me: *internally* bitch, you best respect my mother fucking man. do you even know who you’re talking to? that man is the sunshine of my existence. you don’t deserve his silky smooth voice in your life. how dare you? who do you even think you are. you got my eye twitching. my palms are sweating. you’re lucky we’re in a public place or i’d whoop your little ass.
Harry’s name flashed on your phone screen in front of you. You rolled your eyes as you ignored the call once again. Your friend glanced at your phone with a slight pout, slight guilt running through her body as this was Harry’s tenth time calling you in the last hour. “Y/N. Come on. Just pick up for the poor guy.”
You swallowed a sip of your beer as you settled more into the couch in your friend’s apartment. You stared blankly at the wall. “He ruined everything.” you shook your head, already feeling your anger creeping back into your body.
Your friend sighed as she leaned her head on her arm as she stared at you, “What did he do anyways?”
You glanced at your friend and took another gulp of your beer before muttering, “He fell in love with me.”
I didn’t mean to try you on
But I still know your birthday
Groggily Harry opened the door to see you smiling with a small bag in your hand and a bottle of champagne in the other. Harry was about to open his mouth before you interrupted, “Happy birthday!”
Harry glanced at the clock on the wall behind him, “You came all this way just to be the first to wish me happy birthday?” Harry’s heart swelled at the kind gesture you’ve done. Like he often does whenever you’re around, his stomach started feeling butterflies.
As Harry let you inside, you wrapped your arms around him, “Of course, H.” He smiled brightly as you turned and made you way onto the couch. You placed the items on the coffee table and patted the set next to you. “Come on! Open your gift!”
Harry let out a chuckle, any sign of tiredness leaving his body. As he sat next to you, you placed the bag in his lap and cuddled into the side of his body. He placed a kiss on your head before saying, “You didn’t have to get me anything.” You leaned up and placed a kiss on his cheek, “It’s your birthday, H. I’ll be crazy if I didn’t get you anything. Now open it.” Harry let out another smile as he took the tissue paper out of the bag. He reached in and pulled out a black leather journal with his initials engraved on it. “Open it” you smiled. Harry opened the journal to see on the first page, written in your handwriting, “To my best friend that always has a million thoughts going through his beautiful mind, Happy birthday. x”
So I’m sorry to my unknown lover
Sorry that I can’t believe that anybody ever really
Starts to fall in love with me
Harry looked at you with a sense of panic on his face. He tried reaching out to hold your hand but you were quick to pull it back. He sighed and with a shaky voice he said, “Please Y/N. Say something.”
You looked at his eyes filled with worry. “You…love me?”
Harry nodded his head slowly and looked down at his shaky hands. “You’re my best friend. You’ve seen me at my worst and my best. You are the kindest and most beautiful girl I know…How could I not?”
You quickly shook your head and stood up from the couch. You were about to storm out of Harry’s apartment before you turned around. “You can’t be in love with me! We’re friends! That’s it! You’ve ruined everything!” You turned towards the door before Harry gently grabbed your arm, “How did I ruin things! I can’t control how I feel!”
You pulled your arm out of his grip forcibly, “Because Harry! I don’t love you!”
Sorry I could be so blind
Didn’t mean to leave you
And all of the things that we had behind
You chuckled softly at the picture in front of you. In the picture was you and Harry when you guys were little. His hair was an absolute mess while you had that terrible bowl haircut every girl has had at least once in their life. You guys were chasing each other while your mom and Anne were smiling in the background.
Your mom placed a cup of tea in front of you as she sat across from you. Your mom was staring at you with a hint of sadness in her eyes. You glanced up from the photo album you were going though. You let out a small sigh, “What’s wrong?”
Your mom shrugged her shoulders as she stared at the mug in front of you. “I just always thought one day you guys would end up together.”
You quickly looked away before she continued, “Harry is such a wonderful guy. He’s always taken care of you, him and his family.
You nodded your head sadly in agreement, “That’s why it hurts so much. I wish I were able to love him the way he loves me but I can’t. I’m afraid this ruined our friendship completely.”
I run away when things are good
And never really understood
The way you laid your eyes on me
In ways that no one ever could
Harry let himself into your apartment with the spare key he had. While placing the bags of takeout he brought, he shouted out, “I hope you’re hungry Y/N! I went a little crazy when I saw this new-” You turned the corner with tears in your eyes. Harry immediately walked up to you and wrapped his arms around you, “What’s wrong, love?”
You buried your face into his chest and choked out, “Grayson was cheating on me.” Harry closed his eyes and pulled you tighter against him. You continued, “And she’s absolutely beautiful. No wonder why he got tired of me.”
Harry pulled back from the hug and held you at arm’s length. You were looking up at him with a broken heart and tears in your eyes. He stared at your face intently. “You’re absolutely gorgeous Y/N. Both inside and out. Any, ANY guy would be lucky to be able to call you theirs. Grayson is an idiot for hurting such an amazing girl.”
Your eyes teared up again, but not from sadness this time. They were tearing up that someone thought so highly of you. Harry pulled you back against him, “You’re fucking gorgeous, Y/N.”
And so it seems I broke your heart
My ignorance has struck again
Harry yelled out in frustration and sadness as you ignored another call. He threw his phone across the room and placed his head in his hands as he let out a cry. He didn’t think him telling he loves you would get you so furious. He always thought you guys shared a special connection and deep down, he thought you would have some sort of feelings for him. Never would he have thought you would tell him you didn’t love him. Every time he heard your voicemail when you didn’t pick up, he could feel his heart breaking more and more each time. He could feel you slipping away. At this point he wish he never said anything just so you can be in his life. At this point, he’s afraid he’s ruined everything.
Someone will love you
But someone isn’t me
After two weeks, you finally managed to pick up the phone and call Harry back. You arranged to meet him at the cafe you two loved so much. As you stepped inside, you saw Harry looking down at his mug with his foot tapping anxiously. You let out a sigh as you were about to let him down once again. You slowly made your way over to him, “Hey.”
Harry quickly looked up, “Y/N! I didn’t think you would show up.”
You gave him a slight smile as you sat down across from him. “I arranged for us to meet. Of course I would come.”
Harry was about to reply but he quickly closed his mouth. He was afraid of saying the wrong thing again. You noticed quickly and you could feel your own heart breaking seeing Harry so vulnerable. You reached over and took his hand. “I’m sorry.” you said.
Harry shook his head and gave your hand a squeeze, “I’m sorry for laying that out on you like that.”
You were about to speak before Harry continued, “But that doesn’t change how I feel. I love you, Y/N.” You visibly winced before speaking up, “I don’t think we should be friends anymore, Harry.”
Harry gasped, “No Y/N! This wouldn’t change anything! We can still be-”
You looked down at your lap, “But I don’t love you Harry. And I couldn’t live with myself knowing that if we continue being friends, you’re still pining after me when someone could be loving you the way that you love me. You deserve to be happy.”
Harry let a tear slip from his eye as he squeezed your hand tighter, “I can’t just let go of you, Y/N. You’re my best friend. That means something doesn’t it?”
You looked up at the ceiling as tears blurred your eyes. You looked back at Harry, “Please understand I’m doing this because I’m your best friend.”
thank you guys so much for the kind words! i hope you guys loved this as much as i did writing it! i hope it wasn’t too cliche lol don’t forget to let me know what you guys think/ want me to write next!
If she closes her eyes hard enough, and just at the right moments, Y/n can feel Harry in Dan.
It’s quite peculiar, how she finds Harry in almost anything. It’s something she finds so riveting yet so dangerous at the same time. He’s everywhere, he’s in every breath she takes and in every move she makes, and it’s something that brings her an overwhelming sense of comfort yet an overbearing sense of instability.
Dan—an individual full of insecurities and excitement—who varies oh, so differently from Harry, can feel like him if she really tries hard enough. His arms don’t hold her quite the same, and his lips aren’t as soft and flavorful, but if she squeezes her eyes shut, and she loses herself in the memories of Harry, it’s like he’s almost back again—only in the most minuscule of ways.
Which is why, now, in this moment in time, Y/n can barely keep her eyes open.
It’s the first time Y/n brought Dan to the house, letting him stop by to watch a film after his shift. It’s a little something he’s wanted to do for a while, and after many coffee dates and many pleads from Dan, she finally took the step of being completely alone with him.
Gabby decided to go to a friends house and insisted they take their time together. It started off wonderfully; a bottle of red wine, a box of chocolates, and a bag of popcorn while they watched Jaws.
It was all wonderful, until Dan decided to make the move.
Dan is on top of her, lips connecting to hers in a lustful motion. It isn’t that Y/n doesn’t want to be in this position, but more of her being hesitant to do so. She hasn’t kissed anybody since Harry, and although Dan is one of the nicest people she’s ever met, she can’t find it within herself to keep moving any more forward.
And everything about it feels wrong.
Between all the touching, all the kissing, all the feelings within her, she can’t stop thinking about Harry. She can’t stop thinking about how much she misses him and how much she wants him back. She’s still in love with him, so much so that doing this with someone else makes her feel dirty—makes her feel like she’s betraying him.
And it’s all too much, because no matter how hard she closes her eyes, no matter how hard she tries to feel him, he’s not there, and she can’t help but seem to think that he never will be—not anymore.
“No, no, stop.” She whimpers, shaking her head in an attempt to reject Dan’s restless lips.
He doesn’t stop, however, too engaged in the moment to really understand the words stuttering from her mouth. He continues kissing her, instead, moving down to her collarbones.
At this point, Y/n starts to hyperventilate. Between the sobs daring to escape her chest and the lack of air from her previous activities, everything is straining against her. She doesn’t fully understand how she was able to get this far without it being with Harry.
Her arms push Dan off of her until she’s alone on the couch as he’s panting on the floor. She can’t breathe. Her chest is tightening and her cries are so harsh that her lungs are collapsing inside of her.
She reaches her hands up to the roots of her hair, pulling back on them as she tries to gather all the oxygen she can. At this point, her head feels light and her sight is completely blurred by the tears flowing out of them—ones that she doesn’t even try to stop.
“I’m s—so sor—ry.” She hiccups, her head falling to her hands.
Dan gulps as he tentatively stands from his spot on the floor, his hands up in front of him as if in a panic—trying desperately to figure out how to fix the mess being made in front of him.
He looks around the room, as if in search for something to guide him through this situation, but there’s nothing. All the room occupies is a broken woman, sobbing breathlessly on a couch in front of him, muttering incoherent phrases under her breath.
“Okay,” he huffs out, nodding his head to himself, “It’s okay, yeah? You’re okay?”
He occupies the empty spot next to her, hesitantly wrapping an arm around her shoulders in an attempt to comfort her. In all honesty, Dan is complete shit at helping people during emotional breakdowns, and considering this one had happened so suddenly, he had absolutely no warning that he would be put in this position.
Y/n feels bad, she does, considering Dan doesn’t deserve the treatment she’s given him and surely doesn’t deserve what was once an innocent date to end up a complete disaster. But she can’t help it, and she can’t stop now, no matter how hard she tries.
“It’s Harry, isn’t it?”
His voice is nothing but a whisper, and the words that spoke out from his lips nearly brings every movement in Y/n’s body to a halt. She never told him that it was Harry who broke her heart, and to be honest, she doesn’t even find the strength within her to begin to question how he even knows of Harry—especially his relationship with her.
Of course, their relationship has been publicized for years, but Dan is a very closed-off type of person. He’s not much into music, either—another part of him that differs so drastically from Harry—and spends a majority of his time working or spending time outside rather than succumbing himself in social media.
He looks down at the rose ring wrapped around his pointer finger, twirling it around with the hand that was once wrapped around Y/n’s shoulders.
He knew the moment he saw Harry’s reaction that this ring very much belonged to him. He wasn’t quite sure why she sacrificed it so mindlessly—why it seemed to have no story behind it. But between everything Gabby’s told him and everything he’s gathered from her previous relationship, she wanted nothing more than to get rid of every reminder she had of him.
