“The moon knows,” is what he says, breath colored in liquor and a smile.
Louis stares at him.
“What are you talking about?”
Another manic grin from Harry, and then he pulls him in again, his hand travelling to the side of Louis’ face, cradling his cheek.
“The moon knows that we’re in love.”
And Louis pauses at that, his entire body and physical processes pause, because Harry has never said he loves Louis. He’s implied it, his eyes have whispered it, but he’s never said it and…did he just, sort of, maybe say it?
“Wha—“ he begins, dizzy, his veins filling, but Harry steps even closer, continues to whisper even lower.
“I’m in love with you, Louis Tomlinson,” Harry says, curls the words in Louis’ ear, and when Louis pulls back to look at him, his gaze is dazed and soft, grinning with freedom and the recklessness of inebriation. Fond. “And this belongs to you,” he continues in his low, rumbling volume as he places Louis’ hand over his heart and presses it there, holds it there with his cool fingers clasped around Louis’ wrist. “It’s yours, and yours to keep, and nobody deserves to know because nobody else matters.” Louis thinks he might die, standing here with the perspiration layering his skin like a delicate film, the gaze of the heavens alighting his limbs as he feels the beat of Harry’s thumping heart beneath his fingers.
Pairing: Yoongi/Suga x Reader Rating: M Gerne: Wouldn’t you know it? It’s smut.
Warnings: bondage, orgasm denial, etc.
Summary: You want to have sex. Yoongi wants to nap. You’re having none of it.
A/N: I literally wrote this in one afternoon. smh I don’t think it’s my best work but it’s something. Anyway, Reblogs/Comments/Favs always appreciated!
When you’d started dating Yoongi you’d known of the fact
that he is lazy. On his time off he likes to lay in bed and do nothing—maybe he’ll
read a book and make some ramen or take a shower, but that’s it. He cherishes
his off days like an old man, and sometimes that upsets you honestly.
Your relationship has lasted this long because 1.) You
understand how Yoongi’s mind works and how busy he is and 2.) You’re pretty
easygoing yourself. However…you have
needs. And you know he has needs too, so sometimes you just don’t get it.
“I’m not really feeling it right now,” he tells you, yawning
as he turns on his heel and swaggers back towards your room. He flops face
first onto the mattress and you stare in appalment.
“Come ‘n nap with me,” he grumbles into the sheets at seeing
your unhappy look, and you scoff.
“Enjoy your nap Yoongi,” you say, tone clipped as you turn
away and trudge into the living room. You hear him mumble something in your
wake but, of course, he doesn’t get up to come after you. Yoongi hates confrontation,
after all—and you’ll get over at some point, just like you always do.
But…not this time, you decide. Not this time—not when Min
Yoongi had just showed up to your apartment without warning and passed out on your bed. If he had brought food or had
even kissed you and suggested a movie, then maybe you would’ve been in a better
mood, but without speaking more than a “hello” he had dragged himself into your
room and promptly passed out.
When Anne gave Harry a ring on a Sunday morning in March, asking whether he was awfully busy one weekend the following month, him being the humble mumma’s boy he was, said he could likely rearrange some things for her and the gathering she had planned back in Holmes Chapel.
Although, he was in two minds since he was raised to act both warmly and professionally in character by none other than Anne herself and didn’t want to screw anyone over by moving, for instance, that informal dinner-come-meeting with a new company he and Jeff were looking in to.
However when Anne elaborated further as to what the event would entail – a relatively intimate reunion of sorts at his childhood home, with old school chums of his and Gem’s, with the parents that Anne got on well with alongside family friends both old and new – Harry couldn’t help but wonder about one person in particular who’s attendance was likely up in the air.
She probably won’t be there, he thought to himself. But it didn’t take long for him to pick up the phone and cancel the damn dinner.
Enveloped by his mother’s arms and the scent of sandalwood and home cooking, Harry allowed himself a content smile. He was now just Harry. Harry the son. Harry the brother. Harry the neighbour. Harry the friend. Harry from Chemistry class. Harry the man pining after a woman he didn’t stand a chance with.
After being hit by the initial flood of honorary relatives and the like, half-filled glass of red wine in hand, Harry was free to roam around in search of the few people he had yet to greet. When he had come full circle and reentered the living room, the first thing he saw caused him to stop dead in his tracks, at a standstill in the doorway as a stunned expression found his face.
He didn’t think she’d be there. That didn’t mean he hadn’t hoped.
She was stood a little ways off, back against the fireplace with a glass of wine that was mostly untouched by her full, smiling lips. Harry concluded that it was due to being caught up in so many conversations that she had yet to catch a break. Like now, those sumptuous lips were far too preoccupied moving in eloquent patterns in synch with her speech that her drink was entirely discarded. His thoughts briefly wandered to what those lips would look like if they were busing doing…something else, but was quick to reprimand himself for thinking that of someone whom he respected so much.
If Harry had been thinking clearly he would know that it was more than likely that she would come. But he had hoped for her presence a little too much and seemed to be more so convincing himself that she wouldn’t be there as opposed to actually believing it, like he was subconsciously bracing himself for the slim chance she really wouldn’t turn up.
The crowd around her was far larger than any that he had encountered himself today, since the initial awe had worn off for the people he was currently surrounded by from when he first made it big with the band. This made him smile, since he knew very well that the next one of these he attended would be after he released his solo work and people would flock to him once again.
But she was a real gem. No wonder all eyes and attention were on her, since Harry wasn’t the only one to fly in from another country for the occasion. She had managed to land herself a mighty impressive scholarship to a uni abroad, and following her graduation it seemed she was only moving on to bigger and better things. His chest simultaneously swelled with pride and ached at the thought of her moving on to better people too. But he wan’t allowed to have these thoughts for a number of reasons, one being that she was never his to begin with.
Harry liked to consider himself a fairly selfless man, but he yearned - painfully so - to be selfish with her.
“Oh sweetheart,” The level, motherly voice of Anne Twist broke Harry away from his longing thoughts as her hand was placed on his pink cotton clad shoulder, “I wish you wouldn’t do this to yourself. You’re both adults now, by this time I’m sure that time you could-”
“No, mum,” Harry cut her off with a quiet murmur, “I can’t.” He said to his polished Gucci boots.
Anne sighed, in two minds over her son’s situation. She knew that to some degree he was right in his reservations, but how could anyone ignore years of such tenacious love?
When her eyes finally found his from across the room all of a sudden Harry seemed to go a little lightheaded. Her natural reaction was to smile that glowing smile bright enough to melt Harry’s insides, though her beam shortly became laced with a nostalgic sadness. The same sadness that had often been the devil to keep Harry up at night, urging him to have one more drink in order to forget and inducing an all too familiar ache in his chest.
Due to his drowsiness, it took a while for Harry to take note of y/n excusing herself from the hoard of people and her figure quickly approaching him.
“Hello Harry.” She breathed.
“Hullo, love.” He replied, wondering if it was even acceptable to call her ‘Love’.
There was a brief pause which was enough for Harry to panic that she was going to say something like “well it was nice to see you again” and then leave him before he’d even said more than two words to her.
Instead, she made to end the formalities between the two of you, thinking it downright silly for a pair that had once been so comfortable together to act like strangers.
It practically knocked the wind out of him when she hugged him. Though he quickly fell back in to the pattern of her embraces that had become second nature.
Her entire arms wound around his waist in order to come in contact with as much of his skin as possible. From doing this they had both discovered her penchant for settling her hands on his love handles, usually squeezing them or caressing them or tracing over them or something of the sort. Sometimes he joked and said things like “Trying t’ feel me up love?” or “Copping a feel there moppet?” to which she either hummed in response or gave a defiant pinch to the aforementioned skin.
The first time she had ‘felt him up’ by sort of massaging the skin emerging from his pants - which sounded far more peculiar when you worded it like that - Harry had felt erotic tingles more powerful than any sexual act he would experience from such an innocent gesture.
He’d proper moaned, but tried to cover it up by saying “Wha’ was that for then love? Hmm?” His voice was low with strained pleasure and he’d tried to come off as teasing, but regardless of what he sounded like, she began to pull back her hands. He’d immediately corrected any doubtful thoughts by softly grasping her hands with immense sureness and returning them to where they had previously rested. Her face had been buried in his neck but he could feel her smirk and he struggled not to cry out in ecstasy when she lured goosebumps on to his skin once again.
