shirts and stared at the two of them with frantic eyes.

“Y/N, babe, I’m so sorry,” Harry said and stared at Y/N pleadingly. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

“You’re unbelievable.”

“Can someone please tell me what’s going on!?” The red-haired girl demanded and crossed her arms over her chest and Y/N could’ve sworn she did a little stomp. “You told me last night that you were single!”

“Yes Harry, I’d love an explanation,” Y/N said and mimicked the redhead by crossing  her arms over her chest. She probably would’ve laughed if the situation had been any different because the stranger in the kitchen was glaring at Harry with such a hatred in her eyes and Y/N had never seen a girl look at him that way before. 

And it was still funny, but it would’ve been funnier if she wasn’t a part of it. Harry on the other hand only ignored the angry girl and kept the lie going, focusing on his roommate.

“Love, I’m so fucking sorry. It didn’t mean anything! I swear, I was drunk and-”

“Ugh, oh my god,” the redhead cried out, interrupting him. She was fuming and her face was as red as her hair. Before Y/N had the chance to say anything else, to resolve the situation, the redhead stepped forward and slapped Harry across the face. “You’re such a fucking asshole!”

Then she turned around and Y/N’s first instinct was to take a step back because that was how intimidating she looked with her red wild hair and red cheeks. But Y/N, very unexpectedly, found herself being embraced in a bone-crushing hug. “I’m so sorry! I swear I had no idea. He told me he didn’t have a girlfriend. You deserve so much better! Leave him.”

And just like that the girl was gone, marching back to Harry’s room to get changed into her own clothes again, and left the two of them alone in the kitchen. Y/N at loss for words and Harry rubbing the side of his face.

It didn’t take very long before the sound of the front door being slammed shut echoed through the flat and made the walls around them shake.

“You’re disgusting,” Y/N muttered then and walked past him to put the kettle on. She had a headache from all the wine she had consumed the previous night and whatever it was that had just happened hadn’t exactly helped her feel any better. She had only wanted a nice cup of tea, and maybe some toast. She had definitely not been prepared, nor expected, to be part of a terrible made-up triangle drama. Not this early.

“Aw, c’mon,” Harry laughed and finally let his face break out into a grin. “I’ve tried to get her to go home all morning but she wouldn’t take any hints. I had no choice.”

Y/N turned her head to glare at him and pointed a warning finger in his direction

“If you bring a girl back you get rid of her yourself. I want no part in your disgusting shenanigans,” she told him. “You deserved that slap.”

“I didn’t even say anything to her,” Harry said and hopped up to take a seat on the counter. “She just assumed.”

“Why would she even assume that?” Y/N asked and eyed him suspiciously “If I was your girlfriend I wouldn’t randomly appear in the kitchen the next morning in my pyjamas. You must’ve told her something.”

“I didn’t,” Harry denied and put his hands up, still grinning. She rolled her eyes. “I swear! She just assumed.”

“Yeah well, you shouldn’t have let her,” she told him and took out two slices of bread to put in the toaster. “Besides, do you have to bring a girl back every weekend?”

“Do you have to go on like five dates a week?”

“I don’t,” she glared at him again. Harry raised his eyebrows at her knowingly and she looked away from him as the next few words left her lips. “It was only three this week.”

“Oh right,” Harry laughed. “Excuse me.”

“Shut up.”

“At least I’m getting something good out of it,” he continued to laugh. “I still don’t understand why you have to go on so many dates all the time. What do you get out of it?”

“I wanna find love,” she shrugged. “Is that so bad?”

“No, not at all,” Harry told her. “But dating douchebags ain’t gonna bring you love.”

“Yeah because sleeping with someone new every weekend is so much better,” she replied sarcastically and watched as Harry slid down from the counter when the kettle made a small noise to let them know it was ready.

“Like I said,” he started with a smirk and took down two tea cups from the cupboard. “At least I get something good out of it. You should try.”

She rolled her eyes again but didn’t say anything else as her toast popped up from the toaster. Her dating life was a running joke among her friends and she had learned to ignore the comments they made. She wanted to find love, so she wasn’t going to sit around and wait for it. Some may say she was a bit desperate, and maybe she was, but it wasn’t her fault every guy she met was wrong for her. They were all either too clingy or too uncommitted.

Or maybe she was just a bit too picky.

Either way, she did go on a lot of dates when her schedule allowed her to. She wanted what everyone else around her seemed to have. Her parents acted more in love with each other every time she saw them, even after 30 years of marriage. One of her sisters had just gotten engaged to her long-term boyfriend and her oldest sister had been married for three years already and was expecting her second child. Her younger cousin got married that summer. Any time Y/N traveled back home all her relatives asked her when she was going to find herself a nice young man. It was exhausting. Y/N was stressed. Pressured. So she dated a lot. There was nothing wrong with that, yet people liked to mock her for it, especially Harry since he was the one who she came back home to after a bad date.

He’d usually burst into her room after a date, wanting all the details only so he could laugh about everything that had gone wrong. But then he also always made her a cup of tea and got her some biscuits.

He wasn’t the worst.

“Hey,” Harry said and held out the tea he had made for her. “You wanna watch an episode of The Bridge?”

Y/N stared at him for a second and for the first time ever her heart skipped a beat. It was no secret that Harry was unbelievably attractive, the kind of attractiveness that terrified you before you got to know him. If he hadn’t showed up outside her door she never would’ve had the guts to talk to him. After getting to know him though he was just Harry; her roommate.

But there was something about him right there and then, dressed casually in sweats and a plain t-shirt as he handed her a cup of tea in their kitchen, that just got to her. She quickly snapped herself out of her thoughts to stop her mind from wandering too far and took the tea from him. Must be the hangover.

“Sure, but only one episode,” she replied and picked up her plate of toast as well. “I have to read some shit for my seminar tomorrow and I can’t keep procrastinating.”

--

They ended up watching more than just one episode.

And Y/N never got around to reading the chapter she needed to read. She only skimmed through it on her way to her seminar, which is why she made a fool out of herself when the lecturer pointed straight at her and asked her to share her thoughts. She wanted to disappear.

And her day didn’t get any better when she stepped in dog shit on her way home.

And it certainly didn’t get any better when she accidentally knocked over her cup of tea and spilled it all over the rug. So instead of getting to lie on the couch and feel sorry for herself, like she had planned, she had to try and save the white rug from getting a stain. It wasn’t a great day.

It was also at that moment Harry came back home; when she was sitting on the floor, scrubbing the rug furiously and muttering profanities under her breath.

“You know,” Harry began to make his presence known. “There’s something about what you're doing right now that’s really turning me on.”  

Y/N stopped her scrubbing and looked up at him, not impressed by his joke or by the stupid smirk on his face.