He doesn’t feel worthy enough for it, though. If Y/n and Harry don’t find their way back to each other, he feels she should at least give it to somebody that she loves, not somebody she needs to help her get over her heartbreak.
He slides it off his finger, placing it gently on the palm of his hand before closing his fingers into a fist.
“We can’t keep doing this, Y/n. Not if you can’t talk to me.” He mutters softly, “Not if you’re still in love with him, we’ll be getting nowhere.”
This makes her cry harder. She still doesn’t have the audacity to look up at him, no, how could she? After everything she’s done?
This is why she always ends up alone. No matter how in love she is, no matter how much effort she puts into a relationship, they always end up leaving her. It’s happened long before Harry, and she was so convinced he’d stay when he came around. She was so dead set on him being her forever, but the same thing happened again. He left, just like everyone else.
And now, Dan is leaving her, and although she can’t exactly blame him for doing so, it’s another wound to her heart—it’s another pain in her chest that only seems to increase with pain.
He sighs sadly at the sight in front of him, upset with himself that he’s probably a partial reason for her soul-shaking sobs and lack of air, but he has no other choice. If he stays with her, he’d be forcing her to love someone she doesn’t. He has to let her go if it means to possibly make amends with her happiness again.
He takes one of her shaking hands away from her face and bringing it towards his lap, spreading her fingers away from her palm so that he can set the ring softly against it.
She sobs at the sight, bringing her opposite hand to her mouth as she tries to quiet herself down.
“This was Harry’s, it always was. This belongs to you, Y/n, not me.”
She nods, trying her best to smile at him as a form of appreciation, but it fails miserably. He understands, though, that she cares, and doesn’t ask her any questions.
“I’ll let Gabby know to come home now, okay?”
He kisses the top of her head, the way he always does, before removing himself from the couch and toward the front door.
“Take care of yourself, Y/n. I mean it.”
And then, he’s gone, leaving Y/n alone in an empty house and her haunting thoughts. She feels the world is closing in on her, only giving her a restricted amount of air and a limited amount of light to see what’s in front of her.
She’s alone—she’s left by herself in a dark room that’s only being illuminated by the television light, where nobody can hear her, where nobody can touch her, where nobody can see her; in a place where she just can’t trust herself.
She’s left alone, as she’s always left, and she just can’t take it anymore.
Her emotions become so strong that her body collapses onto the floor, her head throbbing and throat burning from all the tears and cries. She can’t breathe, her lungs failing to take in oxygen and her chest is pounding.
It’s so bad that if Gabby doesn’t come home soon, she actually believes she’s going to die. She feels the tug on her heart and feels how hard it is for it to do its job properly—she practically feels it overworking itself.
Gabby finds her on the floor, making her immediately drop her purse and run to her collapsed body. Y/n is a withering mess underneath her, completely drenched in sweat as violent sobs erupt from her body.
She’s quick to sit her up properly onto the floor before lifting her back onto the couch, running a comforting hand down the side of her neck as she begins to shush her down to a calm state. However, her attempt falters when Y/n shakes her head to remove Gabby’s touch from her neck.
“I can’t—I can’t—“
She tries to find words to explain what’s happening to her right now. Between the pain in her body and the feeling in her head, her brain is scrambling with so many fearful thoughts that the only thing she can truly comprehend is being saved from this horrifying feeling.
Gabby is taken aback when she says it, completely astonished by just how serious this all is. She realizes this isn’t a situation that she can fix on her own, and it makes her feel like such a bad friend that she can’t give her what she needs.
Tears fall from her eyes in panic, well aware that her friend is undergoing something far worse than a mental breakdown, but also knows that the hospital won’t be able to help her.
Only Harry can.
“Let me call for help, okay?“ She asks softly. “I’m gonna send help.”
When Harry sees Gabby’s contact light up his phone, something inside of him instantly fills with worry. He knows, without a doubt, that Gabby hates him more than anybody ever since what happened. And knowing her so well, she would never reach out to him, especially when her negative feelings toward him were so strong, unless it’s serious.
“You have to do something, Harry.” She cries through the phone, peaking over her shoulder to look over Y/n from her location in the kitchen.
She’s still a mess, holding her hand over her heart as if it were going to mend the pain. Her head is thrown over the back of the couch, her other hand running over her face continuously. Her sobs haven’t settled, only seeming to increase with panic over the unfamiliar reaction occurring over her body.
“She thinks you don’t want her and—Harry she thinks she’s dying. Her heart is so broken. She keeps saying her heart is going to fail her and I don’t—I don’t know what to do. I don’t think there’s anything I can do. She—she was trying so hard. Harry, please, you have to—you have to—“
Harry leans on his elbows over the kitchen counter, huffing out a shaky breath when he hears both Gabby and Y/n’s cries through the phone. He rubs his hand over his face, doing anything to prevent the tears nearly pooling out from his eyes.
He’d be lying if he said that guilt isn’t eating him alive in this moment. And it’s not that he hasn’t felt any remorse or any guilt since he’d broken Y/n’s heart, but he’s now fully aware that he has to look at the damage he’s done. He’ll have to witness all the pain, all the heartbreak he’s put her through, and nothing makes him feel worse.
“I’ll do anything.” He whimpers. “Just tell me what to do and I’ll do it. I promise, I won’t keep doing this to her, you have to believe me. Just—“ he lets out a broken breath, reaching his hand up to rub his eyes to prevent any tears from escaping, “just tell me what to do.”
Gabby wipes the tears from her cheeks, yet again peering over to watch over Y/n on the couch. To her dismay, there is absolutely no improvement.
“Come here, pick her up, and bring her home. Just talk to her, please. Nothing makes her feel worse than believing you don’t want her anymore. Hell, even if you don’t—I don’t know with you anymore—just give her something. You’re the only one that can fix this.”
He sighs, nodding his head before making his way out of his house without much of a response to her. He’s only concerned for Y/n, and is so focused on getting to her so that he can prove to her that he’s changed—that he’s not the same Harry he was and is going to be there for her for as long as his life lasts, even if she doesn’t allow it.
But it’s upon arrival he realizes how much more serious this is than he thought. She’s completely breaking down, every inch of her shaking and fear written on her face. She’s a complete and utter mess, a completely wrecked version of such a beautiful, unbroken woman who had so much love in her heart and surrounded by so much love in the air.
And even though Harry knows she believes she’s going to die, apart of him believes she’s already dead. The life inside of her has burned out and is now just a product of what once was. The Y/n he always known is long gone—so far gone he almost doesn’t believe it’s her.
He looks at her with the most distraught and sympathetic look Gabby has ever seen. She has never seen so much guilt in somebody before that—no matter how much she hates him—she can’t help but feel sorry for him, too.
“Baby, hey. Hey now, it’s alright.” He whispers, kneeling in front of Y/n’s shaking figure and tentatively reaching for her hair so that he can attempt to calm her down. “I’m here now, I’m right here.”
A pitiful sound leaves her lips when she looks up at him; something between a whine, a sob, and a groan. It’s messy from her throat being raw from all the screaming and cries, and it leaves an indescribable pain that only makes her cries stronger.
She can’t even think properly, everything in her body overworking itself. It’s something she’s never experienced before, and all the fears of it being permanent rush through her veins—leaving her with an overwhelming amount of anxiety.
“She’s having a panic attack.” Harry mumbles to Gabby, making sure to rub gently over the back of Y/n’s neck. Although panic attacks weren’t common for her, whenever she was overwhelmed and stressed, this gesture always seemed calmed her down.
“I don’t know what to do. I can’t drive with her like this I—Gabby, how do I focus with her like this?” He cries, the situation in front of him making his body turn to shambles, “Especially when it’s my fault? How do I—do I keep her here until she’s calm? I don’t—I don’t know—”
Gabby shakes her head, reaching her hand over to graze his tense shoulder. She squeezes the muscle softly, almost as a sort of reassurance.
“She needs home, Harry—” she whispers, “she needs you.”
He nods, choking back sobs as he brushes the hair out of Y/n’s face. The skin of her face is red and completely soaked, but this is the first time he’s seen her since the morning in the grocery store, and she’s never looked so beautiful.
“I’m going to take you home with me, Y/n. But I need you to breathe for me, can you do that?” He asks, holding her face delicately between his hands, “Breathe with me.”
Y/n sucks in a deep breath when Harry inhales deeply, attempting to rid all the anxiety and pain settling inside of her. Her inhale is broken between hiccups and cries, but as she keeps eye contact with him as she tries to calm down, a little part of her feels revived.
“It hurts.” She whimpers between sobs, referring to the pain in her chest and the throbbing in her head that just can’t seem to heal.
She watches as Harry’s face scrunches with an agonizing cry, and she knows he’s aware of exactly what she’s talking about. She’s been brokenhearted for so long, she doesn’t even think he’s the least bit shocked when she tells him her heart is hurting.
“I know, baby. I know.” He whispers as he kisses her forehead gently. “Let’s get you home, yeah? Make you feel better?”
And as much as she wants to hate him, or yell at him for everything he’s done to her and make him understand just how much of her life he’s ruined, she genuinely feels like her body is going to collapse at any given moment. She needs him, even if it’s just for right now, she has to just focus on everything happening in the now. Harry’s come back to her and she’s about to go back home.
Because if she doesn’t think about the present moment—Harry holding her, Harry kissing her, Harry about to take the both of them back to their house—she’ll never find a way to fix herself. She’ll be stuck in this anxiety and pain for far too long—so long that it could actually kill her.
So she closes her eyes, only focusing on his touch and his breath fanning over her wet face. She forgets the t-shirt, she forgets all the times he’s ignored her after declaring them to take a break, and she forgets about Jessica. At least for right now, she can focus on all that tomorrow.
She nods, and it’s then Harry notices how much more calm she is. Although she’s still crying and still incapable of speaking much from the aching in her throat, she’s breathing properly again and her once undying sobs have turned into soft whimpers.
He leans in so that he can properly wrap his arms around her, hooking one hand on her back and the other under her knees. There’s no way in hell she’s capable of walking—not like this, and in all honesty, he would much rather hold her now than leave her side for another second.
It’s when Y/n is being held so close to him again that the aching in her chest seems to almost vanish completely. And although there is still a weight on top of her lungs, and still a slight uncomfortableness in her heart, she’s finally able to breathe again.
“I’m gonna make this all better, okay? I promise you, gonna fix you.” He mumbles with his lips against her hairline, making sure to keep rubbing the back of her neck softly.
It’s a promise he intends on keeping—a promise he never plans on breaking again. He could never live with himself if he were to keep putting her through all of this pain. She’s the most undeserving person—he knows that—and he knows she’s too pure to go through all that she’s been through the past couple of months.
The car ride is completely silent, only Y/n’s cries and small sniffles filling the empty space. Although she still isn’t completely calm, she’s improved so much since he first came to pick her up and it is able to keep his mind at ease. At least while he drives.
And he doesn’t miss her hand sneaking over the console to intertwine her fingers with his. He doesn’t expect it but he also doesn’t mind it. If anything, it makes him feel better just as much as it does her.
When they pull up to the driveway of their once shared house, every bit of composure she’s withheld in her body is breaking down by the second. Her strength is wearing thin, and knowing she’ll be reuniting in the house where Y/n and Harry once had everything makes her more afraid than ever.
Harry notices her sudden shift in mood and doesn’t hesitate to unbuckle himself from his seat and walk around the car to where her exhausted figure is sobbing, slumped against the passenger seat. He sighs meekly before unbuckling her, as well, and lifting her against him the way he had before.
“Hey there, s’alright, I’m here. We’ll work this out, but you need to sleep first, yeah? Looking very pale and I know you well enough to see you’ve been lacking sleep.”