He always placed one hand firmly on her back, fingers spread wide like a shield which he sometimes rubbed up and down her spine in reassurance or had each finger work out those knots she got from stress. The other hand always lovingly followed the curve of her neck to the nape and, depending on the type of hug required, either remained there or went the whole way round so that his hand rested on her shoulder and her neck was nestled in the bend between his upper and lower arm.
“Missed you.” y/n murmured, voice muffled by his neck, her hot breath sending shivers coursing through his entire body. She was wearing heels today, and that factor usually determined if her head would nestle in his neck or on his chest. He preferred the former, more intimate of the two and often tried to bend down going in to the hug in order to secure her head there.
He swore he saw stars at her last statement and replied wholeheartedly. “Fuck, my angel, missed yeh so much.”
He said it breathlessly, and for once he didn’t debate if it was okay for him to say that (had he asked himself ten minutes earlier it would have been a vehement no). Because her cold nose was rubbing against the prominent vein in his neck, the one part of your body that had yet to adjust to the temperature of the household, and fuck if he didn’t want to treasure this moment forever, and her along with it.
“Staying in Cheshire for a bit. Mum n’ Dad are on holiday and your mum said I could stay here. Wanted to make sure you were okay with it.” She said all of this from the warmth of his neck, the one cheek that was squashed altering the clarity of her words but he heard her perfectly.
His eyes widened in excitement that she was asking him about staying in a home that he no longer really lived in just because she still cared about his opinion.
“O’ course love. Always want yeh around.”
“Hmm, wouldn’t be the same if I was staying here without all the people who mean the most to me. Be a bit silly really.” She hummed like a satisfied cat and at her words Harry felt like he might have a cardiac arrest.
“Yeh always were a silly one.” He recalled, noting that she had yet to remove herself from his arms and prayed she wasn’t about to.
“S’ why you always called me goose.” She chuckled.
His heart squeezed further that she had remembered.
Anne had always called Harry a silly goose as a child, usually it was whenever he did something adorably naïve or childish. And he seemed to have pertained a knack for repeating words or phrases he particularly enjoyed, sometimes not even fully understanding the meaning, which is what inspired him to call her ‘goose’. Being so young, he’d unknowingly discarded the first word, opting to call her only by the second, and with age the use of the word changed.
As youngsters he’d sporadically point at you and proclaim you “Goose!” with a gurgling giggle. Then as children he became more playful with it, saying it in the appropriate context, like when you wore horribly mismatched socks and he’d jokingly chide you by shaking his head and saying you were “such a Goose” though his trademark grin gave his lack of seriousness away.
Then when they’d become teenagers, he’d gotten a little cocky and used it solely as a pet name, oftentimes smirking at the fact that no one else knew what had coined their little title when he teased her after she made mistakes or got embarrassed. When she’d fallen over a protruding tree root once during a walk in the woods with Harry and their respective families, still wearing her school skirt mind you, Harry had just chuckled and offered her his hand whilst saying “If yeh wanted t’ flash me yeh underwear love yeh could’ve just asked.”
It was late, or early if you were being smart about it, and Gemma had just banished Harry from interacting with any of the stragglers that had yet to be politely dismissed because of his incessant, though unintentional, knack to draw people to him, which was the exact opposite of what he should’ve been doing.
Anne busied herself in the kitchen, sending the dishwasher in to overdrive with all the glasses and plates she’d stocked it with. When Harry entered the room, he noticed that she’d left a few odd pieces of cutlery and crockery by the sink to clean by hand.
He smiled, Anne was a strong, independent woman and had been all his life and, from what he’d heard, all of hers as well. Despite having a dishwasher he knew she enjoyed doing some of the cleaning for herself, partly because she’d never shed the need to do things for herself every once in a while and partly just for something therapeutic to keep her occupied.
Anne would never admit that to anyone else though, and would simply say that she was merely doing the dishes that had been left since the dishwasher was too full. Though Harry knew full well that this was the second round the dishwasher had done tonight, the activity brought his mum happiness and was a little idiosyncrasy of hers that he appreciated the few times that he could.
Y/n was the first person to tell him about that word, it was one of her favourites. It was when they were sixteen, and Harry took her out to eat at her favourite place, which was a forty minute drive and he wasn’t old enough to properly get his license but he couldn’t care less. That was what she did to him, she always had and always will have him voluntarily wrapped around her finger and she never even knew it. She never asked for anything extravagant but he was always on his knees ready to exceed expectations.
“Bloody fuckin’ hell,” Harry muttered the same words he had all those years ago “she literally drove me to commit a proper crime and she didn’t even ask me to.”
But he didn’t care, and he’d do it all over again if it meant getting to experience the happiness radiating from her the whole journey home, which, in fact, hadn’t been long enough.
Harry peered sombrely down at his glass, memories of that night staining his memory like the wine, and glanced longingly at the stairs leading to the woman he loved.
This is dedicated to Grace, my love, @floofykeith, because she’s amazing and she deserves it
In which Keith gets to the bottom of why his boyfriend apparently hates his mullet so much.
“Just admit it!”
“If I did it would be a lie, Keith. And lying is bad. Didn’t Shiro teach you anything?”
“Hey!” Shiro squawked from across the room, looking up from his tablet. “Keep me out of your ridiculous arguments, Lance. And besides,” he turned back to the tablet with the air of a man who was just about to betray the trust of everyone who loves him, “we both know Keith never listens anyway.”
Keith gaped, affronted.
Lance crossed his arms, a smirk slipping onto his face.
Ignoring them, Shiro stood from the couch and left the lounge, his eyes never looking up from the tablet.
“Anyway,” Keith continued, putting his forehead to the palm of his hand, “that has nothing to do with the topic at hand.”
“Which is completely pointless, I may add.”
“Lance, can you please tell me why you can’t just leave my hair alone?”
Harry wasn’t a sap. Oh god, he wasn’t. but when it comes to Y/N, he couldn’t help but feel a tad whipped.
It was when he saw his friend Jeff getting a tattoo of his girlfriend’s hometown coordinates on his arm. As much as it seemed creepy and strange, he couldn’t help but letting the idea of having something from Y/N tattooed forever on his body creep into his mind.
It was after a week when they managed to take some time to themselves and chill at Y/N’s small but cozy apartment in downtown London. They were sat on Y/N’s tiny bed (it was a double sized bed but Harry’s feet were always left outside) and she had her arms around him. He could feel her warm breath on his neck.
“I don’t want them to see my boobs, ‘s all.” He could almost sense her eyebrows furrowing behind him while she continued stroking his biceps.
“Love, they don’t care ‘bout yeh boobs, they only care ‘bout the money they’ll be receiving” Harry shook his head and a few strands fell on his forehead, making Y/N lean over and kiss his forehead from where she was seated behind him.
Harry was slowly regretting the whole tattoo idea. He knew Y/N liked his tattoos and sure, she had a couple of small ones here and there but he wanted to go and get one together. And not because he wanted to get matching ones, Harry wasn’t into that whole idea of getting hearts and flowers with your lover.
Later, Virgil will thank fate that he had fallen asleep with his phone under his pillow.
Now, he wakes to the sound of buzzing in his ear, and he groans, hand searching for the phone. He fumbles underneath the pillow and fishes the phone out, groaning again when he sees it’s Roman calling. He glances at the time: 2am. The after party will have been well under way, and he prepares himself for another drunken phone call.
But, when he picks up, there’s an odd stilted silence. No shouting, no singing. All Virgil can make out is Roman’s unsteady breathing, and a jolt of uneasiness has him wide awake, sitting up in bed.
“Hey. Hello? Roman?”
“Virrr…Virgil, sorry, I think- I lost my keys…sorry. Please let me in?”
There’s the usual slur to his voice (it’s well known Roman enjoys a few too many drinks after a successful theatre run), but Virgil can’t bring himself to complain. His gut is telling him something is wrong.
“Yeah, sure, no problem,” he replies quickly. He throws on his hoodie and wiggles his feet into his slippers. “I’m coming.”
He hurries downstairs, taking them two at a time. He opens up the locked front door and sees Roman standing there, shoulders hunched, swaying slightly. When he notices Virgil, his whole posture relaxes.
“Thanks,” is all he says.
Virgil nods and then, from the light of his phone, spies a glint of something silver on the ground.
“Look. You must have dropped your keys.”
Roman blinks slowly. “Oh. Yeah, I…yeah.”
