No One Told Me Strwbrrydaydreams Deactivated That Means I Literally Just Lost Whole Of Heartbreak Boy

Hard times

summary : harry messes around before a show and gets his zipper stuck on a doggy suit costume and you come to the rescue!

warnings : swearing, crying, fluff!

*currently writing a blurb so have this little thing 😝 ps not really proof read so sorry for any confusion in my outrages writing 😭*

It felt like you had been searching for years, left and right, through all the cracks for Harry at the venue.

Jeff sent you on a mission to find him after he didn’t rock up to the soundcheck right before doors opened and he was set to be on stage in about 2 hours.

You weren’t worried, well not yet you weren’t. You also don’t think they checked his dressing room since he’s like a little energetic 5 year old who’s just had 7 bowls of sugar because he can’t ever sit still.

Knowing that for a fact because he’s either running around the stage, backstage, the whole ass venue or even exploring in some small janitors closet or something. Harry was a mad man, or let’s say he was a handful.

Opening the door into his dressing room you call out his name. “H? Are you in here, you missed sound check and everyone’s wondering where you are.” Closing the door behind you, your eyes dart to the bathroom, hearing someone mumbling in there.

Padding over to the small bathroom in his dressing room you peek your head in and holy fuck.

There he stands in front of the mirror, a large dog head from a costume is sat on the counter and he’s cursing to him self as he turns to the side, trying to rip the small zip down that goes from his neck all the way down.

“Oh my god…” you cover your mouth, walking into the doorway, his head snaps to you, his frown becoming more prominent as he turns fully to you, hands dropping beside him.

“Baby, I’ve been stuck in this fuckin’ costume for 30 minutes.” He’s almost on the verge of tears because of how hard he’s been trying.

It looks like he’s just had some hardcore sex, his hairs all sweaty and there’s sweat along his hairline, cheeks red and a panicked look on his face. His face drops as you throw your head back laughing so hard you could feel your ribs hurting.

“There’s no- no way this is real. Where did you even get this costume from!” You stumble over your words, giggles coming out of your mouth as he stands there like a child who’s just been told off, you walk over to him, your hand coming out to run your fingers against the fake fur on the costume. “You’re such a dumbass. Who knew you were a furry…” you look up at him, he’s still frowning.

“I perform in 2 hours, please get me out of this.” His expression turns serious, a hard look on his face now.

“Mm, I’d rather watch you go on stage in this. This is hilarious! What a story this is gonna be.” You smile as your hand comes up to see if you can tug on the zipper more, you squint your eyes pulling hard on the zipper a few times before you can think-

“Oops.” The zipper pulls off, leaving it with just the thing that connects it, you look to your hand before slowly lifting your head up to Harry, he stands there, eyes wide as he looks down at the zipper piece in your hand. “Well… we have a problem.”

“No, Y/N, no what.” His hands come up to his face, you place the piece onto the counter, feeling guilty because you knew Harry was frustrated having tried to get out of this dog costume for a while, you don’t realise he’s actually started crying.

He leans back against the counter, hands still on his face as he drops his head to his chest, you see his breathing is staggered, breathing unevenly with every breath he takes, you know every sign of him like the back of your hand so your heart does chip a little also knowing that if you were stuck in a dog costume you’d breakdown too.

“Oh baby, don’t cry please. Look at me, H.” You move in front of him, hands coming up to his wrists, tugging on them slightly but he keeps them pressed against his eyes.

“No. I’m crying- why am I crying, I’m so stupid.” He shakes his head. “I’m never gonna get out of this costume, I’ll be stuck in it till I’m in my grave.” He mumbles against his hands, you did want to laugh at how he was over reacting, but that wasn’t right for the situation right now.

“No you’re not, I can work something out. Baby, please look at me, it’s making me sad now. I don’t think someone wants to see me and you crying over a bloody doggy suit.” You chuckle, hands tugging on his wrists once again and he finally moves his hands, intertwining yours with his he looks down at you, eyes red and a small pout on his lips.

You then bring one of your hands up, brushing his eyelashes, wet with tears before wiping a tear that fell onto his nose, leaning up to peck his lips softly.

“Breathe, yeah? I always work things out, y’know that. You’ve been with me long enough to figure that out.” You smile at him and he smiles at you, a dimple finally poking out.

You then focus your attention on the zipper bit where the zipper teeth are together, you move your hands to the gap where the zip was and you pull and to your surprise they pull away from each other easily and you cheer, smiling widely.

“All my magic.. would you look at that, you’re free!” You giggle, pulling it all the way till he can pull the suit off as it drops to his feet, now he’s just standing there, in his boxers. “You’re a mad man, Styles. Still wondering why I didn’t get a warning contract before I started dating you…”

“Heeeeyyy, you love me.” He gives you a open mouthed grin, arms coming out to pull you into a tight hug. “Thank you for saving me, angel girl.”

“I swear if I find you in this situation again, you’re on your own.” You laugh against his chest, hands coming to wrap around his waist.

The situation was resolved and now it was a one of a kind story to tell, if helping him get out of a $30 doggy suit didn’t prove your loyalty to him you don’t know what else would. You loved this crazy man and wouldn’t of changed that moment for the world.

this just popped into my mind how silly

Dividers!! @firefly-graphics 🤍

missing Adam.

“I wanna take a quick second to introduce you to my wonderful, incredibly talented band. On bass and vocals mister Adam Prendergast! On keys and vocals, make some noise, miss Clare Uchima! On drums and vocals, please make some noise for the wonderful miss Sarah Jones! And on guitar and vocals, please put your hands together and make plenty of noise for mister Mitchell Rowland!”

behind the doors

pairing: tanktoprry x yn

summary: we all know harry has been closed off for sometime, but what happens one night when his performance falls flat and the doors open to something new?

a/n: i wrote this months ago and haven’t read it since. i forgot what’s in here. have fun reading it xoxo missed you guys.

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She couldn't tell if Harry was going through a heated-sex crazed phase, or if his other side pieces had dropped him. For the last week and half, she would wake up to the beckon of Harry inviting her to his home. Though she didn't ask questions and still went; her body was falling tired from all the passionate sex they'd been having.

The sex was rough, at first, but that was normal. It was always rough, raw, dirty sex. But as the days went, the sex got softer and softer until Harry was found torso to torso with her, arms wrapped around her neck to bring her impossibly closer with his lips that couldn't seem to tear away from hers.

It was a phase, she thought.

Harry had been getting awfully clingy, like after sex he would actually ask her to stay in bed and cuddle, but the way he would ask would be grim and gruff. He had a reputation of being cold, that he never changed, even after the softer sex they had been having.

"I'm heading out," She would tell him, to which his body would stiffen and his hand would place firmly onto her thigh to stop her from leaving the bed, "What?"

"Well, just--" Harry mumbled huskily, not making eye contact with her as his body sank into the bed, training his sight on the wall ahead, "You can stay, or whatever. I don't mind it, you're like--a spoiled brat, so..."

His argument was always that she spoiled and he knew that she wanted cuddles afterwards, but she hadn't asked him for that since they first started seeing each other. She knew not to ask because he always got so cold about it. So instead, she always just left after they were finished having sex.

That's how it's always been.

But recently, not so much. There had been some days that she would be out with her friends and Harry would call her to come over and spend time with him, or just have sex in general. Whenever she would decline because she was busy, Harry was quick to persuade her in ways that he knew what would get her over there.

It worked every time.

But this time, it was different.

There they laid in bed with one another, tangled up, breaths hot against one another as he snapped his hips to further his aching cock inside of her. Harry felt like his body was on fire, her mouth was spewing moans against the shell of his ear, her fingers dragging red marks down his back from how good he made her feel.

Typically Harry only lasted ten to fifteen minutes in bed, that was average for anyone, but today? He was lasting a lot longer than usual. It took him sometime for his dick to work and that was embarrassing enough. She had never seen him like that before. She questioned if he had some type of ED, but then again, Harry was a closed off person and didn't want to pry.

"Fuck, you feel so good," She broke the silence, pardon; the awkward silence between the both of them. Harry always commented on her, whether it be the way her pussy feels or the way she begs for him in bed, but he was so silent this time, "You like my pussy? Like how it feels?"

She felt his body tense up, a low growl rutting through his throat as he let out a sigh, with a slight nod, "Yeah, feels really good." He was short with her, causing red alarms to sound in her head as she watched him work himself inside of her.

Maybe it was because of all the sex he had been having lately that he wasn't able to perform the way he wanted, or maybe there was something on his mind. Either way, she was confused and ultimately it pulled her out of her mood.

His chestnut curls fell onto the sweaty skin of his forehead, as he continued to thrust inside of her, and he felt himself on the edge, but it wasn't the edge that he was wanting. He was annoyed with himself, but refused to show it, so instead he grabbed her face and slammed their lips together to make out feverishly in hopes that it kept him afloat.