“Oh fuck off,” she swore and simply raised her hand and her middle finger at him. “Or make yourself useful and get some baking soda or something.”

“Bad day?” he asked while putting his guitar case down. She only glared at him.

“What do you think?”

“I’ll just get the baking soda.”

“Good choice.”

They cleaned the rug together and after a good half an hour of scrubbing and googling the best tricks to remove tea stains they managed to save it from getting ruined. Y/N slumped down on the couch again, exhausted and defeated, and took a few deep breaths in an attempt to calm herself down.

What a shit day.

Harry made her a new cup and put away everything they had used to get rid of the spilled one before joining her on the small couch.

“You wanna talk about it?” he asked and squeezed his brows together, uncertain how to approach her.  

“I just had a shit day,” she sighed deeply. “Completely fucked up my seminar.”

“I’m sure you didn’t.”

“Ha!” Y/N scoffed. “No, I did. But it was my own fault though, so I can't really cry about it.”

“Well,” Harry scratched the back of his head. “Can I do anything to make you feel better? We could get some pizza and watch a movie or something?”

“I can’t,” she grumbled. “I have an assignment I have to finish by Wednesday and considering how shit I did today I have to focus. I can’t fuck this up too.”

“You have to eat something though.”

“Yeah, I will. I’ll just heat up some of that leftover pasta later or something,” she assured him and maybe if she hadn’t been so frustrated with herself she wouldn’t have confused the way her heart was racing inside her chest with stress; when in reality it was beating extra for the green eyed boy next to her.

Y/N stayed in her room for the rest of the afternoon into the evening, reading and typing away. She wouldn’t say it was going well, but she didn't want to throw her computer out the window and she always appreciated those rare moments.

She could also hear Harry roaming around in the rest of the flat and later on the low strum of his guitar. She smiled to herself when she heard it and didn’t even realise she was humming along to the melody he was playing until he stopped.

And it wasn’t until her stomach growled loudly that she remembered she hadn’t actually had any dinner yet. She made sure to save her work, hitting ‘save’ an extra time because you could never save a document too many times, before closing her laptop and standing up. Her muscles ached from how long she had been in the same position and she winced a little as she stretched them out.

Then her stomach rumbled and she was once again reminded of how hungry she was. It was nearing 11 pm and she hadn’t eaten anything since lunch, which was not good, and she kind of regretted not accepting Harry’s offer about getting pizza before.

But when she made it into the kitchen there was a pink post-it note on the fridge, only this time she wasn’t the one who put it there.

I got some pizza earlier, saved you a few slices in case you want some instead of that old pasta xx H :)

A warm feeling spread through her body as she read his little note, and she couldn’t help but notice that Harry had a surprisingly neat handwriting. It was cute. Both the handwriting and the message. It put a smile on her face.

While the pizza was being reheated she decided to go find Harry and thank him for the nice gesture. She was just about to knock on his door when she noticed that the TV was still on and she spotted him on the couch.

Asleep.

And it was probably cuter than both his handwriting and the message combined.

His whole body took up the small couch; his legs dangled over the armrest and he had his arms crossed over his chest to make himself smaller. There was a slight frown on his face, presumably from the dream he was having, but it was endearing in a way to still see him so relaxed. He had changed out of the blue jeans he had worn last time she saw him and had on his black shorts and the knitted jumper he always just wore around the flat. He looked comfortable. Homely.

A part of her wanted to run back to her room and get her phone so she could snap a picture of him before he woke up.

But an even bigger part of her stopped her from doing so because it felt inappropriate to take a picture of him sleeping. She wasn’t so sure Harry would appreciate her taking pictures of him without him knowing either. So she refrained.

Then, almost like he could feel her watching him sleep like a total creep, he slowly blinked his eyes open, and honestly... it was probably the cutest thing yet. She blushed as he caught her staring.

“Oh, hey,” he said, his voice low and rough, and rubbed his eyes to get the sleep out of them. “What time is it?”

“Mm it’s about 11.”

“Shit, didn’t realise I fell asleep,” he grumbled and sat up, running a hand through his hair. “Did you finish your assignment?”

“Almost,” she told him and smiled softly. “Thanks for the pizza.”

“No worries,” he said and matched her smile.

“Also, I’m sorry for being so cranky before. I was just a bit stressed.”

Harry shook his head.

“It’s okay,” he reassured her. “We’ve all been there.”

Y/N ended up joining him on the couch for a bit after the pizza was done. They didn’t talk much while she ate and Harry flicked through the channels on the TV, before he eventually decided on an old romcom. 

When Harry had first shown up outside the flat she had been nervous about living with him. She had only ever lived with girls before, but it had been easier to get along with him than she had first expected. Not that she had heard anything bad about him; Lucy had nothing but nice things to say when she first told her about Nate’s friend who needed a place to live.

She had just assumed it was going to be harder to live with a boy compared to a girl. But Harry made it easy, aside from the dirty dishes and the unknown women in her kitchen Sunday mornings of course, and he was slowly becoming one of her closest friends. While it was terrifying it also felt like the most natural thing. Like he was meant to be in her life.

Which is why she felt so stupid for what happened next.

“They make love seem so easy in these romcoms,” Y/N complained with a huff. “Why don’t I have a gorgeous guy pining after me? I just want someone to have a secret crush on me and then make a big grand gesture. Is that too much to ask?”

“How do you know you don’t?” Harry questioned and she snorted.

“I highly doubt it. Who would that be?”

Harry shrugged.

“Who knows,” he said. “It’s kinda the point of having someone secretly crushing on you, innit?”

“Oh whatever,” she grumbled and Harry laughed. “You have no say in this. I see the way girls stare at you whenever we go out. You probably have a handful of secret admirers. ”

“Are you forgetting the fact that you go on more dates than the rest of us combined?” Harry pointed out and raised his brows at her. “You probably have more admirers than anyone else I know.”

“Not true.”

“So true,” Harry insisted. “You need to stop trying so hard and maybe just let love find you instead.”

“That’s probably the most cliche thing someone has ever told me,” she said and rolled her eyes. “What am I supposed to do then? Sit around and twiddle my thumbs and wait for someone to come knocking on our door and say they love me?”

“No, not at all,” Harry frowned. “I just think that maybe you need to open your eyes and take a step back. Lower your expectations and don’t be so picky. You’re not going to find Prince charming. No one is flawless.”

“You know what? It’s too late to be having this conversation,” she told him and stood up. There was something about what he just said that made her heart sink a little inside her chest. “I’m going to bed.”

“Hey, you okay?” Harry said and caught her wrist to stop her from leaving. “I didn’t mean to offend you.”

“It’s okay,” she said and swallowed thickly. “I’m just tired. It’s been a long day.” His hand was hot on her skin and she couldn’t take her eyes away from his long fingers and how he traced his thumb across her wrist in small circles. 