Although they both know Y/n isn’t going to respond, she wants to continue listening to him speak. It’s something she hasn’t heard in so long, and she wouldn’t even care if he was talking about the goddamn weather, she just wants to hear him again.
He keeps talking, too, because he notices the effects of his voice on her anxiety and how the muscles in her body relax under his words. He’ll stop at nothing to make sure she’s okay again, even if it means having a one-sided conversation.
“You know how you are, too—grumpy and sensitive when you’re tired. Almost take my head off if you don’t get more than seven hours. Remember that one time at my mum’s Christmas dinner party? Barely slept the night before from wrapping so many gifts that you genuinely got upset with me for not knowing your favorite alcoholic beverage.” He chuckles softly. “Funny lil thing.“
Through the nonstop crying and the frown that hasn’t left Y/n’s lips in what feels like an eternity, the first smile stretches from her lips. It’s the smallest closed mouth smile he’s ever seen, but it’s there, and it’s the most genuine feeling of happiness she’s had in so long.
When Harry unlocks the door, he wastes no time making his way over to their couch. He knows very well that she wouldn’t want to sleep on their bed, considering she’s well aware of what he did with Jessica on that bed and he wants no reason to upset her any further.
He sets her down in front of the couch, petting the top of her head softly before gathering a blanket and a pillow for her to sleep on.
He sets it up like a bed, almost, before turning to leave so that she can have her privacy. He doesn’t think she’d want to sleep with him, so he decides to sleep in the guest bedroom since he knows she’d always pick the living room couch over that room.
But before he gets too far, Y/n weakly captures his fingers in hers, pulling him back towards her.
His head snaps down to her finger, noticing the rose ring being worn beautifully on her middle finger. He almost chokes when he sees it on her, eyes wide and lips slightly parted in half confusion and half in awe.
“Please,” she whimpers, “stay.”
He snaps out of his trance at her words, slowly nodding his head as a small “of course” falls from his lips.
He lays comfortably on the couch, looking up at her when he finds a position where she can lay beside him.
“If you want you can take the—alright” he huffs.
His eyes narrow as he watches her lay on top of him—fully on top of him; her cheek nesting right where his shoulder meets his neck as her arms slither around his sides until her hands meet under his back. Her legs tangle perfectly in between his, and in any other circumstance, this probably wouldn’t have been an ideal sleeping position for the either of them. But Y/n is exhausted, both physically and mentally, and she feels this is the only position she can sleep.
Harry doesn’t mind, and easily ignores the subtle uncomfortableness in his back as he wraps his arms securely around her frame.
Although Y/n is already fast asleep on top of it, he’s unsure how he can close his eyes for longer than a blink. This could be the last chance he has to be with her in this way. He’s unsure what tomorrow holds for the both of them and their relationship—it could end entirely or create an entirely new beginning.
With the possibilities almost endless against their favor, he doesn’t want to miss a second of what could be the last of her in his life. So, he embraces the feeling of her tight hold, the little puddle of drool on the shoulder of his t-shirt, and the tickle on his chin from her loose strands of hair, because this could be the last time he feels all of that.
But he also can’t help but feel that small bit of hope still latching onto him. That somewhere—deep down—he knows they belong to each other for the rest of their lives. And that, maybe, if the universe decides that their relationship should end tomorrow, he knows destiny will find a way for the both of them again.
So, he holds her a little tighter, breathes her in a little harsher, and soaks up all the extra warmth in her body, and prays that everything will be okay.
Prompt (AU) : Harry took his anger out in sex-and you weren’t supposed to do that. He would go to the bar and find others just as terrible and lonely as him, drink, and then sink his sorrows into anything with breast and a hole were to put it. Niall always rolled his eyes the next morning and say to Harry “you’re a proper dick, yeh know that right?”, to which Harry would lift his middle finger up and respond with, “if soulmates are real she would love me anyhow.”
“Harry when you meet her your life will change,” Anne says, handing him a cup of tea.
Harry rolls his eyes, “I don’t care to meet her. It’s all bullshit,” Harry grumbles.
There were very few things that bugged Y/N in life. Y/N
hated when people didn’t use their turn signals when driving, or when people
walked too slow in front of her, or when people rolled their eyes or stared at
her, but she absolutely loathed when people wouldn’t respect her choice and try
and force her to talk. It was clear, crystal clear, that she wasn’t much of a
talker, and yes or no questions where the good route to go, but when people
edged her on she got upset.
For example, Harry just couldn’t wrap his mind around how
his other half would not utter a single word to him. Y/N had written down on a
whiteboard that she was ‘mute’ and would really prefer if Harry stayed away
from the label. She explained that even though he was her soulmate (and she would
love to be open with him) talking just didn’t seem like something she was ready
She watched as Harry rolled his eyes, crossing his arms, and
frowned. She could feel his annoyance (literally) and she wanted to stub her
toe on the table just to tick him off, but she felt like it was rude and she
didn’t want to put herself through the pain as well.
“So like what? I’m supposed to spend the rest of my life
with someone who won’t talk to me?” Harry asked, his eyes on her as she walks
down the hallway of her apartment complex.
Growing up, people told Y/n that you could die from a broken heart—that the stress on your heart strings could weaken, and all that’s left is the pain in your chest.
Y/n thought her heart would fail her, rupture all that’s left of her and leave her body to decompose. She believed that, if her broken heart wasn’t going to kill her, loneliness and lack of sleep would push her towards her end.
Moving on—something that seemed so simple yet so impossible for Y/n to do.
When the hurt in her chest and the hallucinations from exhaustion started to become too much for her to handle, she was willing to do anything to help herself. She started taking up yoga sessions, started writing music, even started cooking in an attempt to bring herself back from whatever hell she was in.
She even considered moving on; meeting a man at a bar and getting to know more about him rather than his drink order. But something seemed so wrong about that—something was unsettled inside of her at the thought of being with someone who wasn’t Harry.
The image of Jessica in Harry and Y/n’s t-shirt was enough to haunt her nearly every hour of the day. She started going mental, constantly wondering what they were doing together in the moments she was most vulnerable. She wondered about their love life, their future, their interests. She thought about everything.
It wasn’t until Gabby was determined to mend the broken girl raiding her house, finding any possible excuse to give her a sense of life again, that Y/n found the slightest bit of hope.
Y/n was losing it, entirely, and Gabby refused to continue being a bystander.
Gabby had set Y/n up on a blind date only a couple weeks back, practically begging her to seize every opportunity she possibly can to get over Harry. It was all Gabby could do to help her, considering nothing quite helped Y/n’s well-being since the breakup.
“Oh, he’s just so perfect!” Gabby squealed, clapping her hands before gripping tightly around Y/n’s wrists in excitement. “He’s gorgeous! Amazing blue eyes—breathtaking, really! And he’s so sweet, Y/n! I haven’t met a single person who’s disliked him and he’s such an amazing photographer! And his teeth! His teeth are marvelous! Do you know how hard it is nowadays to find a man with nice teeth? I mean—“
By then, Y/n had dozed off, and it wasn’t for any personal reason against Gabby; she’s appreciated every bit of hard work to help her through the heartbreak Y/n’s been dealing with nearly half of a year now. It’s just that she wasn’t ready to move on, not that she didn’t want to.
It had been nearly five months, which may seem like such an abundance of time to rid feelings for somebody, but did time really help moving on from someone she’d planned to spend the rest of her life with? It seemed nearly impossible. She could barely see herself looking at other men in a romantic sense, how could she see herself going on a date with somebody? Especially when she was still in love with somebody else?
She was biting the bullet with letting time heal her, but she felt that was the only way. Nothing more could help her. If anything, she believed dating would make it worse, if she were being honest.
But the look of excitement Gabby had at the mere thought of Y/n being happy again was something Y/n found nearly impossible to resist. Besides, she had definitely been overstaying her welcome at Gabby’s house no matter how much Gabby’s tried to deny it and has put so much stress onto her that maybe, just maybe, doing this one favor for all that she’s done for her.
“So, what do you say?”
Y/n blinked harshly when Gabby’s voice drowned out all the scrambled thoughts in her head, shaking her head slightly to regain her understanding of reality.
“Monmouth Coffee Shop at noon tomorrow. Dan really wants to meet you, Y/n! Please!”
Y/n’s eyes widened, snapping her head up to meet Gabby’s hopeful eyes.
“The Monmouth?! Are you crazy?! That’s Harry’s favorite coffee shop, you know that! Dan and Harry probably know each other, that’s how much he goes there!”
Gabby’s eyes narrowed as her lips pursed, gaze directing toward the ceiling in thought.
“Harry? Harry who? I don’t remember who that is, never heard that name in my life.”
Her tone reeked with sarcasm, which made Y/n’s eyes nearly roll to the back of her head. As much as she wished Gabby’s negative remarks about Harry were comedic, there was always something about them that infuriated her. She always supposed it was the instinctual aspect of loving someone so much.
Gabby sighed as she reached her hand up to rub Y/n’s shoulder gently.
“Look,” she began, “you’re my best friend and I hate seeing you like this. You’re not the same Y/n I always knew, and I think you see yourself that way, too. And in all honesty, I don’t give a fuck about Harry anymore. As sadistic and twisted as it sounds, I don’t care about his emotions, or how he feels. He did this to you. He killed a part of you and I feel it’s my obligation to help you through this. So, please, go out with Dan tomorrow. He works at Monmouth, he’ll meet you before his shift starts at 1:30.”
Gabby’s arm slid off of Y/n’s shoulder at the shadow of uncertainty behind her eyes. Even though Gabby understood all the pain and hesitation, she didn’t want to see Y/n suffer another day. She just couldn’t.
“Please,” she whimpered, “Dan has been the only sense of hope I’ve gotten to make you happy again. Just do this one thing, please? And if it doesn’t work, then you can blame me. I’m just trying here.”
Y/n coughed slightly, her inability to say no wearing off of her at Gabby’s desperate pleads. It was an opportunity to turn things back around in her life, and if it didn’t go as planned, she really didn’t have anything more to lose.
She nods her head softly.
“Yeah—yeah, okay. I’ll meet him.”
Maybe this would be good for her.
Dan is lovely, always caring for Y/n and making sure she feels like loyalty whenever she’s around. He puts her first, in everything, and made a rule that the date can’t end until I hear you laugh at least six times.
It’s cute, really, how effortless he is at giving someone so much attention. Y/n likes it—loves it, even, but it still never feels right to her. She sees something with him, but nothing long term, not in the way she sees Harry.
But he’s good for her now, when she’s at her worst and needs someone to be there for her. He’s able to provide her with the company she desperately needs in order to cure the possible fatalities that came with her broken heart.
“Thank you for the coffee, it was great.” Y/n smiles softly, her cheeks blushing slightly as she traces the rim of her coffee cup.
It’s nearly their tenth date, and they still meet at the Monmouth at noon before his shift. It’s become a routine for them, meeting together at noon before Dan drops her off at the parking station. It became something they both looked forward to throughout their week, and soon became more of a tradition between them.
Dan grins, almost instinctively wrapping his arms around Y/n’s shoulders so that her head makes rest on his chest. He sighs, pressing a small kiss to the top of her head before resting his chin where his lips once were.
“Of course. I’ll be getting out at around 6 o‘clock so maybe I can stop by for a few? Maybe watch a movie?”
He knows the answer before she says it—his constant attempts to get closer to her always seeming to fail. There’s always a hesitation, or always an excuse to prevent them from being alone together.
He’s well aware that there are parts of her that need to be fixed, still being completely destructed by her ex-lover. He’s tried tirelessly to get her to open up and to trust him, but there’s a thick barrier still in their way of each other. It disheartens him, to know she refuses to let him in.
She sighs, guilt evident in her breath as she softly pushes away from him.
She does that often, he’s noticed it.