Even with her dripping pussy, the way it made him feel, the way it gripped onto his cock; he lost it. He was sent over the edge, and she felt it from the inside, and suddenly the both of them got quiet, the only sounds in the room was the both of them panting out and catching their breaths.

Honestly, this was the first time this had ever happened to her, and to be frank, was not a good thing for her ego. She tried not to let it hurt her feelings, but the way Harry looked so frustrated was confirmation that it was him; not her.

"It happens all the time," She said quietly as he slid out of her, not saying a word as he fell back onto the bed beside her, "Seriously, with age and all--"

"Can you just not comment on it?" Harry snapped softly as he annoyingly grabbed his clothes from the side floor and sat himself up to get dressed. She blinked.

"Maybe I can go down on you, help you get off. I don't mind if I don't this one time," She didn't want to poke at him, but this was embarrassing enough and she didn't want him to feel bad about it, "I can use my tongue, do that thing you really like--"

"Can you just stop?" Harry was turned to the wall, pulling his sweats on as he barely glanced back at her, "Why don't you just get dressed and leave, alright? I gotta be up early in the morning for work."

She glanced at the clock, it was only eight and Harry never went to bed till eleven. It was the last straw, she couldn't take it. She had been sleeping with Harry for almost a year now and even though they weren't together, she still cared about him. It was only natural, and it was obvious that something was very much wrong with him.

"What is your problem lately?" She finally snapped, grabbing her shirt as she tossed it on carelessly and stood to her feet to dress her bottom half, a rough sigh leaving her. "You have been acting really weird lately, I haven't asked questions, but I think I deserve to know why you have been acting this way?"

"I haven't been acting weird, you're acting weird," His brow perked, a hint of annoyance behind his eyes as he stood close to the wall, arms crossed over his chest.

"Really? At most I used to see you twice a month, maybe three times if we are feeling froggy, but you have texted me every day for the last week and a half asking me to come over. Did something happen with the, uh...other girls, or?"

A scoff came from Harry, "Since when has that ever been your business? Ever thought that you were the only one that texted back fast enough? I mean, Christ, Y/N, what's up with the probing questions?" His arms flew up in defense as he left the room, but she was quick to follow after him. She was not buying his piss ass excuse.

"I'm not trying to fight with you, I'm just worried, Harry. That's all! Am I not allowed to feel worried about you?" She said gently, but it had a sharp edge to it. Harry grimaced, body tensing as he busied himself with his phone.

"That's your fault for caring," He said, not looking up from his phone, "You knew what this was, maybe you shouldn't have let your feelings get in the way of what this is."

"You know, you can be such a fucking dick sometimes!" She snapped, her voice raising just enough to make Harry look at her, "I know what this is, but hell, Harry, it's almost been a year since we started sleeping with each other. It's normal to form some sort of attachment, or emotion to the people in your life. I do care about you, whether you like it or not; which I know you hate it, but believe it or not there are going to be people in your life that actually like you! And care about you!"

"Oh, what are you going on about, Y/N? You act like I'm some guy made outta fuckin' stone, when I'm not. I couldn't give a fuck about it, but if you're gonna get all weird and emotional on me, then I don't wanna hear about it!" Harry defended while waving his hands around, throwing his phone onto the couch then gestured towards the door, "Can you just leave already?"

"There's obviously something wrong if--!" She stopped herself, gulping harshly when she realized that she was about to point, uh, that out and Harry cut her a evil look.

"Go ahead, say it."

"No."

"If my dick isn't working, yeah?" Harry scoffed, rolling his eyes as he fixed his sweatpants that rode low on his hips, "Thanks for pointing that out by the way, thought I could've gotten away without you noticing." He was being sarcastic, and he laid it on thick.

"That's not what I meant, Harry, you know that. I only point it out because that's never happened between us..." She sighs, walking closer to him as she takes his hands and places a soft kiss to his rings, "I know you don't like talking about your feelings, but I am here if you want to talk."

His features only softened just slightly, she could feel the tension in his hands relax softly and she thought she was getting somewhere. Cracking open the eggshell after the year they had spent with one another. That was until...

"Thanks, but no thanks," His hands burned at her touch, he pulled them from her grasp as he took a step back, "Now, leave."

She stared at him in disbelief, her jaw almost dropping from how cold he was being compared to the last week of him being sweet. It was enough to make her lid blow off the top, her hands shaking from anger, but she tried to contain them with balled fists even if the shivering bottom lip was a dead giveaway from her emotions.

"You know what?" She took a gradual step back, grabbing her jacket from the couch before patting towards the door, but sparing him a knowing glare, "I'm not doing this with you. You obviously have fucking problems and I'm not a punching bag you can take them out on. Just lose my number because I'm done."

Her voice shook, and she felt a pang of pain in her chest as she spoke. Harry's eyes slightly widened, then softened as his lips parted to say something, but she swung the front door open and stomped her way out of the mess he made.

Harry just stood there, staring at the door with sweaty palms as he tried to process everything that was said. Taking his phone, he shakily opened his contacts and scrolled through the empty list. All the nicknames he had for everyone was gone, he had deleted them all. They weren't what he wanted anymore. It was weird to him, because he had never came to terms with his feelings when they suddenly popped up almost a month ago, and maybe he knew what they were; but he was ignoring them.

But there was only so much he could ignore.

He stared down at her contact, one that used to be named as The Pretty One, had been changed to her name. His fingers tightened on the phone, a harsh sigh leaving his lips as he threw the phone onto the couch and did the only thing he could think to do.

He ran after her.

She was just getting into her car, almost on the verge of tears. Not because Harry hurt her feelings, but because she did care about him. Maybe a little too much, more than she would ever admit to herself. She had been so lenient with him, let him do whatever makes him happy and she did the same.

But damned her heart if she let herself feel some sort of emotions towards him. Harry didn't deserve her, she knew that. He was cold like a winter day, like frost formed on your button nose, or the cool wind that keeps your body still and ridded with goosebumps.

She was like the summer rain, like--like a warm bon-fire on a spring night with your friends, and a long sip of the hottest cocoa. She was warm. Her heart couldn't take much more of this, despite the fun they've had, it wasn't worth it to have so much worry over a man that didn't even care about her.

Just as she started the car, Harry appeared by the window beside her, making her body jolt from fright.

"Fuck!" She hissed out, pinching her eyes to see who was knocking on her window.

"Y/N! Come inside, let's talk!" Harry tapped on the window repeatedly, a scared look on his face that he tried so desperately to hide, "Don't go, okay? Let's talk!"

"No, Harry!" She yelled back with a shake of her head as her foot hit the brakes and put the car into drive, "I'm leaving! Just let me go!"

As she started to, very slowly, pull off; Harry got scared. He knew that this would be the end of them both if he didn't stop her from leaving. The only logical thing to do was to, well--

He rushed to the front of her car, hands out in defensive as he backed up as the car continued to roll forward. His eyes wide, he stood his ground as he placed two firm palms onto the hood of her car.

"Harry! What the fuck, get out of my way! You're acting crazy!" She yelled out, he was only fueling the fire that was her anger.

"No, I'm not," He tried to sound calm, and as he stared at her through the bright beams of her headlights, he slowly started to climb onto the hood of her car to make sure she wasn't to leave, "Talk to me, or stay here. I'm not leaving this spot."

That was it.

She hit the steering wheel with her hand harshly, surprisingly not inflating the airbag as she did so, before putting the car in park and flinging the door open as she got out and stomped towards the front of the car.

"What the fuck is your problem!?" She yelled out, veins prodding her skin on her throat with clenched fists.

"What's your problem, Y/N?!" Harry turned towards her as she approached him, keeping his feet tucked onto the car, "You--you..."

"My problem is that you don't care, Harry! You have never in your life been shown one ounce of care and now that you have someone that actually cares, you reject it at all costs! That's my fucking problem!" She didn't care if the neighbors could hear them fighting with one another, even if it was slightly late, her feelings mattered and she was ready to spill them.

Harry stared at her with a soft glare, a knowing-you're-so-right glare. His shoulders slumped down as he tucked his knees to his chest and didn't try to argue with the fact. His chin rested onto his forearms that splayed across the tops of his knees as he avoided eye contact with her.

"Are you not going to say anyt--"

"You're right." He shrugged, nudging his nose against his skin as he tried to bury his embarrassment into the nooks and crannies of his body, "I mean, you're right. Why would I argue with that? You got me, Y/N. That's my fucking problem with you."

She was stunned, staring at him in disbelief, once more.

"My problem is that I can fuck whoever I want and they don't try to peel apart my layers, they just wanna fuck and that's it, but that was never the case with you," He spared her a glance, flinching at the look she gave him, "You poked and prodded and even if I ignored your probing questions, you still knew. You saw right through me and I hated it because I've never--"

There was a sudden lump in his throat, his eyes pinching as he swallowed it down thickly with a shake of his head. "You just get me. You're just different and I hate it, but I also don't hate it. I like it, maybe too much, and I like having you around because you're real. You're not like the others and that's what fucking kills me because I've never..."

