hello, loves! itās been a while. i apologize for my absence but i would like to announce that iāve been working on part III of lawyer!harry and i should be able to get it to you soon. thank you for your patience and support.
This is my fourth month doing this, and honestly it's so much fun. I love going back at the end of the month and remembering all the amazing work I've read. I love getting to hopefully help promote writers. I love seeing for myself how much I'm reading and from who. I hope you all keep enjoying this as well.
The list:
In order I reblogged, not order written
Multiple writing from the same author are listed together
(but I tried to read from as many different authors as I could this month)
Must have a Read More
Writers: Please put word counts, thanks!
Previous Monthly Lists | Fic Rec Tag | My Masterlist
Assistance Needed | assistant!reader 3k
@gurugirl
Little bit of face-fucking :o) (Preview)
You're Too Sweet For Me (preview)
@1800titz
Secrets 7.9k
@heartateasee
Grumpy 1.8k
Tastes So Sweet 1.3k
@harryistheonlyoneforme
Wake N' Bake 1.4k
Roomies 8k
@0nlythrowharrybeaux
A Dream is a Wish Your Heart Makes 3k
@jarofstyles
Painted On Your Back 9k
The Other Man 13.5k
@lukesaprince
Needy 4k
Yes, Sir. 7.1k
@harrystylescherry
Horan!sister reader 1.8k
@avatar-anna
Across the Hall 2.3k
@musicforgrapejuiceblues
Green Skies, Pink Grass 2.6k
@1d1195
Far From Sober 2.8k
Part 2 2k
@eveningepiphany
Neighborhood Watch 2.6k
@purplecoffee13
Aperture 1.9k
@cherryrouge
Best Friend Vacation 6.6k
@guiltypleasurecreative
Primavera 11k
@smokeinherperfume
Sweet 3.4k
@harry-on-broadway
Jealousy, Jealousy 4.5k
@harryhitties
Academic Rivals / A/B/O
Part 1 22k
Part 2 20k
Part 3 18k
Part 4 14k
@jawllines
warnings: profanity, angst, mentions of murder and death
work count: 2.3k
please read action, part I of this fic, before reading this!
āare you still at the office?ā y/n speaks into her phone, the gentle whir of the car she sits in acts as white noise.
āitās ten at night on a friday, where else would i be?ā mitchās grainy voice replies, the sounds of the copier and the flipping of papers indicating that heās working away in the file room.
āgreat. i need you to get me a copy of every financial transaction simon bernstein has made in the last twenty years. along with the distract attorneyās office, clifford brown, and mark jensen.ā she orders, the car coming to a halt, denoting her arrival at her destination.Ā
āyeah, no. itās not like i have a girlfriend to see, a family to call, or a life-ā mitch sarcastically remarks back.
āperfect. and if you could cross reference them and highlight any overlap, that would be amazing.ā the sound of the car door shutting seemingly grabs the attention of her associate.Ā
āwhere are you anyway?āĀ
āout with harry.ā
āoh? willingly?ā she laughs at his response, exiting out of the car after harry opens her door for her.
āwe are meeting with harryās old client.ā the old client in question being mark jensen. mitch scoffs from over the phone.
āwhy hasnāt harry already run a financial screening?ā
āi think you could guess.ā
āharry wonāt let go of the goddamn dna samples.ā
ābingo,ā the clearing of her companyās throats signals her to wrap up her conversation, āiāll see you in my office tomorrow morning.ā
with that she hangs up the phone and turns her attention to the man beside her.
āfinished telling your associate how to do his job?ā harry replies with a straight face, snarky in every sense of the word.
āfigured i might get us some real, tangible evidence while you continue to have a conniption fit over a goddamn t-shirt that we cannot use.ā she offers him a tight-lipped, faux smile before facing in the direction of the bar they were supposed to be able to find mark in.
āwhatās your plan with this, anyway?ā she asks, earnestly.Ā
āyouāll see.ā as cold and confident as can be, harry starts walking for the door. y/n is quick to hop into motion.Ā
āto quote your earlier statement: if we are going to work together, you are going to need to understand something about me. i appreciate and expect clear communication of motives before meeting with any client.ā she snaps, walking at a faster pace in order to keep up with him as they approach the door.Ā
āwell, isnāt that a shame,ā he mockingly retorts, opening the door for her with a fake smile mirroring hers. she narrows her eyes as she steps into the bar. the scene is dim, space filled with music and the chatter of the patrons of the establishment. as far as bars go, this one is quite classy. but she supposes she should expect nothing less from harry or his clients, present or past.Ā
she feels a hand brush against the small of her back. her head turns toward the culprit, the culprit shockingly being harry. without even sparing a glance in her direction, he beckons her to follow him deeper into the bar with a nod of his head, eyes set on one man. sheās never seen this infamous man, mark jensen. heās the only name sheās heard for the past couple of days, and sheās excited to finally see the son of a bitches face.
when they are finally met with him at the bar, he turns from his spot flirting with a redhead. he has a slightly horrified look, genuinely not expecting for them to intrude on his night. one she could only imagine he had big plans for. heās blonde, has blue eyes, a distinct sloped nose and sharp jawline. heās the perfect all-american man. upon meeting his new, unwanted companyās gaze, a scowl forms on his thin lips.
