Could Harry ever love someone else this much?

The room’s cold and is only dimly lit with his night lamp turned on its lowest setting, his lower body underneath the comforter that you’re letting swallow you whole as you’re tucked underneath it, your back facing him as he massages the spot near your thumb while he holds your hand — he isn’t in the state of sleepiness yet but he’s willing himself to.

His love came home tired so his first instinct was to automatically take care of her, but you were too tired to last through the little warm pampering he has planned to go on for an hour and more, so he did the most important things instead.

Prepared a meal that wasn’t finished all the way so he finished it, all while he asks what happened when he sees you holding on to his hand which was a sign that you were ready to talk, but even if, he’s only answered with brief answers too.

Doesn’t force it out of you but you can’t blame him not to be worried either, seeing his glances at you when he’s setting the water up for you to take a bath in, his hand curling around your wrist gently as he’s looking at you in concern.

“Not leaving, angel.”

He sat on the edge of the bed thinking on what you were thinking about, knowing that you’re contagious to him with everything you do so he’s influenced by the slump of your shoulders and the pout on your face, his gaze looking at the bathroom door every few seconds.

Harry distracted himself while he waited for you; prepared your pajamas and a fluffy towel he could encase you in, because he knew how annoying it was to step into an airconditioned room from a bath.

But that was two hours ago, and even if he’s given a little timeline of what happened on your day and kissed and squeezed the stress out of you, he still couldn’t sleep.

And Harry knew then he could never love someone else this much.

“Y’never believe me when I tell you that you make a face whenever you’re sleeping.”

He yawns as he turns on his side to face you, well-aware that you’re knocked out which makes it even better because he’s bound to get a reaction or two if he says these things while you’re awake, and he’s just not that ready yet.

Taking his phone from his bedside table and he’s opening the camera quickly before your face could contort into your normal one, the “little sleepy look” as he dubs always varying — and he adores it really, with this time consisting of you with your head laid low on the pillow, your eyebrows scrunched in the faintest bit and it makes you look irritated, cute if he must compliment, and cheeks smushed in that makes you look even more irritated.

He’s careful with what he’s doing because sometimes the flash was set on automatic, and he doesn’t want to add in another reason on why you just badly want to sleep and wake up maybe twelve hours later (even if it means that you’ll get sleep, carefully raising himself before framing you perfectly, just telling himself to edit it later because even if you’re all asleep, he probably knows that you’ll wake up all of a sudden to tell him not to strain his eyes.

Harry, out of fear that you’re probably gonna do that, immediately gets his glasses from the tray on his bedside table, slipping them on and now he feels a blanket of comfort over the worry he created himself, sleep still clearly not washing over him.

“I hate your boss, by the way.”

He mumbles then, and the thoughts that came along with it just made the painting of your boss in his mind (that he never saw) a little more worse, imagining him to be someone as a short and stout man with his hair balding in the middle, dark and heavy clouds on top of his head with his knickers in a twist.

He hates seeing him in his mind, and he cusses him out again for appearing when he himself brought it upon himself, but he’s making another excuse since your boss is a prick — so yeah, he isn’t the one at fault.

“How could someone ever stomach to give you something you don’t deserve?”

It was truly a question, because the moment he sees you, the light of his life when he’s being cheesy and sentimental, through the door with tears just edging your eyes, Harry could feel it.

Harry could feel the painful lump in your throat when you’re about to cry and it must’ve been so painful because you’re holding onto it for too long, tears still not sleeping even if he was hugging you tightly and snugly.

He could feel the heaviness in your body that you just want to be comforted, and that you don’t mind sounding and looking selfish with what you’re trying to imply because you truly needed him at the moment.

He could feel the tiredness in your hands when he’s massaging them while you’re laid in the tub, and the dominant hand you used was a little puffy and that means you’ve used it too much, pressing his thumb and his index finger a little harder to the sore muscles and not even the little satisfied hum could ease his worry.

“Hurts to see you cry over reasons m’not fond of.”

He hates your boss with a burning passion that he’s seeing the tears again even if they were non-existent at the moment, frowning a little at that.

