preferences-1d

The Train - Part Three

Pairing: Y/N and Harry

Word Count: 4500

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.

Part one Part Two


Y/N was fifteen when she first realized that what she felt wasn’t normal.

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.

Y/N knew, she knew that helping others, baking, wearing yellows, were not her way to happiness, but she refused to accept herself. She refused to accept that she needed help. She never spoke in group therapy and every time she saw Seth it was a dead end. She would sit there and talk about her day, go on and on about some new recipes or Nugget, but she would never talk about herself. Seth would ask her how she was feeling to which Y/N would always shrug and say “the usual,” but Seth never knew what the usual meant.

But he knew when she got bad, when she reached her worst days, when she couldn’t be trusted on her own. Y/N would show up drunk for an appointment, hiccupping, tears in her eyes, she would cry, begging Seth to make it all end. She would tell him how she felt hopeless, how she didn’t see the point of trying anymore. She would cry, “why should I try? I’ve got no one, no one likes me, no one would care,” and Seth would close his eyes, really just wanting to take the crying girl into his arms, but he couldn’t, and he would call, waving her right and sending her back.

“Y/N, want to play some UNO?” A nurse asked, smiling at Y/N.

Harry turned his head from the book in his lap, looking over his shoulder at Y/N. She stood in the doorway of her room, her face emotionless. Her eyes weren’t as soft or as bright anymore, the smile she usually wore seemed to be gone, and she didn’t look like Y/N, but a ghost of Y/N.

She doesn’t respond as she walks to one of the empty couches, sitting down and looking at the TV. Harry diverts his attention but to his book, trying his best to focus on the story, but he can’t. His mind goes back to Y/N.

“Y/N, did you take your medicine? What about you Harry?” the same nurse asks, walking over to them.

“I took mine,” Harry says, looking at her. Harry wasn’t sure what they were giving him, but he found himself more calm, and he found himself being able to sleep at night.

“What about you Y/N?” The nurse turns to the girl.

Y/N looks away from the TV to the nurse, shaking her head no. She starts to fiddle with her fingers, “no,” she whispered.

“You know the routine Y/N, vitals and then meds, come on,” the nurse says.

Harry watches as she gets up and follows the nurse down the narrow hallway. He wonders how much longer he’ll be there and if Y/N will ever be able to stay out.


“Hey,” Harry says, sliding into the seat across from Y/N, she sits at the table working on her tenth Sudoku of the day.

Y/N had come to learn that coloring was not her thing, and Sudoku took her a while, but it made the time pass and that’s all there seemed to do at this place. After group therapy in the morning and afternoon, everything else was optional and she chose to stay in her bed or in the common room.

“I wanted to apologize for all the things I said to you,” Harry says, taking his lower lip in between his teeth, “I’ve uh, I’ve been seeing Janet and she’s helped me open up and realize that I was taking out my anger on you and the fans, and everyone else really, but I wanted to say sorry.”

“Thanks,” she whispered, and goes back to her puzzle.

Harry bites his lower lip, “how are you?”

“I’m in here.”

“This place is a real dump huh?” Harry says.

Y/N looks at him for a second, “you can’t relate to me, so please don’t try,” she said.

“I wasn’t-“

“But you were, you and me aren’t the same. You’re on fifteen minute watches I’m on five, you’re depressed, so am I and that’s the only thing we have in common but not even because we are different people,” Y/N says, “people like you, people don’t like me. As you’ve said before, I’m annoying.”

Harry’s taken back by her words, “I didn’t mean it-“

“But you did, and it’s fine, I’ve heard it all before,” Y/N says, “now if you don’t mind I would like to finish my puzzle before snack time.”

She’s not the same Y/N and that bothers Harry. In the two months he’s seen Y/N he has never seen her like this and he wonders which is the real Y/N.

“I’m really grateful that you took me home that night,” Harry keeps going.

Y/N stands, grabbing her puzzle and pen, “I appreciate you talking to me, but you just like everyone else will leave and I have no interest in getting attached to someone who is going to walk out of my life.”

Y/N’s fear of abandonment is probably what had lead her into the hole she’s in. Y/N hated being by herself, she hated coming home to no one, she hated not having friends, she hated eating alone, she hated walking alone, she hated being alone. So she bought Nugget, and ironically enough she ended up being the one to abandon him every couple of months to be tossed in her hole again.

Y/N never let anyone in, because she had seen what it had done to her family. She had watched her dad leave, then her step dad, then her mother’s new boyfriend, only to watch the women fall apart. She had watched her siblings lose loved ones, she had watch them build a relationship only to have the other person walk away-and she refused to have that happen to her.

But she didn’t know when she made the option to not let anyone in, she would be as lonely as she is. Y/N had no one, she had her group therapy and even then she was tired of seeing former members leave and new one’s join. She was scared, scared of opening up to have someone take what they want and leave, she was scared just like Harry.


Y/N wrapped her arms around herself as she sat on the couch, staring at the TV screen. One of the other girls had picked out the movie and Y/N wasn’t much of a fan, but the nurse encouraged her to get out of her room. Y/N knew the routine by now, join all the activities, eat, and stay out of your room, and in a week she would be home.

“Want some popcorn?” Harry asked, holding out the bag.

Harry was set to leave tomorrow, and he was ready. He was ready to go back home, he was ready to see his family again and be around them.

“What the hell do they have you on to make you less of a dick?” Y/N retorts.

“Uh, I think it’s Tricyclic, I was on Prozac but it made me even more depressed-well not really I just kind of shut down and felt nothing so they put me on this new one like a week ago? I’m starting to feel like my old self again,” Harry explained, “what the hell are you on that makes you bitter?”

Y/N grabs the bag from his hand, “none of your business, and I’m not bitter, I just don’t want to be here.”

“Well compared to the Y/N I met a while back you’re bitter,” Harry stated.

“Yeah, well you’ve changed too, depression doesn’t just go away with pills, you’ll figure it out,” Y/N says.

“I think what I needed was a mental break, you know? And for me, being here worked. I was away from the public eye, from fans, from work, and this isn’t your mental break,” Harry stated.

“Then what is my mental break?” Y/N asked.

“I don’t know, I’m not you, everyone is different right? If you could go anywhere, to just like escape, where would you go?”

Y/N presses her lips in a line and thinks, “I don’t know.”

“Oh come on, where is your happy place?”

“I don’t know.”

“Y/N.”

“I don’t have a happy place Harry, I don’t have a place that I can go and relax, a place where I can be with myself, because I hate myself and do not want to spend time with myself, do you get that?” she snapped, tugging the blanket up to her legs, “why are you being so nice to me anyways? Because I’m in here? What do you think your comments put me in here-because they didn’t.”

“No,” Harry shakes his head, sighing, “you saved me.”

“I did not.”

“You did, that night at the train station-on the tracks, Y/N I didn’t care if I died, I didn’t care if a train ran me over, but you helped me. That stunt would’ve killed me, it would’ve hurt my family, and you not only saved me but you saved them, and I want to do the same, I don’t want you to even reach the place I was in, I don’t want to see you on those tracks,” Harry stated.

“I did what anyone else would do,” Y/N said.

“Anyone else would have dropped me off somewhere and went to the press, you took care of me and kept my life out of the media, Y/N you respected my privacy and you saved me. I was being reckless and stupid that night, I wasn’t in my right mind, and now you need your own Y/N to help you,” Harry whispered.

Y/N looks at him with a blank stare, and Harry knows she’s already there.



Harry hears the sound of Nugget’s paws on the ground before he hears Y/N shuffling around. He had gotten out three days before Y/N, and every time he went to visit the nurses would apologize and say that Y/N wanted no visitors, she was shutting him out, she was shutting the world out, and he didn’t want that. Harry didn’t want to find Y/N in the state he was in.

When the door is pulled open Y/N stands with two garbage bags in her hands and he can see that it’s all filled with clothes, more specifically yellow clothing. Her house doesn’t smell like cookies, instead it smells of coffee and he wonders if she’s even bothered to bake.

“What are you doing?” Harry asked.

“Donating these, it was stupid,” Y/N mumbled, closing the door behind her and walking down the hall where she sets the bags in the donation pile, “why are you here?”

“I’m going to take you to your happy place, and if by the end of the week you’re not happy I’ll leave you alone, I promise,” Harry says, holding up his pinky.