He bends down and picks them up, and Virgil’s worry increases at the sight of Roman’s shaking hands. He tightens his hoodie around himself, the night air biting, and reaches for Roman’s arm.
“Come on, let’s get inside, it’s freezing.”
They make their unsteady way up the stairs, and Virgil guides Roman into the kitchen, setting him down on a chair. He goes to the sink, and begins the usual routine after any party, filling up a glass of water.
“Okay, take it easy, you’ve just had a bit too much to drink and-”
When Virgil turns around, the bottom drops out of his stomach. Roman has one hand over his mouth, and he’s shaking with the effort of keeping his sobs silent. Virgil is reeling. This isn’t Roman at all. He’s should be happy and light, loud, boisterous, not curled in on himself and hiding.
Because Virgil is all too familiar with the act of making yourself small and quiet. This isn’t right. And, as Roman continues to tremble, Virgil realises this is a practiced effort, and his heart clenches at the thought of this happening before, and no-one being able to hear…
Summary: You’re just ‘one of the guys’ aka: “not considered an option by the guys”. And it hurts. Especially when it comes to your friend and crush Steve Rogers.
Or, Where a drunk Steve tries to break into your room at an ungodly time of night.
Author’s note: I know this has been long overdue😭,
also thank you so so so much for all the support and feedback you guys have been giving me on my imagines, it means a lot.❤❤❤As always feedback is much appreciated!
Warnings: insecurities, language, Steve being a hot ass mess
Steve rogers is a ladies man.
Well kind of a ladies man…The ladies came to him, he didn’t
come to the ladies.
Two years ago you helped put the Avengers team back together
and then joined it.
Three months after joining the team you realized you had a
crush on Steve Rogers.
Nine months later you were in love with him.
A year ago Steve dated Sharon Carter for four months. And
has been a ladies man ever since.
“Damn he’s making a second round already?” Sam mutters under
his breath. Bucky muffles a snort. You’re sitting at the kitchen countertop on
a tall stool with Bucky and Sam on either side of you. The three of you are
currently watching Candice “just call me Candy” Martin run her glossy pink
nails up and down Steve’s arm. Steve’s blushing, but he doesn’t stop her.
That’s the thing about Steve. He never makes the first move. The girls come on
to him and he just blushes in that adorable Steve Rogers way of his and allows
it to happen. Then he asks them out and of course they accept- he’s Captain
America. You never knew women to be so forward until you had met Steve. They
competed with each other for his attention and seemed to relish it.
First there was Candice Martin, the pretty pale and freckled
Then Freja Hosk, the tall intimidatingly beautiful, Swedish
ice blond medic.
Then Paisley Fisk, the gorgeous SHEILD scientist, blessed
with flawless dark skin, deep dimples, plush full lips, and waist length
After her there was Biyu Zhou the stunning Chinese agent,
graced with an amazing body and a pretty face that always seemed to be flirting
And these were the ones that Steve went on multiple dates
with. There was no counting the amount of women he’d only gone out with one
time. He’d seemed to have gone through the whole building.
Now it seemed to be back to Candice. You watch Candice give
Steve’s arm a lingering squeeze before leaving the kitchen. Your heart twists
and you look down at your cereal. You hate feeling this way. Especially for
someone who would never feel the same way about you. You and Steve are close
friends; you could even call him your best friend, after Sam. But to him you’re
just one of the guys.
‘One of the guys’ ….you hate that expression. Because it’s
always described you.
You’re not even lucky enough to be one of those cool ‘one of
the guys’ girls, the ones that understand men and eventually have one of their
guy friends falling for them. No. You’re just one of the guys because guys
don’t even consider you a sexual option.
Steve calls you ‘buddy’ for pete’s sake.
Steve wanders over to the kitchen counter and pulls up a
stool next to Bucky.
“Let me guess, hot date this Friday?” Sam asks.
“Yeah” Steve answers, stealing a blueberry from Bucky’s
plate. Bucky halfheartedly swats Steve’s hand away.
“Man even I wasn’t getting this much action in my heyday,”
Bucky chuckles. He reaches out and thumps Steve on the back. “Who woudda
thought that Stevie turned out to be the biggest lady killer of ‘em all”
Steve shakes his head, and swipes Bucky’s coffee mug,
draining it in one gulp. Amid Bucky’s protests Tony walks into the kitchen. His
hair is sticking in all different directions and he has that crazy ‘I haven’t
slept in 24 hours’ look in his eye. For about a week him and Banner have been
hole-ing themselves in the lab with a few choice SHEILD scientists working on
some secret ‘important project’.
“Rough night Tony?” Sam asks.
“Yeah,” Tony walks over to the other counter and pours
himself a cup of coffee. “And not the good type of rough either.”
“But, even genius comes out of my roadblocks.” Tony sighs
holding his mug in his hands and inhaling the coffee’s aroma .
“So you finally finished the project?” you ask.
“Nope.” Tony answers “But while I was trying to work on the
project I got to thinking about Cap’s problem…well one of his many problems.”
Tony chuckles to himself at his, and pulls something out of his pocket and
tosses it at Steve. “And of course being the humanitarian I am, I solved it.”
“What’s this?” Steve turns what looks like a silver flask
over in his hands.
“Next time you want to relax, try cracking this open with
ice princess over here on a Saturday night. If it works properly you two
finally won’t be the only sober ones on our poker nights.”
“Uh, thanks Tony,” Steve says hesitantly, tucking the flask
away, but you know he’s happy. Steve’s confided in you many times that he
wishes he just could let go, just not think about the fate of the world or what
everyone wants him to be for once. He smiles at Tony and Tony flashes a smile
“No problem.” He downs the rest of his coffee and pops a
piece of chewing gum. “Now if you’ll excuse me I’m supposed to get brunch with
Ms. Paisley Fisk,” Tony’s grin stretches from ear to ear.
“Never seen you so excited about brunch Tony,” You observe,
taking a bite of your cereal.
“Brunch? I couldn’t give a rat’s ass about brunch. Now
Paisley Fisk on the other hand…?” He gives a low whistle “I mean have you seen
her?….And have you seen those knocke-”
You roll your eyes “Alright Tony, we get that you’re a dog.
Move along” You interrupt him. Tony smirks and heads out the door.
“Did he just lick his lips?” You ask, but Sam’s too busy
collecting the dirty dishes and Steve and Bucky are hunched together, probably
discussing the flask, so you don’t get an answer. You sigh and head out,
deciding to get some paperwork and training in so you don’t just lounge around
all day. As you head down the hallway, a thought strikes you. Not once has Tony
Stark, the famous playboy who would flirt with anything female with a pulse,
flirted with you. Not one sly remark, cheesy pickup line or cheeky comment.
‘Damn I really must be
ugly’ you think to yourself. Heavy
footsteps jogging behind you interrupt your thoughts.
“Hey,” Steve says catching up to you, giving you that
dazzling smile of his.
“Hey” you respond, smiling back.
“We still on for movie night?” he asks
“Of course, I have three picked for you today,”
“Are the going to be as bad as the last ones?” Steve rolls
You gasp in mock horror. “Steve Rogers. My movie choices
Steve pretends to think “Okay maybe one of them wasn’t bad.”
You guys reach the training room. You push open the glass doors and enter.
“Was it the one that made you cry?”
Steve wraps his arms around your waist, effortlessly pulling
you off the ground. He starts to muss up your hair. “Take that back! I just had
something in my eye.”
“No! I’m telling the truth!” you screech, laughing. Steve
starts to tickle you and you squirm. “Stop! Put me down!”
“Oh okay,” he says and makes as if to drop you, making you
screech and cling to him. Your stomach hurts from laughing.
“Steve?” A high pitched voice cuts through your happy haze.
It’s Candice “Could you spar with me a bit?” Steve puts you down, and you
prepare to mask your expression, to smile and say you’ll catch him later, but
when you look up he’s already walked away.
That Friday night starts out as usual. You hole yourself up
in your room so you don’t have to see Steve getting ready to pick up Candice
for their date. But today you don’t even have Sam to keep you from slipping
into sadness because he’s out with his girl tonight too.
So you sit and stew .
Listen to sad music
Watch a sad movie that make your heart hurt.
Eat pizza and ice-cream and stew.
Look at pictures of Steve on your phone.
Zoom in on his biceps and cry.