And out of instinct does Harry briefly stop playing with your top, thumb wiping under your eyes just to make sure there aren’t any.

He smiles to himself because he realizes that he’s being a little too worried again, tucking his thumb in underneath his four fingers in embarrassment, considering he’s wearing glasses and still saw tears that he made up with his mind.

This room comforts him in all honesty, and so do you. It’s a massive room that reminds him of a small cozy nook, an area of coldness that gave him warmth.

There’s the device at the corner that was for putting essential oils in so it could swirl it around with the water and basically make your room a haven, but he forgot to turn it on and his figure’s all burrowed to the mattress with you so comfortable that he fights the urge to turn it on.

There’s a telly right in front of him just some meters away, the settings already set up with the cinema surround sound, and the brightness just right so it wouldn’t be glaring at the both of them in the middle of the night when they finally pick a good movie (that Harry hears and/or knows that has a satisfying ending).

There’s so much in here that Harry’s attached to and reminded of, the space being home and a reminder of something that’s been on his mind for a while.

“How about we get an apartment complex or something set up? Really nice, but not overpriced, y’know? For when we’re gonna retire a little earlier? Gonna become an asset when we grow older.”

He has his mind set to it, and so much plans to just uphold his future even if he shouldn’t be from what his income says, and as much as he knows that it’ll keep him covered for some more time, and there’s much more charities and organization he could contribute to — he wants to have a fallback or summat.

Harry’s smiling, having looked upon Pinterest and daydreaming for quite some time, and he could see it unfold right in front of his eyes.

An apartment complex with ten floors, maybe four on each. Has a cute front desk on the ground floor and he’s already thinking of a uniform for the receptionist and some people. Has an elevator. Has a sleek black door that needs a keycard to be opened in order to enter. Maybe a pool at the back and a lounging area. Maybe he could decorate the interiors so it’d be fully furnished and ready to be moved into.

“And maybe when we’re old, we can go ahead and visit it with our then-kids, right? Have a grand apartment there as the penthouse, and it’s all reserved for us?”

He shakes his head to himself and he’s thinking of so much when in fact, he’s maybe more than half from being there.

It sounded nice.

It is nice.

Harry hums for some while, suddenly being conscious with your hand holding onto his now that he isn’t babbling and God was it endearing — your fingers interlaced with his that they looked perfect against his and made you look even softer.

He pauses whatever he was doing, and that was being fazed, and detaches his hand from yours carefully, your eyes not fluttering even in a millimeter that he knows you’re still asleep.

He turns to his side and then he’s aware of what he already had, opening the drawer to his bedside table that had the box.

The little velvet box with your ring in it.

Harry’s bought it a couple days ago, and it must’ve slipped his mind that he put it here for whatever reason, but he remembers now, opening it and seeing the band in all its glory — practically remembering the grins on his, his mum’s and his sister’s faces when they saw it.

“S’a perfect fit.”

He mumbles to himself once he’s slipped it to your ring finger, testing it out with his eyes flickering to your face and to your ring that he’s taken aback for a while.

“M’so nervous to propose to you — think m’gonna make a fool out of m’self.”

Harry admits and the thought of it brings a chill to his spine, taking the ring out gently before putting it in the box again as if he’s never taken it out.

“But s’alright — as long as I get to propose and you get to say yes.”

He drags out a breath before putting it back on the drawer again.

Harry yawns and the sleepiness has finally hit him, taking the pillow he rested his back upon away and resting it on his lap, taking a look at you who he really thinks is an angel, lips puckering as he presses them gently to your cheek.

“M’not done falling for you yet anyway.”

anonymous asked:

i dont care what but i need more stuff with dom h! it doesnt even have to be smut like just him being domestic and taking care of her while shes in subspace ya feel me

(I hope this is okay bub. Feel free to request more if you’d like! )

He can tell from the moment that she walks in that evening, she’s had a long day. 