“I don’t have a happy place,” Y/N says, unlocking her door and before she can shut it Harry sneaks in.

She rolls her eyes and shuts the door behind her, “see, I don’t believe that. Now come on Y/N give me five days, I promise you’ll love it,” Harry says.

“Look I saved your life-but you don’t have to do this okay? I’m okay being on my own,” Y/N stated.

“You’re not Y/N! If you are in and out of there you are not okay!”

“Your job isn’t to fix me!” Y/N yelled, crossing her arms and Harry can tell she’s angry.

Her chest rises and falls and her breathing increases as her dull eyes brim with tears. She’s a mess, a terrible and broken mess, and Harry just wants to fix her. His heart breaks seeing the girl in front of him.

“I know that,” Harry says softly, “but it doesn’t mean I don’t want to be your friend.”

“Why would you want to be my friend?”

“Well for starters you’re an amazing baker, which leads me to believe you must be an amazing cook. And you like my favorite shows, and you’re cute, and you’re nice, why wouldn’t I want to be friends with you?” Harry asked.

“I’ve never had a friend before,” Y/N whispered, her eyes dropping to the ground.

“No one is meant to be alone,” Harry says, “and I would love to be your friend.”

Y/N is silent for a second, biting the inside of her cheek as she weighs her options. The fear of leaving with Harry, of being happy, and then losing him scares her, but the idea of her being alone that night with her thoughts scares her even more.


“You visit Seth a lot huh?” Harry asked, looking at her calendar that rested on her fridge.

Y/N sits on top the counter next to the stove where Harry cooks himself a meal. Her legs are crossed and she’s slumped forwards, her dull eyes on the pan next to her that sizzles, “yeah,” she says.

“Can I ask why? Also that posture is bad for you, try and sit up,” Harry says.

Y/N ignores him, “he’s the only person I’ve got.”

“Y/N no one is meant to be alone,” Harry stated, he turns back to her, his eyes soft, “I’ve been alone, and I didn’t like it.”

“I don’t need a friend.”

“Well we don’t have to be friends,” Harry shrugged, “we can just be alone together.”

“Alone together?” Y/N repeats, her eyebrows scrunched together in confusion.

“Yeah, we can eat alone together, we can watch a movie alone together, we don’t have to talk, but we can just be alone, without being lonely,” Harry explained, “how does that sound?”

“Alone together,” Y/N repeated, “sounds nice.”

And that’s how their small routine began. Harry would pop over in the morning when Y/N’s hair was still a mess, her pajama’s a mess, and drool on her cheek, and while she showered Harry would make them a light breakfast. Y/N would sit eating in silence as she read her book, Harry would sit across from her scribbling little versus that came into his mind on to a sheet of paper.

When breakfast was over Y/N would do the dishes and take Nugget for a walk, when she returned the two would sit in her living room. Y/N would work silently from home and Harry would sit on her couch, strumming his guitar in silence as he tried to get back into the groove of things, which he found to be slightly difficult but not as hard as before. They would eat lunch and dinner together in comfortable silence. Y/N liked it, she liked not being alone, she liked not having to cook for one, she liked having someone else around her, she liked not being lonely.

It wasn’t until December rolled by that Y/N started to get anxious. Harry was bound to go home and spend it with his family, leaving her alone and she wasn’t sure she was ready to be lonely again. Harry could sense her discomfort at lunch.

“What are you doing for Christmas?” Harry asked, breaking the silence.

In the month of their agreement Y/N and him had kept to herself in silence. Harry would ask her some questions relating to what she wanted to eat but besides that the two spent their time in silence, and they both seemed to be comfortable with it.

Harry liked it, he liked sitting near her, he liked eating with her, he liked Y/N. He liked how she scrunched her nose when she couldn’t figure something out or she was confused, he liked how she pouted at her screen when she was working and was annoyed, or the small, soft, giggles that left her mouth when Nugget would climb on her laptop to grab her attention. He liked Y/N, a lot, and he knew it was an issue.

“Nothing,” Y/N says softly, “you?”

Harry watches as she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear and rest her chin on the palm of her hand. Harry had noticed how the bags under her eyes had begun to disappear and how the life was slowly returning back to her eyes.

“My family is spending it with my step dads side of the family,” Harry explained, “and I thought about flying back, but I think since they are flying out here for New Year’s I might as well wait, and so I guess I was hoping that maybe I could spend it with you.”

“Sure.”

“But this time we aren’t alone,” Harry adds, “we can just be together.”

Harry looks at her hopefully, biting his lower lip. He watches as Y/N presses her lips in a line to hide the smile, “I would like that,” she says.

“I like our time together,” Harry says.

“Yeah, me too.”


“Oh I don’t know Harry,” Y/N says as Harry hands her the leash to Nugget. She looked down at the dog in little green boats and a white jacket, the snow wasn’t terrible, only falling in soft flakes and then melting as soon as it hit the ground, “a tree, really?”

“Well it is Christmas Y/N, what am I supposed to put your present under?” Harry asked.

Harry smiled as he looked at her, she had stopped wearing yellow, and while Harry liked the yellow, he liked this Y/N more, the one who did things to please herself, the one who was comfortable in her own clothes (except she happened to be wearing Harry’s jacket, but he didn’t mind at all, she looked better in it than he did).

“We can get a tree but we have no decorations,” Y/N says as she looks at the different trees in front of her, “and it has to be small, it can’t be taller than me.”

“Darling, I don’t think they make trees that short,” Harry teased.

Y/N smiled, “you’re not funny.”

“Just pick out a tree and then we can take it home, drop of Nug, and get decorations, it’ll be fun I promise,” Harry says, excitement laced in his voice.

Y/N sighs, looking around until she sees the one she wants. It’s as tall as her, and with the stand it’ll only be a couple inches taller. She looks at Harry with a smile on her face and his heart skips a beat because Y/N, the real Y/N is back. Not the girl who wears yellow and bakes all the time, not the girl who sits in a behavioral unit looking for a way to escape, but Y/N. The Y/N that loves Nugget, that loves to read, the Y/N who has bad days, the Y/N who sometimes wants to be alone together, the Y/N who warms Harry’s heart and doesn’t care that he’s Harry Styles.

“This is it!” Y/N smiled, “it’s perfect.”

“It is,” Harry agrees, picking up the tag.

“Okay, maybe this wasn’t a bad idea,” Y/N says, “I haven’t had a tree in years.”

“So what you’re saying is, Harry you’re right?” Harry smirked.

“What I’m saying is, it’s a good idea,” Y/N stated.

She reaches up to wipe a snow flake that falls on her eye and Harry chuckled, “your mascara smudged a bit, darling,” he says, reaching over and gently wiping it away. Y/N likes his touch, it’s warm and gently. She can feel her cheeks get warm and she wonders if he can tell. Harry drops his hand, “there we go,” he whispered.

“Thank you,” Y/N says, “it was stupid to wear makeup.”

“You did have the raccoon look in the bag,” Harry joked.

Y/N laughs, “come on, let’s get the tree I’m cold, and we still have to stop by Seth’s so I can give him the cookies.”


“Thank you,” Seth smiled grabbing the small plate from Y/N, he looks out into the waiting area to see Harry sitting on a chair holding Nugget in his lap, “you two seem to be spending a lot of time together.”

“Yeah, he’s nice,” Y/N says.

“He managed to get you to ditch the yellow,” Seth comments, “how are you feeling?”

“Honestly?” Y/N asks, Seth nods. For the first time Seth sees Y/N, he sees a real and genuine smile on her face, eyes that match her warm smile, a smile that lights up her whole face, “I’m good, I’m really good.”

“I’m happy to hear that Y/N,” Seth grins, “do you think we can do once a week every other week?”

Y/N nods, “yeah, that sounds good.”

“Darling,” Harry calls, he stands walking over to her, “I’m going to take Nugget outside, he seems like he needs a wee break.”

And then he bends down, kissing her cheek and Y/N’s taken back by the sudden gesture, and Harry is to. But he’s never liked the way Seth had looked at Y/N, he could tell, that just like him, Seth liked Y/N a little too much, and he knew Y/N better.

“Oh, okay,” Y/N says, “I’ll be out in a second.”

“Nice to see you again Harry,” Seth smiled.

“Yeah, you to man, take care,” Harry forces a smile on his face and turns from the two.

Seth raised an eyebrow at Y/N, “you two seem cozy,” he comments, “well I hope you enjoy your holiday’s, and thank you for the cookies.”