“I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologise.”

He really didn’t. Y/N wasn’t sure why she had suddenly gotten so upset; why she took what he said to heart. It made her feel like a brat almost. She was used to people making fun of her dating life but she didn’t like this. 

She didn’t want people to think she was shallow or impossible to please. Especially not Harry.  

Because that wasn’t the case. There were plenty of good guys out there and she was far from perfect herself. She had a lot of flaws. Y/N had just never clicked with anyone in the way she wanted to and she wasn’t going to get into a relationship with someone she didn’t feel she connected with one hundred percent.

“Okay,” Harry said with a heavy sigh and let go of her wrist. “Goodnight then.”

“Night.”

Harry still had a frown on his face as he watched her take her plate back into the kitchen and Y/N could feel her pulse racing as she felt his eyes on her. It was awkward and she was embarrassed for how she had just handled everything. It wasn’t even a big deal. He hadn’t said anything she hadn’t thought of herself before. Harry was just giving her advice. 

So why did she feel so upset? 

It was the first time she had ever gotten even the tiniest bit self-conscious about the amount of dates she went on, and as she crawled into bed she couldn’t help but wonder if she felt like this because it was Harry.

It was also the first time she realised she cared a lot about what he thought of her.

She wanted Harry to like her.

--

Y/N got her period a day later and just like that everything she had felt on Monday made so much sense. Of course. Luckily everything was completely fine between her and Harry the morning after she left him on the couch and they even baked some brownies Tuesday evening because Y/N was craving chocolate, which also made sense when she woke up with stains in her underwear and cramps in her lower region on Wednesday.

Despite that though she had quite a good day. She managed to finish her assignment in time and she didn’t hate it; she was maybe even a little bit pleased with it. She bought herself a new pair of sneakers that were on sale and an eyeshadow palette she had been wanting for a while. Her and Harry got chinese food for dinner before meeting the rest of the gang down at the pub.

Wednesdays meant quiz night and Y/N teamed up with Tara and together they managed to win first prize which gave them £50 to spend at the bar.

Y/N blamed the alcohol for everything that happened after that.  

She tripped on her way over to the toilets. She accidentally managed to somehow elbow Connor in the face. She also spilled half a pint of beer all over herself, leaving a huge wet stain on her trousers so it looked like she pissed herself.

But she was still in good spirits.

Until she spotted Harry at the bar with a tall gorgeous girl. Their faces were close and even from the booth she was sitting in she could see his dimples. It left a sour taste in her mouth watching the pair talk and it annoyed her how easily Harry once again had a girl swooning over him. Why was he even off flirting with some random girl when they were all supposed to be there together? And why was he so good at it? And why did he look so good doing it?

Y/N rolled her eyes when the girl giggled and reached out to touch his bicep. Disgusting.

“Hello?” Lucy snapped her fingers in front of Y/N’s face. “You still with us?”

“What?” She tore her eyes away from the scene that was taking place at the bar and turned her attention back to her two friends. “Yeah, of course.” She faked a laugh and took a long sip from her beer. Lucy and Tara shared a look, but they didn’t say anything else about it which she was thankful for.

Mostly because she had no idea how to explain any of it. She glanced over at Harry and the girl again and tried to understand why her chest suddenly felt so tight. It must be the alcohol.

And oh, right, of course, she had her period.

It was her hormones; the only logical explanation.

Satisfied with the answer to her own confusion she threw herself back into the conversation around the table, ignoring the fact that she could still see Harry and the girl in the corner of her eye.  

Then Declan showed up at their table with a round of vodka shots for everyone because he knew the bartender and got them for free.

Who was she to say no to free shots?

But she really should’ve.

The strong liquid didn’t sit right with her and instead of giving her a bigger buzz her head felt heavy and her ears were ringing. She also felt a little bit sick; the chinese food she had had with Harry slowly rising in the back of her throat. Taking shots had never really ended well for her but drunk Y/N still always seemed to think it was a fantastic idea.

It was a good thing she didn’t have a lecture or anything the next day, because her hangover was not going to be pretty.

And Y/N didn’t bother saying goodbye to anyone before she unexpectedly jumped out of her seat, got her coat and stumbled outside. She needed fresh air and she couldn’t wait.

The second she stepped outside into the cold autumn night she instantly felt better. The nausea from the stuffy pub atmosphere disappeared and she sat down on the curb next to the road and took a few deep breaths. 

“Hey there Quiz-Queen, you alright?”

Harry.

She glanced up at him and even though he had called her by the nickname she had jokingly given herself after winning first-prize he was looking down at her with concerned eyes. Her purse hung from his shoulder, she hadn’t even realised she had left it behind, and he had his own long and vibrant plaid coat wrapped around himself; protecting him from the cold.

“Yeah,” she said and took another deep breath. “I just needed some air.”

“Hm,” Harry hummed, relieved she was okay. “Maybe next time let the rest of us know where you’re going and don’t just get up and leave.”

“Are you mad at me?”

“Not at all,” Harry assured and shook his head. “Just want to make sure you’re safe. I don’t think that £50 bar tab was the best thing for a lightweight like you.”

“Oiii,” she pouted. “That’s mean. You’re just jealous you didn’t win. How many right answers did you guys get again? 6 out of 20?”

“It’s not about winning, it’s about having fun,” Harry said with a smug smile and a twinkle in his eyes that he only ever got when he thought he was being clever. “And I had fun.”  

“Oh give it a rest,” she scoffed but there was still a smile on her face. “You love to win, don’t stand there and pretend to be a good loser when I know how competitive you can get.”  

Harry laughed and she felt butterflies come alive inside her stomach as she watched his dimples appear. This time for her and not for some stupid girl at the bar.  

“C’mon Silly-girl, let’s get you home,” he said, ignoring her comment about him being a sore loser, and offered his hand to help her up. His fingers were strong around hers and her skin was tingling as she watched her own hand disappear in his.

Once back up on her feet she had to hold onto Harry for a second to stop her head from spinning so much. She wasn’t sure if it was because of the alcohol anymore or her hormones... or if it was merely just because of Harry.

It was just easier to blame the alcohol or her period, so that’s what she did.

Harry had an arm around her to support her swaying body as they made their way over to the bus stop, holding her close to him. He smelled like beer and the shampoo she always secretly sniffed when she took a shower. It was something she would never admit out loud, or sober, but she loved the smell of it.

Sometimes she had considered using it on her own hair, it was just so fresh and relaxing, so Harry, but it was also one of those things she wasn’t so sure he would appreciate her doing. 

“We should’ve stopped to get some food,” she muttered and slumped back against her seat on the bus. “I’m starving and I’m craving something salty.”

“I can make us something when we get home,” Harry offered.