She was now standing in front of him, taking his hands into hers as she sniffled softly, "You don't have to say it." She told him softly, knowing that talking about his problems, or his feelings, was hard for him. The fact that he chose to open up to her though, was what made her so emotional because the snow was finally melting and under all that ice was a vulnerable man.

Harry inhaled sharply, batting his lashes that filled to the brim with emotion while his legs let loose to hang down off the car. She took a small step to stand between his legs, but he pulled her close to him and wrapped his arms around her tightly.

The first time they had ever hugged.

It felt weird, but warm, and different. It was all so confusing after the year they had together, but it made so much sense and she couldn't think of any other place she wanted to be.

"I've never felt this way about anyone before," He admitted quietly to her, as if he was to say it too loud and someone might shoot him where he sat, "And I'm just now coming to terms with it."

"Are you saying you like me?" She whispered back to him, training her eyes on him softly with a smile.

"Um..." Harry retracted, shrugging one shoulder as he avoided her gaze once more, "It's just that, um, I just--"

She cut off his sentence with a soft kiss and he melted into it like butter on a pan, like sun shining on the last snow day, and everything made sense and he felt like he could stay here with her forever.

"Because," She whispered against his lips, between the both of them, "I like you too."

Harry bit back a small smile, one that was rare to ever see with him, but she saw it and she wanted to frame it and put it onto her wall. His bunny teeth were beautiful, whenever she had the pleasure to see them paired with the deep dimples on his cheeks.

"Yeah, I like you," He said back softly, brushing her hair out of her face softly, "And I want you to be mine."

She hummed softly, "Okay."

She couldn't think of anyone else she would rather be with, and at last, they could finally be together.

Found

Summary: An extra for Mine*

The one where your mafia boss boyfriend, Harry, has to put you in danger in order to keep you safe.

Word Count: 2.8k

*Contains Mature and Explicit content! Please only consume what you feel comfortable with!💞 You are so much more important!*

“Asher?”

Harry’s eyes find the floor, narrowing with a malicious vengeance.

It’s a look you know well, but never in relation to the aforementioned man. His partner, his second-in-command.

His friend.

You stand and make your way to him, wary of his demeanor as you gently outstretch your finger to his arm. “What’s wrong?”

He almost looks like he wants to flinch when you touch him, and your heart aches for whatever he’s fighting inside.

But then, he looks to you. He looks, and he wraps his arms around you, and he nearly yanks you into his chest.

Everything is him. Every scent, every sound, every feel. His muscles are rigid, and his breathing is shallow, and he’s cursing through gritted teeth.

He doesn’t let you go. Not for quite some time, and despite your attempts to rub his back in soothing circles, nothing calms him.

Finally, he pulls back to take hold of your face. He nuzzles his lips and nose into your forehead, and whispers, “I love you. I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry I ever let them take you—”

“Harry,” you exhale, slipping yourself free of his hold so you can look him in the eye. “Don’t do that, we talked about this—”

“I don’t care,” he nearly growls. “I don’t care, I love you, and I never should have let them take you. You have no idea what they could have done—”

“Yes, I do. I was there.”

The reminder makes his expression drop. Skin paling almost as if the thought repulses him.

He moves to hold you again, and you let him, but you don’t wipe the stern look from your face. “Harry, what’s wrong? What’s going on? What’s wrong with Asher?”

He’s quiet for a long lull. Perhaps in an effort to prepare you or perhaps he’s simply trying to wrap his head around it himself.

“His comms are down,” Harry begins slowly. “And they found his tracker discarded a few miles outside of the warehouse.” 

You feel your heart leap into your throat. “What, um…what does that mean? Is he okay?”

That pensive look returns as he squeezes the back of your neck gently. “It means I have to do something I don’t want to.”

“Like…what?”

His eyes return to yours. A vibrant green that bleeds remorse as he dips down to run his lips along your temple lovingly. “I’m so sorry I ever put you in danger.”

Your heart sinks. “Harry—”

“I’m sorry that loving me causes you more pain than joy,” he whispers, and you can hear each ounce of guilt. “I’m sorry that my love comes with so many conditions—”

“Harry,” you try again, leaning back to take hold of his face and squeeze. “You’re scaring me. What’s going on with Asher, what do you have to do?”

He stares at you for a long while, a subtle red rim swimming beside his lashes. “I need to make a call,” he says shortly.

And with that, he pulls himself from your arms and disappears into the other room, the phone squeezed tightly in his hand.

You hear his heated conversation through the walls of the small apartment. Can’t decipher what he’s saying but you know he’s upset. And when he returns half an hour later, he’s wrought with frustration and regret. 

“Har?” you begin gently, cautiously watching from your spot in the tiny kitchen. “Are you…is everything okay?”

You know he won’t offer you an honest answer. He doesn’t particularly like sharing the details of his job with you. He claims it’s better if you don’t know. Safer. And maybe he’s right.

Or maybe he just wants to protect you any way he knows how.

He looks up and finds you. Frowns in the kind of way that has your soul sinking down to the cold, hardwood floor below as he strides over to you.

He takes your hands. Pulls you into his chest and traps you against his heart. Buries his lips into the crown of your head and whispers, “I love you,” for what feels like the hundredth time today.

You smile sadly. “I love you, too. But you’re really starting to scare me, Har. I just…I wanna make sure you’re okay.”

He leans back and captures your cheeks in his palms. Presses his love into your skin as he sucks in a sharp breath and murmurs, “Do you trust me?”

Your answer is instantaneous. “Yes.”

He seems relieved. He seems gutted. “And do you trust that I would never knowingly put you in danger? That I would do anything to ensure your safety?”

You swallow thickly. “Of course.”

He exhales shakily before dipping down to press his forehead to yours. “Do you trust that I love you? More than anything in the fucking world?”

There’s an odd feeling blooming in your chest yet you feel strangely calm. “Yes,” you tell him, nuzzling into his touch. “Always.”

He keeps his eyes closed. Doesn’t let you go as struggles through his next sentence. “Then I need you to do something for me, mama.”

“Anything.”

His features twist, as if it wounds him to hear you say it. “I need you to go sit down on that couch.”

Your lashes flutter as you slip your fingers around his wrists. 

“I need you to sit down, and I need you to wait,” he continues, in a tone so distraught, it makes your throat feel dry. “And I need you to trust that whatever happens next…is because I love you.”

Your breath hitches.

“I need you to trust that this is the only way.” His grip becomes tighter. “I need you…to trust me.”

Despite the countless warnings currently going off in your head, you nod quickly. “I do. I trust you, Har. I promise.”

The muscles in his jaw constrict, teeth scraping together as he stumbles over a wounded inhale. Then, he surges forward and presses his lips to yours. Over and over and over he kisses you. Mumbling, “I love you, sweet girl. More than anything in the whole fucking world. I love you, I love you, I love you.”

His anguish is evident. Body tense beneath your touch and chest heaving with grief. He’s moments away from allowing the tears to fall from his eyes, and it hurts you to see him in so much suffering. 

He kisses you until he has to rip himself away. Tearing himself out of your arms before turning on his heel to disappear into the next room, without so much as a glance back.

And you know it kills him to do it.

You look toward the living room, eyeing the couch warily while taking a deep breath. You do trust him. More than anything.

So, you sit. Take a seat on the center cushion and pull your knees to your chest in wait.

Minutes go by. Then an hour. Harry never returns. The entire apartment is silent. The sun is beginning to set behind the mountains he’s hidden you in, leaving you to wonder in the darkness.

And then…a sound. The first sound in forever. The murmuring of hushed voices and the shimmying of a lock.

The front door opens. Three figures creep into the room, dressed in all black. It’s an instant wave of déjà vu, reminding you of only a few days ago when you were taken the first time.

You want to hide. Want to scream in protest. Want to call out to the man you love and have him protect you.

But he knows they’re here.

And he wants them to take you.

Maybe you don’t know why. Maybe you should be wildly confused and insanely terrified.

But you’re not. You trust him. And as the three shadows find you on the couch, you exhale a deep breath, and allow yourself to be approached.

You play up your terror. Figuring it’s better to give them a little fight so they don’t suspect your compliance.

You gasp and you whimper, and you attempt to squirm away as they crowd you. But only one man kneels to the floor in front of your feet, pressing a large, glove-covered palm to your mouth.

You suck in a shaky pant as his eyes find yours through the mask he wears to hide his face.

And those eyes.

You’d know those eyes anywhere. As soft and reassuring as the touch against your lips. He doesn’t speak. Doesn’t call you by that familiar nickname or attempt to comfort you.

But you know him.

You aren’t sure why he’s here. Aren’t sure why he’s with them, but Harry must know. And if he’s allowing him to take you…it must be for a reason.

Things work quicker from there. They bind your hands before one of them throws you over their shoulder. They take you from your place of safety and toss you into a van. They don’t speak to you, they don’t look at you, they don’t even sit near you.