“Thank you, you never gave up on me,” Y/N says.

“I’m happy to see you’re doing better, and you know the group will be happy to see you if you ever want to stop in and just say hello,” Seth stated.

“Yeah, of course,” Y/N nods.


“I’m sorry, but I just have to ask,” Harry says quickly, Y/N looks over from her side of the tree.

She places another ornament on a branch, “ask what?”

“Did you and Seth have like-a relationship outside of therapy?”

“No, he can’t date his patients and I don’t think I would like to date my therapist,” Y/N giggled, “why? You jealous?” she teased.

“Yes.” Harry looks over at her and she seems to freeze, “I like you Y/N, and I’m surprised you haven’t noticed.”

“Excuse me?” Y/N squeaks.

“I never wanted to get into another relationship after my last one, it just seemed like so much. It felt like I was being used, and then I met you, and I started spending time with you and I like it, I like you, I like the time we spend together,” Harry admits, “and God, please, if you don’t feel the same way stop me now because I would rather be friends and keep you in my life than lose you altogether.”

“I’m scared,” Y/N admits, “I’ve never liked anyone as much as I like you.”

“I haven’t either, and we can figure it out together,” Harry promised, “I’m not going to leave you Y/N. Never, not now, not in the future, not even if us being together doesn’t work out, I will not leave you.”

Harry holds out his pinky, and wraps it around Y/N, kissing hers, “pinky promise,” Y/N whispered, “pinky promise,” he repeats.


“Hey,” Y/N whispered as she holds the blanket around her, her glasses rested on her nose and she yawned, her hair falling all over the place her scrunchie slipping out of her hair and Harry can’t help but chuckle at how ridiculously cute she looks, “are you coming to bed?”

“Yeah, I just wanted to set your present under the tree,” he says, grabbing the small box and placing it next to hers, “I got Nugget something to.”

When Harry walks into her bedroom he sees her laid in bed, tucked under the grey blankets, her arm under her head, “saved you a spot,” she says.

“Why thank you,” Harry grins, wrapping his fingers around his shirt and lifting it over his head, he tosses it on the chair and slides in next to Y/N. Harry rests on his side, his face inches away from her, “merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas,” Y/N repeats.

“I think the best gift you could have given me was not turning me down back there,” he says, leaning over, he pressed his lips against hers in a gentle manner and Y/N follows his movements. It’s warm and it makes her stomach flip, he’s gentle, his hand coming up to her cheek to hold her as close as possible, “thank you.”

“I think that was my favorite gift,” she says.

“C’mere,” Harry mumbled, pulling her close and wrapping his arms around her, the scent of vanilla filling his nose.

“Thank you for not giving up on me,” Y/N whispered.

“I would never give up on you,” Harry responds, rubbing small circles on her back.

Y/N relaxes into his touch, letting herself rest next to him. She presses a kiss to his jaw and then closes her eyes.


When Harry wakes up he turns to his side to see Y/N still sleeping. Drool rests on her chin and some on her pillow, her lips parted as she snores softly, her hair a mess behind her, and the blanket tucked under her chin. He groans, pulling her closer and closing his eyes as he enjoys her warmth.

He can’t remember the last time he had been so content, so happy, holding someone in his arms. He can’t remember the last time he was comfortable with someone, he can’t remember the last time he looked at such a mess in the morning and was convinced that she looked so beautiful at the same time.

But he’s okay with that, because he doesn’t want to remember anyone before Y/N. He wants to keep his past in the past and work on his future with Y/N. A future with Y/N meant a future of happiness, and Harry knew. He knew that there would be bad days, days were she would just want to be alone, but she wouldn’t be lonely. He knew there would be days where he would feel alone, but it didn’t mean he was lonely, because she would be there for him, and he would be there her.

She was home.


My request for imagines are now open, feel free to request here.

You’re His Ex Girlfriend and You See His New Girlfriend Wearing Your T-Shirt

Masterlist linked in bio


If there’s one thing Y/n can’t stand, it’s pity. Which is unfortunate for her, considering that’s all she’s been receiving ever since Harry had broken up with her.

Between her family, her friends, and long-known acquaintances, the pity was never ending. The looks people gave her whenever she occupied a room made her sick to her stomach. Nobody looked at her the way they used to as if their perception of her has been altered from a beautiful, humble woman to a broken heart on legs.

Talking to people didn’t help much, either, considering their irrational fear that one harsh tone could wreck what’s left of her. To those, her identity and name have seemed to be forgotten, only to be replaced by “the girl left with a broken heart, who’s heart has failed to mend.”

It’s all a myth, really—a myth that hasn’t been confirmed or denied within the past four months. Y/n provided no reassurance for anybody, nor did she show any improvement since their break up. But she did try her best. Her attempts to answer the question, “how have you been, you know, since the breakup and all?” with an “I’ve been okay” filled with lies didn’t go unnoticed, however, proved to be unsuccessful.

And the pity only got worse when Harry got a new girlfriend.

It was plastered everywhere, the rumors that Harry’s new girlfriend stayed at his hotel in Los Angeles and traveled with him back to London. They disclosed that her name was Jessica, who works as a travel blogger.

She was beautiful, too. More beautiful than she wanted her to be, as selfish as it was. She was the perfect image for him, especially at the height of his career.

Y/n’s heart hit rock bottom that day. Every unblemished part of it became a ruin, a shattered piece of what was once so full and whole.

Y/n hadn’t expected it, not this fast, at least. When Harry initiated the breakup, he told her that it wasn’t the end of their relationship. He had promised her that with the right amount of distance, all the problems they’ve had in their relationship would be fixed entirely.

She believed him, too. That with maybe some time apart, their bitterness towards each other would decease, and all that would remain would be the overwhelming needs for one another.

She should have never been so gullible. After they broke up, they never spoke to each other again. All their ties had been cut, leaving them both hanging in completely separate lives. Y/n never got over him. How could she? They were soulmates, they were each other’s everything. No matter what came at them, they always found a way back to one another.

But Harry’s fame started skyrocketing, leaving Y/n on the ground with no way to reach him anymore. She should have known he’d find someone else—someone more worthy of his time. She just didn’t want to believe it and didn’t want to believe that it had happened so soon.

“How are you feeling?” Gabby asks, reaching over the wooden table so that her fingers can rest on top of Y/n’s hand; a small gesture that Gabby has been giving Y/n nearly every day for the past four months.

Y/n wishes she found it as comfortable as it intended to be, however she can’t help feeling worse whenever Gabby did so. The gesture undoubtedly derives from the pity Gabby has had toward her ever since the breakup. Everything was because of pity.

She looks down at her cold, untouched hot chocolate as she swirls the straw along the brim, resisting to roll her eyes as it’s the only question everybody has seemed to ask her recently.

“The usual,” she shrugs, “nothing’s really changed.”

Gabby gives her a half smile before returning to her tea. The cafe is only occupied by the both of them, considering it’s 7 in the morning on a Sunday. But after everything that’s happened, Y/n’s sleep schedule has been slacking and Gabby wanted nothing more than to be there for Y/n whenever she had the chance.

“Are you sure you don’t want any food?” Gabby asks. “It’s on me if you want anything.”

Y/n shrugs again, a faint yawn falling from her mouth as she shakes her head.

“No, I’m okay. I think I’ll make some waffles when I get home. But I’ll need to stop at the grocery store before I leave. Ran out of milk and flour the other day.”

“We could stop by now if you’d like. I’m getting quite full, anyways.”

“Yeah, sure” Y/n nods, “sounds fine.”


The entrance doors chime when Y/n and Gabby enter the grocery store, barely any people filling the aisles at such hours. Neither of them speak much before they go their separate ways, grabbing all the necessary ingredients Y/n needs for when she gets home.

When she finds flour on one of the bottom shelves, Y/n bends down to grab the cheapest one she could find. In all honesty, she didn’t have a lot of money to spend since she took some time off of work for “mental health reasons,” and she wanted nothing more than to go back home and spend the rest of her day in bed.

When she stands back up from her squatting position, her body rams into somebody else’s, making everything they both were carrying fall onto the floor.

“Oh shit! I’m so sorry!” Y/n gasps, scrambling to pick up the ingredients that have fallen from the girl’s arms.

When Y/n stands back up to return her fallen items, it was as if every nightmare Y/n has ever had was standing right in front of her.