She feels horrible for doing so every time. Everything between them has remained stagnant, nothing being built so that nothing could be knocked down. It’s not that Y/n doesn’t trust him, it’s that Y/n doesn’t trust herself. She’s still in love with someone else, and she can’t hurt Dan—not in that way.
“I think I’m just going to—“
“Yeah, I know.” Dan nods, arms moving to cross at his chest, “I get it. Just like every other time.”
Y/n reaches her shaking fingers to brush her hair behind her ear, guilt flashing in her eyes as she refuses to meet his gaze. She’s familiar with the look he has on his face well enough to know he’s upset again, being constantly shut down by her.
“I’m so sorry, Dan.” She whispers, “But I’m trying. I want to keep trying with you. If you let me.”
He looks unconvinced, as he’s been hearing this for a while now. But something inside of him can’t quit her, no matter how much his intuition tells him she’s a dead end. Maybe he feels sorry for her on a level he’s never felt sorrow for somebody else. No matter how much she hides it, she really does need him. Not in a romantic level, but she does need him to show her that he cares for her and that he’ll always be there. She needs that sense of security, and he’s the only one that can provide it for her.
“Yeah,” he nods, “we can keep trying. It’s okay, I’m here for you.“
Harry had been living in his studio for the past couple of weeks. It certainly wasn’t ideal, but it was much better than sleeping on his and Y/n’s bed—alone.
That’s all he’s felt since their break up—lonely. It’s quite strange, considering Harry had millions of supporters, an entire band throughout his solo career, and producers around him nearly every hour of the day. He used to complain that he never had alone time anymore, that between all the constant traveling and being at the peak of his career, it was hard to find time for himself.
But now, in the midst of everything happening in his life, he wishes to feel that sort of hustle again.
Y/n was the person that kept him grounded through everything. She was the one consistency in his life, which gave him all the more reasons to love her. Whenever he was overwhelmed with the pressure put on him, or feeling homesick during his travels, she was always the one to keep him at bay and give him a sense of clarity.
Home hadn’t become a house, instead, Y/n’s heart. Wherever she was, he felt at home. Even when she was half way across the world, it was her voice that brought him back and reminded him that, no matter how much he missed the walls of familiarity, home was always a phone call away. She gave him that sense of comfort everywhere she went, it was truly amazing.
And when he broke up with Y/n, he didn’t think of how much everything around him would be affected. He thought time would do them best—would help mend the relationship that seemed to be collapsing beneath their feet. Their connections were lost, replaces by uncomfortable silences and unbarring arguments.
He didn’t think of the consequences when he did it. He didn’t think about how lost he’d become, or how he had no place to call home, or how there was no consistency in his life anymore. There were so many aspects of his life that Y/n had given him—so much of them that he didn’t realize until she moved out.
It was the exact reason he started dating Jessica. She was a great distraction, a beautiful woman to take his mind off of everything.
They weren’t much of anything. Nothing about them was exclusive besides what the media saw of them: boyfriend and girlfriend moving in together in London. It was far from the truth, really. He was with her to terminate his dry spell and rid his loneliness, and she was with him because he infatuated her.
He ended it all, though, that same morning Y/n found Jessica wearing their shirt. The entire incident gave him a realization; that nobody could fill his void like Y/n did.
The fear of losing her forever and making her believe he was in love with somebody else was enough to break him out of his selfish ways. She had been waiting for him for months, and when he returned, he wasn’t the same man he was.
Not only did Harry know that Y/n lost all her faith in him—he lost all faith in himself, as well.
“I’m so screwed, Nick. I fucked up everything. Everything.”
Harry was laying with his back flat against the studio couch, hands rubbing down his face as he tried to steady his harsh breathing.
It was just after he had run into Y/n at the grocery store, where she had seen Jessica wearing Harry and Y/n’s t-shirt. Although he was practically mute during the encounter, everything hit him at once after Y/n and Gabby walked out.
He called Nick in a hurry, incoherent and completely disoriented from the tears he’d broken down into. Everything he thought would be mended completely fell down on them—all because of him.
“Jessica was wearing the shirt with the—fuck, you know the shirt, and Y/n saw and she was such a mess, Nick. I didn’t even say anything to her, she was practically begging me to say something and I didn’t say a word.”
Nick sat cross-armed on one of the chairs, directly across from Harry. He wished he could have felt remorse seeing Harry in such distress, however, he never agreed with Harry’s actions and made it clear numerous times. In his eyes, this was karma’s ticking time bomb.
“You tend to be a real jackass sometimes, you know that?”
Harry lifted himself up so that he could sit properly. His body slumped against the back of the couch, head rested in his palm as he coughed uncomfortably at Nick’s choice of words.
“You let go of the best thing that’s ever happened to you and then you just move on, as if she meant nothing, and you think you just fucked it all up now? Over the goddamn t-shirt?”
Harry scowled at him.
“I haven’t moved on, and it’s more than just a t-shirt, you know that. That was ours.” Harry defended, glaring over at his direction.
“So why was Jessica wearing it after you fucked her on the bed you and Y/n shared every night for the past three years?”
Something about Nick’s words gave Harry a foul taste in his mouth. As much as he wished Nick didn’t say it in that way, that’s exactly what Harry did, and knowing he had to live with that for the rest of his life made his stomach flip inside of him.
He really did fuck it up. Nothing he did was excusable, nothing he did was forgivable. He betrayed the one woman he loved so dearly—the one woman he’d always consider his soulmate. He really, really fucked it up.
He gulped as he tried to find words to justify himself. There was really nothing he could say.
“She—she had just put it on while I was sleeping and when—when I noticed she just wouldn’t shut up about breakfast and I couldn’t just be like ‘Hey, Jess, could you take off that shirt? That belonged to me and my ex-girlfriend and I don’t appreciate it?’ How could I do that?”
He sighed, leaning his face into the palm of his hands as he looked back onto his experiences with Jessica. Was it all worth it? Was she really worth all of this?
“She means nothing to me, Nick. I lost the girl I love for somebody who doesn’t mean anything to me.” He whispered, “How do I live knowing that?”
It’s nearly two in the afternoon when Harry finally decides to leave his studio. He’s been working on some songs he found himself writing during his free time, something he found therapeutic throughout the past couple of months.
Recording and writing have become the only distractions that seem to work for Harry. Everything else became temporary. Writing out his emotions and singing the words he wishes he could say has been the only sense of closure he’s had in a while.
“Dan! Long time no see!” Harry smiles when he enters Monmouth, a familiar face being something he finds so relieving.
Dan looks up from his register, reaching over the counter to give Harry a hug as he greets him enthusiastically.
“Haven’t seen you in quite a while. On your lunch break?”
Harry nods as his eyes squint, reaching for the back of his neck as he reads over the menu.
“Yeah, kind of in a hurry today if you don’t mind. Can I just get a medium coffee with almond milk, please? And a slice of apple pie, feeling kind of brisk today.”
Dan works his fingers across the cash register, yelling out his order to the barista before making small talk about the weather. Considering Harry hasn’t been seen in Monmouth nearly as much as he used to, they both found it nice to catch up with each other for the short while they’ve been distanced.
When Dan reaches over to give Harry his spare change, an all too familiar silver ring catches his attention immediately. At first glance, he swears his heart stopped beating.
There’s no way, there’s just no way that could be the ring Harry gave to Y/n. Dan and Y/n have never met before, considering she had only visited here a handful of times during Harry’s lunch break. And even then, she would just stand patiently by the door while Harry waited to retrieve his order.
There’s just no way, but the top of the rose has a particular rust on it that resembles Harry’s perfectly—and no matter how long it’s been since he’s seen it, he’ll never forget what it looks like.
Harry’s hand grips onto Dan’s wrist instead of reaching out to grab the spare change laying upon his palm, flipping over his hand to inspect the silver ring snug almost too perfectly around his finger. He’s aggressive, movements harsh and face tight with anger, but at this point in time, the last thing Harry’s worried about is Dan’s slightly intimidated composure.
“Where did you get this?”
Unlike his demeanor, his voice is soft and breaking between each word. There’s an unrecognizable shift in his eyes when he sees the wear and tear Harry knows he caused before gifting it to Y/n. This is most definitely his, and knowing Y/n was the one who gave it to him makes him nearly throw up all the contents in his stomach.
“Girlfriend gave it to me,” Dan smiles “well, not really my girlfriend yet. But you know how they are. I told her I liked it and she insisted I have it.”
Harry swallows the lump in his throat, making him nearly whimper when he opens his mouth to speak.
He’s never felt so much pain before. The breaking that was once only in his heart spread like wildfire across every bone and ligament in his body. It burns, the sudden realization that Y/n has a boyfriend, that Y/n is no longer going to be there—waiting for him—the way he always expected her to be, that Y/n has taken it upon herself to seek revenge on him so that he can feel everything she felt that one Sunday morning at the grocery store.
And it’s then he realizes that this is nothing compared to everything he’s put her through. In his favor, this is just a stupid ring her gave her for her birthday because he loved the way she twisted it around his finger. It didn’t have much value between them, just something small they shared. He couldn’t imagine the hurt he would have now, standing her, if Dan were wearing their Lover t-shirt.
“Wh—What’s her name?”
His voice is in a whisper now, only the slightest bit of hope draining from his body when he hears Dan speak again.
“Y/n. She’s a good girl, you’d like her.”
Harry almost laughs. You’d like her. He has no idea, he’s in love with her.
It’s as if every part of Harry’s body begins to shut down. Maybe it’s from the shock, or the overbearing pain he feels in his chest, but he suddenly begins to feel lightheaded. His muscles turn numb and all his orientation seems to scramble as if he’s intoxicated.
Dan’s eyes narrow when he sees all the color drain from his face, his eyes widened and soaked with tears. He watches as he nearly falls backward, only to balance himself with his foot when he takes a proper step away from the counter.
“Harry? Harry, you alright?”
Never fucking say my name again is the first proper thought that his brain can register. But his throat is tight and his tongue is numb. He attempts to take a breath of air, but he feels like his lungs are collapsing in his chest, preventing him from doing anything besides stumble uncoordinatedly out of the Monmouth doors.
He’s falling apart—that’s exactly what it feels like. He feels like every limb is falling from his body as he walks towards his car. He doesn’t know exactly how he’s moving, even if he’s stumbling on his own two feet and colliding into stranger’s bodies as he does so, he doesn’t understand how his body finds the strength to keep moving.
Y/n moved on. Y/n’s dating Dan. Y/n gave his ring to him. It’s all over, everything is over.
“No” he mumbles frantically, jealously flowing in his veins, chest heaving from the sobs that are threatening to spill out of him, “no, no no no.”
He starts to wonder where he’s missed it, and exactly how long it’s been since Y/n moved on. She was so broken at the grocery store the other week; what could have possibly altered her feelings that quickly? Did Dan really impact her that much?
But that’s his girl. Y/n is his girl, she’s the one he was so sure he was going to spend the rest of his life with. Even with Jessica, even with everything that’s happened, Y/n is his soulmate, and there isn’t anything in the world that can convince him otherwise.
Nobody is going to take her from him. He refuses to believe she belongs to somebody that isn’t him; there isn’t an atom in his body that doubts their companionship.
Before he thinks twice—before he really gives himself a chance to stop himself—Harry slides his cell phone out of his back pocket once he reaches his car. He slumps against the hood as his fingers work furiously across his screen.
There has to be something, at least some sort of proof that this is really happening to him, that this isn’t in a nightmare he can easily wake himself out of. There had to have been a hint, a warning for him to have. She would have never moved on without saying something to him. They were so strong together, she would have never left without closure.
Nothing about it makes sense.
And then, he sees it.
He falls to his knees, hitting the concrete harshly below him. His body gave out from beneath him, his muscles and bones failing him.