“Really?” Y/N perked up. ”Could you?”

“Yeah, I’m a bit hungry as well.”

“Oh my gosh, have I ever told you you’re the best roommate?”

“Pretty sure you haven’t,” Harry laughed. "I do, however, have a lot of post-it notes that one could argue suggest the opposite."

“I saw you talking to a girl earlier. She was very pretty.” It slipped out before Y/N had the chance to think twice about it. “I’m sorry you’re stuck with me now and didn’t get to go home with her.”

Harry didn’t laugh at that but he still had the same twinkle in his eyes as before and a fond smile on his lips.

“Don’t worry about it,” he said and suddenly his hand was on her knee and he gave it a gentle squeeze; causing her hormones to act up again so her heart skipped a beat. “You’re not the worst person to be stuck with.”

--

As expected her hangover wasn’t pretty the next day.

She woke up with a raging headache and an upset stomach. After Harry had made them both some food she had been too tired to go wash her make-up off so the girl staring back at her in the bathroom mirror had black mascara smudges all around her eyes and golden glitter eyeshadow smeared across her bloated face. It was a tragedy. She was a tragedy.

However, the thing that made her hangover feel even worse was when she walked into the kitchen and saw the all dirty pans and plates from her and Harry’s late night meal. Pangs of guilt instantly swept through her. Harry was already gone by the time she woke up. He had an early seminar, which she knew he did because he had told her before they met up with the others at the pub, and she felt terrible that she had kept him up half the night only to make her food. He couldn’t have gotten more than two hours of sleep and it filled her up with guilt.

So much guilt she didn’t leave him a post-it note telling him the kitchen was a mess, because that would’ve just been super fucking rude since it was her fault he was even in the kitchen cocking at 3 am in the first place. Instead she washed up and decided to go out and get his favorite snacks as a thank you, and also because she was craving more chocolate and a fizzy drink.

Being hungover while having your period was really not the best combination.

Y/N hid her tousled hair under a beanie and put on a quick layer of foundation in an attempt to cover up her blotchy skin. It didn’t really help her feel much better about her appearance so she decided to put on a scarf as well to disguise herself as much as possible, just in case she’d run into someone she knew on her way to the store. She didn’t want to be recognised. Not today.

But of course Y/N wasn’t that lucky.

She ran into three people from her course, who all stopped her and chit-chatted to her about their seminars and latest assignment, all while she stood there with a basket full of various brands of crisps, drinks and candy feeling and looking like an absolute troll.

And that wasn’t even the worst.

No.

Because naturally it was also the day she bumped into someone, quite literally, in the stairs on her way back up to the flat.

Y/N yelped and accidentally dropped her bag of snacks as she tried to find her balance. A pair of hands caught her by the shoulders before she fell backwards and when she looked up to see who she had crashed into her whole face turned red.

“Shit, I’m so sorry!” she apologized with wide eyes, her heart beating fast inside her chest.

“No worries,” the man in front of her said and removed his hands from her shoulders, but she kind of wished he hadn’t because his voice was so deep and smoky her knees weakened as he spoke.

Not to mention he had the most stunning pair of eyes she had ever seen. They were a deep, earthy brown color with perfectly long eyelashes she could only ever dream of. He was utterly breathtaking with his long dark hair, scruffy stubble and nose piercing, that she usually didn’t really like on boys but the stranger in front of her made it work. Oh how he made it work.

And as he leaned down to pick up her bag for her she caught a whiff of his fragrance and her knees were seconds away from giving up all together.

“Thank you,” she managed to croak out as he handed her the bag full of snacks and prayed he hadn’t seen what was in it. She looked pathetic enough as it was and she racked her brain for something else to say but there was nothing. Y/N was left completely gobsmacked by the breathtaking man she had just crashed into. Her cheeks only getting hotter and hotter for every second she stood there like a total idiot just staring at him in awe. “I’m Y/N.”

Y/N wanted nothing more than to just sink through the floor in embarrassment. The stranger, thankfully, reached out and shook her extended hand with an amused smile on his lips.

“Luke.”

Luke let his eyes wander up and down her body, taking in her attire, and she had never felt so unattractive as she did in that moment. Why didn’t she at least take a shower before going out? Fuck.

“Right,” she nodded and reached up to adjust her beanie a little, as if it was going to make her look any better. “So eh... do you live here? I haven’t seen you around before.”

What was she doing?

“I do,” Luke confirmed. “I moved in a couple days ago.”

“Awesome.”

Awesome? Fucking idiot. 

She was definitely losing her mind. While she did go on a lot of dates she had not been blessed with the ability to make small talk. 

“I’m guessing you live here as well?” Luke asked and ran a hand through his hair to push back a couple of strands from his face. It was the hottest thing she had ever seen.

“Yeah,” Y/N confirmed, her mouth dry, and she licked her lips nervously. “I’m on the top floor... aaand I should really get going. My roommate is waiting for me.”

“Of course.”

“It was nice to meet you though. Welcome to the building.” Her heart was still racing. “Again, I’m sorry for crashing into you.”

“Like I said, don’t worry about it. It was good to meet you too,” Luke told her and gave her a small wink. “See you around.”

And Y/N didn’t know how it happened but a strange cackle escaped her lips as he winked at her and she ran off before she could witness his reaction to it.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” she muttered to herself all the way up to her and Harry’s flat.

Once she got inside she fell back against the door and tried to catch her breath, from both practically running up five flights of stairs and the encounter she had just had with probably the hottest man alive.

She really was pathetic.

After she got herself together she shrugged off her coat and pulled off her stupid beanie, cursing herself yet again for not taking a shower before going to the store. She could at least have put on a cute outfit. But no. She went out looking like a slob.  

And as she sauntered into the flat she realised that Harry was home again, and with him were Nate, Lucy and Connor as well. 

“Well if it isn’t the Quiz-Queen herself,” Nate teased when he saw her and bowed his head mockingly from where he was sitting on the couch. “Glad to see that you’re still alive after last night.”

“We have a new neighbour,” Y/N informed them, ignoring Nate and his teasing comments, because the new neighbour was the only thing on her mind. “I crashed into him on my way up. Literally. I made a complete fool out of myself.”

“Nothing new then,” Connor joked.

“Ha-ha,” Y/N said dryly. “For real though, he was the hottest man I’ve ever seen. He was unreal.”

“Really?” It got Lucy’s attention and she perked up from where she was sitting on the couch with Nate. “What did he look like?”

“Like a damn model right off the runway,” Y/N groaned and collapsed in one of the armchairs. “I’m telling you, he was unreal. Eyelashes that went on forever. Tall. Cheekbones that could cut glass and his hair was soooooo shiny. He didn’t have a single flaw. He even made a nose piercing look good and you know how I feel about those.”