She’d recognize her face anywhere. It haunted her everywhere she went; mocking her and destroying every last bit of her wellbeing. Her face is unforgettable, having been ingrained into her head for so long now. She’s exactly how she is in her pictures, except she’s so much more beautiful in person.

It’s when Y/n’s eyes drift down to the shirt she’s wearing that takes the breath right from her lungs.

The word Lover printed inside of a red heart, the end of it hidden by the pocket right on her chest. It looked so unfamiliar on her—so unfamiliar that tears started piling in her eyes and her lips began to quiver.

That shirt was theirs. That shirt belonged to Y/n and Harry.

Lover.

It was a nickname Y/n always gave Harry. She would have normally settled for “babe” or “baby” like she did with her previous boyfriends, but “lover” came so naturally to her. It exemplified just how unique and rare their relationship was, too.

Harry had never been called that before, but there was something about it that felt so right. The first time she called him that, he blushed like no other. His cheeks and heart felt so warm, and Y/n wouldn’t let him hear the end of it. But no matter how much she joked about how much he blushed that night, it only made her call him that more.

And the more she said it, the more she realized that there was no other name to describe him.

She gave him the shirt for their first anniversary. She was insecure about it, considering it was the only gift she purchased him that year and wasn’t nearly as expensive as all the gifts Harry had given her. But after all the flowers she received had died months later, after all the chocolate he bought her had been eaten in two nights, after all the in-home spa treatments had been used by the both of them progressively throughout the months, and after all the sex they shared died down by the next morning, the only gift that remained so dearly to their hearts was that goddamn shirt.

The shirt became sentimental to their relationship and was almost used as a keepsake between the two of them. The mornings after making love, Y/n found herself slipping it on before rolling out of bed to make breakfast. Harry fell in love with her tendency to do so and always made sure she knew just how much he loved her for it.

This is my favorite look on you, he’d always say, where the shirt hung loosely from her frame and her skin scattered with the marks from his tongue.

Harry wore the shirt as a tradition, most commonly on their anniversaries or on any specific date that held such significance to their relationship. And every time Y/n saw him wearing it, she found it irresistible to kiss the heart designed right upon his chest.

My lover, she’d say, looks so perfect on you.

She never imagined anybody else in it. Even after they had broken up, she never thought the shirt would be passed down to later relationships Harry had with other women. When she moved out, he kept insisting that she should be the one to take it.


He looked down at the shirt all crinkled in his hands, the last compromise they had to make before Y/n officially moved out of their home. Her suitcases were packed neatly by the front door, the darkened sky from the storm waiting to approach making the house feel colder than it already had turned.

Y/n’s body was slumped against the doorframe, arms crossed and eyes red with inevitable tears as they were forced to face the harsh reality of what was to come.

After three years of a relationship neither of them expected to end, Harry had insisted that they take a break from each other. With his career coming to its peak and Y/n spending most of her time in the office, their relationship was going through a rough patch that lasted far too long.

“You paid for this, you know,” Harry whispered, obstructing the silence that seemed to make the air around them thicker and harder to breathe, “this is yours, always has been.”

Y/n shook her head, a few loose tears falling from her face as she did so. In all honesty, she didn’t want to be reminded of it after this. It’s held so much meaning between the two of them throughout a majority of their years being together that she couldn’t stomach the thought of looking at it in her selection of wardrobe. Not when Harry won’t be by her side, not when Harry won’t be apart of her life anymore.

She placed her hand on top of his softly, stroking the knuckles of his clenched fingers with her thumb.

“It was ours. But when it comes down to it, I bought it for you. It was a gift, you should keep it.”

Harry clenched his fingers harsher against the fabric, his quivered lips attempting a small smile as he lifted it to his chest. His thumb traced the heart above the pocket, watching as one of his tears soak into the material.

“It looks better on you anyways.” Y/n tried to laugh through the silent cries, but neither of them had the heart to make light of the situation they were facing.

Harry’s eyes narrowed down at her while a small sigh fell from his lips.

“You know I’d never wear this again, right? Not until we find our way back to each other.”

Y/n’s shaken hands wiped the tears from her cheeks, her lips pursed together to ensure her broken sobs wouldn’t surface until she was alone in her car.

“Yeah, until we find our way back.”

She stood on her toes to reach his cheek, where she tentatively placed a kiss on the flushed skin.

“You’ll always be my lover.”


But looking back at it now, she wouldn’t be standing in the middle of a grocery store, crying pathetically in front of a complete stranger if she had just taken the damn thing.

How could he do this to me?

“Babe, are these eggs alr—“

Harry’s words get caught in his throat when he sees Y/n standing in front of Jessica with tears streaming down her face and cries shaking her body.

At first, his instinct is to reach his hand out to her. But as his eyes follow her tearful gaze to Jessica’s shirt, which is far too large for her frame, but still being worn on her body, the realization hits him that it’s probably the last thing she would want.

He flutters his eyes shut as an unbearable feeling starts to rise in his stomach. This is the most unfortunate time to see Y/n again, and he can’t imagine how much hatred flowing through Y/n’s system as he stands there, cowardly silenced.

Not a word comes out of his mouth. Not even a pathetic stutter of her name, or even a lift of his lips to greet her in the most minimal of ways.

The only thought swirling through Y/n’s mind is how could you not say anything to me? After everything you did, after what I’m witnessing now, how is there not one word to say?

He watches as pain settles in her eyes as she looks at him. It’s as if she’s begging for an explanation, or even an apology he doesn’t really mean. She’s just looking for something, and knowing that she’s not getting anything is taking all the remaining life out of her.  

But he has so much to say. There are so many apologies, so many thoughts all scrambling in his head that everything becomes incoherent. He wants to tell her how sorry he is, and how hard it is to live with himself after all that he’s done to her. He wants to tell her that he never gave her that fucking shirt, that Jessica found it in one of his drawers and put it on while he was still sleeping from the night before. He wants to tell her that it isn’t what it looks like, that it isn’t what everybody thinks this is. But his throat tightens and his tongue suddenly becomes numb, completely preventing him from saying all the things he wishes to say.

“Y/n, is everything alr—”

Gabby halts when she discovers Y/n’s crying body being watched by the very two people that broke her heart. She’s breaking, so evidently breaking and neither one of them are doing anything about it.

“I w—want to go home.” Y/n’s voice cracks, face twisting as Harry still doesn’t find anything to say to her. “Let’s just go home.”

If Gabby hadn’t witnessed her best friend go through so much pain within the last four months, she would have been able to contain all the rage she’s held toward Harry. But something inside of her snaps when she sees the shirt Jessica’s wearing.

“No!” Gabby spits.

Before anybody sees it happening, Gabby slams her fists against Harry’s chest. Jessica begins to scream while Y/n jumps in an attempt to remove Gabby’s wild arms away from him.

Harry doesn’t do anything to defend himself, though, as he allows her to keep swinging her arms at him. All he can think about it how much he deserves it—how much he deserves all of what’s coming at him.

“You’re such a fucking jerk, Harry!” Gabby roars. “You ruined her! Who the fuck do you think you are?!“

“Gab, stop.” Y/n mumbles, finally able to capture her arms.

Gabby squirms as she tries to escape Y/n’s harsh hold on her, but against Y/n’s anger mixed with all her overwhelming emotions, there is no match.

Y/n starts to push Gabby toward the doors, and it takes every bit of strength left in her to not turn around to look at him one last time. 

“You’re her biggest mistake! I hope you know that!”

Whipped...friends??

Y/N would have never imagined the amount of attention being Harry’s best friend would bring. There’s also always speculations, suspicions that the two might be more than friends, given the fact that when they go out, it’s like they might as well be joined at the hip. Where Harry is on a day off, Y/N is sure to follow, and the paparazzi gets pictures of it all. But Y/N’s always been just a friend. It’s not like she trails behind him like a puppy, no. Harry just always loves having her around, finds comfort in the way she talks to him without a hint of glorification. Tracing back to the beginning of their friendship, Y/N didn’t tip toe around Harry, trying to make sure to not say the wrong thing, never really made impressing Harry a priority. And Harry really appreciated that.

And the relentless bother and questions of “are you two dating?” doesn’t end with the public, no, it continues, and probably gets more intense coming from their group of friends.