It’s there, right in front of him, mocking him and all the shitty decisions he’s made. It’s there—on Y/n’s private Instagram page—a picture of Dan holding Y/n’s hand on top of a table in Monmouth, Harry’s ring wrapped perfectly around his pointer finger.
“Sexual-Frustration. Noun. (countable and uncountable, plural sexual frustrations) A state of agitation felt by an individual whose sexual satisfaction is considerably less than desired”
3 weeks. It had been 3 weeks since he last touched her. It’s not intentional, he’s just been so busy he’s barely noticed and to be fair neither had she but her body had.
For the first week she was fine, content with his fleeting lips on her forehead as he rushed out the door are the tired kisses he gave when he got home late. She was okay with only feeling his hands on the small of her back as he reached over her for his razor as she brushed her teeth. She was fine. The second week was manageable, yes his fleeting lips left her flustered and his tired kisses left her wanting more and sure when his hand brushed over the small of her back it left goosebumps in it’s wake but she could ignore it. She was fine. So why tonight, on the 3 week mark, is she so temperamental? Why has she been short with him all day and why couldn’t she focus on anything at work?
She’d been home from work for about an hour when he walked through the bedroom door. He’s mad at her, she yelled at him this morning for reasons he was unaware of. She’d dodged his phone calls all day and ignored his attempts at finding out what was wrong. Yet he still notices her staring at him when he walks into the room, can see her sat on the bed with her now closed book and her bottom lip between her teeth as her eyes follow him around the room, he can feel her watching him and that’s when it clicks.
He turns and walks to her like a predator who’s found his victim, his hands pulled her clothes off slowly and then parted her thighs as she watched him with wide eyes. He’s not touching her, not how she needs him to, not where she needs him to. He’s leaning over her with that goddamn smirk on his face as his fingers lightly trace her inner thigh.
“Saw yeh staring. This what’s got you so frustrated? Pretty girl missed my hands on her huh?”
She can’t respond, she doesn’t need to. He knows her answer, can feel her answer.
“Missed y’too, missed how your body reacts to me like the earth does to lightning. Missed how you arch into me, as needful of me as I am of you. Missed this.”
She still doesn’t answer, it’s as though his touch leaves her speechless. Her body is too busy welcoming the feeling of his hands on her skin to reply, too busy forming goosebumps to form words.
“S’my pretty girl not gonna talk to me? She not even gonna moan for me?”
He’s asking for it now, almost teasingly, he can see what he’s doing to her yet he still wants to hear it. He wants to hear her.
“What baby? Can’t please you if I don’t know what you want”
And she’s trying, trying to tell him what she needs, trying to ask for more but she just can’t. She’s overwhelmed, he hasn’t touched her for weeks and it’s too much yet not enough all at once.
“Please what poppet?”
He’s making her beg for it. It’s like he’s punishing her, for being moody with him, for not just asking him to touch her, for making him work it out for himself.
“Please touch me, need you to touch me”
“But I am touching you gorgeous”
She almost sobs, she’s so desperate and he’s toying with her. A moan escaped her as his hands moved to her pubic bone. It was all too slow. The moan was more dissatisfaction than the opposite but still it evokes a teasing glint in his eye.
“Am I close sweetheart? M’I close to where you want me?”
All she can do is nod, he’s so close but he’s not there.
“What about here? is this better?”
His hand is flat against her mound and his thumb is rubbing softly just above the top of her clit. Her eyes are wide and watery as she silently pleads with him to give her what she’s so desperate for.
“Oh no, that’s not what you want is it sweets? No, you want me here”
His thumb finally touches her nerves and it has her gasping like it the first time she’s breathed since she saw him walk into the bedroom. He’s barely done anything but yet she’s arching her back and gripping his arm and he’s enthralled with it, with her, he’s only rubbing her in slow circles and she’s writhing.
“What was that my love?”
He’s not teasing her anymore, not trying to make her beg, he was just so wrapped up in watching her squirm that he couldn’t comprehend what she was asking for.
“Please H, need more”
“My sweet girl wants more huh? Wants me to make her cum?”
She’s breathless, the rasp in his voice driving her insane. All she can do is say “please” like that and his name are all that’s in her vocabulary right now. Her please makes him smile, she’s completely as his mercy and he loves it. He slips his fore and middle finger into her while his thumb presses steady circles into her clit and she’s whimpering and to him it sounds like heaven. He knows her body like he knows his own name, he knows what makes her tick, so when his fingers touch the most sensitive spots inside of her and she lets out a cry he just smiles, her body is his and he knows how to use it. She can feel her stomach tightening and her heart beat in her throat.
“Yeah? Is my pretty girl going to cum for me? Gonna let me watch you break?”
Her eyes are squeezed shut as she nods, he can see tears threatening to spill and he’s proud. His fingers stop moving and instead they press on her softest spot, the spot that makes her scream. The pressure there coupled with his thumb on her clit is too much, she’s hypersensitive and he’s using it against her. Both of her hands grip his wrist as she lets out a sob, his head snaps up in worry just to be stunned with the image of his girl completely wrecked because of him and he swears it’s the most beautiful sight he’s ever seen. His free hand moves to cup one side of her face as his thumb brushes away her stray tears, something so innocent compared to what his other thumb is doing to her.
“That’s it sweetheart, cum for me, that’s my good girl”
His lips are on her cheek as she cums, her hands leave his wrist to grip his shirt tightly in her fist. Her body is stiff and her eyes are shut, tears are still streaming down her face but she’s silent. He’s watching her completely fall apart and he can’t believe he’s gone 3 weeks without seeing this, why was he depriving himself of such a beautiful sight? She’s shuddering as she comes down, her eyes still closed but the death grip she had on his shirt slowly being released as he lays her back against the bed.
“Are you okay my love?”
A shaky breath leaves her as she nods and opens her eyes to look him
“I’ve missed you”
It’s a quiet confession that he would’ve missed had he not been solely focused on her. It makes his heart ache. How he could ever leave this perfect girl, his perfect girl, without his touch for so long is beyond him and he’s making a promise to himself to never leave her without him for that long again, never going to deprive himself of her again.
“…but I was thinking, maybe we should-Hello, the earth is
calling Y/N. Anyone home?” Justin waved his hands in front of Y/N’s face. She
quickly focused her eyes on his face. “Mhm?” she mumbled.
“Where did I lose you?” he asked curiously, wondering what
was on her mind. They were discussing which movie they’re going to watch.
“Um, you were saying something about, um, the girl on the
train? You said you would like to watch it, since you liked the book so much.”
she spoke unsurely, wondering if he even spoke of that. She knows they had that
conversation few days ago, but did he mentioned it today, she wasn’t certain.
As a respond he giggled. She joined him, she loved when he
would giggle, his eyes would nearly shut, his smile would grow so big and the
sound was just like an angel was laughing.
“So I’ve lost you like three days ago. I didn’t even
mentioned it today. FYI I was telling you about this new movie “Don’t Breath”,
but now I’m very interested what was on your mind.” His smile grew even wider,
he looked like he caught her in some kind of embarrassing action, and he
actually did, without even knowing. She could feel hotness spreading around her
face, she knew she looked as red as a tomato. She buried her face into her
That made Justin giggle even more. “Oh don’t tell me that you
were picturing me naked?” he wiggled his eyebrows. He knew it would make her
blush even more, and he just couldn’t resist but tease her. “You know, you
could’ve just asked, I would even put a show for you.”
She immediately lifted her head up and yelled giggling “NO”
her cheeks were dark red. She once again covered her face.
“So you don’t want me to put on a show for you?” Justin
placed his left hand over his chest, pretending he’s hurt. “I am deeply offended,
He couldn’t keep a
straight face, not around her. She was just so embarrassed, it was the cutest
thing ever. He extended his arms to her. “Come”
She shyly moved from her place on the couch and sat onto his
lap. She buried her face into crotch of his neck. He chuckled once again, and
so did she. “Now will you tell me what you were thinking about, if it wasn’t me
She took a deep breath. She had some thoughts on this, and
how to explain it to him, without him getting hurt. She moved her face from his
neck and looked deeply into his eyes. By now, his face wasn’t all giggly and
happy anymore, it was rather serious.
“Y/N, what is it? You’re scaring me.” he looked concerned. She
placed her hands on his chest and started playing with the shirts fabric.
“No, no, it’s nothing that serious, you don’t have to be
worried. I just. Ugh, I don’t know how to say this. You know I’m not good at
this things.” His face lightened up a little bit.
“So you where picturing me naked.”
“No I was not.”
“Well then you were picturing us having sex.” Her cheeks
went red once again. “So you were. You know you don’t have to picture something
like that when I’m right there.” He got closer to her. She knew where this was
leading and she had nothing against it, but it was now or never.
She lightly pushed him back down, and he looked at her
confused. He wanted to say something but she cut him off.
“Technically, yes I was picturing us naked, but there was
more to it.” Her eyes once more focused on her hands rather than his eyes. He
could tell that he was very intrigued by now, and he wanted to know more than
“So what was that more?” his voice became lower. He’s words
came out like a little growl, which only sent shivers down her spine. He could
feel she tensed above him. “Tell me, baby, what was I doing?”
She was always so shy about this kind of things, and she
knew she won’t be able to tell him her fantasy, but she can avoid it by a
simple question which should clarify everything.
“What kinks do you have?” now for him, that question came
out of nowhere and it shocked him. Justin was staring at her, not sure why she
was changing the subject.
“Look, you know I suck at dirty talk. Stop giggling, I
wasn’t making a dirty joke.” She lightly punched his shoulder. “You’re not
“Oh come here my embarrassed baby.” He got closer once again
and their lips met for a quick peck. Once they separated she started again.
“You have to know one thing, by all of this I am not saying that our sex life
is bad, at least not for me. It’s amazing but I just feel like something is
missing. So I wanna know what gets you off, what do you like.”
He didn’t know what to say, she caught him off-guard. He
observed her and she just couldn’t take the silence anymore. “Fine I’ll start. Um,
I like rough sex, and by that I mean everything that goes with it, choking,
tying up, ass slapping, blindfolding, and usage of toys. I like it when a man
knows how to treat a woman, how to be a dominant but at the same time caring
He looked at her like she was someone else, he had no idea
where that came from. She was always so shy telling him about her sex dream or
simple dirty talk during sex, so it shook him up.
He cleaned his throat and shifted in his sat, he was getting
hot from her recent confession. “So that’s what you really like, baby girl? Is
that what you want me to do?” Justin got closer to her, she could feel her heart
beating faster. She bit her lip and simply nodded.
He placed his left hand on her back and twirled her around
so she was laying on the couch and he was hovering her. She separated her legs
and wrapped them around his waist. He brought his face closer to hers, but
never touching hers.
Suddenly he got up from her, she was confused. He offered
her his left arm and she took it. He pulled her of the couch. Their faces met
once again, but he didn’t make a move. “Since you like being tied up, I can’t
fuck the living shit out of you down here where I can’t tie you up to
He guided her up to their shared room, and with every step
was feeling more and more horny. Once they were inside,
Justin pushed her against the bedroom door. She gasped from sudden harshness,
but it only made her hornier.
“Tonight I don’t want to hear a sound from you, unless I
gave you permission. Understood?” Justin growled into her ear. She felt
unexpected heat spreading across her body. She nodded, she wasn’t able to
answer his question. But he wasn’t pleased with that.
His left hand found her neck and squeezed it, first, lightly,
then adding more force. “Understood?” he inquired loudly. “Yes” she mumbled.
“Yes, what?” he repeated after her.
He lighten his grip only to lock his lips with hers. She
expected it to be a rough and fast kiss, but he wasn’t hurrying anywhere. It
annoyed her, she wanted to feel him, and she wanted him to just take her,
without any foreplay. But she knew she wasn’t getting that.
His hands were moving up and down her body, but once hers
found the back of his head, he jacked the off and held them up, above her head.
It only made her moan into the kiss.
