Hi! Hope you’ll enjoy this short one shot. It’s a request based on the song “Somebody that I used to know” by Gotye. It’s only loosely inspired by it though, the song is despite its lyrics rather upbeat while I imagine this story to be set in a sadder atmosphere.
Plot: H and Y/N used to have a bond until they cut each other out of their lives.
Gorgeous picture isn’t mine.
Harry found himself unable to look away. All his eyes could see was me, just as if my frame was the magnet to his attention. It was as though I wasn’t surrounded by a mass of people in a barely lit room and thick, humid air. His gaze was only drawn to me because to him I was illuminated. The air around me glowed. I might as well have stood in an empty room or lain in his bed, his attention couldn’t have been on me any more.
Harry’s jaw tensed. The sweet taste of the soft-drink on his tongue and the loud music blasted through the big speakers would normally have his shoulders relaxed and his body moving along to the rhythm. He would be enjoying his night out with friends and colleagues. But this time he couldn’t. If anything Harry hadn’t ever been this tense whilst partying before. The tips of his fingers twitched, his lips were raw from his teeth pulling and biting into them and his hair was a mess.
All of which he truly could not understand. How was Harry’s mind so incapable of finding an escape from the worry and slight fear his body was tormented with? Ever since he’d noticed me singing along to the music and laughing with my head thrown back and dancing in the middle of the floor, his blood had turned to ice and his skin heated. His eyes followed the movements of my hips swinging, feet jumping and arms raising. The tip of his tongue pressed against his teeth when he noticed my exposed neck and collarbones and his skin prickled. Harry’s stomach turned with guilt because he really shouldn’t be giving me that kind of attention. I wasn’t his after all. Not even as a friend. Nothing.
Still, if only to make sure I was fine, his pupils continued to follow my every move and they narrowed when he noticed me stumble a little, losing my balance momentarily. It seemed as though I’d had one if not many drinks too much. He moved to get up and come to my aid before his head had even caught up with it to consciously make that decision and before it could tell him not to move. Harry didn’t know me. Not anymore, for the matter and it was no longer his job to come to my protection either.
And still, his hands reached out to carefully nudge people out of his way and his big feet moved quickly and steady in order to reach me faster. Harry was impatient and he couldn’t have said why. One of his friends even made the effort to call after him, truly surprised at his sudden movements, but went silent the moment he noticed who it was Harry’s gaze had found. He knew Harry hadn’t heard him, knew there was no reaching him where his head had gone.
There had once been a time when Harry and I would lose ourselves in the other. When the whole room could feel our connection as though an electric energy was caused by it. The house could have erupted into flames, the room flooded by water or the earth broken open - we wouldn’t have noticed. Not when our fingers touched the others skin, if only momentarily. We would have eyes only for the other, words meant for no one else to hear and in truth Harry missed it as much as I longed for those times to come back.
I turned around when I heard him say my name for the first time in over a year. My blood was frozen, my skin light on fire and my heart flattered in my chest as if it tried to fly away. In my hurry and desperation to see him I lost my balance once more and stumbled into his chest rather forcefully. My stomach dropped at the sight of his beautiful features and a smile forced itself onto my lips.
Harry. He visibly hadn’t changed at all and lost nothing of his beauty.
“Harry.” My voice was shaking but fierce, with no doubt in its tone at all.
He chuckled quietly with the softest smile on his face while his hands found my rips to rest on hesitantly. Though his hold was firm, it was a gesture meant to steady me, keep me from falling and getting hurt, but oh if it didn’t weaken my knees even further. And I fell. Metaphorically speaking.
“Hi,” he hummed, his face leant in so his lips were near my ear. I shuddered when his warm breath fanned my skin. His hands brought me closer to him. “Are you okay?”
“Yes,” I replied cheerfully, my arms raising to rest on top of his shoulders with a wide smile. The embarrassment I felt when my voice broke was over quickly and though Harry’s smile told me he’d noticed, it was alright. The kind expression he wore and the alcohol numbing my brain were relaxing me enough to not blush at the uncommon closeness between us.
