harry x reader

anonymous asked:

Could u imagine H mom shaming Mrs without realizing it and she’s completely over it and looses her shit at H? And he’s like oh fuck shit sorry Btw I love u and love for your posts

BTW I love you the most, Bub! Xx

It’s not intentional.

He’s just particular, that’s all. And he’s always been like that. He likes having the upper hand on things, he did even when he was a child. He has a concept, an idea, of how something should be done. And once he does, once the idea has embedded itself in his head, it has to be followed out the exact way he’s imagined it. Prior to angel baby, it didn’t bother you. It never irritated you, never really interfered with you or what you did. In fact, you saw it as more of a go getter attitude, a special kind of determination that he seemed to have. He’s a perfectionist, after all. 

And after angel baby, you were beginning to see it less as a kind of determination, and more as a pain in the ass. Now it was a pet peeve, an annoying tendency he had that made you wanna bite his head off. 

And he’s not doing it on purpose. It’s just that, angel baby is his most prized possession. Everything, in regards to involving her, can’t be anything short of perfect, has to be done with a tremendous amount of care and accuracy.

“Can’t hold a baby like tha’,” he tuts, carefully replacing your arms with his when he goes to take her from you, “yeh mad? S’like this, see?”

And you had brushed it off, initially. Of course you know how to hold a fucking baby, but she’s still got that new baby smell to the top of her head, she’s brand new, and you excuse his condescendence to new parent jitters. 

Except now she’s almost 8 months, and he hasn’t quite gotten over the ‘new parent jitters’ hump yet. He’s gotta do everything, every little thing. And sometimes you think he would breastfeed her, if he could. He’s showing you how to ‘properly’ burp his little angel, how she ‘needs’ to be washed. Sometimes, when he’s feeling particularly pesky, he’ll even go as far as standing over your shoulder to make sure you’re guiding angel baby to latch onto your nipple the right way when it’s time for a feeding. He doesn’t see it in the same light s you are, he doesn’t think he’s being annoying, he thinks he’s helping. 

There all things you know how to do, quite well in fact. And the more you hear him, murmuring to himself or hovering over you and telling you how to do it ‘the right way’, the more you feel like you just might punch him in the throat. Because these are all things you do while he’s away, or when he’s working, which is something he’s obviously looked directly past. 

The day has concluded, and your on your last ounce of energy in regards to staying awake. And your patience is wearing thin, after the previous bedtime nightmare you had just endured, biting your tongue as Harry gave you a one on one lesson on how to ‘properly’ drape the blanket over angel baby in the crib. But he’s in one of those moods, happy as could be as he hums to himself. You can hear him traipsing down the hallway, heading to find you in the laundry room, his feet pattering against the wood of the floor.

“Whatcha doin’, button?” He sings, immersing himself into the room. 

“Laundry.” You yawn, and he goes to snake his arms around your waist, his head settling itself to rest on your chin.

He’s chattering away about something he had seen on TV, a documentary he had watched just earlier, as you go to throw a few of angel baby’s onesies into the dryer. And he doesn’t say anything, not at first. But then he sees you throw a lint sheet in, and he’s trying to keep his mouth shut. You go to throw in another, and that’s when he puts his two cents in. 

“Nuh-uh,” he dictates, “can’t put tha’ in there! Toxins ’n all tha’, here let me-”

“Shut the fuck up!,” you shout, wriggling yourself free of his grip, “I can’t- just shut up!”

“Why’re yeh-” 

“No! (Y/N) do this, (Y/N) tha’s wrong! Blah blah blah, just shut the fuck up! I know how to take care of my baby, I know how!” 

And he’s on the verge of giggling, he doesn’t because it’s clear to him that you’re very tired, both literally and figuratively. He lets you reprimand him a little longer, because as he goes back and thinks about it, he’s sure he has been quite the pest. 

“M’sorry, baby, really.” He pretend pouts, jutting his bottom lip out before making kissy lips at you.

“No,” you huff, “m’not giving you a kiss until you say you’ll stop mom shaming me.”

“M’so so so so so so so sorry,” he whines, and he starts squirming his body like a toddler, “now please, a kiss fo’ me.”