He freed her lips and placed kisses all over her chin. She
knew what he was doing, and he knew the exact effect he had on her. “Please,
All of the sudden he stopped, his grip became tighter. He
looked into her eyes, his voice was low and steady. “I don’t recall giving you
a permission to speak. Do that one more time and I will stop.” She bit her lip
and tried to hold in a moan.
He freed her hands only to rip her shirt off. She wouldn’t
be able to describe how hot and weak it made her when he ripped it, she wanted
to moan, all frustrated. He took what remained
of the shirt in one hand, while he used his other one to guide her to
the bed. When her legs hit the end of the bed, he demanded. “Bra off, lay on
your back, hands above your head.”
She listened, but she took the chance to tease him as much
as he was teasing her. She slowly reached behind her back, she pretended to be
struggling with her bra. He clenched his jaw and stepped closer. He didn’t even
warn her, he just ripped it off and pushed her onto bed. She crawled to the top
of the bed, she obediently laid on her back placing her hands above her head,
meeting the coldness of headboard.
Justin seemed pleased, as he got onto bed, placing his knees
on either side of her body, slowly making his way up to her, slowly rolling her
shirt in his hands. Once he reached her, his crotch was directly in front of
her and she couldn’t help but bite her lip.
“You like what you see?” he asked taking her hands in his
and wrapping her shirt around her hands. He continued, never stopping to look
down at her. “Now, this will have to work today, but next time, baby girl,
you’re gonna be properly handcuffed. I promise you that.” He tighten the knot,
making sure it was at the same time tight enough, but not way to tight.
He backed away a little bit, he lowered himself, so his face
was at the same height as hers. They looked at each other, and Y/N just
couldn’t take it anymore. She just wanted to feel his touch, his lips all over
her body, his hands working their way up and down her inner thigh, his tongue
circling around her clit, and lastly his dick inside of her.
She moved her head up but he was faster and backed away, only
a little bit but enough far so she couldn’t reach him. He smirked at her while
she let out a sigh. It seemed like he wasn’t hurrying anywhere, but Y/N was
just about to explode. “Ugh, please Justin. Stop teasing.” She whined out.
The sound of her voice made Justin back away. He wiggled his
left finger “That’s a no-no. What did I say? Speak one more time and I will
stop. Do you really want me to stop? No? Then I will have to get those pretty little
mouth occupied, won’t I?”
Justin got off the bed, still not hurrying anywhere. He stood
on the left side of the bed, slowly undoing his kaki jeans. He used the opportunity
to take his shirt off, shoes and Calvin Klein boxers. Y/N’s eyes never let his
out of sight, observing every inch of his body, memorizing the little stuff.
“Like what you see?” Justin inquired. As a respond, she let
out a loud moan. “Isn’t it funny that, when you have a permission to talk you don’t,
but when you don’t, you do? You like being bad? Trust me I can treat you like a
bad girl any time you want.” He growled, slowly getting onto bed, taking the
same position as before.
He took his dick into his hand and placed it in front of her
mouth. “Suck.” But he didn’t need to tell her twice. She took him into her
mouth, as much as she could and started sucking onto it. His mouth felt open, as
her eyes never left his eyes. “Fuck, just like that.”
She would gladly go
slow and tease him, but she wasn’t able to take it slow. She picked her pace,
sucking and licking. He grabbed her hair “So you wanna be a bad girl? Then, don’t
suck a dick like a good girl.” With those words he pushed her head all the way
to his pubic hair. She gaged at the sudden at the feeling of his whole dick in
“That’s right take it all.” He roughly pushed her head back
and forth, and every time she could feel the tip of his dick hitting the back
of her throat. She could feel her drool all over her neck and chest.
“How selfish of me. You’re here all hot and wet, and all I think
about is my pleasure.” He pulled out, heavy breathing.
“Are you wet for me? Or are you dripping?” he asked, slowly
backing away so he was placed in between her legs. “Well, let’s find out.”
He harshly pressed his right hand on her pussy, rubbing her
clit through her panties. She let out a loud moan of relief, finally feeling
his touch. “Ohhoho.” He said excitedly. “Someone is dripping wet.”
He pulled her panties off, lowering his head, and without a
warning connecting his lips with her clit. Y/N moaned loudly, throwing her head
into the pillow and pushing her hips up. Justin placed his hands around her
legs, separating them to get into better position.
“So delicious.” He growled against her, which send shiver
all over her body. He pushed his two fingers in, making her moan even louder. He
picked his pace with his tongue and fingers action, making her lose her mind.
She was feeling herself getting close, and she knew he felt
it to, because he suddenly stopped. She whined because of the sudden feeling of
emptiness. He got up and in a matter of second pushed himself into him.
The sudden change from his tongue to his dick made her
scream his name out loud. He let out a loud grown. “So Fucking. Tight.” He muttered
out with every thrust.
With his left hand he placed her left leg onto his shoulder,
lightly hovering over her, his right hand found her right nipple, harshly nibbling
She was close, she could feel her orgasm growing. “I can
feel you clenching around my dick. You wanna come? Well not yet.”
With those words he picked up his speed, and it made it even
hared for not to cum. She tugged her nails into the fabric of her shirt. She looked
up at Justin, her eyes begging him to let her cum. He moved his hand from her
nipple to her neck, griping it tightly.
“Cum for me, baby girl. Cum for daddy.” Nothing more was
needed to be say. She felt her walls clenching, and within the second she came
hard, all around him, tugging her nails now into her skin, screaming his name.
“Fuck. You look so hot when you cum.” He hissed out, not
slowing his pace, while she was still high from her previous longly waited orgasm.
He stopped only to flip her around. “On all fours.” He demanded,
and once again thrusted into her. She was feeling sore, but she didn’t mind, it
felt so good to feel him inside her, she wished they could stay like this
He tangled his left hand in her hair, tugging it back so he
could appreciate her pretty face. His right hand slapped her each ass cheek
twice, making her whimper after every slap.
He could feel himself getting close, so he picked his pace.
Y/N wasn’t far away, even though she just finished one orgasm. She pushed her
ass more up “Fucking hell Y/N, do that again.”
She pushed her ass up as much as she could, feeling
satisfied that she could please him like that. “Are you close baby girl? Yeah?
Cum with me, cum with your daddy.”
His thrust became sloppier as both of their orgasms hit
them, she could feel his hot seed feeling her inside, and she screamed his name
loudly. He growled loudly emptying himself into her.
As the rid their orgasm of, Y/N collapsed on the bed, and
Justin on top of her, never pulling his dick out of her. She moved her head so
she was facing him and she smiled. They were both breathing heavily.
“That was extraordinary.” Was all she could mumble into the pillow.
Prompt: Y/N walks in, and Harry notices she’s wearing yellow again, this time it’s a yellow sweater with a pair of dark skinny jeans and brown ankle boots, her hair is pulled back into a pony tail with a white scrunchie with little smiling suns and he swears that he has to squint to look at her. “Oh! I know you-you’re the guy from the train,” Y/N beams, “Harry, right?” she sets down the tray of muffins.
“I didn’t tell you my name,” Harry snaps.
Y/N pouts, “well yeah, but I’m also not stupid,” she says.
“Are you joining us today Harry?” the man asked, “I’m Seth, I run the group.”
“Why else would I fucking be here,” Harry grumbled.
Y/N grabs a muffin, ignoring Harry’s sour attitude, “here, they’re made with love,” she smiled, holding out the blueberry muffin.
“Fuck off,” Harry says. He watches as her smile fades and the glint in her eyes seems to disappear, for a split second Harry feels like a dick, but then he realizes he doesn’t care and Y/N should just shove the muffin up her ass.
Y/N was fifteen when she first realized that what she felt
Y/N grew up in a big family, and she was the middle child,
so no one really focused in on her. Her parents focused on getting her older
siblings into college and the youngest what they needed, forgetting about Y/N.
It seemed like she was invisible in her house hold, and she knew it. It had
taken her parents a little over two weeks to realize Y/N ran away one summer.
Y/N got away with a lot, since no one bothered to ask how she was feeling.
When Y/N turned seventeen she got her first job, and with
her money she bought everything in the color yellow. Y/N hated the color
yellow, but yellow meant happiness and she had convinced herself that if she
wore it enough, looked at it enough, she would be as happy as the sun.
Y/N hated the way she felt, and she wanted no one to ever
feel the way she felt. So she tried helping others, baking for them, laughing
with them, taking them out, spending time with them, anything she could to make
them feel happy. She believed if they were happy, if she could make others
happy, she would eventually become happy herself, but it didn’t work that way.
A/n: This is an updated version of an imagine I’ve previously uploaded. I know Hendall is so 2015. I get it.
Masterlist linked in bio.
The red wine leaves a particular stain on Harry’s lips that he hadn’t noticed until Kendall pointed it out to him.
“It looks like you’re wearing lipstick” she laughs, “I didn’t know you were going to dress up this much for the party.”
They are currently sat at his mum’s kitchen island, drinking red wine while munching on some chips left out for the guests. The house is filled with familiar faces, friends and family all throughout London coming together for Anne’s birthday celebration.
They hosted one every year for as long as Harry could remember, a time of year where nearly every one of his family members, including his step family, would unite. It was their favorite time of year, believe it or not. Despite all the excitement for the holidays, Anne’s birthday celebration was certainly something special.
It was Kendall’s first time attending, considering the fact that Harry had only really talked to her whenever he was assigned to be with her for publicity. It wasn’t always ideal, however, he built a stable friendship with her, so he didn’t mind the extra company with him from time to time.
She was invited last minute, of course, since his management called last night to ask if there was any way for them to be seen together. With Harry’s new movie coming out and his solo album just released a couple weeks ago, it was almost a given for him to be rumored with a girlfriend. That’s how it’s worked all throughout his career.
He normally wouldn’t have minded, however, this was the worst possible date for him to be with Kendall.
Because it’s Anne’s birthday party, this means that it’ll be the first time in one year that he’ll be seeing Y/n. They have been best friends since they were five years old, basically growing up in the same house as they went through school together. But as time went on, and as they both went to their separate ways, it was hard to keep in touch with each other all the time.
She remained in the small towns of London while Harry was traveling world wide, where his name became known everywhere as Y/n’s was only known through people she attended school with. Of course, they still talked, considering they both admitted to having more than friendship feelings, but their lives were busy in their own ways, preventing them from being more than what they wanted to be.
For the past couple months, Harry planned that this would be the day he’d finally move forward with Y/n. Or, at least attempt to. With the loss of her over the past year, it made Harry realize just how much he couldn’t imagine a life without her. It had been so long—too long, and he couldn’t stand how long he’s lived without keeping in touch with her.
But now, everything he planned for the two of them is becoming impossible. He can’t begin to imagine how Y/n would feel knowing he brought Kendall to his mum’s birthday party after they both confessed their love for each other. In all honesty, he wouldn’t blame her for giving up on him. He keeps doing this to her, even if it’s unintentional.
He watches around the kitchen at the guests he hasn’t seen in quite a while. His leg bounces with impatience when each new person walking in to attend the party isn’t Y/n. It’s been nearly an hour and has never been so late to anything before.
And as horrible as it sounds, he almost wishes she doesn’t come, just so that she can avoid the heartbreak that will come when she reunites with Kendall again.
“I’m sorry I’m late!”
Harry’s head whips around when he hears the voice he’s been deprived of for the past year. The first thing he notices are her lips, and the way they move around her words so softly. They’re slightly glazed with a lipgloss, painting her lips with a rosy shade of pink. They look so much fuller to him now, but he knows not a trace of them are artificial.
His eyes only drift from the shape of her lips when her fingers reach to tuck loose pieces of hair behind her ear. It’s then he notices just how much shorter her hair has gotten. What was once so long and lank is now falling just above the shoulder, set in luscious curls he can only imagine twisting around his fingers.