Maybe the lack of a barrier between us had become something unfamiliar, but when my fingers found the back of his neck and his soft curls to play with, I felt at home. He was truly here, in my arms. The softness of his strands was too addictive to let go of again. I normally wouldn’t have ever dared to be handsy with him, which of course didn’t mean that I didn’t long to be. Touching your ex’s hair and embracing his shoulders after not having seen him in 14 months wasn’t exactly what was considered a great idea, was it?
But Harry wasn’t really any ex. We’d never been an exclusive couple, never went on a date or got around to be introduced to parents. Harry and I were… in the lack of a better word Friends with benefits. It started one night mostly as a half drunken mistake and then continued until our relationship had transformed into something more. We’d hook up occasionally when we were in need for relief, then when we were in need of a shoulder to lean on and then when we were in need to be near each other. Our feelings for each other heightened and grew in strength until when we were in public and somebody asked what we were, neither of us knew what to say anymore. The term friends didn’t suffice, fuck-buddies sounded too meaningless. So we avoided a label all together which was what had brought us to an end.
“Are you okay?” I asked him, trying to adapt a neutral tone. My brows knitted together and I observed his face closely, wanting to be sure he wouldn’t lie. Harry didn’t drink often, hardly ever got properly drunk. I feared he’d changed since we’d last spoken.
Harry nodded though his gaze darkened. Instinctively my hold on his locks tightened in fear he’d pull away.
“I’m good,” Harry muttered, coming closer once more so he could talk into my ear, “But I’ll be even better if you let me take you home.”
My stomach dropped and I let out a shocked gasp. He flinched when I shifted, almost tumbling once more and frowned at me trying to pull away.
“You sure are forward, aren’t you,” I joked half heartily, my voice doing a poor job at covering up the surprise.
Harry’s eyes widened, his head catching up to what he’d said.
“S'not what I mean!” Harry stressed, “M'not trying- Y/N you know m'not that sleazy. Was a stupid way of phrasing and-”
“Harry,” I laughed, “I know. Didn’t sound like you for a minute so I know you didn’t intend it.”
My hands ran down his shoulders and squeezed his arms. “But why do you want me to come with you?
The green of his orbs sparkled and my gaze dropped to the pink of his pillow lips. "Because I really miss you.”
His room looked nothing like I remembered. And that saddened me. The soft blue colored sheets, sheets I’d loved to sleep in due to their unbelievable softness had been replaced by plain white ones. Where once the stacks of books we used to read in to one another before falling asleep had been on his nightstand, was now a quartet of scented candles. I frowned and stepped closer. I’d kept up with what he’d been up to and had only rolled my eyes at his newly discovered obsession with candles, but now that I stood right in front of four my fingers twitched.
Orange. Lavender. Hibiscus. Almond.
“Is water okay? I can make you a tea if you want. Think I even got your favorite somewhere.”
Harry stood in the doorway, watching me with a mixed expression I found difficult to read. But I understood. It must have looked as strange to him as it felt for me, given that the last time I’d been in this exact bedroom we’d both been crying our hearts out.
“Water is fine,” I replied with a hesitant smile, “Thank you.”
His feet were slow when he approached me and the invitation to sit on his bed was spoked low. Any confidence Harry had shown back in the bar was lost, just like my bravery was wearing off with the remains of alcohol leaving my system. The more I sobered up, the stranger the whole situation became to me.
“Please, don’t get sick,” Harry requested quietly, whilst helping me sit down on his bed. I could only assume he was reading my pale cheeks and discomfort as a sign of too much alcohol in my blood. “Got new sheets.”
“I noticed.” The disappointment was evident in my voice and I forced a smile to cover it up, “And I’m alright.”
Why were the sheets gone? It was silly to feel nostalgic about them, but why hadn’t he kept the material we’d spent hours of sleeping under? Where we’d made plans, confessed dreams and caused giggles to fill the room? Had he thrown them away just like that and replaced them by silly blue ones? How could he?
“Where are they?”
“Who?” his face wore an expression of pure confusion.
I let my fingers touch the top of his mattress. It felt wrong. Not even half as soft as it used to be. “The sheets.”