When Y/N gets a letter from the university of her dreams, she would wait for Harry to get back from the gym before opening it. The whole time, her breathing would be just a little shallower than normal and she would notice the tickle of nerves in her limbs every step she takes. So, she would sit down on their shared couch. However, she would also be restless and, though she doesn’t want to disturb his gym session, she would call him anyways. 

In the midst of his pull-ups, he wouldn’t feel the vibration of his phone in his pocket. He wouldn’t realise that she had called him when he’s on the treadmill either, or when he’s lifting the weights. It’s only 30 minutes later, when he’s taking a break in between his reps that he would check his phone for a second and notice he has a missed call, one he would immediately return.


“Hey, love. You called?”

She would speak in a quiet, slightly muffled voice. “I got the letter.”

“You got…” he would try to decipher what she just said, but when it clicks in his head, he almost yelps, “you got the letter?”

She wouldn’t be able to help the tiny giggle that escapes her throat when she hears the excitement laced in his tone. “Yeah.”


“I don’t wanna open it! I’m scared.”

“Say no more, poppet. I’m flying right over.”

And he would. Not literally, of course, but within half an hour he would be at their doorstep, panting and bent over in exhaustion. This sight would bring out the mum in her as she goes on about “Goodness, babe, drink some water!” and “You really didn’t have to run all the way for me, I could’ve waited a while!”, though secretly, joy and love spread through her all the way to her fingertips at this selfless act of his.

He would dismiss her nagging, not at all out of annoyance, but out of anticipation for his love. “Yeah, yeah, alright mum, where’s the letter?”

“Mum?” she’d grimace. “Don’t bring that to the bedroom.”

He would shoot her a quizzical smile that causes them both to giggle again, partially from the comment but largely in pent-up nerves. She would trot to the table where all the letters and mail are, grabbing the largest, bulkiest envelope on the top of the stack with the crest of her top-choice college proudly printed on it.

“Do you want to shower first–”

“No, no, that can wait! The results!” he would squeal and gesture to the envelope dramatically.

“You open it!”

“Y/N, it’s your letter!”


You c’mon!”

Her expression would humorously contort in anxiety, at which he would bring his hands up to cup her jaw gently and stroke her cheeks with the pad of his thumbs. As she instinctively locks her hands to his back, he would lower his voice tenderly.

“Whatever happens, I’m here for you, alright, my love? If the worst happens, there are other opportunities coming your way.”

She purses her lips, the nervousness returning to her that causes the envelope to dampen lightly from the sweat glossing her hands. She would bring the envelope between them, slowly tearing the top open and pulling the letter out. He would watch her attentively, looking out for signs in her pupils that, up close, were visibly contracted, and in the movements in her cheeks that might betray a smile or a sulk.

He wouldn’t need to hear the contents of the letter to know that his immaculate, ingenious, intelligent girlfriend has made it into the institution of her choice because the tears that well up in her widened eyes and the gasp that follows her squeak would give it all away. He would lift her up into an embrace that brings her spinning in the middle of their living room as ecstasy pumps through their veins, and she wouldn’t care that he reeks of post-gym sweat and odor, because she’s going into the college of her dreams.

What does dampen Y/N’s spirits is the thought of the first day. The first week. The first lecture. The first everything. She feels her life being uprooted before it even begins, from the thought of all the changes going to come. Will she make friends? Will she do well? Will her professors be nice people? What if she really actually hates the course she’s about to study?

All these thoughts would snowball into a huge mess of nerves and anxiety for her, which lead her to have sleepless nights just days before she officially begins her time as a student. This wouldn’t slip from Harry’s attention, not when he doesn’t feel her usual palpitation of joyful energy.

To help her, he would write little notes on post-its for her with encouraging messages like “you’re gonna conquer this” and inside jokes like “my girlfriend is an amazing human/genius” and paste them in her notes and notebooks for her to discover. He would send her recordings of himself talking about his day because she has ever fleetingly mentioned something about his voice calming her down.

“Afternoon, love! I just had lunch with Jeff and the guys. It was a, how you and your genius brain would say, spectacular gastronomical experience, yeah? Have you eaten? Don’t forget to eat, babe, wouldn’t want your tummy to be speaking over your professor mid-lecture, eh? Have a fruit too, may I recommend an avocado? Of course I may. S’it hard to find one on campus? I’ll pack you some tomorrow. Have some water as well, love, but not too much, lest you start squirming during your lessons. Hope you’re doing alright, darling. I love you. Kissy.”