āwhat are you-ā
āyou might want to leave, this guyās known for killing women. wouldnāt want you to be next.ā harry says abruptly towards the woman standing beside mark, who all but runs away from the group after hearing such a worrying accusation.
āwhat the fuck?ā mark says, a hot flush coming to his pale, freckled cheeks.
āi have two questions for you: did grace winfrey reject you? and is that why you killed her?ā harry fires back, nonchalant as if he was telling him the weather. y/nās mouth gapes in shock at her partners words, momentarily wishing heād quiet down. however, she remembers the case sheās working on and who they are speaking to and quickly regains her composure.Ā
āyou canāt talk to me without my lawyer present.ā he retorts.
āoh right, the d.a. you know, iām shocked he wasnāt with you already. considering you guys are so friendly.āĀ
āwhat are you even talking about?ā his eyebrows furrow, imitating confusion and anger but his eyes are glazed with worry.
āyou and i both know what im talking about.āĀ harry easily chokes him up, mark gulps down his whiskey and sets his glass on the bar.Ā
āwhatever,ā mark rolls his eyes, grabbing his coat from the chair he was sitting in before their arrival, āiāll see you in court, asshole.ā
mark leaves and y/n looks to harry, whoās eyes follow mark as he walks out of the bar and into a car. y/n is shocked, and a little disturbed by harryās behavior.
āthe hell was that?ā y/n exclaims in a hushed tone, a bewildered look in her eyes. harry turns his attention to her.
āa means to an end.ā he says simply, a smirk on his lips.Ā
āand howās that?ā she questions incredulously, hands resting on her hips as she looks at harry.Ā
ābecause without that,ā he points to the door mark just exited out of, āwe wouldnāt have that.ā he points to markās glass of whiskey, absolutely covered in finger prints and spit. y/nās eyes widen as she realizes his ploy.
āwhat does that matter if we donāt have the shirt?ā she points out as she watches put the cup in a ziplock bag, his hand now gloved as to not tamper with his prized possession.
āwho said anything about the shirt? i can still cite the murder weapon.āĀ
āwe,ā she corrects, āand the murder weapon has been tested and is covered in our clients fingerprints.āĀ
āso the district attorney clifford brown, then judge, said.ā he states, giving her a pointed look. she processes his words, nodding her head in understanding.
āif your associate can find anything in those bank statements, we have evidence that mark jensen bribed the d.a. to bury and tamper with evidence. then we have a good old fashioned murder trial.āĀ
y/n walks into the firm with more conviction than usual. confident and hopeful that mitch found something to indicate bribery in the financial records. her heels clack against the hardwood floor and her bag sways with her arm as she walks. sheās happy to see a familiar long-haired man sitting in her office as she gets to her door.Ā
āfind anything?ā she says, expectantly as she walks into the space, setting her purse down by her chair and putting her coat on the coat rack.
āgood morning to you, too. and yes, actually.ā mitch plops the files down onto her desk as y/n takes a seat.Ā
āgreat. brief me.ā she orders, opening up the top file in her stack.Ā
āthereās a transaction of fifteen million dollars from jensenās father to simon bernstein on march sixth, two-thousand four. just two days after the suspects were named and bernstein was employed by the family. they werenāt paying bernsteinās rate as that was done one day before grace winfreyās body was found. then that fifteen million was deposited and then sent to the district attorneyās office.ā mitch states, alluding to what they both knew. mark was a criminal.Ā
āthank you, mitch.ā she says with a smile, happy with the results and excited to show harry exactly what they need to win this case.
setting the files down on his desk, y/n stands tall with a proud smirk on her face. harry looks at the new items place in front of him then to the woman who put them there with a questioning look.
āmr. jensen was protecting his little boy.ā she alludes to the evidence of bribery within the stack of papers. harryās eyes soften with a nod.Ā
āyou got it?āĀ
āyep.ā she replies, popping the āpā at the end of the word. harry sifts through the papers, finding exactly what evidence she was suggesting. after finding it, he nods his head.Ā
āyou know, a normal response would be a āgreat!ā or a āthank you!āā she mentions. harry just rolls his eyes.Ā
āthat should do it.ā now itās her turn to roll her eyes.
āour hearing is tomorrow, correct?ā
āmy hearing.ā harry corrects. y/nās brows furrow and her head tilts to the side, displaying her confusing.
āiām sorry?ā
āi said that should do it, y/n. iāll be taking the case from here, on my own.ā he states, still not making eye contact with her.
āyouāre kidding right.āĀ
ānope.āĀ
āon whoās authority.ā she parrots his question from the beginning of this situation.
āmine.ā she laughs, dryly. dumbfounded by his behavior.