Harry didn’t reply which was answer enough. I hissed and shook my head. My heart was heavy with a sudden sadness I couldn’t explain and knew was stupid. There was no reason for me to feel crushed over the loss of some blue material I hadn’t lain on in a long time. He’d made a decision I had no place being angry about.
Sensing my crushed feelings Harry shifted beside me, his arms ached to reach out and embrace me but his mind burned with questions he needed answers for.
“Why didn’t you ever call, Y/N?”
We weren’t avoiding the awkwardness, then. We wouldn’t dance around the uncomfortable feelings. My chest moved and my lungs filled with fresh air. One thing I appreciated about Harry was his bravery, one I never possessed. He wasn’t afraid of tackling the difficult conversations.
“I can’t remember how many nights I stayed up staring at my phone with hopes I could never fully let go of.”
“I needed space,” I explained weakly, “Needed to clear my head.”
We sat so close next to each other his knee brushed mine and though it was only a small touch, my eyes could not look away from it. His body heat easily radiated off of me, awakening every cell of my body and speeding up the rhythm of my heart. I wanted more, wanted to be reminded what it felt like to hold him right.
“Clear it from me?” Harry’s quiet voice was laced with sadness, “You shut me out of your life. As if you tried to make it like I’d never touched it.”
Contradicting his words, Harry’s hand found my thigh, giving it an entirely non sexual squeeze, one that let me know he wasn’t angry. My hand pressed on top of his and I looked up to meet his eyes.
“You know what I felt for you, Harry.”
He nodded. “Which is just why I don’t understand.”
It’d been him who’d broken us off. Well, whatever “us” had meant. His solo career had been in its beginnings and he knew he’d need to be free to travel for it, work an impossible amount of hours and be available to anyone always. Anyone, aside form me.
Going solo meant he was busy and that meant that any feelings for him I had developed, did not have any place. Harry cared for me, wanted me and desired to keep me close, but at the same time he knew that if he let us strengthen our bond even more, we would eventually suffer a heart break. Our connection wasn’t meant to be, not at that time anyway.
“I began to miss you so terribly the moment you closed the door behind you,” I breathed.
Watching him walk out of my apartment was a sight I knew I’d never forget. No matter how many promises of keeping in touch, staying friends and wanting to remain close had been made, I was sure we both knew they were void of true meaning.
Harry had touched my heart. How could I look into his eyes after having been rejected?
I whimpered when his body turned to face mine and shuddered when his hand fount my neck, gently turning my head so I looked up at him. Harry’s brows were knitted together while his eyes pleaded with mine. My lips parted and my head spun when my own palms found their place on his shoulders, only centimeters away from his collarbones. I yearned to touch his skin.
“But that doesn’t mean you had to cut me off like that,” he whispered.
“Your fear of perhaps not having enough time for me didn’t mean you had to deny us any chance either,” I countered, arching one eyebrow at him.
Relief overcame me when a smile pulled at the corner of his lips and I felt some of the tension in the room shift. “That is true, I suppose.”
His thumb gently caressed the skin of my cheek before trailing along my jaw. Harry shook his lovely head, making his slightly disheveled hair fall into his face. “And both happened despite that I loved you.”
There it was again. The buzz in the air. I moved further up to sit in a crossed legged position across from him, both of my hands still pressed flat to his chest and his eyes closed when the tips of my fingers dared finding the unbuttoned part of his shirt where his warm skin was accessible.
I hummed, a shy smile on my lips.
“You know,” I began in a whisper, “your choice of candles lets me hope there is no past tense to your feelings.”
His nose brushed my cheek and his mouth kissed my shoulder.
My voice shook as I went on: “They are, after all, the scent of the cookies I always made for you, the soap of mine you used to hate and the oil I used to massage your shoulders with when you were stressed.”
A low moan fell from his mouth at the memory and my eyes fell shut.
“And what’s the last scent for?” he asked.
My body was pushed back to lie flat on his mattress and I welcomed him with open arms who finally got to hold him tight again.