When she discovers these little displays of affection halfway through tutorials and in the middle of longer days, she would grin widely to herself, running her thumb across the messily-scribbled words as if they were the man himself. When she’s feeling particularly down, she pulls her earpieces out and replays the recordings over and over again, focusing on how he takes his time with each word and in the depth of his voice. She would always shut her eyes at “I love you” to cherish and admire the phrase as much as she can, and everytime she feels better, she sends an “I love you” right back at him.

Donut Shop (pt.3)

Originally posted by stylesinthewild

Harry hates the way Y/N gets shy around him. So he makes her punch him instead.

part 1 part 2

Word Count: 10.5k 

Warnings: A few swear words! Also very raunchy and inappropriate comments made by a dimwit.

A/N: ok i did not mean to go off so hard on this?? literally the last two parts were only 3k words long?? how did i come up with 10k words?? and i still don’t think it should end here so im probs gonna start another part soon. but no promises !! bc i said this part would take me a week but its been almost 3 so HA sorry im the worst. let me know what you think!!! I REALLY APPRECIATE FEEDBACK


Y/N is taking a third sip of her just brewed coffee when her phone goes off twice in a row, pulling a small smile onto her lips. With her eyes glancing down to the lit up screen, she reads:

Aha, I actually did start to see black spots in my vision after dropping to my knees.

But yes, I am very sleepy. Don’t know why I woke up that early anyway.

Swallowing a bigger gulp from her mug, she unlocks her phone and quickly types up a response. But her thumb lingers over the send button for a minute before pressing down. She was desperate, absolutely desperate, but he didn’t need to know that.

not like i actually went to college and studied health or whateva buuut im pretty sure if you don’t rest up after how intense last night was, you’re going to encounter some health problems very soon

There’s a clank heard from her TV and she looks up to see Rapunzel holding a frying pan over Flynn Rider’s head but that’s all she’s able to focus on before her thoughts begin to pan over the last hour and how she got to this point of talking to Harry on Twitter like as if she was talking to Abby or another mutual of hers.

Keep reading

Harry Fic Recommendation Post

There are so many great blogs and great fics out there that I think deserve more love, so I thought I would do up a post. I have probably missed so many blogs but I will be doing another post when I hit one thousand followers.

Originally posted by thestylesgifs

I’ll put the blog first, then some of their fics I love in particular with brief descriptions.

Some of the fics don’t have titles, so the description is the link.


  • Adore - Harry makes a realization
  • Home - Harry being asked about the picture of you in his wallet
  • Talk to Me - giving Harry the silent treatment after getting sick



  • Shakespeare - amazing series in which Harry is a poetic frat boy who just so happens to be the TA of your new English class. A perfect blend of romance and angst, does contain smut so be warned.
  • Break M’Own Rules - in which alcohol and pricks make for a messy, angry Harry




  • Running on Empty - fainting into Harry’s arms at the gym is one way to get his attention, right?



  • Ruins -  you, along with hundreds of others, are living in a post-apocalyptic society brought upon earth by nuclear war. The effect of this is long-lasting and only allows you to see the sun one every two years. I love this fic a lot, it deserves so much more love and I really hope there will be a part two.

I’m so sorry if I haven’t included your blog in this post, I probably love your blog and have just forgotten to give you a mention. Keep writing more amazing stuff because I love it all!

My masterlist // my second recommendation post

anonymous asked:

can you do a super fluffy blurb about like harry getting back from a night out and he's like pisssss drunk and you get all mad at him but then he starts saying really cute things like "ur beautiful", etc and he says 'i love you' even though you guys haven't said it before and you stay up with him and cuddle on the couch while watching movies and eating food lol

AAA you just about killed me with this one, bub!!! too cute!!!! BUT LISTEN

It’s no secret that Harry is, in all sense of the word, affectionate drunk. When Y/N had pushed him out the door earlier and told him to “Get drunk and don’t come back too early!”, she hadn’t actually expected him to listen to her sarcastic advice, but, alas.