āyou know, youāre a lot of things but i didnāt think ignorant was one of them.ā she crosses her arms as she stands before him. utterly stunned and angry with the man sitting so calmly in-front of her.Ā
āiām unsure how iām being ignorant-ā he begins.
āletting a childish rivalry get in the way of doing your goddamn job, thatās how,ā she fires. for the first time since sheās walked in that room, he looks at her and takes in her appearance. her face as she stares sternly at him, eyes narrowed and a frown on her painted lips. if looks could kill, harry would have dropped dead on his desk.
āever since i started working here, you always had some negative, demeaning thing to say to me. about my work, my accomplishments, anything. and i thought that things were changing, that we were working well together, and that we would start seeing eye to eye but i was incredibly naĆÆve. because if i know one thing about you, it's that the only thing you love more than winning is attention. and you want it all to yourself. so much so that you'd disregard justice."
āthis isnāt about us, or youāre ridiculous need for attention, or my need to feel respected. itās about bringing justice to a girl who was murdered twenty years ago and her family. itās about freeing a boy who was wrongfully convicted for the murder of a girl he hardly knew.ā she barks at him, his eyes set on herās. heās hearing everything she has to say but offering no words in return. she scoffs at his non response.
āyou know what, maybe you are right. maybe, iām not ready for the 'big leagues.' because if this is what itās really about, i donāt want any part of it.ā with those final words she storms out of his office.
harry can admit, he has been an asshole. he can also admit that everything y/n said to him was correct. he hadnāt liked y/n in the start. her intelligent quips, her confident personality, the way she held and dressed herself. if you looked at her, youād just assume she was a lawyer, a good one at that. she had accomplished more in her two years at the firm than harry did in his first five. she was praised, rightfully so. and harry hated it.Ā
it was indeed very childish for him to be as resentful towards her as he was. she had done nothing to him, except be successful. something he should be happy about because the firm was benefiting from her presence so everyone was. but harryās ego took a hit. his place at this firm, the most powerful firm in new york, was compromised. each time he made a mistake, he was vulnerable. audrey had made that clear to him. y/n had replaced others in the firm and if he wasnāt careful, sheād replace him. an idea harry loathed.Ā
he was threatened by her mere presence and she didnāt even have to speak to him. so harry took it upon himself to diminish her, in hopes that she would feel the same way about him.Ā
all it seemed to do was ruin any chances of them possibly being able to work together in a cohesive and beneficial manner. so when harry went to audreyās office to persuade her into taking y/n off the case, harry said exactly that.
āi understand itās disappointing to hear but due to mutual dislike, it would be best if i were the only one on this case.ā harry states, calmly. audrey stares into him, face unreadable and mood level.
ābullshit.āĀ
āwhat?āĀ
āāmutual dislike.ā you canāt stand that someone finally matches your level.ā
āthatās far from the truth.ā lie.
āshe might even be better.ā
āi donāt think that is fair to say.ā lie. audrey laughs, dismissively.Ā
āwhatever feelings you have about her, drop it.ā she says in a stern tone, āthis is a case that requires the focus of two people and i firmly believe that an adult man should be able to see past whatever resentment he has for his colleague to put a clients best interests first.ā harry nods.
āyou will rectify this misunderstanding, understood?āĀ
part II lawyer!harry x lawyer!y/n will be posted this afternoon! iām incredibly thankful for all the love and support you have shown this series so far!
warnings: profanity, angst, mentions of murder and death
word count: 2.0k
harry styles is a damn good lawyer. heās intelligent and calculated, but impulsive when necessary. heās famous for closing deals before they can ever get before a judge and on the off chance that he does have to go to court, he wins. always.
harry styles is the standard for the firm, that much was clear to y/n. from the moment she stepped foot into her interview for holmes & harrison to where she sits now, in her spacious office with a view over looking manhattan.
y/n had no problem winning. she had been excellent in debate in university and law school. she conducted thorough research on her subjects, never leaving any gap for her to be bested. she was cunning, aggressive where she needed to be, and just a damn good lawyer.
all reasons why harry seemed to feel threatened by her.
before y/n, harry was constantly given the most important cases with the most high class clientele. he was praised at every turn for his accomplishments and everyone kissed the ground he walked on. he was the only one doing the work that he was, handling intense cases, often working over night to get to the bottom of the issue and chip away at the fine details in order to spin the evidence in his favor. and, he was the only one winning. reasonably, the attention, the praise, the power, got to him. his ego inflated and he grew arrogant. two things that y/n could not stand. just as much as harry couldnāt stand sharing the spot light.
y/n had begun working at the firm two years ago as an associate and swiftly climbed her way up to partner. she excelled in each position and proved her spot each time. the office was filled with hushed whispers of her name and enthused remarks about her accomplishments.