Everything is cold and dark. Far too quiet and somewhat unnerving. You drive for what feels like hours before the car finally stops and you’re removed from your prison.

You’re brought into a different warehouse this time. Smaller. Fuller. There are guards crawling in every corner of the room. Guns, grenades, and various weapons litter the walls and tables. It smells like cigars and bad decisions.

And just before you can allow yourself to doubt Harry’s intentions, you’re brought into a large office.

And sat in front of the one man Harry fears the most.

Callahan Matthews. 

 You’ve seen his face enough times to recognize it now. The way it leers at you. The way it smiles behind the cigar placed between his strangely white teeth. The way he gestures for you get comfortable as the office door shuts firmly.

“Well, well, well,” he begins in a sadistic croon, leaning back in his seat to study you. “How nice to finally meet you.”

You feel your blood run cold as you stare back, offering nothing more than an unamused frown.

Matthews glances toward the guard that brought you in. “Was she any trouble?”

“Not at all,” the man replies, the familiar voice sending chills down your spine as he slips off his mask to reveal his face.

Asher.

“She never is,” he adds, the corner of his mouth curling up in a cruel display of agreement. “Isn’t that right, sweetheart?”

 Your fingers grip the armrests beside you, chest heaving as you work to remind yourself of why you’re here.

Your confusion and betrayal makes both men grin. “And Styles?” Matthews asks. “Where is he?”

“He was at the apartment,” Asher tells him, and you feel your head begin to pound. “We left him be, just like you asked.”

“Good.” Matthews crosses his arms over his chest. “You think he’ll come for her?”

“I know he will. He’ll give you anything you want to keep her pretty little head on her pretty little neck.”

The larger man laughs, pulling the cigar from his mouth. “And isn’t that just a shame? A man with so much power brought to his knees by something so pathetic.”

“Incredibly so,” Asher agrees, allowing his focus to drift back down to you. “Don’t you think?”

You toss him a bitter glare. “Bite me.”

Asher hums. “Haven’t I already?” he murmurs, leaning down and forcing you to rear back. His smug condescension more than evident. “Unless you want to beg me to do it again?”

Matthews smirks. “Perhaps if he’d spent more time questioning the men he allowed into his home—into his girlfriend…he’d have found his supposed mole.”

“Harry trusts too easily,” Asher declares, finally straightening up and allowing you to breathe. “Always has. It makes him incredibly weak.”

“And incompetent.” Matthews rakes his gaze over your tense figure. “Can’t imagine what she sees in him.”

“She sees what he wants her to see,” Asher says. “If he tells her he loves her, she believes it. If he tells her she’s safe, she believes it. If he tells her she loves him…she’ll believe it. All he has to do is convince her that she’s being saved, and she’ll do anything he wants.”

It’s the lowest of blows. Coming from the man who watched your relationship bloom from the very beginning. Who was there through every fight, every miscommunication, every moment of realization. 

He knows the two of you better than anybody else does.

And if this is truly how he feels…

The office door slams open. Four men wrestle through the frame, pulling a struggling man in their grasp.

Harry.

You see him out of your peripheral. See the blood around his cheeks, the bruises already darkening in color, and the ripped fabric on his chest. 

You feel sick. Distraught beyond measure and when his eyes find yours, tears begin slipping down your cheeks.

He’s shoved onto his knees as Matthews stands from behind his desk. Asher remains to the side, watching as a gun is pressed into the temple of his friend’s head.

He says nothing. Shows no remorse or acknowledgement of such cruelty. 

His indifference is infuriating.

“Suppose I shouldn’t be surprised,” Matthews begins as one of the guards weaves their fingers through Harry’s hair and yanks his head back. “But I am a little disappointed.”

Harry remains quiet. Breathing heavily between gritted teeth as he stares daggers through the man approaching. 

“I was hoping for a little more of a fight,” the man admits. “Perhaps even a reason to respect you before I kill you. But I see you lose your edge where she’s concerned.”

Your nails scrape down the chair. Desperately wanting to run to him. To throw your body in front of his and shield him from the weapon you can already see Asher slipping from his belt.

“It’s a shame she has to watch the great Harry Styles die in such a trivial way,” he tsks, hand outstretching for the gun Asher is offering to him. “But I suppose that’s what you get…for thinking you were strong enough to save her.”

The sound of a bullet ripping through the air reaches you before the realization does.

The weapon has been fired. A body is hitting the floor and you’re ready to scream as a smattering of blood streaks across your cheek.

With a wounded, heavy, and unmendable heart, you find the man you love. Needing to see him one last time.

But Harry is still kneeling on the floor. Exactly the way he was before, now covered in a few extra drops of blood.

That aren’t his.

You turn and look for the answer. 

You find it with Asher.

The gun is raised and pointed toward the large man responsible for so much pain and destruction. You see the bullet through his skull as his lifeless body splays across the ground. A pool of blood collecting around his head.

Smoke wafts from the barrel as Asher stares calmly and stoically before he turns his attention and his weapon toward the other four in the room.

“You touch her…or you touch him,” he begins in a threatening murmur, eyebrow raised and ready for any defiance, “and I will make sure there’s enough room in the ground for your bodies, too.”

A moment of silence dances between the walls.

And then, for the second time in twenty-four hours, you’re forced to watch a sea of bullets fly through the air.

You aren’t sure who fires first. Aren’t sure where the danger lies. But you are sure of the way you lunge yourself at Harry’s body to pull him out of harm’s way.

His arms wrap around your torso as you both roll into the corner, just behind the desk. The sound of more gunshots echoes in from the rest of the warehouse as you make the connection that Harry’s men have arrived.

Your ears are ringing. Your chest is pounding. So much violence and strife is happening all around you. And you can do nothing but bury your face in Harry’s chest and will it to be over.

And through all the chaos, you hear him whisper, “I’m so fucking sorry. I had to. I had to let them take you, I’m so fucking sorry. Never let them take you again. I love you. I’m so fucking sorry.”

You aren’t sure when it finally stops. At least in this room. Aren’t sure when the ricocheting of bullets comes to an end. But you do eventually feel Harry lift up to survey the damage and make sure the coast is clear.

The resonating terror is pounding inside your head, but you do your best to follow him out from behind the table. Clutching onto his hand as he leads you into the main part of the office where you find an array of dead bodies and blood dispersed across the walls and floor. 

And just when you feel the first rush of relief in what feels like weeks…you find one more body in the corner of the room.

With a bullet hole right through his chest.

Asher.

Wow, now that's two parts where we end with his name said all dramatically, it's almost like he's the main character??? OOPS??? 🙃 I LOVE YOU ALL, THANK YOU FOR READING AND WAITING AND BEING SO NICE TO ME😭💞

Previous Part:

~ Lost (A Mine Extra)

~ Full Mine Masterlist

~ Other Harry Blurbs

~ Full Masterlist

Taglist (If you ever need or want to be taken off, or simply excluded from certain fics like this one, please let me know!! 💞) : @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @keepdrivingkisses @swiftmendeshoran @tiredinwinter @straightontilmornin @justlemmeadoreyou @harrysdaydreams @tiaamberxx @peterparker1sgf @myfavfanficsever @vamprry @fdl305 @tchalametishot @ssaama @indierockgirrl @likeapplejuicenpeach @vane28282 @acesofspadess @stylesfever @narry-heart @virginvirgo @pagesfalling @creativelyeva @char112244 @snwells @armystay89 @oh-my-hecky-padalecki

MY LOVES

It’s been a while since we checked in on Mr & Mrs Hey soul sister and their baby girl.

🥹🥹🥹 you're so right!!! THIS IS SUPER QUICK BUT THIS IS HOW THEY ARE!!! 😭💞

“Oh? Where’d she go? Where’d Layla go? Aaa! There she is!”

Layla laughs – a rather wet laugh – as her daddy disappears behind his hands only to pop back out with glee.

You smile from your spot on the sofa, watching your two favorite people in the entire world make each other giggle.

“I can’t believe she’s getting so big,” he muses, grinning wildly when she takes hold of his finger and refuses to let go.

“I know,” you agree, a melancholy ripple in your chest. “She’s already turning into a Mr. Hey Soul Sister 2.0.”

He smirks, glancing over her face. “Damn right she is. I knew she’d be a Daddy’s girl.”

“Well, she’s not the first,” you retort teasingly, to which he chuckles.

“Is that right?”

“Mhm.”

“Aw, now you’re gonna make me feel bad. Have I been neglecting my best girl?”

Your eyes roll but you can't help feeling slightly enamored. “Ha, ha. Very funny. All right, can you please take your daughter to bed now? I let her stay up an extra five minutes, but she’s gotta go down.”

Harry begins to pout, instantly pulling her from her mat to clutch her against his chest protectively. “Five more minutes.”