Her solo movie night was rudely interrupted by the doorbell chiming at 3am, right towards the grand finale of the movie she’s half-engrossed in. Eyes already heavy, she frowns in annoyance anyway at the dreaded sound and at the idea of having to drag herself off of the couch and to the door. Pulling a sweatshirt on to conceal her braless lounging outfit, she lightly springs towards the door and tiptoes to have a look through the peephole.

On the other side, Grimmy is holding up her very wasted boyfriend, who has his head snuggled in the crook of his poor friend’s neck and a very dopey smile spread across his features. His hair is sticking out in all directions, his skin is flushed pink and he is unabashedly poking his friend’s cheek, clearly finding much entertainment in the action. Despite the incredulity she feels that he actually followed through with her words, the adorable sight causes Y/N to bite her lips that are already upturning in a smile, and she unlocks the door so as to not keep her friend waiting any longer.

“Grimms! Hey! Thanks so much for bringing him home,” she greets him, cautiously wrapping her boyfriend’s arm around her so that she could (try to) get him to bed successfully.

“Yeah, well, your boyfriend was trying to chat me up the whole way home. Dangerous, he is,” he jokes back and positions the rest of the pissed bloke less precariously onto her. “G’night!”

“Get home safe!” she responds as he heads back to his car. She catches the strong whiff of alcohol on her boyfriend, who’s giggling right into her ear.

“Well hello, beautiful,” he slurs into her ear and unclasps his fingers, grabbing and smushing her cheeks together as she struggles to lug twice of her weight towards the staircase.

She shifts her lips right and left to get his fingers off her face. “Don’t “hello, beautiful” me,” she huffs, another step earning another groan from her, “when I told you to get drunk I didn’t mean this drunk, for the love of God and all things holy,” she laments more to herself than to him.

He pouts. “Oh, poppet, I was just doing what your pretty face told me to do.”

She bites her tongue. She knows there’s a possibility of him getting legitimately distraught if she were to scold him any more. Besides, she has another more daunting task at the moment, and at the unmanageable weight, she heads towards the couch instead. Yet, her silence scares him and within seconds, he’s trying to make up for his Y/N-forsaken deed.

“I’m sorry, baby,” he mumbles, leaving kisses wherever his lips landed. “You look soooo gorgeous right now, don’t like seeing you upset.” Another smacker, on the shell of her ear. “Proper love you, darlin’.” He sneaks his nose right under the curve of her jaw and takes a deep sniff of her familiar scent.

The last one piques her attention. “What’d you say? Didn’t…” she grunts, plopping him onto an empty spot on the sofa, “catch you there.”

He bounces from landing and he remains limp, his fingers reveling in the soft fabric of the couch. “Love you. Only you, the whole you and nothing but… you.” He points straight at her (well, his direction’s just a little bit off), attempting a serious frown. 

She simpers coyly and feels her heart balloon at his drunken confession. She laughs quietly to herself, watching her lanky dolt of a man having a naive fun with himself without a care for the world.

He pulls his feet onto the couch and opens his arms up wide towards her, his words becoming more mumbly and indecipherable as he begins to drift off. “Cm’ere. Wanna cuddle.”

She accepts his hand and he pulls her onto his lap, wrapping his arms around her torso and snuggling into her neck. She manages to grab the remote control and her bowl of chips, and so she hits play on the television and brings the volume down for him.

“M’little teddy bear.” he mutters sleepily, and within minutes, his breathing is deep and steady. She holds his arm, absently tracing the skin around his tattoos.

“I love you too.”

Actually me tho XD Also I’m posting a Fanfic tomorrow!

the half blood prince
  • Hermione: so um... harry isn't the whole malfoy thing a bit too much? You're practically obsessed with him
  • Harry: what? oh sorry i wasn't listening i was watching draco on the marauders map he should be entering the great hall any secon- oh fuck there he is okay guys try to act naturally, ron could you move a little bit to the left you're blocking my view

Originally posted by enchanted-garden

Masterlist will be updated every month! Gif is not mine, credits go to the owner!

Keep reading

A list of every smut piece.

I’ve only come to realization with a recent ask that I have the greatest tendency to forget the writer and/or the title of something I’ve already read before.