when she made partner, she was overcome with excitement. she was finally able to handle cases that matched her level and gave her a bit of a challenge and work with those who inspired her. one of those characters being, harry. harry who won cases. harry who had carried clients through long trials to end up victorious, despite how stacked the odds were. harry who was just a damn good lawyer. what she didnāt realize was how much of an asshole he was because of it. brushing off her attempts to start conversation or build an amiable work relationship, telling her that she could speak to him once she āmade it off the playground and into the big leagues like the rest of the partners.ā
and yes, he had a point. she had been doing pro-bono cases for months when she first became a partner. but that was just situational. no one else wanted to do them, so she did. and she won every single one of them, without really much effort either. the insinuation that she wasnāt on par with the rest of the partners left her blood boiling and her chest flushed because she was! she had climbed the same ladder they had, she had done similar cases to them, and had victory after victory that mirrored theirs! so what if she was doing pro-bono shit! she had her own office with her name on the door, for christ sake!
the notion that despite all of her labour and focus, she still wasnāt good enough enraged her and fueled her desire, no need, to be better than him. she wanted him to be haunted by her existence.
so when she was called into audrey holmesās office, the managing partner of holmes & harrison, to invite her to assist harry on his newest case, she was elated.
āthis case will not be easy,ā audrey warned from her place sat at her desk, ābut i have hope that you two can finish this.ā
āi do, too,ā y/n affirms with a smile, āthank you for this opportunity.ā y/n stands from her chair opposite audrey and starts walking to the door, her heeled feet clacking against the hard wood floor.
āy/n,ā audrey calls her attention back, a request y/n happily complies to, āplay nice.ā
āso, you trust me to handle this case entirely by myself?ā mitch, y/nās associate, questions from his cubicle. mitch is a rather quite man, driven yet happier in the background. a hard goal to complete in a place like this.
āyou know, there comes a point in every associates life where they have to prove that they can handle a situation by themselves.ā y/n states, arms crossed with a smirk over her painted lips. if there was one word to describe her, it would be polished. her hair sleek and blown out, her attire plain yet so classy. she was the kind of woman people either wanted to be or be with.
ābut this is kind of important-ā
āand you are a big boy so you should be able to handle important cases, yes?ā
āyes, maāam,ā he replies sarcastically, āwhy are you giving this to me anyway?ā
āi have to help harry with a murder trial.ā
āand audrey is ok with that?ā
āshe insisted upon it.ā
āyou guys are gonna kill each other.ā he says, matter of factly. his tone elicits a laugh out of y/n.
āy/n,ā her name is announced from beside her. the voice familiar and haunting, the accent giving away who her caller was.
āharry, how nice to see you!ā she says as she turns to face him, faux cheer laced in her tone.
ārunning back to the playground so soon?ā he questions rhetorically with a teasing pout on his pink lips.
āha, ha,ā she jeers, āiām actually giving mitch a case of mine, seeing as i have a much bigger issue to take care of.ā at the mention of his name, mitch goes to introduce himself by stops before the words can leave his lips, realizing it to be ill-timing for such things pleasantries. harry scoffs at her response.
āwhat? did audrey finally let you take a case that will actually put money into the firm?ā harryās attempt to put her down brings a smirk to her features.
āshe didnāt tell you?ā she rest one arm against mitchās cubicle and her other hand on her hip.
ādidnāt tell me what?ā he crosses his arms and his brows furrow with confusion.
āyou might want to sit down.ā she now smiles widely, the confirmation that he has no clue giving her the utmost satisfaction.
āi can assure you that whatever you are going to say to me is hardly shocking enough for sitting to be a requirement.ā he says, smugly. her eyebrows raise slightly as if asking him if he would like to place a bet on that idea.
āi will be joining you in court.ā a beat of silence as harry processes this information.
āon whoās authorization?ā his face is the spitting image of irritation
āaudreyās.ā herās the picture of pride and triumph.
āi was doing just fine without you.ā he all but huffs out.
āshe seemed to disagree.ā
āi am going to have a talk with her.ā he states, unfolding his arms from their place on his chest.
āyou do that.ā with that final comment, he turns on his heels and walks out of the associates office. with a proud smile, y/n turns her head toward mitch.
ājesus christ.ā he laughs dryly, opening the case file that y/n had given him. she laughs at his remark.
āhm?ā
ādoes she realize that sheās starting a war?ā she smiles softly and pats the side of his cubicle.
āless worrying about this, and more focus on mr. jones and his bed bugs.ā she says kindly, taking her leave of him.
her venture back up to the partnerās floor was pleasant. she was much happier knowing how angered harry was by her presence in his case. sheād successfully gotten under his skin like he has to her countless times. she stopped on her way to her own office to speak with louisa, harryās assistant.
āiām just unsure of why audrey didnāt tell him the minute she decided that you would be joining the case.ā she says softly as to not disrupt the rest of the assistants, a nosey bunch of you ask louisa.
āiām not sure either, but iām happy that i got to be the one,ā she smiles, a laugh laced into her words, āyou should have seen his face.ā louisa laughs with her.
the opening of a door calls the attention of the two women to the man walking out of it, a scowl on his face.
āhowād it go?ā y/n asks sarcastically, a smirk on her lips.