His jaw goes slack when he sees the pale pink dress she’s wearing. It’s made from silk, the metallic fabric glowing with each step she takes. He gulps when he notices just how much the dress accentuates the curvature of her body and how much of her legs are put on display for him to see, and he can’t help but to wipe the sweat off his palms when he watches her greet his mother with a proper kiss on the cheek.
He notices that his eyes haven’t shut since he’s seen her, but he’s so completely intrigued by how much has changed in her. Something about her seems so much more real—so much more vibrant—and he can’t seem to stop himself from praising how time has done her so goddamn well.
“You never told me she was going to be here.“
His body jerks at Kendall’s sudden appearance, her body slowly occupying the seat next to his at the kitchen island. If it wasn’t for her, he swears he would have caught himself drooling.
“Didn’t think I had to,” he says with a shrug, “she’s been my best friend since we were five. She’s basically apart of this family, she wouldn’t have missed this for the world.”
Y/n hasn’t missed a single one of Anne’s birthday celebrations since she’s known Harry. Their bond is irreplaceable—so irreplaceable, in fact, that Anne has been convinced Y/n is a miracle for their family. She was there for them through all the troubled times; helping them through their hardships and family instabilities.
When Anne and her husband first got divorced, Harry and Y/n were seven. Harry didn’t understand much of what was happening, all he knew was that his mum and dad weren’t going to love each other anymore. He was hurting, even when Gemma was there to try and keep him together. He started to believe everything between his parents was a lie.
She understood the whole separation process. Her mum left her at a young age, leaving her alone with her father. They were close, of course, but she always missed having a mother figure in her life. It made her upset to know she could only listen to one voice in the house, but as she grew older, she accepted it more.
By the time she met Harry, he kept bringing her over to his house as the years went on. Anne was the closest she had to mother, and their bond became unbreakable by the time Y/n was a teenager. Nearly seven years of Y/n being like another member of the family, Y/n started buying Anne Mother’s Day cards.
So when Y/n watched her second family fall apart, along with Anne’s heart, and she was determined to patch them back together again. Even at her young age, she’d pick flowers from her garden and give them to Anne everyday after school. Y/n said they represented her, and how she felt being a woman with such love and beauty could die all too quickly. Harry never understood what it meant, but Y/n did, which is why she never stopped until she heard Anne laughing again.
She also started to draw pictures and write her letters, reminding her of how loved she was by everyone. As much as Anne was heartbroken during the time, she took the letters everywhere she went and kept every flower alive for as long as she possibly could. Anne would always tell Harry “That girl came into our lives for a reason, my love. She’s a special one, our little miracle, never let her go. You hear me?”
Harry didn’t understand what it truly meant to let someone go, but he did his best to do anything but that. And now, as Harry sits on his mother’s kitchen island and seeing Y/n for the first time in a year, he feels he’s done just that.
“Guess not.” Kendall mutters, taking her last sip of the red wine left in her glass. “She’s just so strange, I guess. I can barely hold a conversation with her without her making an excuse to leave.”
Kendall and Y/n never really got along, it was extremely noticeable to everyone who held a conversation with the both of them. They just don’t see things in the same light. Y/n is very outgoing and lively; an extreme extrovert that seeks adventure—and Kendall can’t stand it. She thinks Y/n does it for attention, especially because she’s remained a small town girl while being surrounded by well-known celebrities. And even though it may seem like Y/n likes the attention, that’s not her purpose. She gives all her attention to others, never to herself, and it has always been something Harry loved the most.
And when it comes to Y/n, Kendall was that one thing that was constantly in her way of Harry. No matter how many times Harry and Y/n discussed how there was something between them, Kendall always found her way back to haunt her. She was her worst goddamn nightmare. She was perfect for Harry in the public eye, and nothing made Y/n feel worse than knowing she’ll never be her type of perfect, especially when it came to Harry.
But Kendall doesn’t know that. All she knows is that Y/n is extremely stand-offish with her, and she’ll never understand why.
“She’s not used to our lives. It’s extremely difficult for her to understand how we live, you know? She’s normal.”
Kendall scoffs, eyes rolling around the room because she hates that word. She feels so divided, like she’s in a categorization in society and everything about it makes her teeth clench.
“We’re normal, too, you know. I don’t understand why she feels so intimated and feels like she has something to prove.”
Harry’s jaw clenches slightly at the negative connotes Kendall has about Y/n’s life. Something about it makes his stomach twist the wrong way, and he can’t help the underlying growl in between his words.
“We’re not normal. Deep down, you and I both know that. You also don’t know Y/n, so stop making irrational assumptions about her.”
Kendall narrows her eyes at Harry, a gaze full of confusion and disbelief at the undeniable grumble in his tone. Any rational conversation they have about Y/n always end the same—with Harry quick to end the discussion and jump to her defense. It’s times like these Kendall never understood the true extent of Harry and Y/n’s relationship. They always claimed it was platonic but there has always been a sense of something stronger in them, like unaddressed or unchased feelings, or a past they shared that was kept between the two.
Either way, it annoyed the shit out of Kendall because they both were hiding something that she’ll never be able to get answered.
“Fine, whatever.” She sighs dramatically, scooting her chair back until she has room to stand properly. “Want some more wine? Getting some.”
Harry slides his empty wine glass so that it’s in front of her, muttering a small “yeah, thanks” before she’s on her way to the counter across the room, retrieving extra wine and mingling with some of Harry’s family.
Harry sighs while his head rests at the palm of his hand, eyes gazing directly to where Y/n is standing. His lips tug up lightly when he hears her laugh from the living room, his tongue running over his bottom lip ever so slightly as he watches her mouth lift and her eyes squint shut as she catches up with one of his uncles about his grand annual weekend fishing trip.
And as his eyes stay so transfixed on the woman in the other room, he can’t help but imagine seeing that type of perfection every day for the rest of his life.
“And everyone thinks Sweet Creature is about me..”
Harry’s head snaps to Gemma’s figure leaning over the edge of the island, her elbows hitched on the counter as a small smirk plays on her lips. She found it abnormally amusing how he didn’t even acknowledge her presence until she spoke, too invested in hawking over Y/n’s every move.
Harry grumbles, but the smile from Y/n’s laughter is permanent on his lips when he does so. Gemma even notices his cheeks brighten with pink, another hint of confirmation to the words she spoke.
“Shut up, Gem.“
She puts her arms up defensively, “Hey, don’t take it out on me. I’m just making an observation.”
Harry rolls his eyes as Gemma wraps her arm around his neck, hunching over so that her lips are close to his ear and eyes are directed toward Y/n again.
“She has gotten hotter, hasn’t she?”
She has no idea. All Harry can think about is how someone already so beautiful has grown to be so perfect. Everything about her makes Harry want to get down on his knees and worship every inch of her body. He has to bite down on his bottom lip to stop himself from thinking how much of a wreck he wants to make out of her.
“I don’t know how she did it. You better get her while you still have the chance, I know many, many men who want a taste of her.”
No is the first thing Harry thinks when the words leave from Gemma’s mouth. As hypocritical and selfish as it is, knowing other men have shown an interest in her makes his skin crawl. And he can’t help but feel his throat tighten at the moment Y/n realizes he had brought Kendall to this party.
“Is she—“ he can’t even finish his sentence without his jaw tightening again, hindering the rest of his question from leaving his lips.
“Oh, quit your worrying, H. She’s single, I don’t think she’d ever date someone who isn’t you. Besides, I don’t think you can do much about it with Kendall here.”
Gemma lifts a finger to where Kendall is standing, still in the same spot as she talks to his aunt Leslie. His heart hurts knowing what Y/n will feel when she finds out. He knows that there is always a part of her that feels discouraged whenever there’s a new woman in his life. In between Harry and Y/n’s love for each other was a mix of false hopes and miscommunication, and it always fucked them up whenever anything else was put in their way.
Gemma pats his shoulder before making rounds to her family and friends again, leaving Harry slumped against the counter with not a drop of wine to numb his scrambling mind.
When Y/n finishes catching up with the rest of Harry’s family, she finds that her patience is wearing thin. It’s been a year since she’s seen the love of her life, and knowing that he’s somewhere near her is enough to get her heart racing.
When she sees him sitting alone at the kitchen island, wearing his infamous pink suit and staring down at his fingers, it’s as if her body starts to malfunction. Her legs stop moving and her lips part, eyes glistening with admiration as she sees him for the first time in so long.
He’s as beautiful as ever, his new haircut accentuating his facial structure. His lips seem so much more red, too, which are complimented greatly by that goddamn suit. Everything about him radiates, like he’s developed into a whole other person. She’ll never quite grasp the idea that she’s about to reunite with him; something about it makes her palms sweat.
Harry lifts his head up to look at her in all her glory. His heart warms at her presence more than the wine did, and he can’t help but to take a breath of relief when he finally hears her voice again.
“Y/n.” He breathes out, his fingers instinctively reaching up to the ends of her cut hair.
He chokes out a laugh of admiration when he sees her this close to him. She is so much different—so much more perfect than he ever remembers her being and it takes his breath away.
His fingers twist her hair, wrapping them around the digits before letting the strands fall back in place again. He never saw her without her hair down to her waist, and now that he has, he never wants to see her hair past her shoulders again.
“It’s so beautiful” he whispers, “you look so beautiful like this, Y/n. I absolutely love it.”
She blushes, her chin tucking slightly into her neck as if trying to hide how much of a reaction he got out of her. No matter how many years she’s known him, she was never used to the way he spoke to her.
“It was spontaneous. Really wanted a change, and it looks like I’m not the only one.”
Her hands reach to his hair, which is so much shorter compared to the last time she saw him. She remembered she couldn’t keep her hands out of it last year, constantly finding ways to tangle her fingers at the ends. Harry found it hysterical, actually, and thought it was the cutest thing she’s ever done.
“It’s just so soft” she’d say, “it’s like a whole other world in there!”
But now her only option is to tangle her fingers at the roots, and as she does so, her mind drifts to all the other occasions she could have her hands in his hair again.
“It’s so much shorter. Look at that! I can barely tug on it anymore!” She laughs in amusement, her fingers slipping as she pulls too hard.
He smirks up at her, a giggle falling from his lips as he watches her utterly amused reaction. They begin to catch up with the part of their lives they both have missed. Harry talked about his album while Y/n started discussing her new journalism job.
Talking to Y/n is one of the only normal parts of him left, it always gave him a sense of grounding whenever he felt his career was taking off to heights he wasn’t ready for. She is one of the only sense of normality he has left in his life, and it’s another reason as to why he admires her so dearly. She brought out parts of him nobody else could reach, and it’s another reason why he feels so upset he’s barely talked to her.
“Y/n?” he asks hesitantly, reaching his hand over so that his fingertips graze her hand.
Her breath breaks when he touches her, the softness in his voice proving that what is about to be discussed is far more important than their previous conversation. She notices the stress lines in between his forehead and the parting of his wine stained lips when he begins to speak.
“I’m so sorry I haven’t kept in touch with you. I know how it makes me look, especially after everything that happened between us. With the new album and everything, I’ve just been so busy with—“
Harry’s head jumps to where Y/n stares dumbfounded, Kendall holding two glasses of wine in one hand while the other is carrying a plate of chicken wings. She’s looking down at Y/n, too, her eyebrows lifted up in an intimidating manner. There’s a scowl present on her lips as she continues to tower over her.
Y/n feels tears building in her eyes as she takes in the situation at hand. She was so fucking dumb to think that Harry was going to come to Anne’s party alone, especially since his new album just released. This is Kendall’s prime time appearance, when Harry needs a familiar famous face beside him to advertise his solo career.
This isn’t anything new—this isn’t anything unfamiliar, but the pain feels like a fresh wound to her heart. Harry and Y/n are nearly 24, with having known each other and felt something for each other for years, she thought that if anything were going to happen, it was going to happen now. But everything between them has remained stagnant for so long that the last sliver of hope she had for their potential relationship has been completely taken away from her. By Kendall, again.