And then you start thinking about how Candice is probably
running her fingers through Steve’s hair, pulling him closer and kissing him.
He’s probably wrapping his arms around her waist, and then you start thinking
about how he’ll never touch you like that- he’ll never want to touch you like that. How nobody ever does- and then you
decide it’s time to put yourself to bed.
But you just lay in the dark staring
up at the ceiling, thinking about all the beautiful women he’s dated and start
comparing yourself. You wish you could
be pretty like them. Take their beauty and wear it like a mask- after all how
else would anyone ever notice you? You
wish for once someone would see you, actually see the whole you and want you.
Just as your eyes are about to start watering your door
shakes. It sounds like someone’s trying to break in. Reacting quickly, you grab
your pistol from your dresser and approach the door. The door handle continues
Your mind boggles at who it could be, after all, what
intruder would be this loud? And the compound is practically impenetrable, how
would they have not set off any alarms? Still, your heart rate rises as you
look through the peephole. When you spy a familiar head of blonde hair you huff
and put away your pistol and open the door.
“Steve? Wha-“ Steve barrels past you, flicking on the lights
and kicking off his shoes. He sways slightly, and turns towards you. You catch
the strong scent of something then, like alcohol, but slightly off. He says
your name, surprised.
“Wha-wha are ya doing in my room?” He says
“Steve this isn’t-“ you start, but Steve walks up to you and
puts a finger to your lips.
“Shh- iss okay, ya can stay” he slurs slightly, and sits on
“Steve are you drunk?” You ask, crossing your arms over your
Steve giggles “Ya, To-nyyy’s stuff actually worked” he
sing-songs Tony’s name. “I feel great” He says laying back.
You hold back a smile, and then a terrible thought crosses
your mind. “Steve, where’s Bucky?”
“Oh don’t worry, old Buck’s in his room. Out lika light”
Steve snorts “Lightweight.”
You shake your head, wondering what you’re going to do with
him, when the sound of movement on the bed makes you look up. Steve’s already
stripped off his shirt and is working on his pants. You want to say something-
you should stay something, but you’re too distracted by the flexing of his
abdominals as he peels off his jeans.
“Steve” You hiss, you don’t think you can say much else. Not when every muscle in his body is standing out in sharp relief.
Steve looks up and smiles widely at you, patting the place
next to him. Steve really must be gone. Normally he would be three shades of
red if you even mentioned seeing him shirtless. You hesitate for a moment
before crawling next to him. He wraps a
well muscled arm around you and pulls you close. It feels so nice you don’t
even mind the stink of alcohol on his breath
“So” you scramble for something to say. “How was your date?”
“Oh really?” you ask. You decide to try to fish details out
of him. “Candice is very beautiful”
“Yeah not really my type.” Steve snorts.
“Oh?” your fingers decide to do their own thing and start
tracing the ridges in his forearm. “What’s you type then?”
Steve’s silent for such a long time you start to think he’s
fallen asleep. But then his fingers grasp your face, squishing your cheeks
together. He looks down at you, and his big blue eyes look like languid pools
“You. This beautiful face of yours.” He replies. Your heart
pounds and you will it to stop. He’s drunk. In the morning he won’t even look
at you let alone want you.
“Stop playing Steve,” You turn and start scooting away.
“I’m noooot” he whines, and hooks an arm around you, pulling
you to his chest. You try to squirm away but he’s got you in an iron grip
“You’re so beautiful Y/n” His large calloused hand caresses your face sloppily.
“Oh really?” you say, trying to keep the bitterness out of
your voice. “Why haven’t you said anything before?”
“’cause ya won’t let me.” You feel lips at press at the back
of your neck, and you have to stop yourself from squeaking “Come’on y/n….just
give me a chance… just one chance. I promise I won’t mess it up. I’ll tell ya
that you’re beautiful every day…” He kisses your earlobe and sets your skin on
fire “I’ll treat you right. I promiiisee. Why won’t you give me a chance?” his
voice turns whiney again. He’s suddenly too close, too much and you squirm out
of his embrace. He makes a hurt noise in the back of his throat and you hush
him, turning off the lights.
“Let’s go to bed Steve.”
“Ooh I like the sound of that,”
“If you don’t shut up…” You snap, feeling your way to the
bed. Once you’re under the covers Steve locks you in his embrace again, almost
crushing you. You lay on his chest, his warmth enveloping you, your mind racing
a mile a minute. Then Steve’s hand slides up your body and starts rubbing your back and
you slip off into sleep.
When you wake up Steve’s gone. Your heart drops, but after
laying in bed for a bit you decide to confront him. You pull on your favorite
pair of high waisted jeans and an over-sized cropped sweater. You look at
yourself in the mirror. ‘At least I can look good while getting rejected.’ You
head into the kitchen and are greeted with the sight of a busted looking Bucky
being served breakfast by Sam. You pause for a moment to scoop a muffin from
the box on the counter and to admire the architecture of Bucky’s hair, half of
which is standing straight up, the other half is at a 90 degree angle.
“So I take it Stark’s concoction worked?” Sam asks,
arranging pancakes on a plate. Both of their backs are to you, Bucky sitting at
the kitchen counter, Sam in front of the stove top.
“Yeah,” Bucky says, voice rough, “Who woudda thought Stark
could make that good stuff?”
Sam chuckles “So you and Rogers have a good time last
“Ya, well until Steve started getting whiney.” Bucky snorts.
“Buck, why doesn’t y/n like me? She’s so pretty Buck I can’t
take it, why doesn’t she liiike me?” Bucky mocks Steve’s voice. “After that I
decided to go bed. I get enough y/n talk when I’m sober.”
“Really?” Sam pries, and you smile, Sam knew about your
little crush, and like a true friend was fishing for more information.
“Yeah, he’s such a wimp, I always tell him just to make a
move-“ Bucky cuts him self off “Sam ya better not tell y/n about this…I swear”
Sam turns around, pancakes in hand “Don’t worry-“ He looks
up and meets your gaze “I won’t have to” he laughs. Bucky looks up at Sam and
then turns around. He groans.
“Y/n, how long have you been?- Actually nevamind,
obviously long enough. Just do me a
favor and don’t tell Steve about this? He’s an absolute madman when it comes to
you….” Bucky grumbles, pulling his hood over his head.
“a… madman?” You ask walking up to the counter.
Bucky snorts. “Yeah he practically beat Stark’s ass after he
overhead him saying something slick ‘bout ya.”
You lock eyes with Sam. “Go get him tiger.” Sam smiles at
you. You wipe your palms on your jeans and turn to head out.
“Word ta the wise, check the roof.” Bucky calls out after
You find Steve
sitting on the roof, staring off into the distance. His hair is still
messy but he’s wearing a clean white button down shirt, and tan pants with
those suspenders you always secretly find adorable on him.
“Steve?” you call out hesitantly “Can we talk?”
Steve’s head whips around and his eyes widen. He then
massages his temples with a groan. He must be suffering from quite the
“You don’t have to say it y/n, let’s just forget last night
ever happened.” Your heart beats faster and you gather up the last of your
courage before it completely slips away.
“Steve-what you said…did you mean it?”
Steve groans again, dropping his head into his hands.
“Yes.” He says quietly.
“Why didn’t you ever tell me Steve?”
“Why should I have?” he gives a defeated chuckle. “Ya
already rejected me,”
“What?” Your mouth drops in disbelief and you walk up and
stand next to Steve, looking down at him “When? When did you even ask me out?”
Steve looks up at you “What do you mean? I tried after every
upstate training session.”
Your eyes squint as you think back. A little over a year ago
the team met upstate for a four days to train at this specialized facility and
test out new weapons. You think back some more.
“You just asked me to ‘hang out’ after those sessions.” You
say incredulously, “Not on a date”
“But that’s how people date nowadays.” Steve looks confused.
You laugh “No, not really. And anyways after those training
sessions I was so disgusting that the
last thing I wanted to do was go get ice-cream and marinate in my own sweat for a few hours”
“But all tha other girls took ‘hanging out’ ta mean a date”
Steve looks even more confused.
“I guess nowadays ‘hanging out’ can imply a date, but most
of the time it still just means hanging out. At least to me” you mutter the
last part “Where’d you get this idea from anyway?”
Steve’s ears turn pink “Uh Bucky”
You eyes practically roll out of your head “Steve! You know he
only thing Bucky knows about dating is from those stupid teen drama shows he’s
Steve’s face turns bright red “I’ll have ya know Bucky was
quite good with the ladies.”