āin my office, now.ā he commands, walking past her and louisa without even sparing them a glance. y/n turns to louisa with widen eyes. louisa mirrors her expression.
following him into his office she somewhat regrets her choice of words earlier, she felt wholly unprepared for whatever he was going to say to her. he opens the door for her, allowing her into the space first. a surprising gesture. once sheās stood in the middle of the office just before his desk, she stays still as he moves around to the other side. the two stand and look at each other. his presence is assertive, always has been but now with his hardened features displaying the image of a man angry, he looks dominant. his hair messy yet perfectly placed on his head, his green eyes slightly narrowed, brows and lips set in a hard line. if this were his appearance in any other context, sheād say it was a good look for him. that it made sense why so many women, opposing attorneyās and fellow partners alike, tried to make a pass on him. but this wasnāt any other context.
āif we are going to work together, you have to understand a couple things.ā he states, sternly, sitting himself at his desk chair. y/n follows suit, sitting on one of the two chairs on the other side of the desk.
āiāve already been breifed,ā she says with an expression that mirrors his, āreopened murder trial, our client claims heās been framed, limited to no evidence proving the fact-ā
āi put our client in jail.ā his statement puts a halt to her listing.
āiām sorry?ā
āwhen i was working under simon bernstein at maxwell-darby, he had given me this case. prosecutor in a murder trial where every piece of evidence seemed to work in my clients favor. i won the case and locked away, what i know now, is an innocent man for 20 years.ā she nods as he recounts his story.
āsimon bernstein is a dirty lawyer. he doesnāt play by the rules and i knew that then. but i figured since he pawned the case off to me, there wasnāt any foul play. an incredibly naĆÆve thought. i know that he tampered with the evidence to this case. i just have to prove it to the judge.ā
āso, you reopened a murder trial because of a gut feeling?ā
āthereās a shirt that the victim was found wearing. there was blood on it, the cornerās speculated that it belonged to the perpetrator as the placement didnāt make sense with her wounds. it was taken in to be tested, but for some reason none of the dna samples where ever brought to court.ā
ābribery?ā
āvery likely.ā harry leans back in his chair, still looking at y/n. she tucks a strand of hair behind her ears as she takes in the information.
āwe need to get that shirt.ā
āyou think i havenāt tried that?ā
āthey wouldnāt let you use it?ā
āstated my reasoning for not needing it in the initial trial.ā y/n sighs, leaning back and giving herself some space to think.
āwhoās their lawyer?ā y/n questions, assessing his past clients.
ādistrict attorney, clifford brown. good friend of simon bernstein.ā y/nās eyes light up at the information.
āi think we have our lead.ā
-
hello, everyone! i hope you enjoy the first installment of lawyer!harry x lawyer!y/n. iām planning on it being a four part series, let me know if you have suggestions for these two!
warnings: profanity, negative self-talk, slight sexual content
word count: 2.8k
please read aperture, part I of this fic, before reading this!
alone in her hotel room was a despair-ridden y/n, her clothes from the show thrown about her room, any effort to put them away neatly proved to be futile. she had only worked up enough courage to throw on a comedically oversized david bowie t-shirt and wash her face free of makeup. the only thing she had wanted to do was sleep as she felt that a good nights rest would take away her thoughts of it. but she knew, consciously or not, that her plan was wishful at best. she had spent the past thirty minutes resting in her preferred sleeping position seeing sudden visions of it unwillingly. each time, sheād shake her head and switch into another position as if she could leave the memories in her previous placement. she had quickly grown restless and frustrated in her inability to relax and decided to get some work done. however, with her work, the act of escaping it was impossible. she was practically accosted by it. with each new image she looked at, all from tonights show, sheās met with the reminder of just how close she was to him, to kissing him. if she had tilted her head slightly, sheās confident she wouldnāt be breeching mania over what could have happened. her only reprieve throughout her sifting through photos and wallowing in her sorrows was the images of the fans. she had been half-tempted to send harry a picture of a funny sign she spotted, an action that she would have carried out without a moments hesitation normally, but this time, she choses not to. she felt it to be ill-timing. oh, hey harry, i know we almost kissed in your greenroom earlier today and havenāt spoken since but hereās a funny sign where a fan is calling you a jackass and practically demanding you to play medicine! she groans at the thought of how silly she would look.
silly was a good way to describe how she felt about herself in this situation. silly for having a juvenile crush on her boss of all people, silly for taking that fucking picture, silly for sitting so close to him, silly for looking at his lips, silly for leaning, and silly for even thinking in general that harry fucking styles would actually be interested in her. that last one isnāt even silly, its just plain stupid. how humiliating. she buries her face into her hands, rubbing her thumbs against her temples to soothe a building headache from her incessant overthinking. she closes her eyes, taking a couple deep breaths all while reminding herself that this is not the end of the world. just because something embarrassing had happened, something that left her feeling uncomfortable in her own skin and largely dissatisfied with herself, doesnāt mean that the world in crumbling to ash. the earth would continue to spin, the people in it would continue to go about their lives, and y/n will to. finally calming down, she shifts to another image she took from the show. the focus has changed once again and she is met with harryās eyes and electrifying stage presence. she can tell heās dancing wildly in that moment, his limbs displaying as much. she can also tell something is off with him. thereās a distant look in his eye as he looks into the lens. perhaps he had not been trying to look at her, accidentally looking over at the wrong time. but she knew better, and she knew the cause of that look. for a moment, she wonders what heās doing at this very minute. if heās been thinking about it too, head in his hands at the edge of his bed, knee bouncing as a way to soothe himself. she figured that thought, like the rest of them, was silly. he, in reality, was most likely soundly sleeping. the only worry in his head being if his fans made it to their places of rest safely and the quality of his performance. with a sigh, she closes her eyes and leans her head back against the headboard. she stays in the tranquil silence long enough to nearly lull her to sleep. however, the blaring noise of her ringtone startles her awake. with a slight gasp and shaking hands, she picks up her phone quickly noting the caller.