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

Headcanons: Marauders & Sleep

Warnings: nah

Requested: Nope

A/N: how the marauders sleep is so important to me. Enjoy x 


  • Not a morning person
  • Will hit people if they wake him up
  • Stays up the latest
  • 100% asks stupid questions at 3am
  • James answers in his sleep
  • Gentle snores when he’s really tired
  • Denies it
  • Moves around a lot
  • Often sleeps naked
  • Especially when drunk
  • Occasionally kicks the covers off
  • It’s not very nice in the mornings for the boys


  • Morning person
  • Wakes the others up
  • Only needs like 5 hours of sleep and is ready to go
  • Prefers to have more though
  • Bonus Jily: Stares at Lily while she sleeps because he doesn’t need much
  • Doesn’t really need an alarm
  • Heavy breather
  • Him and Sirius have sleep conversations
  • Cover hog
  • Has to have a glass of water next to his bed because his throat dries out
  • Wears boxers and a t shirt
  • Gryffindor trash so it’s a Gryffindor t shirt


  • Needs at least 10 hours to function properly
  • If he has less then he’s grumpy all day
  • If he has his 10 then he’ll be happy all day
  • Easily woken up
  • Gets to sleep quickly
  • Spreads out in bed a lot
  • Wears long pajama bottoms and a t shirt
  • Even in Summer
  • LOVES slippers
  • And fluffy socks
  • Has really vivid dreams about the Marauders
  • Is the complete opposite after a full moon (deep sleeps, impossible to wake up, unbelievably needs more than 10 hours)


  • Snores
  • Dreams about Voldemort

Merry Christmas Everyone!! I am so grateful for all my followers, Thank you for making my 2016 amazing!! I got a laptop today so I will be able to start writing again!! I hope y'all have an amazing day!

2 - Harry Fic Recommendation

In honour of reaching one thousand followers, I thought I would do another one of these posts and give up some love to some blogs and fics I believe really deserve it. But I just want to say thank you so much to everyone who has followed me, I love and appreciate you all so much.

my first recommendation post

Originally posted by thedailystyles

There is no doubt that I have missed innumerable fics in this post but if you have a fic you believe I would love or deserves more love, always feel free to send it to me!

Once again, I’ll put the blog first, then some of their fics I love in particular with brief descriptions. Some of the fics don’t have titles, so the description is the link.


  • Little Lion Series - I seriously adore this series about Harry being a single dad who falls in love with the reader. 
  • The Princess and the Pauper -  You’re a princess who travels into the city, you see your people struggling and you also meet Harry, a tailor who you feel a strong connection with.






  • Eight Months: part one // two // three // four - this! series! is! amazing! Honestly, I don’t even know how to properly describe it in a way that properly conveys how amazing it is without spoiling anything. Point is, you need to read it right now.
  • I’m just going to advise you spend a few solid hours reading everything this blog has to offer.


  • Dear Mummy - a fic where Harry is Beau’s father. This fic absolutely broke me. Let it break you too. 


  • Clingy - you overhear Harry talking badly about you at a party
  • The Charity Ball -  you’re a med student, and you feel miserable at a hospital charity ball- until you meet Harry.


  • Anger -  Y/N loves Harry to pieces, however, not when he switches from being the nicest man to the complete opposite whenever he’s angry.TW: sexual assault 
  • Ambiguous Love - your best friend Harry kisses you when he gets jealous of someone hitting on you, but this creates a miscommunication about his commitment to you
  • Sick of Losing You -  Harry and Y/N lost each other when he found someone else.
  • Needing Comfort -  Harry and Y/N have been fighting for days. On day four, Y/N starts to cry.

Now because this is my thousand follower post and I am a self-indulgent narcissist I’m going to list my favourite fics of my own :)

  • I Wish -  it becomes clear that your relationship with Harry is going to be a long-term thing and he wants to start to become a bigger part of your daughter’s life
  • Perfect - your best friend Harry saves you from your boyfriend when he gets violent 
  • Infinity - you and Harry get into a fight at Anne’s house
  • City of Love - you and Harry are mobbed in Paris and Harry is quick to defend you when a journalist gets violent
  • Lullabies + Dunkirk Skies - soulmate AU where you find the person you’re supposed to spend your life with, just when your life looks like it could end at any moment

Again, thank you all so much! I promise I will be posting more fics soon x

my masterlist // send me a request 

gold and silver.

summary: In which you’re jealous that Harry’s exes are at his post-tour party. (But you have no right to feel that way.)

word count: 1.5k 

note: ah, my first post, from the first request I’ve ever gotten! I do hope you all like this. Feedback is greatly appreciated. 