You can’t help but to burst out laughing. After you calm
down you sit down next to Steve. “You going to Bucky for advice on dating is
like the blind leading the blind”
Steve chuckles, wiping a hand down his face. After a moment
“Steve, why’d you practically date the whole building
instead of just telling me.”
“I dunno. I guess I just thought you’d already rejected me
so I didn’t want to push the issue, and still wanted to be your friend. So I
just thought I’d try to find someone else…” he turns his head and looks at you “But
damn it Y/n it’s impossible to find someone who even comes close to ya…” His
gaze takes your breath away so it takes a moment for you to respond.
“I guess that’s a good thing then…cause I feel the same way
“Yeah” you laugh and you feel like you’re flying because all
the baggage, all the pain is starting to unload. “And if you hadn’t been so
dumb and listened to Bucky you would have known a long time ago.”
Steve smiles widely and wraps an arm around you, the other hand caressing your face.
“So. You wanna go on a date with me?”
“Yeah” You pretend to consider it, and then lay your head on his shoulder “Sounds a lot better then
just hanging out.”
Synopsis: You are a new and upcoming superstar and during an interview, you get asked questions about the one and only Harry Styles.
“Alright, alright, you got me but how about you let me get to know you, and you not run away from me this time? Don’t like it when beautiful things slip away so soon.” Harry says, biting his lip right after and you wanted to scream out that whatever he wanted you to do, it would be done.
But of course, that isn’t the case, you remember how disgusting some of the comments that were left under your pictures, the things the said about you in interviews, all of the negativity cam rushing back in. You couldn’t imagine what they would have said if they saw you on Harry’s arm. Why is it so hard to focus on the good things in life?
“I don’t think so, I’m sorry.”
“You said what?!” Stacy was sitting beside you on the bed inside your hotel room. You both were watching TV but after much persuasion, Stacy managed to convince you to tell her everything that happened that night.
After you rejected Harry, you went into your car immediate. You didn’t want to see the look on Harry’s face. You were praying he didn’t try to call or go after you but thankfully his manager pulled him away. As soon as you got inside your car, you were silent. Not saying a word the whole drive back.
You didn’t know what to say to Stacy. That you left the man you have thought about for years, the man who inspired you to do what you do everyday? You didn’t know why you did yourself.
“I said no Stace,” You said clutching your pillow into your stomach, your head rested on the top.
“Why? I was reading your journal and you basically love him!” Stacy screeched.
Your head shot up immediately, eyes wide, mouth agape. “You did what? You read my journal?! Stacy it is private for a reason! How did you? How did you even find it?”
“Um, Hun, if you wanted it hidden why would you put it under your bed?” Stacy scrolled through her phone acting as if her statement was normal.
“Stace why would you look under the bed anyways? This is so confusing for me right now!” You try to gain her attention and smack the phone out of her hands.
“I was checking to see if there were bedbugs okay! You know how I am, I don’t care if it’s a five star hotel, if I see a bug I am leaving the country. But this is besides the point! You are practically in love with Harry and you deny him? Why would you do that? This is your one chance at happiness, a normal life. For goodness sakes you haven’t been able to act like a normal teenager ever since you were discovered! You missed all of the fun things teenagers were suppose to go through. Instead of going through college stress you went through ticket sales stress. Instead of going to prom you went to music awards. This is the one chance you get to experience something that is considered normal. Having a boyfriend is normal Y/N!” Stacy was basically lecturing you. You didn’t know what to say because at the end of the day, you knew she was right. She was always and you hated it.
Ever since you got signed into your record deal, you were immediately pulled out of what was suppose to be a normal life. You didn’t get to finish high school with your friends and instead received your diploma on your tour bus. You still remember Stacy tutoring you for English and the bus driver helping you with History. Stacy even went so far as playing graduation music on the drive to Texas and making you wear a gown.
But having a boyfriend? This was totally out of your league. You didn’t have any experience with this kind of stuff and it freaked you the hell out.
“Stace, this is Harry Styles we are talking about. You know how notorious he is for being the supposed womanizer. I freaked out and talked about him for a minute too long and boom. Countless articles about me being obsessed with him. Comments on top of comments, all saying how I suck up to him just for his fame. It’s almost as if I can’t be friends with anyone of the opposite sex. I was told I had a knee deep obsession with him when all I did say nice things. What do you think is going to happen when I date him?” You begin pacing around the room again. “Even if I do date him, it’s just going to end in disaster.”
“You will never know if you don’t try love. And he wants to try with you."
Why is Stacy always right?
Harry has been grumpy ever since the award show. When you rejected him and left in your car he was devastated and was quite offended.
"Know this might sound really bad, but, m'not used to getting rejected y'know? It’s like know m'not all that but, I really thought we had something together. Thought we had a connection.” Harry was lying on his back with Lucas. Lucas was currently on his laptop, like always, figuring out new ways to get Harry to the top. Whether it was booking a photo shoot or finding new radio openings. He was one of Harry’s closest friend and was part of the team.
“Well, wha’ she say?”
“She said no. And that she was sorry or somethin’. Didn’t even give me the chance to convince her otherwise.” Harry rubbed his eyes with his hand.
There was already so much stress with everything going on his life, musical wise. There was no way a new girl was able to fit on his plate but Y/N was different. You gave him something not a lot of people had; honesty.
You didn’t see him as a multimillionaire, a player, a famous superstar. You saw him as a musician. You saw him as someone who loved music as much you did.
“Lucas! I have an idea!” Harry shoots up from his position on the couch which knocks Lucas’s laptop to the ground.
“DUDE! I was workin’ n something aye!” Lucas grumpily gets up and dusts off his laptop, examining for scratches. “What’s your idea? Gettin’ me a new laptop?”
Harry laughs and punches Lucas in the arm. “No, d'know how we are both gonna preform next week in the states for that festival?” Harry smirks when he sees Lucas’s reaction.
“Harry, Harold, listen to me. That is a huge event, what are you going to do?”
“Pull up the set list, m'gonna change her mind.
You were currently at home, not in a hotel room, not in your tour bus, but in your house. In your old room specifically. Stacy felt really guilty after talking to you about Harry and what had happened and decided a break was exactly what you needed. You had nothing on the schedule anyways and how harmful can thee days be?
It has been a long time since you were home. Your room looked the exact same, walls painted yellow, a single twin bed decorated flowers, placed right in the middle of your room. You had posters and pictures of your friends everywhere. Funny how every thing changed in an instant.
“Hon? Are you alright? Dinner is almost ready but I want to talk to you for a sec,” Aunt Robin knocks on your door and peeps are head in. You smile at her, admiring the messy bun she always had and dressed in the same scrubs; blue with yellow rubber duckies.
“I feel like me and you haven’t chatted in a while, kind of miss you, how’s my favorite super star?” Robin walks in and sees you laying on your bed, legs in the air.
“What are you talking about? We talk twice everyday. Once when I wake up and another before bed. We talk all the time.” You swing your legs from the bed and move so she can sit next to you.
“Not on the phone, I want to talk to you face to face. Sure we talk but it’s always the same, I ask you if you ate, you ask me about the hospital. I want you to tell me secrets like you did in fifth grade!” She sits down next to you and starts playing with your hair. The action brings you back to all the times she would do that to calm you down.
“I’m sorry it’s just that sometimes I lose track of everything going on. One minute I’m in the States and the next minute I’m in Europe. Of course I am grateful for the opportunity but having this break is so important for me, I feel good you know?”
“You needed this as much as I needed to see you. Now listen, I have been reading on the internet, and as confusing as it is, I clicked on this article and saw that thing with you and Ha-”
“No, we aren’t talking about this. Not here, I am finally home after such a long time, I don’t want to talk about anything involving me or boys!” You groan and stuff your face into a pillow. This was the last thing you wanted to talk about.
“OK, OK, I get it. But, I was reading your diary from when you were in midd-”
“What is up with everyone reading my diary!” You lift your head up and stare at your aunt, in her hands was your middle school diary, decorated with bright pink fur with a lock on the side.
“That isn’t the point here Y/N! You are the smartest girl I have ever met, I raised you to be strong and kind, you know your mother would have been unbelievably proud if she saw you now. You think with your head all the time, maybe it’s time for you to act with your heart?” Robin says raising your diary in the air.