fuck. its fucking harry.
āhello?ā she answers softly, carefully approaching their interaction.
āhey,ā he says, voice raspy from the nights previous activities, āare you busy?ā
āum- no, not really. why?ā
āiām on my way to your room. i need to talk to you.ā
her mouth gapes at this sudden announcement, āoh, ok. yeah, ok. iāll see you soon.ā
with her confirmation, he hangs up the phone.
fuck. fuck. fuck.
she hurriedly moves her laptop to the bedside table and stands from her place on the bed, throwing her phone onto it before assessing the state of her room. there is nothing graceful about the way she flails about stuffing things into her suitcase to give the room the appearance of neatness. she fixes the bed, pulling the comforter up slightly and adjusts the pillows so they look nearly untouched. she then dashes to the bathroom, taking in her appearance. she lightly brushes out her eyebrows, combing them in to place and fluffs her hair. just as she believes she looks half decent, she remembers the state of her bare legs. she all but dashes into the main room to her suitcase quickly rummaging through it to get her sleep shorts. itās then that she hears a knock on the door. with the shorts around her ankles and her body contorting to pull them up her legs, she walks to the door. with her heart hammering and her lungs gasping for air, she opens it with her shorts up and on. looking up at him, she is stunned by his state. he looks tired, still good. obviously. even his worst days are better that mosts best. sheās shocked by the intimacy of this moment. how vulnerable he looks. he is the pinnacle of strength, of power, or talent, yet here, standing in front of her, is just harry. finding herself in this moment, she swiftly moves herself out of the way so he can enter. once heās in the room, he sits on the edge of the bed. taking in her appearance as she shuts the door and walks towards him, stopping at the end of the small hallway, providing some distance between them. her eyes are down, focus on her bare feet again the rugged carpeting of the hotel room. his eyes are fixed on her. the moment of silence that falls upon them is thick with anticipation and anxiety.
harry clears his throat incidentally. the act calling her attention to him. their eyes meet and y/n is all consumed with the need to break the intense silence.
āiām so-ā
āi wa-ā
both fall quiet after the clashing of their voices, groveling to clear the hair. y/n softly giggles, an anxious, self-soothing habit she developed when trying to make light of uncomfortable situations. her habit seems to sooth harry a bit as for the first time since he arrived, a smile crosses his features. albeit, a close lipped one. one that could have lead to a full toothy grin has their situation not called for such seriousness.
āiām sorry, you begin.ā she says gently, gesturing to him from her place in the wall. her arms cross her chest, almost holding herself. the feeling giving her only a sliver of comfort. harry smiles at her and turns his head, pausing to find his words.
āi know this probably isnāt the conversation that you want to be having right now but we should just get it out of the way.ā his voice cuts through the quiet of the room. she nearly winces at the sound.
sheās bending under the crushing intensity of his gaze and his silence. she wishes nothing more than to crawl into herself, find a place of comfort deep inside herself where maybe she would find some relief from this moment. he coughs looking to the side, eyes consequently meeting her laptop which had been left open and unattended on the bed side table of the hotel room when y/n was prompted to hastily tidy her room upon his unexpected arrival. itās a photo of him from tonightās show, looking down the barrel of the lens. itās a good shot, though every image turned to gold with her skill so he canāt say heās surprised. however, itās that skillfulness that leaves it all on the table -every emotion, every movement, everything- and tonight, more than ever, he can see just how off he was.
āi donāt want things to be awkward between us, love,ā he coughs at the end of his sentence, punctuating his own discomfort.
āi donāt either, iām really sorry-ā
ābut i also donāt want to forget that it happened,ā their eyes meet and for the first time since heās entered the room, she doesnāt avert herās elsewhere.
āhar-ā
āi hope you know by now that i adore you.ā
she huffs out a surprised laugh, coming out as more of an exasperated forced exhale, āwhat?ā
āand itās more than just professional. iāve tried for months to keep these feelings at bay, but itās so fucking hard. because you are you. you come into my green room every show with a smile on your face and tell me stories that lift my mood, you shy away at every deserved compliment, you care for everyone around, even the people that maybe donāt do the same for you. you are just so fucking perfect that itās overwhelmingly difficult to not develop a crush on-ā
āharry-ā
āplease, let me finish, love,ā he looks up at her, his dazzling green eyes filled with an unfamiliar look. his face conveying a moony, love-gutted expression. an image she had never seen before but never wanted to forget. she nods her head, eyes wide with a gleam that no doubt mirrored the one in harryās. he lets out a breath, running a hand through his hair and stands, y/nās eyes tracking every movement. not wanted to miss a second of this sacred moment.