Make no mistake, she’s still excited to see him, all but launching herself into his arms. Clinging to him, not even caring that she practically tossed her briefcase on the sofa, she’s missed him, and it shows. Though Harry doesn’t realize how deep it runs until she’s nosing at his neck, mumbling something that he can’t quite make out. It takes a little coaxing but finally she eases up her grip, allowing Harry to set her back down on her feet in front of him. 

Her eyes practically glint in the low light when he finally gets a good look at her, seeing her almost glazed over expression as she smiles lazily up at him. “Missed you so much H, needed Daddy all day.” She murmurs, his eyes widening before he clues into what’s going on. Instinctively he reaches out, gently cupping her jaw in his hand, seeing her lean into his touch, revelling in the sensation of his hand against her cheek. 

“Rough day petal?” He’s cautious to keep his voice down, knowing how sensitive she is in times like this. 

“Got yelled at in a meeting, can’t member why now.” She slips away from his touch, almost ashamed as she looks down at her hands. “Didn’t like it. Y’weren’t there t’tell me it was okay..”

“Well, what can I do t’make it up for you kitten, what’ll make y’feel better?” He prompts gently, tucking her hair behind her ear. 

“I’m… well I don’t.” She’s stuttering, the seemingly endless choices her mind is coming up with obviously overwhelming for her when she’s in this state. Carefully he pulls her back in for another hug, letting her rest her head against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heart, the beat grounding her slightly as he rubs her back. 

“How about I run us a bath, would that be alright kitten? Put in one of those glitter and lavender bombs y’like so much? Know y’always find it funny when I get out looking like a proper star.” He coos, feeling her grip on him tighten as he says that. “And I’ll make us a nice dinner, maybe even something for dessert cause I know how much of a sweet tooth y’have.”

“Can we cuddle after?” She pipes up, pulling back, looking him at wide eyes, her expression almost glassy with contentment as he breaks into a grin, pressing a kiss to her forehead. 

“Course we can darling. Always love a cuddle with m’favourite girl.” She hugs him tightly once more, pulling back in excitement, nearly bouncing on the soles of her feet in front of him as he gives her hand one last squeeze. She leans in, pressing a kiss to his cheek before scooping her briefcase off the sofa.

“Thank you H.” His heart could truly burst at how fondly she looks at him, the adoration practically pouring from her gaze as he brings her hand up to his lips, pressing a kiss to her knuckles. 

“Anytime petal.”

anonymous asked:

I know the missus isn’t pregnant anymore but I can imagine her seeing this pics when she was pregnant and hormonal and she starts crying because of how pretty he looks and she’s so proud of him and he’s confused as to why she’s crying :’)

These must have been taken when he was in Italy, no?

I like to think that Harry was sent an email, or was sent a whole portfolio, of all of the pictures that were taken on the set and he got to pick and choose which ones he liked and wanted in the campaign and which ones he didn’t want in the campaign and he, of course, asked the missus for her opinion on what she liked and didn’t like.

When he’s awaiting an answer from her, the seconds feeling agonising as they passed, he looks over his shoulder and sees her chin wobbling and her bottom lip trembling and her eyes glossing over, a smile forming as she scratches his scalp and runs her fingers through his hair. Nodding softly before giggling wetly. His chair squeaks as he shuffles around and pats the bare skin of his thigh with his ringless fingers, his black gym shorts having risen up and showing his fuzzy muscle, motioning for her to sit down.

With her bump swelling from between her hips, it was rather difficult for her to sit as comfortable as she used to be able to, her bump resting on her thighs, but he didn’t seem to mind the additional weight on his lap. Confusion pinching his features together as his thumbs wiping the tears that broke free from her eyes and dribbled down her cheeks. 

“What’re yeh crying for, yeh silly bugger?”

“M’not crying in a bad way,” she sniffles and swings her legs over the arm of his office chair, “I’m just- I just feel incredibly proud of you, you know? Everything you do, it’s just amazing and-”

“And that’s why you’re crying? You silly goose,” he chuckles, pressing a kiss to her forehead, “you do confuse the hell out of me sometimes but that makes me love you so much more.” xx

titanicbuff1912  asked:

Can you write a short little blurb about H taking care of his girl when she's feeling a bit under the weather?

i don’t know if you meant sick y/n (which i’ve written here), sad y/n or both, so i did both but focused more on the sad part :.) i hope you enjoy this quick one, bub!