Laughing, you say, “Harry, come on—”

“Please,” he nearly whines, pressing his cheek to her forehead. “We’ll both be so good. Won’t make a peep and then we’ll go down.”

Your glare is playful. “You said that five minutes ago.”

“…yeah, well, now I mean it.”

“Harry!”

“What?”

Your head shakes. “Come on, we both know how grumpy she gets if she doesn’t get enough sleep.”

Feigning a wounded gasp, he holds her closer. “You take that back. She is a perfect angel, and she would never throw a hissy fit or chuck things at my head.”

“Be that as it may," you retort, although you can't help giggling at the memory, "she’s sleepy, and she needs to go down, all right? I know it hurts, but you can play with her tomorrow.”

Harry glances over to see Layla mid-yawn, and he smiles gleefully at the way her one bottom tooth shimmers from behind her lip. “All right, fine. What Mommy wants, Mommy gets.”

You smirk again at the nickname before he’s taking the small child toward her bedroom, disappearing into the darkness to tuck her into her crib.

And it's then that it hits you. This moment, this relationship. How happy you are to be in your home, with your husband, and your precious child. How a night of drunken mistakes has led you into the best chapter of your entire life.

How grateful you are to him for everything he's given you.

When Harry returns to the living room, this is how he finds you. With tears in your eyes that are mercilessly beginning to slip down your cheeks.

Instantly his expression drops, and he rushes forward, hand pressing to your jaw lovingly. “Hey, hey. What’s wrong? What happened?”

Sniffling, you press yourself into his palm. “I just…I love you. So much. And I love her. She’s so beautiful. And so are you. And I just...I feel so lucky. I'm so happy, H—”

He takes a seat beside you and quickly pulls you into his embrace, burying your face in his chest as he whispers, “I know. I know, baby. Me, too. M’so goddamn lucky to have you two in my life.”

You fist his shirt in the same way Layla does. “I love you, Har. So much.”

He presses his lips to the crown of your head. “I love you, darling. More than anything in the world.”

You smile softly, allowing your eyes to flutter shut as you indulge in his touch. And it's perfect, this moment.

“...even though you gave our daughter shit taste in music,” he adds, and you laugh as you lightly swat at him, now feeling much better.

“She has excellent taste," you argue. "She knows the difference between a good song and whatever the hell the music you listen to is.”

“Oh, is that right?”

“It is.”

“Sure, okay,” he snorts before taking a beat. “At least we know she likes Fleetwood Mac. Otherwise, that could have been a disaster.”

“Oh, we would have had to disown her.”

"Absolutely."

You both smile at the thought before he gently tilts your head back to meet your eye.

“Can I tell you a secret?” he whispers.

“Always.”

“…I’m starting to think Gimme, Gimme, Gimme is better than Dancing Queen.”

Gasping, you sit up. “Oh, yes. I knew it, I fucking knew it. See? Do you see?”

Harry laughs. "I already regret this—”

“You regret having good taste? Well, I guess that checks out.” You place yourself on his lap, knees on either side of his hips while he holds you steady. “You have made some questionable choices in your career.”

“Oh, have I?” His smile is smug as he looks up at you. 

“You have. And then you met me. You’re welcome.”

He laughs, and it’s so beautifully full of life. “I guess I never thanked you properly.”

“No. No you did not.”

He leans forward, lips just barely ghosting across yours until your breath hitches. “Then by all means...allow me to fix that.”

You can’t help the excitable tremor in your chest as you kiss your husband. The love of your life and the father of your beautiful baby girl. “Yeah?”

He smirks, arm looping around your back.

“Yeah.”

~ Mr. & Mrs. Hey Soul Sister pt. 1

~ Other Harry Blurbs

~ Full Masterlist

Taglist: @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @keepdrivingkisses @swiftmendeshoran @tiredinwinter @straightontilmornin @justlemmeadoreyou @harrysdaydreams @tiaamberxx @peterparker1sgf @myfavfanficsever @littlenatilda @vamprry @fdl305 @tchalametishot @ssaama @indierockgirrl @likeapplejuicenpeach @vane28282 @lukesaprince @closureesny

words of love by harry styles

love love love

You Can Start a Family (Extra: Sickfic Part 2)

Summary: Y/N's condition is worse than they'd feared, leading to a hospital stay.

Previous Chapters:

Main Story: One ; Two ; Three ; Four ; Five ; Six ; Seven ; Eight ; Nine ; Ten

Sickfic Part 1

Word Count: 3.7K

Warnings: Medical condition, hospital, mentions of death

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You’re unconscious for three minutes. Three long minutes, during which Sarah, Mitch, and Harry all panic about what to do.

“Do we call an ambulance?” Harry asks while lifting you up and laying you on the couch.

“I don’t know!” Sarah replies, her voice wavering with nerves.

“I’ll look up her symptoms,” Mitch adds. “Maybe something online will tell us what to do.”

“Right, because the internet is so reliable,” Harry retorts.

“He’s just trying to get us some information,” Sarah says.

It’s quiet for a moment before Harry replies, “I’m sorry, I’m just kind of freaking out here.”

“I know, I am too,” Mitch says.

Their voices start to break through to you, but they sound far away. You try to reach for them, call out to them, but you’re too weak. You barely manage to twitch your arms and make a quiet noise, which luckily catches their attention.

Sarah kneels next to the couch by your head. She gently moves the hair out of your eyes and starts to stroke your face. “Love, can you hear us?”

You make a small noise which they take as a good sign.

“Great, that’s great,” she says through a relived breath.

A moment later you find your voice and say, “Mom?”

“No love, it’s Sarah,” she replies, instantly worried again.

“I want my mom,” you say. You’re sick, and scared, and confused, and in that moment you desire the comfort your mother can provide.

“I know baby.”

You turn to look at Sarah and ask, “Can you call her? Get her here?”

Everyone in the room immediately stills. Their panic goes up another notch at your question. They know your story. They know that your parents passed away years ago. The fact that you’re asking for her now indicates that you’re extremely confused, which is not a good sign when paired with all of your other symptoms.

“Can you please call her?” you ask again when no one answers you. “Or my dad? He’s normally better at answering the phone.”

“I’m calling an ambulance,” Mitch says to Harry and Sarah.

“What do you think is wrong?” Harry asks.

“Maybe a septic infection, my mom’s doctors gave us the warning signs after her surgery. High fever, dizziness, confusion, basically everything she’s got right now.”

“Is it dangerous?”

“It’s… yea. It’s not good. If that’s what it is then she needs the hospital right now.” Mitch steps away as his call to 9-1-1 is connected and he starts giving the necessary information.

You turn back to Sarah, not following any of the conversations happening around you.

“I don’t understand what’s happening,” you say through tears.

“I know, love. It’s going to be okay. We’re going to take care of you.” Sarah wipes away the tears on your cheeks and you listen as she continues to say soothing words.

Minutes pass with Sarah and Harry by your side, keeping you calm with words and gentle touches.

Mitch walks back in, but he’s not alone. With him are two paramedics. Harry and Sarah move to make room for them which causes you to begin crying again. In your confused state you don’t understand why they’re leaving you, why they would abandon you.

Harry quickly moves to stand over the back of the couch so he can hold your hand while remaining out of the way. Your eyes meet his and you calm down slightly.

The paramedics ask a series of questions which the others answer for you. They take your temperature and check your blood pressure, noting that both are worryingly high. After all of this Harry moves back to crouch in front of you and says, “Hi lovey. We’re gonna take you to see a doctor, alright? I’m just gonna move you onto the stretcher so we can go, okay?”

You barely understand what he’s saying, but as you trust him implicitly, you agree. He lifts you again and lays you on the stretcher. His hand never leaves yours as you’re wheeled out to the ambulance. You look around and Harry says, “Mitch and Sarah will meet us there. They’re gonna grab some stuff we might need later, and then they’ll drive over. You’ll see them soon, I promise.”

His words are perfect and prove just how well he knows you. He understands that being separated from your loved ones when you’re feeling like this will cause you stress, and he reassures you that the separation is temporary.

It ends up being hours before Mitch and Sarah are allowed to see you. The second you enter the Emergency Department you’re surrounded by a team of doctors and nurses. Harry is forced to step away so they can work. You cooperate to the best of your ability and after some of the scariest hours of your life you’re finally in a patient room with the three people you love most at your side.

You’ve been officially diagnosed with sepsis and started on IV antibiotics. While it’s too early to know your prognosis, the doctors commend Mitch on getting you to the hospital so quickly, as time is important when treating this.

Your brain is still incredibly foggy, and it takes all of your remaining energy to concentrate enough to know who is in the room with you. Finally, you piece together that Sarah is lying in the bed with you, Harry is sitting in a chair on your other side, and Mitch is standing at the foot of the bed. You feel safe knowing that they are there and allow your eyes to slide closed as you succumb to the exhaustion you’ve been fighting.