“It’s the smell of my hair,” I whispered into the shell of his ear, whimpering when his lips pressed warm kisses to the bare exposed skin of my collarbones. “My shampoo.”
“Maybe s'not in the past tense then,” Harry murmured, grunting when my legs found the familiar place around his hips, “Maybe I still love you.”
“That would be nice,” I gasped when he pressed himself closer against my skin and wanted to cry because it still wasn’t enough.
“Yes,” my hold tightened, “because I’m as in love with you as I was the day I told you for the first time.”
Hope you liked it! It’s the first story I posted since being officially 19! Ahh!! Love everyone of you who reads my stories, your support means so much. Thank you.
Harry sat at the dinning table, a cup of whisky in front of him. His long pale fingers gripped the glass. He had only had a couple, he wasn’t much of a drinker but getting lost in the glass was better than getting lost in a bar where camera’s would be. He hadn’t moved from the spot in the last couple of hours, every time Anne and Gemma hoped he would be done, but he wasn’t.
“He’s so sad,” Gemma frowns, pulling her suitcase out from under the bed, Anne sits in a chair, her eyes on the ground, “you should apologize mum.”
“He’s already upset with me,” Anne shakes her head, “the damage is done.”
“You were too harsh on her,” Gemma sighed, “I was too, we should’ve been nicer.”
“He’s had his heart broken too many times, that Haley girl, and Jen, they all used him and left him so heart broken,” Anne says.
She thinks back to Harry’s past relationships. She never met Taylor, and Kendall was nice, but they both agreed it wouldn’t work out. Then came Tess, that ended quicker than it started, then Haley showed up. Harry was happy, buying her gifts, showering her in money, and he found her four months later in some other man’s bed.
Along came Jen, she did some damage. She had taken so much from Harry, his time, his love, his money, and his happiness. Anne remembered reading it on twitter, Jen’s texts were exposed, texts where she stated all she cared about was the money and fame. Harry didn’t leave his house for days, he promised to never date again, until Y/N came along.
Anne remembered how excited he was telling her the story of how they met. She was working in her small diner, she had the overnight shift, eleven pm to seven am. Her books were scrambled on the counter, notes everywhere, it was just her and the chef. Harry was hungry and when he googled a place to eat at three am it was the first to pop up, he figured it was nice and no one at this time would be there, but there she was.
He sat across from her, asking her questions. She was so tired from working and studying she couldn’t even pin point where she had seen him before, and when she did she got all nervous. So nervous she started stuttering and he noticed her hands shaking, but she tried to hide it.
Harry helped her with her flashcards, and ended up staying there all night talking to her. She asked him if he went to college what he would do, and he asked her what she was studying. Something about her made him feel normal, it made him feel happy. And for the next month anytime he had an hour or so he went to visit her. And Anne liked how happy her son sounded, but when the news leaked how he paid her tuition she quickly disliked Y/N.
“Apologize to her,” Gemma says, “give them your approval.”
Before Anne can respond they hear the door shut downstairs, “Y/N, baby, you’re back,” they hear Harry say.
He struggles to stand from the table but he does. Y/N is a mess, her make up smudged, her cheeks pink and puffy, her hair is in a pony tail, “I just-well I don’t have anywhere to go, I’ll leave in the morning,” she says softly.
She looks drained, “how did you get back?” Harry asked, rushing towards her.
“I walked,” she responds, stepping away from him, “I’ll take the spare room.”
“No, please, we can work through this,” Harry begs, tears in his own eyes.
He embraces her, his arms tight, not wanting to let go. He can smell the fries and coffee off of her uniform, and she can smell the whisky on his breath. She’s tense in his arms, not relaxed as she usually is.
“Harry I can not come in between you and your family,” she says softly, “I’m sorry.”
Upstairs Gemma closes the door, but her and Anne have their ears pressed against it, listening, “you need to go down there and fix this,” Gemma whispered.
“Please Y/N,” Harry says.
She shakes her head, pulling away and making her way to the stairs, “I want to marry you,” Harry yelled, making her freeze, making Anne and Gemma’s jaw drops.