Whenever Y/N steps away from Harry’s side, there’s always one of the boys whispering to him about how they’re sure she’s got him wrapped around her pretty little finger. How at the call of his name, Harry never thinks twice about dropping everything and tending to her wants and needs. They make it sound awful in a way, as if Y/N is always needy of Harry and demanded his attention. But they don’t mean it like that really, just like bothering him about it, specially because he gets all worked up in trying to defend her.

They even comment about how they’ve taken notice to the fact Harry’s smile can stretch for miles at the mention of her name, which Harry has never denied. Only nods his head in amusement at the fact others notice.

And maybe their secret little escapes to what they refer to as “friend dates” are no help. They’ll be having a night in on the sofa, Harry sat at the edge of it, elbow propped on the arm rest, mindlessly scrolling through texts and thumbs swift on the screen, typing replies to friends. And obviously Y/N’s with him, lying down and feet resting on his lap, her head flat on the cushion, eyes shut because she quite enjoys just lying about in a silent room, knowing Harry’s there. And it’s not until he shuffles to stand up, pushing her legs off him in the process, that she opens her eyes and follows his body across the room where he doubles over to slip on his YSL boots before he goes for his coat. With a small whisper of “ye’ comin’?” Y/N is sure to follow his steps. Most nights like that they end up in some random bar or restaurant, sat on a stool or a booth, laughing and eating. Harry will often opt to sit next to her rather than in front, taking the chance to lay his head on her shoulder. Even kiss at her neck sometimes.

And when the boys catch a glimpse of the paparazzi photos taken of them all cuddly on a random Tuesday night at a local cafe, Harry’s phone just about overloads with texts from Niall going on about “I knew it!” And “just ask her, man!”

So no, it’s not out of the ordinary for Louis to make a ‘wuh-PSSSH’ sound followed by something snarky like “so whipped, mate. And she’s not even ye’ girlfriend,” when he notices Harry’s stare trailing to where Y/N goes as she makes breakfast for the lot. Harry tries to disregard the comment as Louis takes a seat next to him at the kitchen island.

“What’re you guys going on about over there?” Y/N asks, giggling to herself, “got Harry blushing and all.”

And of course with no chill what so ever, Liam pats Harry on the back, a devilish smile playing on his lips, “Harry here has found himself head over heels.”

Y/N can’t deny that her heart sinks a little at that, but she doesn’t let it faze her, or at least she doesn’t show it. “Really?? Oh who is she??”

“Yeah, Harry! Tell our lovely Y/N who’s the lucky woman!” Harry would hope Niall would be the one not to indulge in his current tormenting.

But Harry can only look at Y/N, her eyes locked on his from across the room. And Harry swears he’s never seen her look at him the way she is right now.

And the boys don’t mean to over tease him this time, just wish he’d finally let it out and tell her because they’re rather sure Y/N feels the same. It’s hard not to notice the way she looks at him, eyes full of adoration and dare they say, love.

When the air has fallen silent for far too long, Liam decides to change the subject for Harry’s sake and stands up to give Y/N a hand with the pouring of the beverages.

“You two have gotten to the point where you grocery shop together.” Liam starts again when Y/N steps away for more milk, “you cook together. You do laundry together. You’re always going on dates. You go with her for manis and pedis, and I’m sure you enjoy it, too.”

“So wha’?? I like spendin’ time with her.” Harry doesn’t really see why that’s so bad, being whipped and all.

“You sleep together,” Louis chimes in, “hell, wouldn’t be surprised if you showered together.”

Now that’s just nonsense.

“Sod off ye’ prick.”


It’s been a few weeks since the day Y/N found out Harry’s interested in someone. And she’d be lying if she said it doesn’t keep her awake at night. Awake while she’s lying next to Harry because of the fact that they’d much rather sleep together than alone. But when she looks over at him, she can’t help but smile.

She’s lying on her side, eyes tracing his, rid of any wrinkles they get when he smiles or frowns. They trace all of him. From his eyes to his eyebrows, then his cheeks and to his nose, where she kisses lightly, careful not to wake him. He only crinkles it for a short second, to which she only smiles. Her eyes linger down his neck, tracing every muscle and crevice until she’s looking at the tattoos on his chest, the steady rise and fall of it has her breathing adapting to his.

It’s when she looks at his parted bubble gum pink lips that she raises a hand, her index finger ghosting over his bottom lip. The touch has Harry stirring, eyes open for a moment before he puckers his lips to peck her finger, a smile on his face. He flutters his eyes shut for a second before resting his hand on her waist and rubbing his thumb gently on the exposed skin. He moans in content, pulls her body closer to his and rests his lips on her hair line.

“Go t'sleep, pet.”

And why oh why did she ever think some friendly flirting and bed sharing with her best friend could never lead to any emotional attachment.


The cuddles hasn’t stopped. Harry’s lingering kisses and hugs hasn’t stopped. The boys teasing on Harry behind Y/N’s back hasn’t stopped. Y/N sleeping in Harry’s bed hasn’t stopped. And Y/N’s constant self reminder that Harry might just be in love with someone else has not stopped.

If she’s being quite honest, she’s not liking the way the boys snicker and whisper to Harry when she walks off. And she really doesn’t like how whatever and whoever they’re whispering about is making Harry blush and smile sheepishly like crazy. Wishes she knew what they’re always being so secretive about. But giving it a second thought, maybe she doesn’t wanna know. It’s all the same to her now though.

The movie on the telly doesn’t seem to distract her anymore, not from her thoughts which are taking over her mind the more time she spends in Harry’s home. And to add to that, the second she steps back into the room with a bowl of popcorn the boys go silent. It makes her feel awful…left out, but she’s sure they don’t mean to do it. She should be thankful right? At least they’re nice enough not to talk about Harry’s girl in front of her, or maybe that’s just something she wants to believe.

“Oh popcorn.” Niall’s first to reach out and grab a handful before she’s even had the chance to get to her seat next to Harry.

“Thanks, love.” Harry whispers, kissing her cheek the second she sits down.

She notices out of the corner of her eye how Louis smirks and nods his head when Harry wraps his arm around her shoulder. What’s so funny??

The moment Harry presses another kiss to the top of her head is the moment she realizes she’s had enough. It’s the moment she realizes she can’t keep pretending and letting herself fall even more. Not after what Liam said.

“I have to go. It’s getting pretty late.” This catches everyone off guard, especially Harry.

When she stands up to leave, his fingers around her wrist are quick to make her stop and have her look down at him, still sat on the sofa. “Wha’ do ye’ mean? Ye’ always spend the night, poppet.”

His brows are furrowed now, grip tight on her wrist, fearing that if he loosens it she might just slip away.

Of course they can’t ignore the other people in the room though, so when Y/N’s eyes avert to the boys, Harry is quick to stand up and lead them away.

“Everythin’ a'right?” His eyes scan hers for answers, his hand now cupping her neck, thumb rubbing soothingly at her jaw.

The cool of his rings on her skin keep her at ease. But the uncertainty in her eyes has Harry feeling all types of useless.

“Tell me wha’s wrong, little one. Wha’ can I do to make ye’ feel better?”

And those words would have made no sense if it wasn’t for the sudden feeling of Harry wiping away a stray tear she didn’t notice she’d shed.

She can’t. She can’t break down. Not in front of him. What can she say for him to let her go??

“Nothing’s wrong, Harry.”

But she’s sure he doesn’t believe her, not one bit. He knows her too well.

And she can tell he’s about to say something else, and she knows if she lets him, she’s sure to fall back into whatever they have.

“I’ve really got to go. I’ve got a date in an hour and I have to go get ready.”

As much bullshit of an excuse as that is, Harry’s grip on her wrist loosens, and the hand on her neck falls.

And she takes the opportunity to slip out the door.



Whipped…friends?? Or.. (Part Two)

Soulmates

Pairing: Harry and Y/N

Word Count: 1600

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.


Y/N was never much of a talker; she had maybe said eight sentences in her whole life time. She wasn’t sure where the fear really came from, the fear of saying the wrong thing, of being too loud, of not being heard, so she kept to herself. People didn’t seem to understand though, they couldn’t comprehend why she chose to not talk, so she was labeled as weird, freak, stupid etc. Then they labeled her as mute (and she was) but she hated that term, she really did, Y/N just hated being labeled. At first it hurt, it really did, but Y/N soon learned to ignore them, she could only really care about what her Soulmate would have to say, and deep down a part of her wished that they were like her, quiet.