“W—Wow, I’m sorry. I didn’t—I didn’t know Harry had invited you.”
“Yeah,” Kendall nods, “he invited me last night.”
Y/n’s lips purse together, nodding her head as her eyes drift around the kitchen. Anything to avoid Kendall’s eyes—anything to feel as unimportant as she does now.
Harry’s eyes squeeze shut, a small hissing releasing from his tongue at how wrong it all sounds, considering absolutely nothing happened between Harry and Kendall the previous night besides being demanded that the two of them are to be seen together again.
“Right,” Y/n’s voice cracks, “well, I’m sorry to interrupt your time together. I’m going to go to Gemma’s room, got a phone call from my dad a while ago so I should go check up on him. I’ll see you guys around.”
She musters up a pathetic smile before practically running away from them. After everything they both told each other, after all the feelings they’ve had toward each other, how could Harry keep doing this to her? How could he keep being with Kendall when he says he loves Y/n?
She doesn’t even find the strength in her to hold in her tears before she approaches the steps, not daring to look back at them again. She never wants to see them in the same room again, it’ll be too much her heart can handle.
“You’ve really got to be fucking kidding me, Kendall.” Harry growls.
His hands fist around the wine glass, his knuckles turning white and he’s absolutely shocked it hasn’t shattered into pieces in his hands from all the anger pulsing through his veins.
“Jesus, Harry, neither one of you can take a joke. Does she not understand that all of this is for the press? She keeps acting like we’re a couple.”
“Could you really blame her after that? ‘He invited me last night,’ you’re really getting a kick out of making her uncomfortable, aren’t you?”
He grumbles as he takes a long sip of his wine, hoping that the alcohol loosens his muscles enough to restrain himself from doing anything he regrets. He loves his mum too much to start an argument during her birthday party, and as much as Kendall’s shifting Harry’s mood, he still appreciates her as a friend to ruin anything.
“That wasn’t even my fault, you both dug into that way too deep. Last night does not mean while we were fucking. It’s a time of day.”
“It’s the way you said it.”
“Are you being serious, Harry?”
He slams his glass down on the island, grumbling under his breath while he stands up from his chair. No matter how much anger is in him now, the only thoughts swirling in his brain are wondering if Y/n’s okay. She would have never left the party to go into a secluded room, not even if her dad called her.
“You leave her the fuck alone, Kendall. I mean it.”
He storms away from her, desperate to find Y/n because God only knows what’s really happening in that bedroom. Y/n’s emotions and feelings are always positive, always so bright, and he refuses to be the reason they turn upside down. She doesn’t deserve all he keeps doing to her, she doesn’t deserve him.
When Harry nearly swings himself onto the first step, he can already hear the soft murmur of Y/n’s and Anne’s voice, which makes him stop from approaching them any more than he has already.
“Y/n? Y/n, darling?” Anne asks with worry when she sees Y/n climbing up the top step with tears in her eyes, soft cries falling from her throat as her hand attempts to silence them.
She reaches an arm out for her, tugging at the front of Y/n’s dress slightly to get her attention. She’s grateful it was Anne who found her this way instead of any other guest at the party, considering nobody besides her and Harry have seen her with a frown on her face.
“Y/n, baby, what’s going on with you?”
The lights are off in the hallway, with no guests permitted in the area, which gives Y/n the proper time to fully allow her tears to fall down her cheeks.
“I’m so s—sorry, Anne.” Y/n cries.
Anne’s hands rub her shoulders, reassuring her that there’s absolutely nothing for her to apologize for. It also lets her know that she’s willing to listen to her, no matter where or when—she’ll always be there.
“I’m almost 24, Anne, and I’ve put so much of my life on hold for him.”
She knows instantly who Y/n’s talking about. It wasn’t difficult to notice the undying connection between Y/n and her son, especially as the years went on. They have grown so strongly together, there has never been a doubt in Anne’s mind that Y/n is going to be the girl Harry ends up marrying. Everyone in the family called it a destiny waiting to happen, but it has been so long since anything has happened between them, and Anne can’t help but feel heartbroken to know Y/n’s carrying the wrong idea about him and Kendall.
“And I’ve sacrificed so m—much to continue waiting for him, but I don’t think I can keep doing this anymore. We’re nowhere near where we should be, especially when he keeps spending time with Kendall and I just—I just don’t know if I can—“
“Oh, my darling.” Anne sighs, cradling Y/n’s head against her shoulder as she rubs down her back.
She shushes her through her tears, rocking her slightly in an attempt to calm her from her cries. It’s extremely rare for Y/n to feel upset, so when she does so, Anne knows she deserves all the comfort and love she can get.
“I know you so well, and I know my son. I always knew you were a match made in heaven, my dear. I knew from the start you were more than just an ordinary girl. You’re so special, to everyone in our family, but especially to him. He may not have his head screwed on right most of the time, but if I can promise you anything with all my heart, it’s that he loves you. Please, no matter what, never forget that.”
Y/n nods against her shoulder, thanking her through her violent cries before Anne insists she takes some time to herself. And as much as Y/n wanted to refrain from going into Harry’s bedroom, it’ll be the only place that brings her a sense of comfort.
Harry already knows he’s in for a lecture the second he sees his mum coming down the stairs with bewildered eyes. She grips his shoulders, her face tight with frustration.
“You go over to her and you be the man I taught you to be, Harry.”
Harry’s eyes widen at her words, swallowing thickly at the thought of disappointing another person in his life.
“She loves you and you love her. Stop doing favors for other people and start thinking about you before you ruin both of your lives forever. You hear me?”
Harry nods feverishly, determined and more motivated than ever to fix all that he’s caused. Love comes first, always, and he needs to remember that before he breaks Y/n’s heart completely.
She’s it. She’s all that matters to him.
He barely responds to Anne before he’s racing to his old bedroom, completely clueless as to what he’s going to say, but willing to do anything to get her back.
“Y/n?” Harry calls through the door of his old bedroom. “Y/n, can I come in?”
He knocks on the door lightly, just using the knuckles of his pointer and middle finger. He hears her feet pad over to the door, opening it to reveal her tear stained cheeks. Her hands are trembling against the knob, her breath broken with soft, gentle cries. Her eyes are widened with sadness, wet and red from tears she barely ever cries.
“Y/n.” He whimpers, tentatively reaching his shaking fingers up to her cheeks. He wipes away the tears from the bottoms of her eyes, sighing upsettingly as her eyes close at his touch. “Never seen you like this. Please talk to me.”
Her lips quiver as another sob rips through her, her hand reaching up to capture his between her fingers. Her saddened and wet eyes looking down at the intertwined hands now resting against her lap.
“I’m so tired, H.” She whimpers, “So tired.”
His lips press against her forehead, “I know, love. I know.”
She wraps her arms around him, her face burying in between his chest as he lets her tears soak in his undershirt.
“I couldn’t take it anymore. I thought I’d finally be alone with you after all this time. I missed being close to you, I wanted to be closer to you and I thought you felt the same about me and I didn’t understand, Harry, I didn’t get it and—“
“Hey, relax for me.” Harry mumbles, his lips grazing tenderly along her cheek.
She takes a deep breath, her fingers fisting the back of his suit tighter in her fists. She rests her chin on the top of his chest, tears still roaming down her face as she lets out an exasperated sigh. Her fingertips trace patterns on his back, her eyes fluttering closed as he pushes some of her hair off of her face, refraining them from sticking to her wet cheeks.
“I didn’t get it,” she whispers, “I was so confused, and when you didn’t answer my calls or texts I thought you didn’t find me important. And I was under no right to be upset about it, because you’re busy and you have priorities. But when I saw you today, I didn’t see you as the Harry I always have, I still can’t tell you what I saw but I wanted every part of you more than I ever have before. But when I saw Kendall I—“
Her cries and words die down when she feels Harry’s tender lips against hers. She’s taken aback at first, and before she has any time to really kiss him back, he’s already pulled away.
“Let me fix this.” He breathes out, “let show you that I only want you.”
His lips press against the side of her mouth, not allowing himself to kiss her the way he wants to until she lets him. They then begin to travel down her neck, along her jaw, around her mouth.
Y/n’s breath is stiff as he does so, embracing the feeling of his mouth against her skin. They’ve only ever kissed a handful of times, none of them being passionate or loving. They’ve shared pecks while saying goodbyes or after confessing their feelings, but none quite like this—none quite like the one anticipating to happen.
His breathing his hard when he continues to kiss along her skin, his fingers moving longly in her hair the more his mouth presses against her.
“Will you let me?” He whispers when his lips are ghosting over hers, “this okay?”
She nods feverishly, hitting the point of desperation when she feels his breath fan over the skin of her face. She’s been needing this for far too long now.
His thumb runs over her bottom lip one, two, three times before he finally leans in. Their lips mush together passionately, only breaking apart to move their position before locking again. Their tongues meet in the middle, making the both of them moan at the unfamiliar spark coursing through their veins.
Harry walks toward his bed until Y/n’s knees hit the edge of it, making her back meet the mattress. Their lips haven’t detached once, not daring to break away from the feeling they’ve both been deprived of.
They’re both making out on Harry’s childhood bed, grinding onto each other half naked like two hormonal teenagers. Their clothes thrown across the room, lips swollen from all the suction and nibbling, and hair completely knotted from either of their fingertips, the party below them long forgotten.
“Wait, wait wait wait!” Y/n gasps, lifting herself off of his chest.
Harry’s chest rises and falls rapidly, trying to catch his breath as he looks up at Y/n in confusion. He watches as a smirk lifts from her lips as she peers down at his flushed face, giggling slightly at his complete fucked out appearance.
She notices that his lips remained stained from the red wine—a little faded—but still making her body weak at the sight of it.
“’s the matter?” He croaks.
His voice is thick—an entirely different level of raspy, and Y/n wonders how she’s lived so long without hearing him speak in that way. Between all the kissing, all the touching, all the moaning, his voice has a particular roughness to it that Y/n could feed off of if she had to.
“We shouldn’t do this, right? I mean, we’re about to fuck during your mum’s birthday party. Your entire family and Kendall are downstairs, anybody could walk in at any second, or hear us, and your mum could find that so disrespectful and—“
Her rambling is interrupted by his lips, meeting hers passionately between her words.
There is no way in hell he’s leaving this room tonight. Everything that’s been stagnant between them is finally moving in the right direction, and he can’t find it anywhere in him to walk away from it.
“You think I’m letting you go now?” He whispers, his thumb running along her bottom lip. “I have been waiting for this moment with you since high school, sweetheart.”
His lips reattach to her neck, sucking on spots he hasn’t already left marks on, soaking up every bit of the time he has with her before it’s over. This is the first time they’re going to make love, and he wants to feel and remember every bit of this moment.
“B—But your mum—“ She moans, her fingers nearly tangling at the ends of his hair as she hisses in pleasure from his tongue.
“Every single person downstairs knows about us. This—this happening right now, has been expected to happen since I first brought you home. I guarantee you, nothing will make her more happy than knowing her son and his future wife are finally acting on our feelings instead of pushing them to the side again.”
His words make Y/n blush like no other; her cheeks turning the shade of pink on her dress she wore previously. It’s then he notices just hot fucking pretty she is in pink, how every tint of the color compliments her in ways he can barely wrap his head around.
“Future wife, hm?” She smirks, tapping the pads of her fingers against his bare collarbones.
He kisses her again.
“Thought you knew that, love. Wouldn’t know a single soul I’d rather spend the rest of my life with.” His fingers dig into her hips, “’s always been you.“
Y/n pushes Harry’s back against the mattress again, trailing her fingers down his torso. She giggles when his teeth clench at her touch, finding it almost irresistible to embrace the way he responds to her touch so easily.