“Aw, I wanna see him too,” Lucy pouted. “Did you get his name?”

“Luke.”

“So our serial dater has another date then I’m assuming,” Connor sniggered.

“I wish,” Y/N replied with a sigh. “I could hardly get a word out. I just stood there and stared at him like a creep.”

“You could always go over and ask to borrow a cup of sugar,” Nate suggested and wiggled his eyebrows. “And then just suck him off to return the favor.”

“You’re an idiot,” Y/N said and raised her middle finger towards him. It also earned him a slap on the arm from Lucy as she scolded her boyfriend. Connor laughed and made a comment about how it would be the perfect porn scene.

And it was also in that moment Y/N realised Harry hadn’t said anything since she had joined them. She glanced over at him where he sat in the armchair across from her and frowned. He looked tired and it caused the guilt in her to rise up again. In addition to that it troubled her that he wasn’t saying anything about the new neighbour or joining in on the jokes. He just sat in his seat and kept his eyes glued to the TV and the random show that was airing. “Harry?”

“What?”

There was something about how he spoke and how he turned to look at her that made her feel even worse. His voice was taut and low. His eyes burned right through her. It was far from the Harry she was used to. She wanted to ask him what was wrong but she also didn’t want to do so in front of the others if they hadn’t noticed it themselves.

“Um, I got some snacks if you want some,” Y/N said instead. She wasn’t sure if the others had noticed at all but she didn’t like it. Maybe he was angry with her for making him stay up so late? What if it had made him late for his seminar?

“Thank you,” he replied half-heartedly and turned his attention back to the TV without another word. Confusion filled the room and she met Lucy’s baffled expression for a split second. Okay they had noticed. Fuck. Y/N looked at Harry again and there was so much she wanted to ask him but at the same time she was at a loss for words. It wasn’t like him to be so tense. Not one bit.

She didn’t like it.

--

On Saturday they were all, once again, out getting drunk. After her hangover on Thursday Y/N had told herself she wasn’t going to drink again that week, but Harry was still being acting weird around her so she was easily persuaded.

Because she needed a drink.

Harry hadn’t really done anything, which was also part of the problem. She hadn’t seen him all Friday or Saturday, not until he turned up for pre-drinks at Connor’s flat. And once he was there he didn’t even look at her or talk to her. It bothered her. A lot. She hadn’t had the chance to ask him what was wrong and nothing was making sense. She tried to remember if she had said something inappropriate to him on Wednesday, but no matter how hard she tried she couldn’t figure out why he was being off with her.

Which is why, after a couple of drinks, she took the first chance she got to confront him about it.

She spotted him alone at one of the tables inside the club they were at and marched right up, ignoring the people she accidentally bumped into on her way, and plopped herself down on the leather sofa next to him. The beer she was carrying spilled over in her hand as she did but she paid no attention to it and Harry looked at her with questioning eyes.

“What’s going on with you?” Y/N wasted no time. The music was loud around them and she had to lean into him to make sure he heard her, his curls tickled her upper lip from how close she was. Harry only shrugged.

“Nothing is going on.”

“Oh really? Could’ve fooled me,” she said, almost shouting because of the music, and rolled her eyes. “You’re acting strange.”

“Nothing is going on,” Harry repeated and pursed his lips, looking away from her. Y/N tilted her head forward, to force him to look at her again, and waved her hand in front of his face.

“Look at me then,” she cried out in frustration. “Stop ignoring me and tell me what’s going on!”

It wasn’t the best spot for them to be having a conversation. A couple of people from the tables around them looked over curiously and the dim lights and loud music of club made it harder than what she would’ve liked. She had originally planned to talk to him that morning but he had gone out before she even woke up and it was the last sign she needed to know that he was avoiding her. So talking to him at a busy club felt like the only option. 

She flinched back as Harry unexpectedly turned to face her, almost knocking his head into hers.

”You know for wanting to find love so badly you’re really fucking blind.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Y/N frowned. Harry scoffed.

“You’re so oblivious,” he began. “If you just stopped being so desperate and so obsessed with finding the perfect guy for one damn second then maybe you’d-” Harry stopped himself and pressed his lips together in a thin line as he looked down at the beer in his hands. 

“Then what Harry?” she demanded, and didn’t even bother to try calm the anger that was stirring inside her. Harry ignoring her made her feel worse than she ever could’ve imagined. Nothing could’ve prepared her for it. She hated it. “I wouldn’t be so unlovable?”

“I never said that.”

“You didn’t have to.”

“Don’t,” Harry warned. “You know I would never say that. Don’t be daft.”  

“Do I?” she kept challenging him. The alcohol in her bloodstream gave her enough courage to not back down. Even if the loud music made it harder to hear what the other one was saying there was no way she was going to drop it. She needed to know what was going on. She couldn’t go another day with Harry ignoring her; she was too used to having him around for him to just cut her off.

“Yes, you do,” he spat.

“But you think I’m desperate?” she spat back and Y/N wasn’t sure why she was picking a fight with him in the middle of a full packed club, but she was.

Because at least he was talking to her.

“Yeah I do,” Harry admitted and licked his lips. She struggled to breathe a little after that. Her chest felt too tight. “Why are you so set on having the perfect relationship? No couple is perfect.”

“Lucy and Nate are,” she stated, not wanting her facade to falter in front of him. Her throat was dry but her eyes were burning with wet tears because she hated this. She hated it so much.

“No, they’re not,” Harry sneered loudly. “Both of them are far from fucking perfect. Nate is a menace and Lucy is a nutter.”

“Harry, don’t be a dick.”

“What? So just because they’re my friends I’m only allowed see the good in them? I still love both of them and they still love each other even if they’re not perfect,” he insisted. “You know they end up arguing like every night we go out, right? Over something stupid Nate said or some insane shit Lucy did. Do you know how many times Lucy has asked me for advice when it comes to Nate? They’re not perfect.”

“So I’m desperate because I want to find someone who is perfect for me?”

“What if you already have?”

“What?”

The music was still loud around them but suddenly the only thing she could hear was her own beating heart.

And suddenly she became aware of just how close the two of them actually were. Harry’s nose brushed against hers as his mouth carefully, barely, grazed her lips. His breath was hot on her face and oh wow, had his eyelashes always been that long?

Y/N wanted to reach out and touch him, but the way he was looking at her made her unable to move any part of her body. She was frozen; waiting for him to make the next move because she was far too overwhelmed by his presence to do anything herself. He was so close. Too close -- but at the same time not close enough. She wondered if he could hear her heart as well. 

“Oi, oi!”

Out of the blue Declan flopped down next to her on the sofa and just like that she was brought back into reality and away from Harry’s green eyes. Declan had two pints of beer with him and grinned at the two of them; clueless to what he had just interrupted. He didn’t come alone though, soon the rest of the gang had gathered around the small table. All so clueless.