His hug is warm, tight, and all too familiar. You breathe in his scent and grin into the crook of his neck. Your dusty rose lipstick smears a little on the collar of his expensive white dress shirt, but you pretend you don’t notice. “Congratulations on your tour,” you tell Harry Styles in lieu of a proper greeting as soon as you’ve spotted him in the crowd. Tonight is a special one: Harry’s invited everyone special in his life to his new LA home, to celebrate the success of his first ever world tour.

“Thank you,” he murmurs after he’s said your name, voice sounding as warm as his hug felt. “I’m so glad you made it.”

“I live ten minutes away. Of course I made it.” You grin up at him, and he grins right back. Your friendship with Harry is slightly new — you’re a published poet, and he happens to love your first book. It’s crazy to think that somewhere in his vast and luxurious mansion rests an autographed copy of your book, Infrangible. Your teenage crush, the Harry Styles, thinks your poems are — in his very own words — “otherworldly and touching to the soul”. It took a follow, a couple of messages, and a one-time trip together to a gelato place to establish your friendship, but you were thankful Harry’s in your life. You’re at the party as his actual friend, and it feels nice. It feels even nicer to see him.

His grin only gets wider, his eyes sparkling with mirth as he gazes down at you. “Somehow, I feel offended with that statement. Does that mean if you were to live further you’d —“

He doesn’t get to finish his statement. Somebody bumps into him, and his gaze shifts over from you to them.

You recognize that somebody as Camille Rowe.

Harry and Camille tower over you, and suddenly you feel out of place.

“Harry,” the blonde model croons, and they exchange an embrace all too similar to the one you’ve shared with him just a second ago. But this time, the hug lingers. You feel like an outsider, almost, witnessing this scene unfold in front of you. Witnessing as one of Harry’s hands slide down to the small of her back. Witnessing as she presses a soft kiss to his cheek. You look away.

“Is that… Shawn Mendes over there,” you murmur, feigning interest. You don’t even bother saying your goodbye, not when the pair haven’t even pulled away from their hug yet.

You get yourself a drink, and reconnect with some familiar faces. Being a young poet with a book that’s been hyped all over the world comes with the perk of knowing a lot of celebrities and not freaking out anymore about them. You’re still rendered starstruck here and there, but you’re calm and collected as someone important pulls you over to their little group and introduces you to everyone in it. This someone is named Olly Alexander from Years and Years. You momentarily forget all about Harry and Camille, except a few drinks later when you’re borderline tipsy and have lost interest in whatever the topic being discussed is, you turn your head and see that Harry and Camille are getting cozy in a corner, talking about something. Whatever they’re talking about, it seems important. Intimate.

A weird feeling settles in your stomach as your shoulders slump and your lips tug down into a slightly sad curve.

At that moment, Harry catches your gaze. Perplexed, you shoot him an awkward smile and turn away immediately. Heat burns your cheeks red — you must’ve looked silly to him, must’ve thought you were staring at them (which, you were). You don’t see Harry smile to himself. And you definitely don’t hear him tell Camille that it was definitely nice to see her again, but no, he was definitely not about to exchange friendly kisses with her. You don’t see Camille laugh genuinely, no bitterness to her as she pats him on the shoulder, congratulates him on everything, and goes off to find other people to mingle with.

It’s a little later when you’re on the dance floor that you bump into Harry again. You’re drunk now, but you’ve never been a lightweight drunk who had no control over her actions. You’re just a little looser now: a lot more loud, and a lot less shy. The middle of the first floor of Harry’s mansion has been turned into something reminiscent of a club now — with the lights down low and the music up high. You’re dancing with a couple of girls, singing a 2018 banger at the top of your lungs when you back up into the Harry Styles himself.

“You again!” You shout, louder than you’re supposed to, and he only laughs at you, large hands gripping the sides of your arms to steady you.

“You’re drunk!” He exclaims. As if he can’t believe you’re drunk. As if it’s the most exciting thing ever to see you intoxicated.