Soulmates, Y/N had been waiting for hers for a long time. She could remember sitting in class in fifth grade, when the teacher explained the process. She explained how everyone was born with a mark, a mark that only their other half had and she made them find that mark. Y/N’s was on her wrist, it was small, and lighter than her regular skin color, she wasn’t sure what it was at first, it just looked like a stick. But the teacher explained how the mark gets more detailed as they get older and closer to finding their person, and Y/N had noticed how that mark slowly grew into a small flower, a petal or two still missing.

Her teacher explained how every person was made for the other, and that they would feel their soulmates emotions, pain, negative thoughts, happy thoughts. They were connected and no matter what the other would always feel what their person was feeling. Y/N had learned that her person always seemed to be grumpy.

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You’re His Ex Girlfriend and You See His New Girlfriend Wearing Your T-Shirt: Part 3

Part 1

Part 2

Masterlist linked in bio


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.

“Stop!”

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.

“Oh, God.”

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.

“Hospital.”

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.

“Gabby?”

“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.

I’ve Always Been Home

I Have Loved You Since One Shots: I’ve Always Been Home (Part 1 of 2)

Masterlist

*if you’d like to listen to some tunes during this, i would just recommend the wreck of our hearts by sleeping wolf.. over and over again!!*

There was a pounding ache in your head. It felt like a million pieces of your brain shattering to the ground, falling apart into almost nothing. Your throat felt dry and with the little strength within you, you swallowed the dry spit in your mouth.

Your vision was blurred and your memories felt cluttered – one here and another there. The lights were bright in the room, too bright. The ceiling was staring straight down at you. There were all these wires tangled around you, you felt paralyzed.

What happened?

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You’re In Love With Him But He Likes Your Best Friend: Part 2

A/N: This is a filler chapter. Meaning, this is much shorter than part 1. Do not feel dishearted, there will be a longer, more detailed part 3. 

Part 1

Masterlist linked in bio.



“Are you ever going to speak to me?”

Y/n freezes as she hears Harry’s voice ask her the question she’s been dreading to answer.

It’s been two weeks since she’s heard that voice. It may sound rougher now, more stern and harsh than it normally is as it growls behind her at the counter of Lexi’s bar, but it’s still the first time she’s heard it in two weeks.

After her sober confessions to a very tipsy, slumberous Harry, Y/n had to understand what it truly meant to move on.

At first, she thought she would still be able to be around him as she searched for ways to rid her feelings. She distracted herself, mostly. She would interact more with Savannah than she would Harry, and even started picking up new habits whenever she felt her emotions creeping in. Anything that reminded her of him was disregarded entirely so that the only time he was able to consume her thoughts was whenever he was near her.

For the first couple weeks, she was holding up quite well, considering the circumstances. She was able to contain her emotions and take her mind off of the raging heartache that kept burning in her chest.

But it wasn’t much long after that night when Savannah and Harry finally became official, and if Y/n wasn’t anguished before, she surely was then. She was forced to witness the transition of their relationship in hindsight. What was once casual flirting and innocent touches turned into secretive giggles and loving hand gestures.

It was as if her heart broke all over again. What seemed to be almost completely mended was destructed all at once. The chase between Harry and Savannah was over, and reality set in that Harry was happy and in love with someone that wasn’t Y/n.

Watching them together was Y/n’s most devastating nightmare, and the thought of that alone meant she couldn’t mentally handle being alone anymore. With all of the emotions built up inside of her, being alone for Y/n meant enduring the pain and suffering she didn’t want to feel anymore. She just wanted it all to end, everything.

The earliest hours of the morning wrecked her the most. With only the moon illuminating the room and the radio silence throughout her house gave Y/n no choice but to be alone with her thoughts. She wasn’t loved, and no matter how many nights she’s tried to convince herself that this wasn’t the end, it was.

She had to let Harry go, completely this time. She gave up on him entirely because she couldn’t keep loving him when he didn’t love her. Not anymore, not like that.

She keeps her back to him as he heaves heavy breaths, eyes sending daggers and teeth clenched from his crippling frustration. 

“It’s Thursday, I see,” Harry grumbles before giving her the chance to answer, jaw locked as his fingers grip harshly around a stray, unfinished glass of alcohol. “You never work Thursdays. ’S this where your Friday shifts went?”

There’s an unpleasantly rough tone in his voice that makes Y/n’s breath hitch in her throat. She’s never witnessed this side of him, filled with anger and exasperation. He’s always been so soft and gentle, never having the heart to speak down to someone. But here he is, eyes dark with anger and words spewing venomously from his lips.

And as much she hates to admit it, she can’t blame him for being so angry with her. She knows she means the most to him—even if it’s not in a romantic sense—she’s become such an important part of his life. Ever since they met, she took in the truth about his past, understood the feelings and thoughts he’s carried all through his years, and was able to provide him with anything she was able to when he needed her most. She was one of the very few people he trusted and felt most comfortable with in his life. She was irreplaceable, he’d always tell her, nobody could compare to her. She meant everything.

And then, she left him. She distanced herself so far away from him until it was as if she was never apart of his life. She ignored him and all his attempts to reach out to her again. It hurt her tremendously, knowing that what they had together was completely and utterly helpless, but she never questioned how Harry felt about it. She did what was easiest for her and never thought about it twice. She left him so that he can be happy, but as he stands so tensely and confused before her, she can’t help but blame herself what’s happened between them.

She nods her head softly, still refusing to look up at him as she gathers all the used glasses in front of her, making herself seem distracted so she doesn’t have to make much effort into speaking to him.

“I—uh, yeah. Friday nights were getting hectic and I couldn’t keep up with the late hours. I thought Savannah told you.”

It’s a lie. A shitty, impulsive lie that Harry almost finds humorous. Of course, Y/n switched her Friday night shift. She felt as if she had no choice. She couldn’t bare to look at him with Savannah another goddamn second, and he thought of spending Friday nights with Harry without being alone with him and going to the 24-hour movie theater together was enough to make her sick to her stomach.

“She did,” he clicks his tongue, eyes narrowing as he watches her scramble around the bar, “didn’t have to, though. I knew she was lying.”

Y/n’s actions halt for a moment, a feeling of dread flowing in her veins before she goes back to cleaning off the bar, disregarded his statement completely.

Harry knows Y/n’s been avoiding him, she hasn’t exactly made it as subtle as she thought. Their entire friendship changed, and Harry knows he wasn’t the one ruining it.

The morning after Y/n drove Harry back from the bar, all he could really remember clearly was falling asleep with Y/n. There were other bits he remembered, but that was really the only moment that came to him when he woke up. And he was confused when he woke up alone because, in all honesty, he was looking forward to waking up next to her. It was all his drunk mind thought of, and that terrified him.

When Y/n started distancing herself from him, Harry kept wondering what he had done wrong. She was fine with Savannah, keeping up with their lives as usual. But she was different with Harry—closed off, in a way, and it made him feel something he’s never felt in his life before.

He was confused, to say the least. Because when he was kissing down the bare chest of the woman of his dreams, he couldn’t stop daydreaming about Y/n, and how he hasn’t heard her voice and how he hasn’t felt her in so long.

He had Savannah wrapped around his finger, yet he still felt as if everything about it was wrong. He changed when Y/n left him, because even when he was around the most loving company, he felt alone.

He was helpless. As much as he tried to love Savannah, Y/n was always in the back of his head. She was there, all the time, trapped in his mind with no escape route. 

At first, he was confused—upset and lost without Y/n. He didn’t know life without her would feel so lonely, so empty and incomplete. It was strange, not knowing how to live his life without her. He’d never expected her disappearance to be such a hindrance to him, but it was. Oh, how it was.

Then, he was angry—angry because as many times as he tried to get her to speak to him again, she never came back. She was gone, forever.

Now, he’s hurt. So damaged by her leaving his side, so incomplete and destroyed without her with him anymore. His heart is heavy with sadness and he couldn’t let himself feel this way anymore. 

He needs her, no matter how wrong and pathetic it sounds, he needs her. 

“So you gonna tell me why you’ve been avoiding me, or am I gonna have to force it out of you?” he seethes, nose flaring as he tries to steady his uneven breath.

Y/n shakes her head ignorantly, a flash on innocence in her eyes as she does so. But she damn knows well what he’s talking about, and her oblivion drives him crazy.