āi couldnāt help it. everything you do seems to pull me in deeper. you could probably just breath in the same room as me and iād fall to my knees.ā he lets out a small laugh at the sentiment, taking a step closer to her. she softly smiles, although her face conveyed her pleasant surprise at his confession.
āitās not professional, but i canāt stop it and donāt think i would even if i had a choice.ā with every word he utters, he steps closer until heās stood right in front of her. his tilting down and herās up. their closeness is palpable. she can feel the warm of his body radiating. her breathing shockingly level, chest rising and falling with every breath. she is hyper aware of his movements, even the slightest twitch of his finger or bat of his lashes registers in her brain. they stand, familiarizing themselves once again with the feeling of being this close to each other. in this moment, harry takes it upon himself to close their distance. a ringless hand rising to plant itself of the smooth skin of her bicep. her breathing hitches, a glazed over expression taking over her features. he brushes his hand against the soft, warm skin before sliding both of his hand to hold her face. his gaze falters down to her parted, rose-tinted lips. his eyes alternate between her lips and eyes as his brings his face closer to hers. y/n sighs at the closeness, at the feeling of his breath fanning against her cheeks, warming them that much more.
āy/n-ā
āplease,ā she nearly whines. in any other scenario, she would be embarrassed by her desperation but she supposes that this isnāt just any other scenario.
at the sound of the whined word, harry lets out his own breathy whine before finally putting his lips to hers. and it is everything. itās soft, but deep. controlled, but so very desperate. the intensity prompts y/n to move her hands that lamely hung at her sides to rest on his waist. the feeling of her hands finally on him causes harry to sigh and deepen the kiss, tongue prodding her lips for entry, which she easily accepts.
throughout her time of knowing him, she could only define him as one word as a subject: entrancing. watching work as he commands, entices, and seduces his audiences but also watching him exist as a normal person is nothing short of entrancing. feeling him ā his energy, his kindness, his care, his touch ā is nothing short of entrancing. and now, y/n can confidently say that kissing harry is mindnumpingly entrancing. the only thought in her head is him, the only thing she can feel is him, and the only thing she could ever need in this moment is him. he is all consuming. so much so, she doesnāt feel her change in location until her back is gently pressed into the mattress with his hand on her hip and the other on the pillow beside her head. seeing him in this position, looking down at her as his knee presses into the space on the bed between her legs, his hair swooping down his forehead, jade- green eyes positively sparking with want and need in the low lighting of the room. she finds herself longing for her camera. wishing she could capture this moment, this feeling to keep with her forever. the two take heavy breathes, regaining composure and control of themselves. though that composure and control hangs by a thread. every moment spent gazing at the other solidifies their longing to be close, to be closer, that it is nearly suffocating. harryās eyes close as he breaths, trying to cling to the last shred of sanity before he surely gives into his ever long internal battle against is yearning for her. but it was a losing cause. and when she brings her hands to skate up his torso to find the resting places on the back of his neck and in his hair, he knows just how helpless a losing cause it was.
harry dips his head down to kiss her spit swollen lips, humming at the sensation. he splits his lips and her tongue dances against his. his hand that was once resting on her hip moves up to her jaw. her hand in his hair clutches onto his chocolate locks, tugging softly, a movement that causing harry to separate himself momentary to groan before attaching his lips to her jaw before making his way down to her neck and collarbones. his hands dip down the the hem of her shirt before pushing under and finding the soft skin of her waist. she mewls and softly sighs under his touch. her own hands carding through his hand and caresses his shoulders. she pulls his face up from where heās been trailing his lips to be level with her own desperate gaze. he smiles at her expression, wearing the emotions he feels all the same on her beautiful features. his hands on her waist squeeze and caress the skin there.
āhi,ā he breathes out with a dimpled smile playing on his mouth. she giggles chirping his words back to him.
the two stare at the other for some moment, the comfortable quiet the falls upon them filled with adoration and bliss. now knowing where the other finally stands, thereās no space for over thinking. not when harry smiles down at her, pushing the hair out of her face. not when y/n gleams up at him with moony eyes. the rest of the night, the two lay in a love-filled haze. cuddled up under the blankets, legs intertwined. they laugh and share anecdotes, dreams and aspirations, until the early hours of the morning until neither can physically keep their eyes open anymore.
walking up to find y/n curled into his side, hand splayed across his stomach, her head on his chest, was the most lovely sight head ever seen. as he brushed his fingers through her hair, he could only dream of the world he would give her if she allowed him to. and god, he hopes she would.