The thing about Harry is that he’s so attuned to the state of the people around him, including yours, especially yours, that you wouldn’t even have to let him know that you’re feeling particularly down before he realises that himself.

You’d give your sickness away with the sniffling you do every few seconds, that’s clear as day to him. It’s the lethargy in your replies – not the physical lethargy, the emotional one – that peels the other layer off for him to figure out why, despite being on the third episode of your rerun of Brooklyn Nine-Nine, you’ve yet to crack so much as a smile.

From the other side of the couch, he’d pull you by your calves to his warm body, and you’d have your eyebrows subtly tensed up because he’d interrupted your train of thought.

“No,” you whine, but you don’t resist him, “don’t wanna get you sick. And you’re warm.”

“There’s something on your mind, pet,” he’d remark softly, waiting for you to meet his gaze but you don’t. He’d slightly regret his question when he catches you bite your lip and your eyes brim.

“Hey, hey, m’sorry, love…” he’d pull you closer to his chest, and despite the beads of perspiration glossing your forehead and neck, you let him hold you anyway as your snivelling grows. He’d shush you gingerly, placing kisses onto your blazing forehead and stroking your shoulder with the pad of his thumb, and he’d listen to your every concern with such patience and attention, asking follow-up questions and ensuring he understands the core of your sadness.

You’d be all snotty and disgusting because your sorrow opened up your nasal passage and has your mucus running everywhere, and yet he would be so mature about it, grabbing tissues for you without flinching or second thought. And through it all, he would be such an endearing figure of support, that you’d find yourself regaining your composure not long later because you’d realise that no matter what it is you’re going through, you’d have this wonderful man by your side, just like you’d have his any day.

quick update: I started uni this week and though I come home exhausted every evening, it’s going well and it’s quite cool. 

however, because I’m kept this busy at the moment, I haven’t had time to work on the part2 of salted wounds, but before you worry, I’m already half finished. I just need to edit and find an ending.

I’m hoping to work on it on friday afternoon and the weekend, I hope you don’t mind being patient some more. x

six months early for 2019 just to be sure

mobile blurbs masterlist | isitjamiemoriarty

it just occurred to me that i don’t have a mobile-friendly masterlist for my blurbs! so here’s one for the quickies :-)

i typically prefer doing requested drabbles, and list is small now, but if you have something in mind totally drop it by my inbox and you might just see it here soon! the drabbles are arranged from oldest to latest. enjoy!

here’s my imagines masterlist instead, if you’re looking for it :-)

y/n and harry are having a baby

the moment y/n and harry realise they’re soulmates

art major!harry and literature major!y/n (try to) study together

y/n experiences college for the first time with harry by her side

harry, an affectionate drunk, comes home pissed drunk and reveals that he loves y/n OR drunk harry really wants to make out with y/n

y/n can’t sleep at night because of their break-up pact

harry comforts y/n, who is having an anxiety attack because of school

college student!y/n meets college student!harry before her first lecture

y/n falls sick despite harry’s warnings and he has to take care of her OR harry falls sick and y/n takes care of him

y/n is feeling a little sick and a little sad, and harry comforts her

I really need three things rn

1. Money.

2. A boyfriend.

3. 123455779901937271 hours of sleep


Pairing: Y/N and Harry

Word Count: 4k


“She’s the sweetest thing Harry, and smart too. You know she’s in medical school? She could save your life, though she’s clumsy so I don’t know if I would trust her giving me surgery, I would want someone steady. But she’s smart and beautiful, you would just love her! At least let me introduce you,” Anne pleads.

Harry lays on the couch in his room, groaning, “I’m seeing someone,” he reminds her, “Trish, remember?”

“Well I’m not saying you have to date her! I’m just saying you should meet her,” Anne says.

“She doesn’t even want to meet me. You said so yourself, and when I’m home I want to hang out with you and Gemma, not spend it with some stranger.”