“I don’t—I don’t know what you’re talking ab—“

“Oh, fuck off with it!” Harry spits, slamming his closed fist down on the wooden counter.

He doesn’t seem to care about how sudden the bar falls silent, or the glisten of fear in Y/n’s eyes when she finally looks up at him. All he can seem to care about is how much pain he feels, all over. All he can think about is how now, after the last two weeks of not being able to understand why he cares so goddamn much, he’s finally able to feel some sense of sanity being in front of her now.

“You know what you’re doing to me, Y/n! You know damn fucking well what you’re fucking doing and—“

“Harry, please.” Y/n whispers and she isn’t sure as to whether or not she’s begging him to lower his voice or begging for him to understand.

“And it’s not fair!” he cries out, tears of frustration overflowing from his eyes as he grips tightly onto his hair.

His breaking point is approaching, he feels it. He feels it with every breath he takes and every word that emits from his mouth. His heart twists and breaks as he expresses every feeling that’s been consuming him for the past two weeks. He needs her to know what she’s doing to him, needs her to know how he feels in this moment.

“I did nothing to you and you keep pushing me away and that’s not fair because I don’t know how to live without you. Isn’t that something?! I don’t know what to do without you, and you know that!”

Suddenly, his head falls in his hands as he begins to sob. Complete heart-wrenching sobs, making his chest tight and breathing shallow.

Y/n reaches her hand out for him, her fingers clasping harshly around his wrist. Her own eyes start to brim with tears as she watches him sob below her, his body shaking with undying cries. She swallows harshly when he grabs ahold of her hand, bringing her palm against his forehead. His lips reach to kiss her wrist softly, quickly refraining from keeping them there longer.

To touch her, for the first time, is every answer he needs. She’s the only one to make him feel this way—she’s the only one to drive him to the brink of insanity and resurface him back to clarity. She has power over him he never understood until now, after he’s lost her.

“I don’t know why it hurts this much, Y/n,” He cries, his eyes squeezing shut as he inhales sharply, “I’ve never been more confused in my life.”

She chokes on her cries as she nods her head softly, her free hand reaching up to rake her fingers through his hair. Her lips shake from their craving to touch him, watching as he weakens beneath her. 

She’s missed him, in the most desperate of ways. She’s missed every part of him, and every atom in her body yearned to feel him again. Whether it was to feel the warmth of him from a distance or to feel his skin ignite her, she wanted every part of him against her. If she wasn’t with him, she was missing him, and craving him with every breath she took. 

Her lips press tentatively to his forehead, her breath fanning through his hair as she does so. The action is quick, leaving just as quickly as it comes, but it carries sentimental meaning for the both of them.

Harry frowns, his heart thumping in his chest. He looks up into her eyes, filled with concern and sanity as she maps his features.

“It’s been ever since me and Savannah got together.” He mumbles, eyes watching her face as it pales slightly at his words. “You haven’t spoken to me since.”

Her eyes flutter shut as he speaks, finding it completely pointless to try and make him believe otherwise. He deserves to know, one way or another, and even if it’s now, she feels like she’s already lost him. There isn’t much she’d be losing now, anyways. He was never hers.

“Please leave, Harry.” She whispers.

She backs away from him, her touch leaving him was like a gunshot to his chest. It’s a feeling he’s felt all too much that he can’t bare to feel again. 

His heart breaks as he watches her begin to cry, her usual glistening eyes now filled with tears of sorrow. He shakes his head, squeezing his eyes shut as he tentatively takes a step closer to her.

He’s desperate, and he doesn’t care how weak he seems. He’s desperate to see where he’s missed it all along, to know how long he’s been making her feel this way. He’ll never forgive himself for all the pain he’s caused her, for all her nights alone when all she wanted was to be with him.

He could have done so much to change this. If he had just listened to his heart from the beginning, this would all be different now. If he hadn’t been so blind, they would both be happy right now.

“Love, I—“

“Don’t.” she whispers, her voice cracking as she speaks, “Please, don’t.“

She isn’t exactly sure what she’s saying—isn’t quite sure what she’s begging him not to do. Maybe it’s the nickname he’s always called her that makes her stomach twist a bit more, or how he’s trying to make her feel better that makes her eyes sting with a fresh new wave of tears, or how he looks at her now the way he never did before that makes her throat tighten around a sob. Whatever it is that makes her beg, she can’t  handle it anymore.

“I’m trying, Y/n,” He whispers, “please.”

“Please just—“ her eyes flutter shut as she speaks, “just leave me alone.”

Harry lets out an unsteady breath, his green eyes brimmed with red as he watches her begin to sob. 

He nods, because he can’t let himself keep doing this to her. If he keeps trying with her in her current state of mind, she won’t be able to think properly. She’ll be a wreck, more so than she is now, and he can’t find it in his heart to do that. Even if it means fighting for her.

“It’s not worth it, you know.” He whispers, his eyes staring lovingly into hers, “Being with her, it’s not worth it if it means losing you.”

Break-Up Novella.

PART ONE: I WON’T GIVE UP.

Here we have the very first part to a very anticipated, very emotional, very long-winded, very angsty-filled break-up story where we see the missus and Harry split and cope in ways that only bring them back to one another, closer than before and deeper in love than ever before. A little novella(?) that I’ve been working my hardest on and spending my free time perfecting just for you guys. 

I cannot thank you enough for being patient with and understanding that it’s been something I want to be 100% happy with. It’s been tough, I’m not going to lie. It’s been hard to find motivation because I’ve not written very many sad stories whilst being on here; I’ve read them! But, not written many, so, I hope this is the start of something new (cue High School Musical reference).

I’m still very iffy over the argument scene. So, bear with uit, haha. It’s the first piece of angst that I’ve written…

But, I’m finally SO happy to be sharing it with you! For the next 5 days, you’re going to be taken on a journey of emotions between the two of them. Enjoy! x

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I NEED ONE DIRECTION TO BE BACK TOGETHER! DO YOU KNOW HOW HARD IT WAS WAKE UP AT 7 AM ON A HOT SUMMER DAY WITH THE AC ON TO WATCH ELLEN ON ONE CHANNEL TO CATCH NIALL, WATCH LATE LATE SHOW ON ANOTHER CHANNEL TO CATCH HARRY, AND LISTEN TO THE RADIO TO WAIT FOR LIAM’S GUESTING?!

I need to lie down.

Originally posted by suitelikechocolate

Jamaica

This is a lil something I wrote because I watched BTA and it ruined me…special thanks to @sing-me-a-song-harry for helping me edit and sort it out!! Hope you all like it!! xx B