“I’m not,” you deny, shaking your head.  You open your mouth to say something else — god, you were just about to ask him to dance with you — when finely manicured hands cover Harry’s eyes. By instinct, he lets you go and puts his hands atop the ones on his face. Behind him, you can see a familiar face. A model you see basically everyday. Kendall Jenner. Another one of his exes.

You turn your back and weave your way through the dancing bodies as soon as he’s turned around to get a good look at Kendall. It’s funny how it’s at this very party that something big dawns upon you.

“Holy fuck,” you mumble to your new, full glass of champagne glass. “I think I like Harry.”

“Don’t we all.” The random man next to you drawls.

It’s hard to come to terms with. Ever since you’ve met him in person, you swore never to like him as anything more than a friend. It wouldn’t do any good, you always said, and you didn’t want Harry to think you only hung out with him just because you were into him. You enjoy your conversations with him way too much — he was a very insightful person and had a way with words. You always look forward to your conversations, and some even served as inspiration for your little pieces of poem and prose.

It’s even harder to come to terms with because it took his exes reuniting with him right in front of you for you to have realized your feelings. They’re flawless girls, and you believe that you can’t compare to them at any aspect at all. Having feelings for Harry is no good, you believe, because he’d never feel the same. No one ever feels the same about you as you do for them.

You try not to mope the rest of the night away. Try being the keyword.

It’s not even midnight when you decide that it’s time to go home.

You bid everyone that you’re with that you’re leaving, but since everything was getting loud and rowdy, nobody cared very much.

“Thank you so much for inviting me to your party, it was so good to see you again. I had a great time. Congratulations once more on the success of your tour! Proud of you. x” you send him a text as soon as you got home to your one-story residence, that text being polite and sincere. You don’t expect a reply, especially when you know his party was going in full-swing at the moment. So it surprises you when you do receive a text back not a minute later.

“It was great seeing you again. Thanks for coming. Didn’t get the chance to tell you earlier, but you were radiant tonight. xx” read his reply.

You didn’t bother replying, instead choosing to leave him on read due to the turmoil you were currently having.

You like Harry. Your friend Harry. The Harry.

And back at the party you were so, so undeniably jealous of both Camille and Kendall. They’re everything you’re not, and you sigh into your pillow as you remember how good they looked with Harry. You couldn’t ever compare. Harry is simply on a whole other level than you are, and liking him would only lead to crushed feelings. 

The next day, you convince yourself that you’ll get over your feelings soon enough. It’s just a crush, you tell yourself, and it’ll be easy to get over with if you just don’t think of Harry at all.

You always express yourself through your writing, and it helps you move on and even immortalize the things you go through in life. You tweet something that’s been ringing in your head since last night, a simple line you can relate to at the moment that you’re sure your followers would appreciate as well:

All around you is gold,

I am mere silver.

It’s that night when you get a new message from your friend Harry.

“Perhaps you don’t realize, but I prefer mere silver over gold any day.”

housewarming gift.*

*WARNING: Mature Content! Do not read further if you are uncomfortable with this.

request: y/n and bestfriend!harry have no choice but to share a bed and end up cuddling, but harry gets hard in the middle of the night and gets kind of rough.


where harry gives y/n a housewarming gift.

this is my first time writing smut so I don’t know how this turned out lol. Don’t expect more of this from me unless there’s a storyline to go with it that’s really really interesting. :)

(also that picture of harry got me fucked up)


“I can always sleep on the couch.”

Harry’s pink lips slur out the most obvious solution to their current predicament. The evening sun that had once decorated the small apartment with its golden light had now leaked a mystically romantic moonlight. Combined with the empty beer bottles littered across the kitchen counter, y/n was careful about her words that would follow.

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but there is no couch.”

With her sat on the counter, y/n watched Harry’s curious eyes scan over the empty room. She was still settling in after paying the first rent towards her new apartment, which meant that the place had not been entirely furnished as of yet.

She could feel Harry’s hot breath on her shoulder when he tipsily chuckled at himself for being so oblivious to his surroundings. He stood in close proximity at her side, leaning against the counter with his hand close to dangerous territories.

Keep reading

the one where y/n just really wants some cheese fries and harry just really wants to know where your secret tattoo is.

part one here. part two here. part three here.

Keep reading