Sarah looks up at her husband and sees his intense gaze. He’s staring at you, barely blinking, tears pooling in his eyes. She knows him well enough to see his inner turmoil. He may not be talkative, or even very expressive, but Sarah can tell he’s terrified.

“Mitch, honey, come here please,” she says quietly. He doesn’t move, doesn’t respond in any way except to slowly shake his head no. His eyes never leave you; it’s as though you would disappear if he so much as blinked.

Harry sees Sarah’s worried expression, and since she can’t move at the moment, he takes action. He first lifts your hand up, pressing a kiss to it before gently placing it on the bed. Harry then stands up and carefully walks over to Mitch. He places a hand on Mitch’s shoulder, but it’s quickly shaken off.

“Mitch-” Harry starts but gets cut off.

“I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not,” Harry replies. “None of us are fine.”

“I can’t lose her.”

“We won’t.”

“You don’t know that! This is serious. Sepsis is deadly. This could kill her!”

“Mitch, come here,” Sarah says again, voice firmer this time.

“No.”

“Switch with me. You need to hold her.”

Mitch doesn’t move until Harry quietly says, “Go hold our girl.”

He finally moves, uncrossing his arms and walking to the side of the bed. Harry goes back to the opposite side so he can hold you up while Sarah slides out and Mitch situates himself.

Once he’s lying on the bed, which is in an upright position, Harry guides you so that you’re leaning against Mitch. Your back is resting on his chest, and he wraps his arms firmly around your waist. He feels the steady rise and fall of each breath you take, and for the first time in hours allows himself to relax and feel relief.

Harry sits in the chair by your bed and again holds your hand. Sarah stands on the opposite side, one hand on Mitch’s shoulder, the other occasionally moving to gently wipe away the tears that silently roll down his cheeks. Only after she’s sure everyone is sleeping as peacefully as possible does she finally sit on the couch in the room and rest.

It’s a long night, the first of many in your hospital stay. You’re barely conscious for most of it; even when you’re awake you can’t fight off the brain fog to understand what’s happening. All you know is that there’s always someone by your side, holding your hand, reassuring you that you’ll be okay. You believe these people, even if you can’t always identify them you know that you love and trust them.

However, for Harry, Sarah, and Mitch, every detail of this experience is deeply engrained in their memories. For Harry, the worst moment is watching your body seize after your temperature spiked. It’s the third day, and Mitch and Sarah are home grabbing some more clothes for everyone. The moment your body starts to jerk Harry is briskly led out of the way by hospital staff so they could tend to you. When you stop seizing they move you out of the room so they could run more tests, leaving Harry standing there alone.

He doesn’t know how long he stands there for, unmoving, unthinking, just in shock. Finally, the ringing of the phone in his pocket breaks through to him. He answers and at the sound of his mother’s voice on the line he finally breaks down.

Sarah and Mitch walk in to see Harry sobbing and you missing. They immediately panic and think the worst. Luckily, their presence comforts Harry enough that he’s able to calm down to explain what happened to them, as well as to his mom who is still on the phone.

To no one’s surprise Anne and Gemma arrive the next day to support all of you. Anne pulls her son in for a tight hug while Gemma sits with you. They switch after a little while, Gemma on the couch with Harry and Anne by your side. You’re dazed still, but awake, and you lean into her touch. She holds you like you’re one of her own.

For Mitch, the worst moment is a couple days later. It’s the middle of the night, everyone else home since hospital policy only allows one person with you at night. The nurse checks you and Mitch notices the worried look on his face. A minute later the nurse returns, this time with a doctor.

After the doctor finishes her exam she turns to Mitch to explain what’s happening.

He’s tired, and scared, and needs to clarify what he’s being told and says, “So her kidneys are shutting down? Her organs aren’t working right? Isn’t that like, the start of the end?”

“They’re not shutting down. However, they’re not working to their normal standard, but there are things we can do to reverse that. We caught it quick, and we’ve started the treatment. I know it’s scary, but please don’t worry yet.”

“You’ll tell us when to worry, right?” In that moment Mitch doesn’t care that he sounds like a little kid scared of monsters under the bed. He needs the reassurance from the professional.

“If it comes to that, I promise to be honest. But let’s hope it won’t okay?”

Mitch nods and the doctor checks you one last time before leaving the room. You’re awake, but groggy, so Mitch sits on the bed with you and sings quietly until you fall back asleep.

For Sarah, the worst moment is actually one evening where you’re awake, alert, and aware of what’s going on. At this point the doctors are allowing themselves to be more hopeful about your prognosis. Your kidneys are working properly again, your heart rate and temperature are staying at acceptable levels, and your labs are showing that the antibiotics are working against the infection.

Despite all of this good news, you know that your body has been through a lot, even if you hadn’t been aware of it at the time. You ask Sarah to be completely honest and tell you everything that you don’t remember. Reluctantly, she fills you in on the details.

You sit with the information for a moment until Sarah hears you whisper, “I’m going to die.”

“No, honey, no, you’re getting better. Why do you think you’re going to die?”

“My family. We- we don’t survive. We thought my dad was getting better and he took a turn and was gone so fast. We die. Maybe I’m supposed to die too. And then we’ll all be in heaven together.”

Sarah holds you close and says, “I know you miss them. And I know that you’re scared. But you have the best medical care, and you’re truly getting better. Just hold on a little longer.”

“What if I don’t want to anymore?”

It’s eerily silent in the room, save for the beeping of machines, until Sarah quietly says, “Please, love, please keep fighting. You have been through so much, but you’re still here. Maybe it’s selfish, but we need you here. Me, and Mitch, and Harry, we can’t do life without you. There’s so much more we want to do together, so please keep fighting. I promise we’ll make life wonderful. You just need to be here to see it.”

You notice the impact your words had on her, and realize you didn’t even mean it, not really. You don’t want to die. But you’re scared to let yourself think that way. You’re scared to be hopeful and positive because that’s when things go so horribly wrong.

You don’t know how to explain all of that, so you settle for promising her that you’ll fight to stay alive. She’s relived by your words, but still worried and holds on to you tight.

Sarah glances at the clock and knows that Harry will be back soon to take over the night shift. She just needs to keep her emotions in check until she gets home.

Once back at the apartment, she rushes into Mitch’s arms. She reassures him that nothing’s wrong with you and you’re still on the mend. She tells him it’s the buildup of emotions that has her this upset. He spends the night holding her as sobs wrack her boy, whispering to her that everything will be okay, placing comforting kisses to her head.

Just like he had done with you a few nights prior, he sings until Sarah falls asleep, then continues to cradle her in his arms.

More than two weeks after being admitted, you’re officially on the mend and infection free. Unfortunately, you’re still very weak and you need to spend a few days there undergoing psychical therapy to rebuild some strength. For you this is the worst part. You’re technically healthy, you’ve been living in a hospital forever, you miss your cats, and you just want to be home.

Everyone tries cheering you up and encouraging you in different ways, which all seem to work. You can tell they’ve been through a lot over the past few weeks so you do everything you can to get home to them.

You work especially hard one day after Sarah quietly and cheekily says, “We want to be able to celebrate your good health after you’re home. You’ll need stamina for that.” You blush at her words and the wink she gives you.

Finally, you’re officially discharged. You thank all of your doctors and nurses before Sarah wheels you out. Harry carries your bags and you all head to where Mitch is waiting with the car.

You enter your apartment to a welcome home banner, Mitch’s parents, Anne, and Gemma. Before you can greet any of them your cats both run over. You sit on the floor, and they fight for your attention, meowing, purring, rubbing their faces against yours.

Eventually they’re satisfied that it’s really you and they move off of your lap. Harry helps you stand back up and spends the rest of the afternoon hovering by your side.

Anne and Gemma make dinner, and though your appetite isn’t back to normal, you enjoy every bite of the homecooked meal. As everyone is eating the dessert Mitch’s parents brought, you start to lose energy. Harry is still next to you, and you lean into him more and more, needing his support.

“Time for bed, love?” he asks quietly. You sleepily nod yes in reply.

You wave good night to everyone, and Harry helps you get ready for bed. He lays down with you, and you can hear voices coming from the dining room.

“Do you want me to ask them to leave? Or talk quieter?” he asks you.

“No,” you reply. “I like hearing them.”

Within minutes you’re asleep, sprawled on top of Harry whose arms are holding you tight to him. You wake up briefly in the middle of the night and see that Sarah and Mitch are on either side of you and Harry. For the first time in a month, you feel content.

Unfortunately, you’re still feeling the effects of your illness weeks later. You’re facing more fatigue than usual. Since the infection had started in your lungs, they experienced some damage and still give you trouble. You try to be a good patient for the others, taking any medicine and treatments the doctors still have you on, but sometimes it gets frustrating the way they baby you.

It comes to a head one day in mid-December while you’re all decorating the apartment for Christmas.

First is Harry telling you to put on another coat while you’re putting lights on your deck outside. You explain the multiple layers you’re already wearing, but he insists that you need the coat, so you give in. You’re sweating by the time you’re done.