Y/N watched as Harry drank what was left of his beer and glared at Declan and the rest while she tried to stop her head from spinning so much. What had just happened?

They were all talking around her but their voices got lost in the loud music and her own thoughts.

‘What if you already have?’ what was that even supposed to mean?

She wanted to turn and look at Harry again but she was too scared of what he might do or say and too scared that everyone else was going to notice something was wrong and ask them about it. Instead she just kept her eyes down to where her thigh was pressing into Harry’s after Declan had squeezed himself down beside them.

Thankfully no one else seemed to pick up on tension between the two of them but Y/N still regretted absolutely everything about her decision to talk to Harry. It hadn’t helped make anything clearer and she was now stuck next to him in a busy club with their drunk friends. Great.

To make things worse she then, out of nowhere, heard someone call her name and she nearly dropped her drink as she noticed who it belonged to. Well fuck.

“Luke.” 

His name fell from her lips as soon as she spotted him waving at her. He came up and stood behind Nate and Lucy, with his hands in his pockets and his hair slicked back perfectly. Lucy was quick to turn around to get a look at the guy Y/N had been raving about just a couple days ago. Then she looked at Y/N again with her jaw hanging open and gave her a look that confirmed Luke was indeed as flawless as he had been described. 

The tension was thick and awkward as Luke stood before her and her friends, more specifically Harry, and Y/N could feel him tense up beside her as he stared Luke down. She had no idea what to say or do. “This is our new neighbour I was telling you about,” was the only thing she could think of. The smirk on Luke’s face as he heard that she had been talking about him didn’t go unnoticed.

“Y’alright then?” Luke asked and nodded towards Y/N. She couldn’t breathe. How was he there? After everything that had just happened with Harry... where did Luke even come from? She hadn’t processed her conversation with Harry yet, how was she supposed to have a conversation with Luke again, in front of everyone, when her head was so scrambled?

“Yeah, I’m great.” What a fucking lie.

“Can I buy you a drink?”

“Oh.” What was happening? “Ummmm, I don’t - well I - ehm I-”

“Yes! She would love a drink!” Tara interrupted her with a big grin, and any other time she would’ve been grateful for her friend stepping in and helping, but now? “Wouldn’t you?” Y/N wasn’t even sure.

“I ehhh - well, I guess so?”

What?

Her whole body was screaming NO when she got up and felt Harry’s warmth leave her side. His eyes burned into her back and it was a miracle she even made it to the bar with Luke without vomiting right there and then.

Two days ago, when she first bumped into Luke, all she wanted was to go on a date with him. But something had changed. Something inside her had clicked, and it wasn’t her hormones or the alcohol this time. All she could think about as Luke talked to her and bought her a new drink was how he wasn’t Harry.

Luke didn’t know how she liked her tea. Luke didn’t know she couldn’t go straight to bed after watching a thriller or anything that resembled a scary movie; she needed to watch something more upbeat and cheerful before going to sleep. Luke didn’t know she liked to keep things in order. Luke didn’t know she ate her weight in chocolate when she got her period. Luke didn’t know she loved mint chocolate chip ice cream. Luke didn’t know she called her mum at least once a day. Luke didn’t know she was desperate to find love. 

Harry did.

Harry knew all those things.

And as she stood at the bar with Luke she realised he wasn’t actually flawless. He was still gorgeous, only a little less breathtaking that time around because he knew he looked good and he wasn’t humble about it. He smelled like cigarettes and she hated the smell of smoke mixed with his strong cologne. It gave her a headache. He also couldn’t keep his eyes off her cleavage and didn’t bother asking her anything about herself.

His nose piercing didn’t even look that good.

Luke wasn’t flawless and she didn’t really like him. 

Harry wasn’t flawless either... but she still liked him. 

“And that’s when we-”

“You know what Luke,” she interrupted and put a finger up to stop him from talking. “I think I have to get back to my friends. But um... “ She glanced at the drink he had bought her before picking it up and downed it in one go, because he had paid for it and the least she could do was drink it. The alcohol burned a little in the back of her throat and she accidentally spilled a few drops down her shirt. She hardly noticed though because she was just aching to get back to her friends. Luke looked at her with wide eyes and a puzzled expression. “Thanks for the drink! I’ll see you around.”

With that she walked off with just one thing, or rather someone, on her mind.

But that someone wasn’t there when she found her friends again. She spotted Lucy and her bright dress sitting on Nate’s lap. She spotted Tara having a conversation with a girl from the table next to them. She spotted Declan and Connor laughing loudly over something on their phones.

She did not spot Harry.

Tara was the first one to notice her standing there just staring at the empty seat where Harry was sat a while ago. Tara excused herself from the conversation she was having and came up to Y/N, putting a gentle hand on her shoulder.

“You okay?”

“Where is Harry?”

“He left,” Tara told her. “I think.”

“Hey, what’s going on?” Lucy came up to her as well, with a small frown on her face, worried something had happened. “Is everything alright?”

“I need to talk to Harry,” Y/N said and looked around the club; hoping to spot his curls somewhere in the crowd. Her eyes stung with tears when she couldn’t see him.

“He left after you walked off,” Lucy confirmed softly. “Is everything alright? Did something happen with Luke?”

“Yes- I mean no. I have to go,” was all she told them before she rushed off. “I need Harry.”

Y/N wasn’t aware of the three words that left her mouth but it didn’t make them any less true. It all made so much sense. It had clicked. ‘What if you already have?’ 

Yes. 

How could she have been so blind?

--

When she finally made it home she was out of breath from running all the way from the bus stop to their flat. She prayed Harry had actually gone home and not continued his night at some other club. She wasn’t sure what she’d do if he had. 

But as soon as she stepped inside she heard the familiar sound of his guitar coming from his bedroom and she didn’t even bother catching her breath before walking across the flat in a couple of strides. She hadn't really thought anything through. Her whole body was just screaming at her that she needed Harry and it couldn't wait. 

Harry left his dirty dishes out. He sometimes forgot to put the toilet seat down. He was disorganized. He did not only leave his dirty dishes out but he could also leave his dirty socks lying around the flat. He didn't like the same music as her. He could be petty and immature. He had ignored her for two days. 

But Harry also made her tea when she was having a bad day. He made her laugh. He made her food in middle of the night. He always asked about her day. He helped her home when she got too drunk. He sometimes surprised her with breakfast. He understood her. He made her feel at ease and she could always be herself around him. 

All of the good thing outweighed the bad, and the bad was only part of who he was; Harry, her roommate, her friend, the boy who she hadn't realised gave her butterflies until now.

And perhaps she should’ve knocked or at least made her presence known in any other way because as she slung his bedroom door open Harry was visibly startled and a sour note came from his guitar. He looked at her with wide eyes. 