When you were younger, it was your aunt who raised who your whole life. She would always try to avoid conversations about your parents, and you never minded. This women single-handedly raised you and she did one heck of a job. No matter how hard shifts at the hospital was for her, Aunt Robin would walk home sit on the couch and watch every performance you put on.
“What if I act with my heart and by the end, I don’t even have one anymore?”
“Oh honey, no one could even try.” You feel Robin hug you from the side and for the first time in a long time, you felt at home.
“Oh, Stacy was right, you do need deodorant.”
“Ugh you guys need to stop talking to each other!” You laugh at her while she scrunches her nose.
It’s Saturday night and you were no longer in the comfort of your own home. Instead of lounging watching all of the shows you didn’t have time to catch up on anymore, you were getting a weird food facial. You had no idea it existed until Stacy had to practically drag you into the salon, promising that your skin would be glowing for tomorrow’s event.
Tomorrow’s event is going to be one of the biggest nights of your life. It was a huge ball with all of your icons preforming. There would be music, food and you were even invited to Ellen DeGeneres’s after party.
Stacy and your band decided that you were going to sing three different songs, one of which that was new. You spent all of last week practicing vocals and dancing. It was extremely important that you did well, so many new entertainment industries were going to be there, keeping their eye out for new talent to sponsor. Your performance can determine if you get to shoot videos with A-List celebrities, be on the cover of Vogue magazine or even collaborating with major brands. To say your nerves were on fire was an understatement.
Stacy made sure that no one was to mention anything about any scandal or to bring up the H word. She knew he was going to be preforming as well but didn’t have the guts to tell you. So she did what every good manager would do, write it out on a cake and it was to be delivered to your hotel room later on the day.
“I swear, your skin is going to look and feel like a baby’s bottom. They won’t even need to use the spotlights because you will be glowing!” Stacy clapped her hands together as you guys both laid on the massage table, dressed in white fluffy robes with various fruits adorned on your face.
“So, my face is going to feel like ass? Great. Did my soundcheck come in okay by the way?” You started to feel the slimy fruits fall off your face and it had successfully landed in your mouth.
“I saw that, that was gross, you can’t eat fruit that’s been on your face,” She starts.
You were still chewing and to annoy her you chewed even louder. “But what did I say, no talking about tomorrow’s event. If we start talking about it, you and I both know we won’t stop, and then we’ll stress and both of our asses will be in that venue making sure everything is perfect. You need to relax, everything will be fine. Now stop eating your face!”
“Fine but I heard that you got me a cake and you aren’t going to stop me!”
“He’s preforming?! Before me?! This is a disaster! Is it too late to call out? Tell them I have mono or something!” You were pacing everywhere.
When you walked into your hotel room to look at the cake you thought it was going to say “Good Luck Tomorrow” or “You rock!”, but no. What did it say?
“HARRY’S PREFORMING BEFORE YOU!”
“No, no, we are not cancelling, this event is your make it or break it. I don’t care if Harlem Shake or whatever his stupid name is preforming. You are the strongest person I know, this is below you. I don’t care what happens tomorrow, you will dominate that event.” Stacy shook your shoulders and made you sit down. When you didn’t move she shook you more.
“OK, OK, I get it.” You take your finger and dip it into the icing, licking it off. “But we aren’t using that confetti in the end, during rehearsal it got in my eye.”
Stacy laughs and dips her finger in the cake.
Walking in heels was already exhausting, but the 10 pounds of lace you had on was even harder. The ball gown Stace picked out was absolutely stunning but you had no idea ball gowns were so heavy.
You did the usual routine at every event. The beginning was always the same. The photo shoot of you walking out of your car and then visiting the fans outside the gates, which was your favorite. You then had to do the red carpet walk which was blinding to say the least. And then your nerves went into overdrive when the interview proportion came up.
You immeadiatley looked for Stacy and she was already behind you and she managed to help you throughout the whole thing. Thankfully no one brought up any scandals, everyone too excited for the music event.
“So Y/N, you are preforming tonight right?” This one interviewer named Josh asked you.
“Yes, I am so excited I feel like I’m gonna throw up or something!” You laughed shyly, you weren’t lying. Even though you had a light meal, your nerves got to you.
In the corner of your eye, you saw Harry walk towards you, and all of a sudden anything Josh said flew right past you. You hurriedly said bye and quickly walked to your dressing room Stacy right behind you.
Now safe in your dressing room, it was only 30 until you had to sing. You began stretching and doing your vocal warm ups while walking to the stage area. You checked you mic and everything twice and then had Stacy check everything once more.
There was a huge television screen to your tight, showing the live broadcast of the event. That’s when you see Harry preforming.
He didn’t look human. It couldn’t have been possible, the way his hair was styled made you want to run your hands through it for eternity. The way his suit as tailored made your mouth water, it was perfect. He looked perfect.
His voice was the main show though, it sounded like thick velvet, dripping out his mouth and landing on the mic.
“Snap out of it! You are going to be up there soon!” Stacy pinched you and you basically screamed, you somehow forgot where you were.
“Tha’s it for me! Thank you so much for having me! Please enjoy the next musical guest, I sure will later!” Harry announced in the mic and the water bottle you had in your hand dropped.
“What did he just say!” Stacy was red in the face and you couldn’t say a single thing, and by the looks of it Harry didn’t mean to say it either.
All you heard were the fans screaming before the host came and started talking about you. You quickly snapped out of your trance and started to stand in position, still shell shocked at his words. “Enjoy me later?” You whispered but before you knew it you were in front of millions.
“Come in!” You said removing your preformance outfit and slipping into your robe. Why the hell was it so itchy?
Your performance went great, better than you could have ever imagined. As soon as you heard the beat start you forgot about everything. All your fears disappear in thin air and you sang and danced your heart out.
When you preformed your new single, tears were beginning to form and you heard your fans scream when you announced it was new. You saw Stacy bawl her eyes out looking at you from the crowd. Your heart was so full but that didn’t mean you weren’t angry at what had happened earlier with Harry.
Harry came in and you immediately stopped. Why was he here? You pulled the robe closer as he locked the door behind you and looked at you. His eyes scanned your body, focusing on your legs.
“So this is what you meant when you said you were going to enjoy me later?” You snap, his eyes diverting right to yours.
“No, I swear, tha’ wasn’t what I meant, whatsoever. I am so sorry Y/N. I had a million things I wanted to say as an introduction but for some reason, that decided to slip.” Harry started walking towards you and you backed up, his eyes narrow as if he was hurt that you didn’t want to be near him. He tries again and this time you stop moving.
“You didn’t have to say anything at all! You could have easily just passed the mic on like everyone else! Instead you embarrass me in front of so many people, you know what they are already saying! Why are you doing this?” You begin to tear up and you hate yourself for it, not wanting to cry in front of him.
“Why did you say no to me?” Harry says and you scoff, he really didn’t hear anything.
“Sorry I didn’t want to pursue my knee deep obsession with you!” You laugh sarcastically and he looks hurt. There was no way you were ever going to forget what that reporter said to you.
“Stop caring about people have to say to you! You shou-”
“That’s easy for you to say! You have your whole career in front of you and I just got started! It’s not fair to me that this out of everything is my first scandal. That interview was suppose to promote my music not about you for God’s sake! You out of everyone should know it’s not easy when every single person you are spotted with is deemed your lover!" You cry and at this point tears were already pooling around your cheeks. "It’s just not fair,” You say silently. It seemed as if that’s what you have been saying for years.
Harry sees how upset you are and it hurts the hell out of him.
To know he caused this. The guilt was eating him alive, he never meant to make you feel or react this way. He walks even closer and this time you let him, too tired to fight back.
“This time I don’t care anymore. I don’t care what they say, wh-when you were preforming out there I’ve never felt so good. S’like I just wanted to see you sing forever,” Harry wipes your tears away from your face and the sensation is amazing. His hands were so soft and it felt so good to be comforted by him. “let me OK?”
You furrow your eyebrows and your eyes open, let him do what?
Before you could ask, you felt the softest pair of lips meeting yours. Teeth pulling on your bottom lip and for the first time in a long time, you acted with your heart and let him.
Thank you thank you THANK YOU guys so much for all the support. I know I say these things a lot and I really do mean it! I wanted to make this chapter just a little bit longer so I hope I didn’t bore you guys too much. Also I have Part 4 ready if you guys want it! As always feel free to message me whenever, love talking to my biscuits! Cover by the lovely @editskiwi!