“She’s not a stranger, she’s Y/N from the flower shop, and she would like to meet you she’s just being shy, I’m sure of it! Why are you kids being so damn difficult? Can’t you just meet her? I’m not saying you have to marry her or anything, I’m just saying I would like her to be the mother of my grandkids.”


Anne plays matchmaker and tries to set up Harry and Y/N, a girl who works at her favorite flower shop.

Keep reading


In which Harry loves baths and can’t keep his hands off of Y/N + kinda soft, kinda giggly sex.

Fluff, Smut / 4.4k words.

Originally posted by twoghosts91

Keep reading

A list of every angst piece.

I’ve only come to realization with a recent ask that I am the biggest fan of angst yet have the greatest tendency to forget the writer and/or the title of it.

Whether you’re a writer or a reader, reblog or send an ask of any angst writing you know and help make me and people re-live the heartache by reading them again!

anonymous asked:

Okay can we talk about how ATTENTIVE of a lover Harry would be? Like you’d noticed he’d always keep his nails neatly trimmed “s’cause I do t wanna accidentally scratch ya like last time love” and just little things that don’t seem like that big a deal but make ur heart flutter and just ogle your bf

hE sooo would be!!

Keep reading


*last updated on september 10th, 2018

*please let me know if any of my links are broken x


Originally posted by ohstylesno

Ground Control  

     — in which distance gets in between Y/N and Harry.

Baby Talks

     — in which Harry spends the day with his baby.

Trust Issues 

Don’t Go 

     — a mini series in which Harry has really bad trust issues and shuts Y/N out.


     — in which Harry is gone and the stars remind Y/N of happy times when he was still there with her.


     — in which Harry misses Y/N and wants to keep her close.


     — in which Harry gets jealous and things go wrong.

“You’re Giving Up On Us?”

     — in which Y/N gives up on Harry because of their lack of contact on their long distance relationship while he’s on tour.

The Fall Out

     — in which Harry falls out of love.

Too Close

     — in which Y/N struggles with physical and emotional contact and things get a little bit out of hand for her and Harry.

A Crack Of A Heart 

Time Wasted 

     — a mini series in which Harry’s proposal doesn’t go as planned.


     — in which Harry cheats and breaks her heart.


     — in which Harry may be a bit too reserved in regards to feelings, which only lead to a perhaps even more heartfelt confession of his love for Y/N.

Rec List

thank you very much for reading x

The Bartender

Word Count: 7.5K

Pairing: Y/N and Harry


“I’m going home.”

“Don’t go home,” Harry reaches out and lightly tugs on her hand, pulling her close, “come and stay with me. I’m on the bar tonight, you can sit and I’ll give you some free drinks, and you can tell me all about how much you hate Tabitha.”

“I can’t,” Y/N shakes her head, “I can’t keep hanging out with you. I just-you make me all nervous,” Y/N admits.

Harry tugs her closer, “do I?” he asks, a smirk on his lips, he’s so close to her he can smell the vanilla radiating off of her. “

Yes,” Y/N whispers with a nod, “and-and it’s not fair,” she moves back, “because I get these feeling when I’m around you and you don’t want anything to come out of this and I do.”

“Trust me you don’t- “

“Why? Why are you so convinced I don’t want to be with you-“

“I can’t offer you anything,” Harry admits, “I can’t offer you a single thing. I live down the street from here in a crappy two-bedroom apartment, my roommate sells drugs and I help him. When I told you I study English, I lied. I used to study it, but I had to drop out because I couldn’t afford school. I’ve broken two people’s nose in the last week and I don’t feel bad about it. In fact, last night I got into a fight with some guy-just because he looked at me the wrong way,” Harry watches Y/N, trying to read her face, “I’ve been arrested twice. I will probably die working in this bar and selling whatever Ryan cooks up, if I don’t die from getting in a fight. Is that something you really want to be involved with Y/N? Does that sound like someone you want to be with?”

“It sounds like a lot of excuses to me,” Y/N responds. 


Bar tender Harry falls for sweet college student Y/N.

Keep reading

harry’s moods @ every request for the studio version of medicine,, ever