“Y/N? What the fuck?”

“Do I have any flaws?” she asked him breathlessly. 

“What?” he asked. “What do you mean?” 

“What about me annoys you?” 

 “Shouldn’t you be off getting a drink with Mr. Flawess himself.”

“Well I changed my mind. Now just answer the question,” she urged, wanting to cut straight to the chase. Harry frowned and she wasn’t really sure if he was angry with her or just confused. Maybe both? It didn’t matter though, she just needed answers before she passed out from the anxiety running through her. “Do I have any flaws?”

“I - yeah. You do,” he said. Y/N nodded and stepped further into his room, wanting to be closer to him. “Why?” 

“Just - wait,” she told him and ignored his question by asking her own. “What are they?”

Harry didn’t reply at first. He just sat in silence and stared at her with his brows still pressed together in a frown. God, what if she had gotten it all wrong? She’d have to give up the flat to Harry and move out, leave Manchester, maybe even leave the UK. She’d be absolutely mortified; she’d never recover from it. 

Just as she lost all hope and considered running off to hide in her own bedroom for the rest of the night, possibly for the rest of the term, Harry slowly put his guitar to the side. He rubbed his hand over his chin and pinched the bottom of his lip between his index finger and his thumb, contemplating his next few words cautiously.

“You’re incredibly stubborn,” he told her and despite the fact that he had just basically insulted her a wave relief washed over her as he finally said something. 

“Okay, what else?” 

“You ask way too many questions during a movie.”

“Okay.”

“You overthink absolutely everything.”

“More.”

“You leave notes around the flat over the most meaningless things.”

“Well maybe you shouldn’t leave the kitchen a mess then.”

“You have too much milk in your tea.”

“You don’t have enough.”

Harry cracked a smile but it faltered almost just as quickly.

“You want love but don’t see the person right in front of you who has fallen head over heels for you.”

Y/N had never seen or heard him as vulnerable as he was right there and then. For a moment she wondered if maybe she had misheard him but judging by his nervous fidgeting and how he for the first time ever struggled to look her in the eyes she quickly realised she hadn’t.  

“I do now,” she admitted quietly, almost too quiet, and shifted her weight from one foot to the other awkwardly. “I see you.” 

Harry still heard her and looked right into her eyes as he took a sharp breath. Her body ached to feel his touch as she stood in the middle of his room, terrified of what she was about to ask next, but there was no going back. It was, after all, the reason she had followed him home. “And you still like me despite all my flaws?”

“Well,” Harry started and fought back a smile. “I suppose I wouldn’t have saved all your notes if I didn't.” 

It was really all it took for her to close the space between them and throw herself over him. Harry was quick to catch her and his arms wrapped around her body tightly, holding her close, as she pressed her lips to his.

It was strange kissing him and she didn’t quite know where to put her own hands at first, but it felt right that much she knew. Her whole body was on fire from just a simple little kiss. Y/N never wanted it to stop. Harry grinned against her lips before deepening the kiss and sneaked his hands in under her blazer, pushing it off her shoulders before running his hands over her body. 

She wrapped her arms around his neck and it was almost ridiculous how giddy she felt. Harry made her feel drunk, more so than the alcohol in her body. Nothing had ever tasted as good as him. She was completely lost in him and his warmth. 

It wasn’t until she felt him pull at her trousers that she was reminded of reality again and she pulled away from his lips. “You okay?” Harry asked immediately.

“Yeah,” she panted and leaned her forehead against his, twirling the hair in the back of his neck around her finger carefully. “I just... I still got my period.”

“Okay,” Harry nodded and tightened his grip on her, still holding her close, and she was sure she could feel his heartbeat against hers. “S’that all? Because frankly I don’t really care about a little blood right now.”

“Oh.”

“Do you?”

“I... no.”

“You sure?” Harry wondered and placed his fingers under her chin and angled her face so he could look into her eyes. He saw right through her and her mind was hazy as her body melted right into his. Harry made her feel safe and comfortable and it was all she needed to know she was sure.  

She needed him. 

“Give me a second,” she said and gave him a quick peck before getting off him. It pained her to do so but even as she made her way over to the bathroom to remove her tampon, perhaps one of the most unattractive things you could do, Harry’s eyes on her as she walked away made her feel sexier than she ever had before.

She didn’t waste a single second inside the bathroom and quickly did what she had to before she just about ran back to Harry’s bedroom. She caught a quick glimpse of herself in the mirror and couldn’t help but laugh. She looked dazed. But in the best possible way. Her cheeks were rosy. Her hair was messy. Lips swollen. It was the first time she had ever seen herself look so radiant. Glowing almost. 

Happy.

She also decided to not put her trousers back on after she was done in the bathroom, because why waste time when she was planning to take them off soon anyway?

And Harry seemed to have had the same idea because when she came back he had already removed his floral shirt and his beige trousers as well. His lips were the same colour as her lipstick and he didn’t even try to hide the fact that he was staring at her bare legs and underwear. It made her whole body tingle and she didn’t mind him gawking, because she couldn’t take her own eyes away from his naked chest and the bulge between his legs.

“Come here,” Harry murmured and held out his hand for her to take. He gently pulled at her arm until she was sitting on top of him on the bed, straddling his hips. The lack of clothing on both of them made her blush as he embraced her and she felt all of him under her.  

Harry cupped one of his hands under her jaw and leaned in to kiss her again. It started out slow but as soon as his lips touched her a soft moan came from her. His lips were slightly chapped and yet they were the best lips she had ever kissed. It didn't matter that they weren’t perfectly soft. Not one bit. Y/N never wanted to kiss anyone else ever again. 

The kiss quickly deepend and she had her hands in his hair, tugging at his soft curls and getting lost in the taste of his lips. She was throbbing against him and knew he could also feel just how desperately she wanted him through the thin lace of her panties. His lips were eager against hers and she was too lost in him to notice he had blindly reached out to the bedside table and sought out a condom.

It wasn’t until she felt his hand and the small foil packet brush against her leg that she realised. She pulled back and met his green eyes, breathing hard as she tried to find her words to speak. He looked back at her with questioning eyes, silently asking her if she was alright with what was happening between them, and she just nodded. 

She sat back to give him some room and watched as he pulled himself out of his boxers and then helped him get them off before he rolled the condom over his length. The sight alone made her light-headed and, if he hadn’t already, she was sure he could hear how hard her heart was beating. He also caught her staring but she didn’t really care and he only pulled her back into him.

He kissed her along her collarbone, sucking lightly at the skin as he made his way up to her neck. Y/N closed her eyes and hummed with pleasure as she tilted her head to the side to give him better access. Harry ran his hands up and down her back and then slipped his hands in under the tank top she was wearing before he pulled it off her swiftly. 