Next is Mitch taking over when you’re assembling your artificial tree. Sure, it was bulky and heavy, and the needles always gave you at least a few small scratches, but it had been your grandparents. You’d assembled it for them every year since you were big enough, and completing that task always signifies the start of Christmas to you. But again, you step back and let him take over, knowing that he means well and just wants to help.

The real tipping point is when you get on a ladder to put the star on top of the tree. All three of them offer to do it instead, and then hover around you the whole time you’re up there.

“You’re all being dramatic,” you say as you reach just a little farther to get the topper perfectly situated. You see Harry’s hand dart out towards you, and you roll your eyes.

“We just want you to be safe,” Sarah says as you walk down the ladder.

“I am. I am perfectly safe. Nothing I’m doing is dangerous. I have no desire to do anything that will risk my life. I kind of want to keep living, you know.”

“That’s not what you said before,” Sarah states so quietly, like she didn’t mean to let that thought out.

The room goes silent, Mitch and Harry both looking between the two of you.

“What?” you ask. “What are you talking about?”

“Nothing. Sorry, it’s nothing. I didn’t mean-”

“No, you absolutely did mean to say it. When did I say I didn’t want to live?”

You see the tears fill her eyes and want to go over to comfort her, but you’re frozen. Because suddenly you remember the conversation. And you feel awful. You hate yourself for having said that to her, especially seeing that she’s still affected by those words that weren’t even true.

“One night at the hospital. When you made me tell you everything that had happened to you. And then I had to beg you to fight and hold on for us! You wanted to leave us!”

“Is that true, Y/N? You wanted to die?” Harry asks. Mitch is frozen next to him, staring at the floor like he doesn’t want to hear any of this.

“No!” you say. “I promise, it’s not true.” Finally, you’re the first to move, and you walk to Sarah, gently cupping her cheek, forcing her eyes to meet yours.

“I do not want to die. I didn’t want to die then, I swear. But, at that point, I thought I was going to anyway. I’m so used to everything going wrong that I didn’t want to allow myself to hope. Please believe me, I do not want to leave you.”

She’s silent for a moment and you wipe away the tears that roll down her cheeks.

“I believe you,” she whispers. You share a small smile and press your lips to hers is a chaste kiss.

When you look up you see that Mitch and Harry still haven’t moved.

You pull away from Sarah and say, “Come here.”

The boys listen and you point to the couch, telling all three of them to sit. You choose to sit on the coffee table across from them so that they can all see you.

“I know that you guys have been through a lot,” you start. “And I know it’s because of me. I’ve been on the other side, watching the people I love in the hospital, so I understand what you’re going through. You thought you were going to lose me, and you can’t shake that feeling. I get that you’re scared. But I’m not going anywhere. I mean, I beat a septic infection. I’m more badass than I thought.” This finally shook off everyone’s looks of doom as they smiled at the thought of you being a survivor.

Mitch, who’s sitting in the middle, reaches out to you. He pulls you so that you’re straddling his lap. Harry and Sarah both turn to put a hand on your back, on the same exact spot which causes you all to laugh when they playfully swat the others hand away to claim the spot. Sarah wins and Harry instead places his hand on your head. He turns you to face him and it almost hurts to look at his sad puppy eyes.

You lean over and place a kiss on his lips, before doing the same to Mitch and then Sarah. There’s a moment where no one speaks, and you all just hold onto each other as a reminder that everyone is safe.

After a few minutes you conversationally say, “So, who gets to pick the first Christmas movie?” The remaining tension finally breaks, and you all enjoy the rest of the day together.

It’s not the last moment of fear for everyone. You’ll occasionally notice them being more overprotective, or needing reassurance that you’re safe, but you understand them and make sure to patiently put them at ease every time. It’s been a rough few months, but you feel it’s strengthened the bonds you all have even more.

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@akkatz @pandeebearstyles @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @theekyliepage @numafarawayglxy @booberry019-blog @hillzrry @ssareidbby @gem1712 @acesofspadess @houseofdilfs @shaquille-0atmeal-1 @kissitnhekitchen @amateurduck @poguestyleskye @n0vaj3an @snwells @drunk-teens-doing-drugs

AN: Thank you again for reading this story! This is the end of the sickfic. I think the next extra I post is going to be a spicy one!

Narcissistic Behaviour

Summary: Harry loves to talk about himself, but it’s suppose to be Y/N’s special day. (wc: 2627)

a/n: I guess it’s angst and fluff but what do I know? The answer to that is absolutely nothing lol. Enjoy!

It was moments like this that made you feel like you were dating a narcissist. When it’s just the two of you, Harry let’s you do all the sharing. He encourages you, actually, to talk more about yourself and he would listen.

But when there was more people around, Harry liked to be the best host he can be, showing off his major success and sharing his own stories. There’s nothing wrong with that, but you wish during times like these he would share the attention.

Especially since it was your birthday. The one day of the year that you felt it was okay to be a little selfish, calling it national Y/N day. It was the only day of the year that you weren’t trying to get out of the spotlight, being so used to be invisible and never attention seeking.

And because you are okay with the attention for one day, Harry threw you a surprise party. Something that inevitably makes you center of attention, or so you thought.

Harry’s place was dark as you entered but it only lasted a minute as a giant group of people jumped up as the light flickered on and they all cheered, “HAPPY BIRTHDAY!”

You started laughing as you calmed down from your mini heart attack and others chuckled at your jump from the scare. You scanned the room and saw that the majority of people were friends, only some were unfamiliar but most likely Harry’s friends.

Harry appeared from the group to give you a big hug, lifting you off the floor and doing a quick spin. “Happy birthday, princess,” he spoke as he kissed your cheek.

“Thank you, H,” you smiled widely. You adored this man.

When he was finally put you down from your special birthday hug, you started to make your rounds of greeting the guests and chatting with some acquaintances.

–

You now stood with a group of your closest friends.

“This party is great, Y/N,” your friend comments. You were in the middle of thanking her when Harry snuck up behind you, wrapping his arms around you from behind you.

“Yeah, I know, I did it myself,” Harry said. Your friends laughed at his usual conceitedness.

“And you did a great job, Har,” you said, turning to give him a quick kiss on the cheek.

“What have you been up to, Y/N?” your friend, Nora, asks. “I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever.”

“I know right! I’ve been so busy with work lately. I haven’t had time for anything else lately.”

“Poor thing,” a friend commented.

“I’ve been telling her she needs to go on a vacation,” Harry chipped in. “But she won’t take the time off.”

“Y/N!” Nora scowled, “You need to live a little. When’s the last time you took time off?”

You shrug, unsure of the answer. The only time you can recall was over a year ago with Harry to Jamaica.

“It was forever ago,” Harry spoke up for you. “Like what, a year ago?” He looks at you for reassurations and you nod. “She wouldn’t even go with me to Cabo last week.”

“What?!” Your friends stood there shock. Not only did you give up a vacation, but you gave it up for work when you could have hit the beach with THE Harry Styles. “Well how was Cabo?” another friend asks, everyone looks over to Harry.

“It was good… actually, it was great. It’s beautiful over there, especially during this time of year.”

“And the beach?”

“The sand is so soft and the water is so clear n’ warm. It was a fun experience.” Harry was exaggerating a bit. Yes, the beach was beautiful, but he didn’t stay long enough to relax and enjoy the waves because of the paps that started to crowd the area. But no one needed to know that boring piece of information.

The questioning continued for the popstar, your friends interested in knowing why he went there in the first place and all the top notch celebrities that he spent time with. It started to feel as if this was no longer your birthday party but Vogue’s 73 question interview with Harry Styles.

You became bored, irritated, and ignored so you excused yourself, not that anyone noticed, to another part of the house. You moved to the kitchen and started to refill your wine glass.

“Hey there, birthday girl!” You turn to see a very old friend of yours, Bradley.

“Wow, if it isn’t the Bradley James. How have you been?” You ask as you both reach out for a hug.

“I’ve been good, how about you?”

“A lot better since our college days.” He chuckles a little, thinking about how troublesome the years you shared in college were.

“Oh yes, our infamous college days of sleep deprivation and starvation. Luckily, I’m not too busy that I get enough sleep now.”

“Oh lucky!” You whine. “I’m still tired from not enough sleep back then.” As you and Bradley continued your discussion, Harry had entered the kitchen, getting away from the interview he created.

He swiftly appeared by your side and added himself into the conversation effortlessly, asking, “Whatcha guys talkin’ about?”

“Our sleep schedules or lack thereof,” Bradley answered.

“Oh, really?” Harry was slightly confused on how such a subject was interesting.

“Yeah, you wouldn’t understand, it’s an old thing for us,” you responded bluntly. You assumed that Harry would either continue to listen to you guys or excuse himself, because how could he possible make an inside joke that doesn’t understand about him?

Well count on Harry to find a way. As you told Bradley how sometimes you couldn’t get enough sleep because of your job, Harry jumped in.