Music was thundering throughout the place, the heavy beat of drums and deep bass strums were resonating around the apartment and you could feel the floor vibrate from underneath your feet. Your stomach dropped and you could feel the pit of your belly clench at a particularly loud bash and your gaze flew to the trio of young men who were currently providing a live cover of Mr. Brightside - the ultimate party rock anthem.
The plastic red solo cup quivers in your fingers and the murky brown cheap beer ripples in time to the rhythm, you bring the chewed cup lip to your mouth once again and with a grimace you hack another gulp. The bitter mixture causes your face to scrunch in distaste and a wet cough passes your lips before you raise a hand to smother it.
You glance around the apartment and from across the room you spot him, your best friend Harry - the reason why you were not currently sat on your sofa swamped in blankets binging a re-run of Friends. You have to admit, that boy was really bloody convincing when it came to getting you to do things you didn’t want to, like going to this party for example. Harry had promised you a dance together, a safe lift there and home, and that he would not ditch you.
That pact hit the floor the second he stepped through the door. In seconds, Harry’s hand had been pried from yours by his week old girlfriend (not before she shot you a snotty glare) leaving me in the hallway alone, surrounded by drunk strangers who all seemed to claim a sense of loyalty to Harry as they high fived him while he strolled through the apartment.
From afar, you can’t help but watch Harry and his girlfriend. He’s sitting on the sofa and she’s found a home in his lap, both completely oblivious to the people that surround them who are trying to socalise with them. They paint a picture of bliss, purity and love as she giggles at a remark Harry whispers into her ear; his fingers caressing her thigh, his thumb softly stroking her.
The sight leaves a bitter taste on your tongue and you knock back another drink. A sudden cheer from the crowd snaps you out of your trance and your eyes follow the source of everyone’s excitment, but when you find Harry and the leggy brunette with their lips locked together you spin around so quickly that you’re surprised you don’t get whiplash.
You need fresh air.
After you shove your way past a herd of giggling drunk girls and hefty men, you find yourself in the corridor of the building. Using whatever engery remains, you crank open the the window at the end of the hall and stick your head out as you lap at the cold and refreshing air.
“Shake out of it, Y/N.” You whisper to yourself and you close your eyes, taking in a deep breath. “Get yourself together.”
“Watch it sunshine, don’t blow away."
On cue, a sudden rush of warmth cradles your hips and you try not to react to Harry’s comforting hands that rub soothing circles over your skin. A small smile plays at your lips but at the same time it pisses you off that he has such a subtle and calming effect over you.
Honestly though, you hate yourself more for falling for him - period.
"Whatch'a doin’ out here anyway, love? The party’s back in there?”
You send him a curt, forced grin.
“Just needed some fresh air is all.”
You want to wince at how cold you sound.
Harry stops rubbing your skin, but the cold tips of his fingers are still ghosting over your hips as his fingertips leave a trace of his DNA.
“What’s wrong, love? You can tell me anything Y/N, I’m your best friend…"
And that, ladies and gentlemen, is why Harry is such a head fuck!
Best friend’s don’t just do that! Let me tell you - friends have boundaries but with Harry the lines are so blurred. He has a girlfriend but sometimes you swear his gaze lingers on your lips when yous are talking. Pals do not just call each other endearing pet names and hold each other how Harry holds you!
"Y/N, please ta-”
“Just leave me alone, Harry."
You can hear the pain in Harry’s shaky inhale but he tugs your wrist and tries to get you to talk again.
"Y/N, you have to talk to me.” He reiterates, concern lacing his voice.
“Go back to your girlfriend.” You bite sourly, pulling away from his grasp and starting to walk down the hall. Your welcomed stay is now way overdue and you need to get out of the place before you say something you’ll regret.
“Wha’? This is about Jen? Are yeh annoyed because ah left yeh for a second to say hi to her? God forbid ah spend some alon-”
“This is not about Jen, Harry. Wh- why would you even think that she’s the issue?”
Harry has completely retracted now, his hands are crossed over his chest and he’s staring at you. There’s not much warmth in his eyes anymore and you’re afraid that his misplaced irritation is only going to make you blurt out something you don’t want to.
“Because! Because yeh always refuse to hang out with me when Jen is around it’s like yeh hate her and ah can’t have ma two favourite gals in some pet-”
Harry doesn’t finish his sentence because in a split second you slam your lips onto his. His lips don’t move, their stoic and blank against your own desperate chapped ones and you fear for a horrible moment that you’re about to be completely rejected when Harry’s lower lip drops. Suddenly he’s sucking your bottom lip as he slips his tongue past your lips and your hand snakes around his neck to pull him closer.
Harry moans softly, his hot breath fanning over your wet lips and you rake a hand through his well gelled hair. Your head was spinning, behind your eyelids you were seeing stars and you realised this is how the universe was supposed to work.
It was always going to be you and Harry, right?
“This, this is no’ right, Y/N. We’re friends - best friends!"
And so the illusion is shattered. You watch as Harry runs a hand down his sweaty face, past his swollen lips you were kissing only moments ago and the look of terror and guilt that flashes across his features only spurs your anger.
"I’m fucking in love with you, Harry!” You shout, your inhibitions now numb. Harry jumps back in shock and his face falls, jaw almost scraping the floor. All he can muster is a simple, “What?”
“I, I’m in love with you Harry. Have been for a long time.” You try not shake but your fingers twitch by your side. You will yourself not to cry.
“Y/N, I-I have a girlfriend…”
“Open your eyes Harry she’s not right for you!” You cry, throwing your arms up. The tension in the corridor has doubled, tripled even and you’re so glad Harry had a mind to close the door when he followed you out into the hallway otherwise yous would most definitely have a hungry crowd by now.
“Please tell me you feel something for me. Tell me I’m not an idiot and that you haven’t been leading me on for these past few years of our friendship…” The begging tone in your voice is tragic, and you’d be so utterly embarrassed but Harry did kiss you back.
“Leading you on?"
"The pet names Harry! The touchy hugs - for god’s sake you kissed me back! You can’t tell me it was all platonic!"
Harry is silent, and all that can be heard is our heavy breathing, your jittery cries and muffled music. Harry’s next words are quiet and tentative, you can tell he doesn’t want to set you off.
"Y/N, it was a mistake… I-I don’t think of yeh like tha’, we’re… we’re just friends.” The sympathy in his voice makes you want to crawl into a hole and die. You wish you never fell for Harry’s empty promises.
“We’re not just friends and you fucking know it!” You’re screaming now, tears are rolling from your eyes and your will power has withered.
“We’re best friends - remember?” Harry visible cringes at your sarcastic laugh and you smile.
“So just forget I said anything, go back to the party Harry. You have someone waiting for you."
You turn your back to him and after an agonizing minute, the sound of the apartment door opening then slamming shut sounds, and you squeeze your eyes as you stand alone.
If you haven’t, this follows “Whipped…friends??” which you can find here. And the first part to this you can read here.
Y/N had tried her best to fall asleep. Tried to ignore the noise that New York was. She’d hailed a cab from the restaurant to her hotel, bidding good bye to her cousin, thanking him for taking time out of his day to keep her company.
She didn’t however excuse the sudden need to get out of the restaurant when Harry came into view. And her cousin didn’t ask questions, guys normally don’t.
But in the darkness of her room, she couldn’t keep out the thoughts of Harry taking over her mind. She tossed and turned, checked the clock to see it had only been seven minutes since she’d last checked it.
So when the soft knock on her door caused her to sit up abruptly, she thanked the heavens for the short break it allowed her mind to take from thoughts of Harry.
That is, until she heard his voice.
And if she was being honest, as unprepared as she was for this, she knew she had to talk to him. That is why she came to the city after all, wasn’t it?
Harry’s words were able to erase every doubt that Y/N had before last night. They laughed at how oblivious they both were; at the fact that obvious signs that they wanted more than to stay friends went over their heads.
They sat on the hotel room couch, talking about anything that happened during that short time they weren’t talking.
Harry listened and watched Y/N talk about how she would still do lunches with Gemma. Even admitted that she would try to find a way to bring Harry into conversation just to see if he was doing okay.
Harry confessed that he knew, because Gemma told him, and Y/N could not have gone a darker shade of pink.
Harry recounted to her every moment he could remember of when the boys teased him, mimicking their voices the best he could to make her laugh.