“I want to marry you, I was going to wait till you finished school because I wanted you to be focused on your career, not a wedding, not more fans, not the media. But I want you. I see my life with you, I see myself waking up next to you, I see our kids, I see us being old, I see it Y/N. I do,” he says, walking towards her.
“And when you left today I felt empty, not the empty I did with the others, but a cold and dark empty. I didn’t see you anymore and that hurt, I can’t-I mean I know I can live without you, but it won’t be the same. I’ll be breathing, I’ll be living, but I won’t be alive,” he adds, “don’t you want to marry me?”
“That wasn’t the question.”
She sighs, her eyes closing, “of course I want to marry you. I love you, I wouldn’t care if you had a dollar to your name, I wouldn’t care if you didn’t pay for anything, I couldn’t care less if you were Harry Styles from One Direction, I care about you, I love you. But I know how much your family loves you Harry and you will regret this later on when your mother won’t come to the wedding, when you want to have an event and your family won’t be in the same room as me, and I can’t do that to you.”
“Things change,” he pleads, coming to a full stop in front of her, “don’t leave me.”
“Don’t leave him,” Anne says through the door, she pulls it open, taking in the sight of her son.
Harry’s eyes are red and he’s standing in front of Y/N, his hand wrapped around her wrist. “I was rude, and judgmental, and it was not okay the way I treated you,” Anne stated, “but after his past girlfriends I was scared. I was scared of getting that call again, I was scared of him getting further away from love, from happiness.”
Anne’s own eyes start to water, “I’m sorry Y/N, I was looking out for him, in the wrong approach, but I was. But you’ve done nothing wrong, and if you take him back I promise to open my heart up to you, I promise to take a step to know you, the real you, not what the damn media writes.”
“It’s okay,” Y/N wipes her eyes, “I understand what those other girls did, but I’m not them. I love Harry so much, and I would never even think about hurting him.”
“Then please,” Anne begs, “don’t go, please.”
Y/N looks over at Harry, “I’ll stay,” she says.
“Really?” Harry asks.
Y/N nods, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “yeah,” she smiled.
Harry picks her up causing her to laugh, burying her face in his shoulder, “I’m sorry,” Anne says once she has her feet back on the ground, “if Harry loves you this much you must be amazing.”
“She’s pretty great,” Harry says, a smile on his face as he kisses her cheek.
“Why don’t we all go to bed, it’s been a long day. Do you work tomorrow y/n?” Gemma asked, leaning against the door.
“No,” y/n answered.
“Well why don’t we all go for brunch?” Anne asked, “you can tell us about yourself.”
“I would love that,” Y/N nods, her hand squeezing Harry’s nervously.
“Thank you,” Harry says to his mum, “for opening up.”
I don’t remember *PART 1* | *PART 2* | *PART 3* You wake up after the big party, definitely not in your bed, and you don’t remember how you got here. To be honest, you don’t remember anything that happened last night. Why are you not wearing your dress? Why you do you have a big bruise on your arm? Why are you in Jughead Jones’ apartment? What does all this have to do with Reggie? And why you don’t remember anything, even getting drunk?
The bag(oneshot) When you are looking for something in your bag you often find something you didn’t expect like earrings that you thought you lost or the chocolate bar that you bought but never ate or love that you didn’t notice
The dark(oneshot) Sometimes you don’t need a prince on a white horse to feel safe. Sometimes you just need a boy in a beanie who will save you from the dark.
The moonlight (oneshot)
Sleepless nights is the worst.Only you, your thought, and the moonlight, but Jughead is always there and this make them better.
Feel free to send my any requests. It don’t have to be Jughead x reader
Only Grace could manage to make walking around barefoot while under the influence of alcohol look dignified. Granted, no one held their alcohol quite like Grace, and though she was already three bars deep in to her impromptu pub crawl, she wasn’t staggering or slurring in the least, and every hair on her head was still immaculately in place. The perfect breeding of a proper finishing school education and natural Irish alcohol tolerance…
“Oh, oops, must have dropped them somewhere,” Grace remarked flippantly, looking down at her feet as though she’d just now noticed they no longer possessed shoes to cover them.