“Yeah, she doesn’t even get to sleep sometimes,” Harry started. Finally, you thought, something about me out of his mouth. But as he continued, your thought was proven wrong, “and I feel bad because I know how that feels. I basically have no sleep schedule on tour because I never get to sleep.”

“Oh man, that’s sounds challenging,” Bradley spoke. Suddenly, you wanted to catching up with Bradley another time, a time when someone else wasn’t eager to put himself in everything.

“Trust me, it is.”

And that’s when you see the perfect plan for your escape. Your absolute best friend, and also Harry’s sister, Gemma arriving late like usual, is now finally entering. She spots you looking at her and waves. “Oh, Gemma just got here. I’m going to go talk to her, but Bradley we need to catch up more.”

“Definitely, let me know when.” You nod and give him a quick departure hug. You’re glad when you see Harry doesn’t follow you to his sister.

“Happy birthday, girl!!” She exclaims while waving a present in front of you.

“Thank you, now come get drunk with me.” You grab her by the wrist and drag her to the home bar. You take out two shot glasses and start filling them with tequila. This is what you need to relieve the frustration you are feeling. You quickly down your shot before she can even pick hers up. You down another one in no time.

“Woah, Y/N, you’re either having the best birthday ever, or the worst,” She snickers, “Which one is it?”

“I mean, it’s not the worst, but that brother of yours…” You don’t care to finish the sentence because she knows by your tone that he is irritating you.

“What’s he doing now?” Gemma ask. You wait to take two more shots before explaining everything.

“He’s such an…ughhh” you groan out in frustration. “He won’t shut up about himself. It’s my birthday and he won’t shut up about himself!”

“I told you he was a narcissist,” Gemma jokes, trying to lighten your anger. It takes a few minutes before your anger is fully gone, thanks to Gemma and the tequila. You’re not drunk, just a little tipsy at this point.

Gemma drags you back to the party and back to socializing. Harry hasn’t been anywhere to be seen recently but that’s not your main priority right now.

It wasn’t until half an hour later when he came back out of nowhere. But now he was carrying a large cake with the help of Bradley. Everyone crowded the living room as they all sang “Happy Birthday.” The large cake was placed in front of you and you admired the big sparkly candles. When the song was done, it took two big huffs to blow them out.

The cake was sliced and pieces were distributed. Your favorite part of the party was now. As people took seats and enjoyed their cakes, your closest friends got up to say a few words about you. Nora’s was short and simple, Gemma’s was funny and full of inside jokes. Harry was last to go.

“Alright, hello everyone,” Harry was never a big fan for speeches, especially about people that meant so much to him, “so I want to say a few things about my wonderful girlfriend.” That title always made you smile. You positioned himself so that he was looking directly at you. “The past couple of years I’ve spent with you, I’ve come to learn that you are the most hardworking and understanding person I know.” You did always enjoy a good compliment, but what started off good took a turn for the worse. “Even when I’m gone traveling and performing around the world and furthering my career, you understand and support me no matter what…” You drowned out whatever he said next as the anger inside came back.

You stood up abruptly and spoke out, “Wow, you’re unbelievable, Styles. Can’t stop talking about yourself for one second, can you?” It was obviously a rhetorical question, but even if it wasn’t, you stormed out before he could even answer. The confusion on his face matched everyone else’s. It was silent for a moment as people tried to understand what had happened.

Finally, Harry spoke up, “I-I’m going to go check on her.”

He found you in his en suite bathroom. You stood with our arms out leaning on the counter, and looking at yourself in the mirror. The door was open but he still knocked as a precaution.

“Y/N? What was that about?”

She huffed out a large amount of air before answering, “It was about you being so damn self-centered.”

“W-what? Self-centered? You think I was being self-centered?” He never thought he had acted self-centered this evening and was quite embarrassed with her outburst.

“No, Harry, I don’t think you were being self-centered, I know you were being self-centered. Everything you said was about you or was leading up to be about you.”

“Woah, that’s not true. It was your friends that wanted to talk about me and asked me questions, I didn’t ask for that.”

“Then if you had such a problem with talking about yourself, you should have excused yourself. And what about Bradley? He never asked for you to complain about the sleep you don’t get. And that speech, that stupid speech!”

“You didn’t even let me finish that ‘stupid’ speech before you embarrassed me in front of every-”

“There you go again! You’re worried about being embarrassed right now instead of my own feelings. You know what,” you release a heavy sigh, “just go back to your party. I don’t want to deal with you right now.”

Harry didn’t argue back, he took you in for a few more seconds before giving a slight nod and going back downstairs. He felt like a child that was just scolded.

–

They party ended way earlier than expected. It was a bit awkward that they celebrating a girl who wasn’t even there. As everyone else had left, Gemma stayed for a tad bit longer to talk to Harry about what had happened.

“I don’t understand where all that came from. I was just trying to throw her a nice birthday party n’ she seemed to enjoy it,” Harry ranted.

“Harry, it’s not that she didn’t like the party.”

“Then what is it? How is me throwing her a party self-centered?” And so Gemma explained, in a much calmer way than you tried earlier. She explained how you felt about the way he acts at public events. For the most part, you never cared when Harry talked about himself at other social events because the events were usually for him. And there would be other celebrities to brag about their luxury lives so it only seemed natural.

But these were your friends who didn’t to go on vacations whenever they wanted or buy a fancy car just to drive around a foreign city. Then again, that’s why Harry liked to share cool things about his life to your friends. He knows how much your friends mean to you and only wants to impress them, convince them that he is good enough for you.

Not everyone was a big fan of you dating a world popstar at the beginning of the relationship, but years have passed and now they support you. But sometimes Harry feels the need to continue to get their approval.

You didn’t know he felt that way and you didn’t know that’s why he acted in such a way. But how could you know this if he never spoke to you about it? Talking to you was what Gemma suggested after she spoke on your part and he confessed his slight insecurity.

With a goodbye hug, Gemma had left and Harry started ascending the stairs. He noticed how you were all ready for bed, in your pajamas and deep under the covers. You have your earbuds in to drown out the sound of what was once happening downstairs and to try to relax. You didn’t see him enter because you were facing away from the door. But you felt the bed dip as he scooted in, still fully closed.

“Y/n…” he spoke quietly. There was no reply. He softly rested his hand on her shoulder. You were slightly startled by the contact, but then slowly turned over to face him. Your simple compliance caused a small smile to grow on his face. He took out your earbuds out and you let him. You didn’t say anything, but instead waited for him to start talking.

“M’sorry,” he spoke. “Gemma told me what I was doin’ and I promise it wasn’t intentional. I just want your friends to like me,” he talked shyly as if he was embarrassed by his request of approval.

“H, my friends already like you, and bragging about stuff won’t make them like you any more.” You were quiet, no longer angry.

“I know that now, and I’m sorry for not realising that sooner.” You sat up more and cuddled into him, resting your hand on his chest and relaxing your head into the crook of his neck. You were ready for this stupid argument to be over.

“I’m sorry, too. I shouldn’t have freaked out on you, especially in front everyone.” He mumbled something of reassurance that it’s okay. “It was a really nice party though. Thank you.” You looked up to him

“Of course. Happy birthday, love.” He closed the distance between the two of you with a sweet kiss.

“Is there any cake left?” You asked right after his lips departed yours. He chuckled at your love of cake.

“Yeah, I saved you some of my cake. And we can eat it with my fancy forks that I got in Italy,” Harry joked.

“You better shut it, Styles. It’s still my birthday.” Year after year, Harry was always the best gift you could ask for.

and i can’t give that to you.

in which harry suffers from seasonal depression and she doesn’t know how to help.

Keep reading

i smiled

sharing a bed

summary: harry and y/n share a bed. it’s not always great. 

warnings: coarse language

pairing: harry styles x fem!reader

•••

“Ow, fuck. Ouch, wow.”

“What the hell happened to you?” Y/N said groggily, sitting up a little whilst rubbing one of her eyes, seeing Harry curled up on the floor next to the bed. He grasped the edge of the bed and got back up, sitting down with an unamused look on his face. 

“You pushed me off.”

“How could I have pushed you off?”

“I don’t know! Why else would I be on the floor?”

“You’re, like, a six-foot tall, muscled up man, how could I push you off the bed?”

“Well, I wasn’t sleeping on the floor, that’s for sure.”

Y/N flashed him a sleepy smile, grasping his shoulder and pulling him back down onto the bed, shuffling to get comfortable once more. Harry let out a small, dramatic huff as he got in bed next to her, pulling her close and burying his face in her neck, giving her a small kiss there. Y/N pressed her cold feet against Harry’s legs, something he had gotten used to after sharing a bed with her for so long, keeping his legs tangled with hers so they could be even more tangled in the morning. 

“I’m pushing you off next time.” He mumbled.

“Shut up, go to sleep.”

a/n: thought of nerdrry while writing this, so nerdrry!

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