Harry took a few seconds to stare at her naked chest when he discovered she wasn’t wearing a bra before he kissed each of her breasts lightly, making her nipples hard. Y/N just cupped his face and pulled his head up so she could kiss him again, impatient and desperate to feel him inside her and he giggled against her lips. 

Harry only pushed the crotch of her underwear to the side when he lined himself up under her. She gasped as she slowly sank down onto him and had to break their kiss. Harry had one hand around her thigh and the other on the back of her head, her hair twisted between his fingers, as they breathed the same air. 

When she eventually started to move her hips after getting used to the stretch of him he groaned softly, low in his throat, and tightened the grip he had on her. “Fuck, you feel so good.”

Her blood rushed inside her and her whole chest and face flushed from hearing his words and how hoarse his voice was. She put her hands on his stomach, her fingers digging into his skin around his tattoo, before lifting her hips and taking all of him again; craving the friction created between the two of them.

Harry moaned and let his head fall backwards, breathing heavily, and she couldn’t take her eyes away from his strong jawline. She also couldn’t stop herself from kissing him right there and Harry moaned again as he felt her lips on his skin. 

It made her smile; knowing she was having the same affect on him that he had on her. 

Y/N did her best to find a steady rhythm riding him but her thighs were trembling around him and it had been awhile since she had been on top of anyone. She had almost forgotten how to do it. Harry bucked his hips up into her and she barely had time to react before he impatiently flipped them over and yanked her underwear off.

A loud moan left her lips as he pushed right back into her and instantly built up a new quicker pace, giving her all of him and hitting the spot in her that made her toes curl. He leaned down and connected their mouths again. His chest was slick with sweat as his body pressed against hers and her hands were all over him because she just couldn’t decide where to put them. She wanted all of him. 

And when Harry hoisted himself up and hooked one of her legs over his shoulder to get deeper she didn’t care if any of their neighbours heard her.

“Oh my god.”

Then his fingers were stroking her between her legs and it quite literally took her breath away. Her whole body was trembling as she felt every hot and thick inch of him. Her release was close, she could feel it in the pit of her stomach and he could see it on her as he continued to move above her.

And not once did Harry lose his pace or falter when her nails scratched his back and she clenched tightly around him as her orgasm swept through her body. He kept thrusting into her while she moaned and shivered beneath him.

Just as she came down from her high he got his own release and came with a loud sigh of relief. He continued to move his hips against hers until his muscles gave up from exhaustion and he collapsed on top of her.

They stayed like that for a few minutes, both spent, and she tried to catch her breath. 

Which was hard seeing as he was still on top of her and she could still feel him inside her.

When he raised his head to look down at her, grinning from ear to ear, her whole stomach fluttered. And this time she knew it was because of Harry. It wasn’t because of alcohol. Not because she had a hangover. Not because she was stressed. Maybe because of a few hormones. 

But there were just no excuses. 

Eventually Harry got up. He removed the used condom and retrieved a small towel to clean himself up quickly before handing it over and climbing back into bed with her.

Y/N curled up against his chest and let him run his fingers through her hair, gently scratching the top of her head, and she was seconds away from falling asleep when he spoke up.

“I’m sorry for calling you desperate.”

Y/N tilted her head up to look at him.

“S’okay, I have been a little.”

“Still,” he mumbled. “Wasn’t really fair of me.”

“You know you could’ve just told me.”

“I was going to,” Harry admitted with a low chuckle. “But you always came back home announcing you were going on another date so it never really felt like the right time.”

“Hmm, well you didn’t really help yourself by bringing a girl back like every weekend,” she pointed out and laughed lightly. “It was hard to not be blind.”

“Had to try to forget about you somehow,” Harry admitted and pressed a kiss to the top of her head, letting his lips linger for a few seconds before continuing. “But you and your stupid post-it notes made it hard.”

“Did you really save all of them?” she asked and pushed herself up so she was leaning on her elbows. She couldn’t stop herself from grinning proudly. Harry laughed and tipped his head back, covering his face with his hands as his cheeks turned pink.

“God, I’m gonna regret telling you that aren’t I?”

“Maybe,” she laughed again before giving his chest a quick kiss, just because she could. “I do kind of enjoy writing them for you though.”

“Of course you do,” Harry said and peaked out from behind his hands with a cheeky smile. “And I enjoy leaving the kitchen a mess because I know you’ll leave me a new one,” he confessed and tapped her nose. 

“I fuckin’ knew it!” she exclaimed with a gasp and shoved him away from her playfully. “You absolute knobhead!” 

Harry only laughed and pulled her back into his warm body. 

On her way back home from the club Y/N had been a little bit worried that she was wrong or that it was going to be weird to go from roommates to more with Harry -- but it felt like the most natural thing. It felt just as natural as everything else they already did together, and maybe that was why she had been so picky recently. Maybe it was why she looked for flaws in every guy she dated so she had an excuse to not see them again. She had already found what she wanted; she just hadn’t realised. How stupid.

“Hey Harry?”

“Hm?”

“Would you like to go on a date with me?”

-- 

please let me know your thoughts here ! And please share it if you liked it, it would mean a lot to me! 💛

#Harry Styles fanfiction #Harry Styles fanfic #Harry Styles writing #Harry Styles oneshot #Harry Styles one shot #Harry Styles fluff #Harry Styles smut #Harry Styles #Fallinharry10k

[littlemisslipbalm]

So for the fallinharry10k thing I’ve gone off the rails...my trope is friends with benefits and I’ve put y/n in the band and it’s getting really messy and I’m trying to make it clear that Harry is emotionally unavailable but also I want them to be together...how do we feel about sacrificing realistic-ness for love ???? hm

#i havent even used my prompt yet #im actually off the rails #my answer is yes #but ive been seeing some complaints around here that fics arent being realistic #i usualy writr harry as a loving man and partner bc thats who i believe he is #this trait of him having trouble with relationships is kind of a hard thing to write because i dont know what thats like #im trying my best but yknow id like peoples opinion #harry styles fanfiction

[stylesharrys]

I changed my url it used to be pete-bowen, but I saw you made a masterlist for the fallinharry10k so I thought I’d let ya know😙

hiii! thank you for letting me know, i’ll change it on the masterlist :)

#& i love ur new url so cute!!

[stylesharrys]

hehe i finished my fic for your celebration 👉👈 the tags didn't work so idk if it showed up under the fallinharry10k tag but it's done and pinned on my blog hehe (i feel like this is awkward but like,,, yeah)

I saw!! 23k oh my goodness 🥺 I’ve got a busy week with early mornings, but I’ve set a reminder on my phone to read this Wednesday afternoon when I get home from work and I can’t wait!!!!! 💞💞💞