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

The sunlight was blinding, the humidity making your skin sticky and already making your hair nearly unmanageable as you made your way off the tarmac. You squinted and pulled down your shades, your eyes darting everywhere until they landed on a curly head of hair about ten yards from you. Harry was bent over his cell phone, lips rolled into his mouth and a pair of black RayBans holding his hair back from his eyes. He looked as delicious as ever, and you swallowed as you admired the slight tan he’d acquired over the past couple of weeks. Harry had always held a soft spot in your heart; with his killer smile and charming personality, you often wanted nothing more than to get on your knees for him. That sort of thinking wasn’t appropriate though, especially since the pair of you had always been just friends, nothing more. You cleared your throat.
“Harry!” You called and his head popped up, a warm smile on his lips.
”‘Lo, love! ’Ve missed ya, glad yeh decided t'come down.“ His arms wrapped around you, his lips pressing sweetly to your cheek, and you bit your lip as the scent of him flooded your senses. You loved the way he smelled. “Shall we?” Harry reached for your bags, leaving one arm draped casually over your shoulder.
“How’ve you been, H? How’s the writing?” Harry’s dimples deepened, and his eyes sparkled happily. He was well-rested for once, with no dark circles under his clear green eyes, and you smiled up at him as he began to ramble on about his album. Harry talked the entire way to the house he shared with his writing partners, his voice light and hands moving animatedly as he drove. The house itself was gorgeous, and when Harry showed you to your temporary room, you couldn’t help the snort that came from your lips.
“What happened to living modestly hidden in Jamaica?” A shrug and a half smile was his response as he set your bags down. He suddenly seemed close, very close, and his eyes had a new, unreadable look in them.
“’M glad yeh came, love, really. ’S been too long.” Harry gently tucked some of your hair behind your ear and out of your face, his throat bobbing as he swallowed. Your tummy flipped when you watched his eyes dart quickly to your lips. If only he would just lean a little closer…..
“Harry? Y/N?” The pair of you jumped at Jeff’s voice calling through the house, your cheeks heating as Harry scratched the back of his neck.
“Yeh, um…get unpacked and settled, yeah? I think everyone wants t'go out t'night, yeh should go.” Harry turned to leave, his shoulders a little tense, and you frowned.
“Are you not going?” His head turned to look at you over his shoulder and he offered a small smile.
“Yeh know me, love; partying isn’t m'thing, is it?” Then he was out the door, leaving you to mull over going out or not.
Two hours later, everyone but you and Harry filed out of the house, taking all of the loud noise and talking with them. Harry’d taken to sitting by the dining table, a guitar in his hands and a glass of wine sitting in front of him as he strummed quietly.
“Mind if I join you?” His eyes flew to you, his lips curling into a smile. A large hand tunneled through his hair as he looked you over, taking in your pajama shorts and loose tank top. You could’ve sworn a flash of desire sparked in his eyes.
“Not at all. Wine?” He was already pouring you half a glass, sliding it over to you as you took the seat next to him. Thanking him with a nod, you took a sip, your gaze moving to the large windows to admire the view of the beach and beautiful sea beyond it.
“How’s everythin’ in your world? How’s..what’s his name?” You didn’t miss the way his lip curled down in distaste at the mention of your last fling.
“Wouldn’t know. I ended it just after you left…prick was sleeping with two other girls.” A grunt left Harry’s lips as he propped his guitar against the table, his hand coming to rest on your thigh.
“I’m sorry, love. Yeh too good fo’ him anyways.” You shrugged, draining the wine from your glass and setting it back on the table.
“I sure know how to pick them, eh?” A humorless laugh left your lips and Harry frowned, shaking his head.
“’S'alright, pet, he was the one with the problem, not you.” You rolled your head back, still hyper aware of Harry’s warm palm on your thigh, his thumb rubbing soothing circles on your bare skin.
“Where are all the good ones, H? The creeps and arseholes are always the ones I attract. Where are all the men like you?” Harry’s brows rose a little, a ball tightening in his stomach. All he’d wanted to do since you’d gotten off the plane was kiss you until your lips were swollen, and now here you were, asking him where men like him were hiding. He shifted a little closer to you, hand tightening on your thigh.
“Men like me?” The words were quiet, unfocused as Harry watched your throat move as you swallowed.
“You know, men who…are real. Who aren’t afraid to let you know what they want. Men who are loyal, good guys. Where do all of you hide out?” Now you were so close to each other that you could feel his warm breath puffing over your cheek. Harry’s tongue swept along his bottom lip, and you longed to kiss him. His fingers edged under the hem of your shorts, goosebumps raising on your skin.
“’M certainly not hidin’, angel.” A crooked smirk tugged at his lips and then Harry leaned in, his pink lips covering yours. You gasped, and it was enough of a space for his tongue to edge out, sweeping along your top lip as if to ask permission. You eagerly gave him more room to work, your hands going to fist in his white t-shirt as his tongue met yours, tentatively brushing over it. When the first tiny whimper bubbled from your throat, Harry pulled back, his forehead pressing against yours.
“D'yeh wan’ this?” Always so good, that was Harry. So, so good all the time. In response, you stood and leaned over him, taking his jaw in your hands and kissing him hotly. A surprised grunt rumbled through him as his hands grasped your hips, pushing you back as he stood. Your backside met the wall, and you moaned as Harry’s hands began to wander. His fingers worked to push your shirt up and over your head, revealing your tummy and chest to him. He tossed your shirt to the floor and his hands moved to cup your breasts over your bra.
“Harry,” you managed, hips bucking into his, moaning again once you felt the hard length of him pressing against your lower body.
“Yeh wet fo’ me? Hm, angel?” Your bra straps were tugged down your arms, and the clasp was undone before your bra joined your tank top on the floor.
“Yes, yes, I’m so wet.” It was true; your panties had been ruined since his hand first landed on your thigh. A growl left Harry’s lips at your words, his dark eyes dropping to your breasts.
“Jesus, pet. S'pretty.” His tongue lapped over one of your nipples, and you let out a garbled moan, your hands tangling in his hair as he wrapped his lips around your breast. Harry’s hips rutted into yours, desperate for any amount of pressure on his aching cock. Your hand slipped down to slide into his loose shorts, easily finding his cock. He groaned against your skin when you circled your hand around his thick length, enjoying the heavy weight of him. Harry worked to yank down your shorts and panties, lips moving heatedly over your exposed skin.
“Christ, darling, feels s'good.” His breath puffed against your collarbones as he thrusted his hips with each stroke of your hand, moaning each time you thumbed the tip of him. Your free hand went to pull down his shorts, thankful for the fact that he tended to go commando, and your mouth watered at the sight of his fully hard cock. It was flushed and pretty, little pearls of precum already beading on his head. “S'nough, pet,” Harry said darkly, one arm going to brace the wall beside your head and the other moving to grasp your thigh to wrap your leg around his hip. “Yeh ready?” He asked as your fingers twisted in the thin material of his shirt. You nodded as Harry mouthed along your jawline and crowded against you, one hand moving to guide himself into you.
“Big!” You gasped, reveling in the burning stretch that came as he buried himself to the hilt. A low, rumbling groan spread through Harry’s chest, his eyes squeezing shut as your walls clenched around him. His lips closed around your earlobe and he began to thrust, hips rutting into yours with smooth, measured strokes. You were so tight and warm around him, taking every inch of him gladly, and Harry was seeing stars by the time a curl of pleasure began to ball in his stomach.
“Yeh feel amazin’, pet…knew yeh would, wanted this fo’ so long.” His neck veins strained as he threw his head back, his words turning into long moans as your walls clenched around him. His thick cock brushed every nerve in you, goading you quickly to your orgasm as his lips lowered to your neck. Harry nibbled at your damp skin, tongue soothing the sting of his bite as you mewled loudly.
“Please, Harry!” You cried, hand slipping up to tug at his hair. Harry growled at the feeling, hips shifting to pound into you. The sound of skin slapping against skin echoed through the otherwise quiet house, and you thanked whoever was watching out for you for sending your friends out of the house for the night.
“Can yeh feel me all up in yeh?” Harry’s hand circled your wrist and led it to rest on your lower belly, where he pressed it down until you could feel the tip of him brushing your walls. A loud moan ripped through you. Filthy. He was absolutely filthy with you, and you couldn’t help the garbled half-sentences that fell from your lips as his fingers went to circle your clit.
“Close! So close, baby, please.” Your voice was strangled as you fought for a decent breath, your throat dry from crying out. Harry’s lips covered yours, swallowing your moans and shouts as he moved faster, his cock beginning to twitch inside of you. The kiss was just as filthy as his words, sloppy and wet, all tongue meeting tongue and lips smacking against lips. Your hands fisted tighter in his shirt and hair as you barreled towards your orgasm, back arching.
“Yeh gonna cum fo’ me? Gonna b'good, pet?” Harry’s tongue licked down your throat and you screwed your eyes shut as he sucked a nipple into his mouth.
“Yes! Yes, I’ll be good, please, please, Harry. I’m so close,” you cried, head rolling back against the wall. Harry grunted in response, the vein that wrapped along the underside of him pulsing with pleasure as he neared his edge.
“Cum,” he puffed against your breast, “cum fo’ me. C'mon, angel, give it t'me.” Your mouth parted in a silent moan as your orgasm broke over you, white flooding your vision. Harry was quick to follow, spurting hot, sticky ropes of his seed deep inside of you. Sweat coated the both of you, and the Jamaican air wasn’t helping, almost suffocatingly hot as you fought for breaths. Harry’s head rested against your collarbones, his softening length still nestled inside of you. You pressed short kisses to his hairline, trembling still, and Harry huffed out a laugh.
“Well tha’s one way t’ welcome yeh.” You let out a shaky laugh as he withdrew, hands coming to cup your cheeks. “’Ve wanted yeh fo’ s'long, love.” A sweet, chaste kiss was pressed to your mouth and you smiled sleepily at him, running a hand through his messy hair.
“Now you’ve got me.” You replied. Harry’s response was a wicked, promising smirk that made heat coil in your belly again.
“C'mon, pet, there’s a king-sized bed with silk sheets that I need t’ see yeh writhing against.” And writhe you did.