“So then it was really me you lot were whispering about all those times?” Her giggle has Harry smiling like a child who’s just found out their crush likes them back.
And it’s not that she doesn’t believe him, it’s just nice hearing him say it.
“Wha’ ye’ laughing for?? Was a real pain in the ass. Wouldn’t leave me alone ‘bout it.”
She laughs even harder then.
“D'ye know how hard it was t'keep them from sayin’ anythin’ t'ye? Didn’t wan’ ye’ finding out over one of Louis distasteful jokes.”
“I’m surprised I didn’t actually.”
Harry chuckles at that, reminiscing on the countless times Louis’ comments nearly got him caught.
All in all, it was nice.
It was nice to have Harry back. To have him on the verge of tears at her lame jokes.
“Knock, knock!” Y/N excitement grew because she had honestly just came up with this one.
“Who’s there?” Harry loves jokes. He loves telling them and having people laugh because they think his jokes are witty. He’ll even take people laughing at them because they’re plain idiotic. Harry also loves being told a joke, especially if it’s Y/N.
“Woo.” And she’s trying to contain herself.
Harry and Y/N are similar in the way that when they’ve got a real funny joke to tell, or at least they think they do, they laugh for a ridiculous amount of time before they’re even able to tell it. Or they’ll start their joke, and as they rehearse it in their head, they’ll explode into laughter, eyes squinty and arms over their tummy because “s'a real good one okay! Jus’ wait.” This usually has others rolling their eyes at them because no one they know takes longer to tell a joke than they do.
“She’s an angel.” Harry thinks her excitement is priceless as she points at him with both index fingers. And he follows her lead for the sake of seeing her smile.
“Woo who! My only angel, woo who! She’s an angel, woo who! My my my my only angel!”
After that, she begged for an encore. Actually, she had him sing bits and pieces from songs she wanted to hear raw, unplugged with no instruments. Harry, of course, complied.
Now, waking up to each other isn’t much different now than it was a few weeks ago when they were nothing more than best friends.
Back then, if Harry wanted to lightly peck at her shoulder for some sort of reassurance that yes, his Y/N was still with him, he would. He would do it first thing when he woke up, a sour taste in his mouth because he needs to wash his teeth. And she never minded, returned his affection with a smile, hooded eyes crinkling because sometimes it was still too early for her.
Back then, if Harry wanted to cuddle her whilst they lounged about at a friends house, he would. Didn’t matter if he was having a conversation on the couch with someone else. The moment Y/N walked by in front of him, he would tug at her hand until she settled next to him, which never took much. She would roll her eyes at him, but smile none the less as he tucked a hand underneath her knees, moving them to rest on top of his thigh. He would then proceed with the conversation he’d been having, hand on Y/N’s calve.
It was normal for them, and their friends never asked questions anymore.
The only difference now, is that if Harry wanted to wake her up with a kiss to the lips, he can.
And Y/N no longer feels the need to come up with some excuse when Harry suddenly wakes and catches her staring at him.
Instead, she smiles warmly, gripping at the heavily tattooed hand that rests on her waist.
“Mmm, mornin’,” he manages, voice raspy enough that he coughs once to try and make his words sound clearer, “starin’ at my face were you?”
Y/N doesn’t try to hide it. She likes the way he’s looking at her, one eye peeking open, half a smile visible because half of his face is still pressed against the soft hotel mattress.
He stirs a bit, propping himself up on his forearm only to plop back down on his tummy, body closer to hers.
Harry smiles wider at the touch of her fingers raking through his hair to get it away from his face, the pads of them grazing his scalp.
Still the same.
Harry’s arm lazily slung over her made her feel comfortable…safe. It’s not nearly as close as they’ve been before when they cuddle in bed, but something about his dopey smile and squinty eye has her feeling giddy. Because finally, she doesn’t have to hide the side of her she’s been wanting him to see. Affectionate in another sense, affectionate in a more free way.
“S'that bad?” Y/N cuddles herself even closer, turning on her side and leveling her eyes to his.
Harry says nothing.
“Tell me again?”
And he doesn’t need to ask what she means by that.
He simply moves to scoot closer again, lifts up his head to look at her better, and presses a kiss to her forehead.
“I love you.”
Y/N doesn’t remember how she got home.
She can’t believe she let herself get so upset over Harry interacting with his friends that she got so pissed drunk to the point she can’t remember much from last night.
It’s all a haze, and if she knew she would be sporting a killer hangover, she would have stopped on the second drink.
She reaches for the water and bottle of pills laid on the night stand, clearly aware that it must’ve been him who placed them there for her.
Two pills in one gulp.
Even though the window curtains are closed, she can make out the lining of light that manages to seep through the edges of the material. And she really can never thank him enough for always taking care of her, especially when she gets like this and her tolerance wears thin.
"Harry?” She whispers, and again, no answer.
She can see the outline of his body sat on the chair by the corner of the room, slumped over, hands running through his hair.
“Hey. Baby? You okay?"
As much as she wanted to stay in place, tucked under the comfort of the duvet, she needs to see if he’s okay. So she turns on the nightstand lamp, wincing in the process, and lifts up the covers. She crawls to the foot of the bed, head tilting in a way to try and get a better look at him.
"C'mere.” She pats the spot next to her. She would get up and go to him if she could, but she doesn’t trust her body enough to get her across the room with out falling at some point.
Harry doesn’t say anything still. But she notices the way his body shakes, and even he can’t completely silence the sobs escaping his lips.
“Harry! Babe, no, no-” her frantic voice causes Harry to look up for a mere second, long enough for Y/N to make out the redness of his eyes, tears trailing down his cheeks.
He wipes at them hastily, bowing his head back down, trying to shut her out.
How could Harry even think this girl looked anything remotely like his Y/N?
His heart is racing still, mind going at a million miles an hour, but blank at the same time.
It’s shock that’s keeping him here. Sat on a bed foreign to him, next to a girl who’s seeming to be sleeping peacefully while his world falls apart.
What the fuck is he to do??
He doesn’t think twice, he needs to talk to someone. He needs advice.
But the minute he does it, the minute he opens his mouth and reaches out to someone..anyone..it’s out there.
So if part of him wanted no one to find out, why has he phoned Louis?
“Calm down, mate.” Harry doesn’t care much for the tone in Louis’ voice, he needs to talk to him.
“Look, Harry. I can’t understand what you’re sayin’ if you won’t call down!”
“Fuck, Louis!” He exasperates, “I fucked up. I fucked up and Y/N’s g'na hate me. I can’t lose her, Lou. Not her.”
Louis can recall a handful of times Harry’s gotten himself into serious trouble. He’s always been able to keep it on the low though. But for Harry to call him this distressed, stumbling over his words, and practically crying. That’s something else. He can’t recall the last time he’s heard him this shaken.
“I don’ know who she is, Lou. I’ve got no fucking clue who this is.”
“Harry,” Louis really doesn’t wanna assume the worst, but he can’t think of anything else Harry would be frantically going on about that has to do with a chick, “what did you do?”
“I don’ know. I woke up in a bed tha’s not mine. Stripped down t'my briefs.”
This is never a conversation either of them thought they’d ever be having.
“Did you use protection?"
Shit. SHIT! That hadn’t even crossed his mind.
"I don’ know."
Y/N can’t think of a single thing that might have Harry like this. She hops off the bed almost too fast, but catches herself before she can trip.
"Love, why’re you crying?” She tugs at his hands to try and pry them away from his face, but he barely budges.
“Talk to me, H. Whatever it is we can get through it."
The soft strokes of her hands on his thighs do little to nothing. How is he suppose to tell her?? How. What can he say? She’s going to hate him. But he can’t say he doesn’t deserve it. How could he have done that to her?
"Harry, please, baby!"
His heart breaks a bit more at the sound of her voice cracking, unable to contain herself.
He wants to tell her he loves her. He loves her so much that he can’t imagine Harry with out Y/N. Wants to tell her Harry doesn’t exist with out Y/N. But where does he start.
The silence is eating at Y/N. It’s beginning to feel like there’s not enough air in the room. She continues to beg Harry to tell her what’s wrong.
"You don’t have to say anything if you don’t want, H.” But she wishes he would. “Just tell me you’re okay,” still, the strokes of comfort from Y/N’s thumb on his waist fail at calming the uneasiness.
A million things are going through her mind. But the only one she’s stuck on is literally squeezing at her heart.