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thank you all very much for your patience and support as we come to a close on this story. from the bottom of my heart, i am so grateful to feel so welcomed by this community. if you have any ideas about future fics or blurbs for this one, please reach out. iām looking forward to introducing our next couple.
sheās bending under the crushing intensity of his gaze and his silence. she wishes nothing more than to crawl into herself, find a place of comfort deep inside herself where maybe she would find some relief from this moment. he coughs looking to the side, eyes consequently meeting her laptop which had been left open and unattended on the best side table of the hotel room when y/n was prompted to hastily tidy her room upon his unexpected arrival. itās a photo of him from tonightās show, looking down the barrel of the lens. itās a good shot, though every image turned to gold with her skill so he canāt say heās surprised. however, itās that skillfulness that leaves it all on the table -every emotion, every movement, everything- and tonight, more than ever, he can see just how off their chemistry was.
āi donāt want things to be awkward between us, love,ā he coughs at the end of his sentence, punctuating his own discomfort.
āi donāt either, iām really sorry-ā
ābut i also donāt want to forget that it happened,ā their eyes meet and for the first time since heās entered the room, she doesnāt avert herās elsewhere.Ā
harryās leg is bouncing, his thumbs drumming on his thighs. heās mouthing the set list to himself as he hears the commotion from backstage. people rushing from place to place, getting their pre-show jitters out of their systems, laughing from easy conversation being shared in passing, music being played over the arenaās speakers, and fans making there way to their places. thereās a thrumming in his bones and a seemingly perpetual cloud over his head, forbidding him from thinking of anything but his anticipation. heās itching to get out there. to see the crowd, to perform for them, to give them a good show, to cease these thoughts and feelings.Ā
he loves performing. itās his life work and heās not too shy to admit that he is quite good at it. singing his music and dancing, the electricity within the venue, the screams, the signs, the tears, the joy. everything about it is intoxicating and addicting. the aftermath is splendid as well, the hugs shared between him and the band, the talk of heading out for drinks that he just enjoys to listen to knowing that he would not join, and he loves seeing the photos thatĀ y/n gets, of him (backstage or on stage) or of the fans. the energy that only she could capture. the unity among this body of people.Ā
itās the occurrence and outcome of performing that he loves, not the overlong waiting period before.Ā
there is a shinning light in the waiting though, and itās her. with her camera and bright smile. the newest member to their team, y/n is a warm and welcome presence. they had hired her for the second leg of love on tour. she was a new, fresh face on the scene, just graduated college with a natural talent in capturing invaluable moments. he knew as he looked at her application and instagram that she was perfect for this role. and how right was he. within the first week of working, she had wiggled her way into the hearts of everyone around her. even the fans had seemed to have taken a liking to her, shouting her name as she passed them to take pictures of harry and the band from the floor. and as much as harry teased them, looking at them with feigned offense as he told them that they should be paying attention to him, not her, harry couldnāt even blame them. he had taken a rather large liking to her, as well.Ā
he liked how things seemed to fall into place when she was around. a gap filled with quiet giggles and shutters of the camera. there was a longing feeling in his chest when she was away and a blissful calm when she was near. he figured this can be attributed to his vaguely romantic affections to her.Ā
somewhere between the first time he met her, her shaky hands and nervous laughter, and now, as he waits for her to come to him, his thoughts of her changed. at first, strictly professional, friendly business. then, it was genial, sharing stories and past experiences. and now, nearly affectionate, flirty jokes and mutual yearning. at first, when he recognized this change, he chastised himself. how unprofessional, how inappropriate, how juvenile, this crush was. a crush he had on someone he technically was the boss of and someone he was quite older than. however, his frustration and concerns for the situation crumbled under the heavy weight that was his admiration for the woman. even now, he tells himself to not give in, to keep his compliments and flirtatious comments to himself in preparation for her arrival. but he canāt dwell in that for much longer when a soft, rhythmic knock sounds on the door.
āhi, harry!ā she says, entering the room. by habit, he quickly turns his head to look at her from his place on the couch in the green room. her smile is bright as she looks at him, framed by beautiful rosey lips that harry canāt stop himself from fantasizing about. her makeup is kept light and accentuates her natural features, her hair down. her outfit quite simple, a tight, white baby tee, flared, high-waisted jeans that look as though they came straight out of the seventies, brown heeled boots, and camera in the clutches of her delicate, red- polished fingers. he realizes in this moment, like he had in many others, that he stood no chance. he held no power or control over his ever growing affections when she was this beautiful, this lively, this kind, or this gentle.
āālo, love. you look gorgeous. gonna steal the show looking like thaāā harry comments with a dimpled smile. fuck, harry, canāt be helped, can you? he complains to himself. but just like always she giggles at him, letting out a soft āoh, stopā as she situates herself and her camera. they fall easily into their routine. she asks him about his day and if heās nervous, she moves around him, taking pictures every now and then, and shares stories from her day when asked. he watches her as she flits about the room, blushing like a little boy when she catches his gaze, he shares his own stories from the day, adding his own flare and exaggeration just to get her laughing. Ā
āoh, you have to tell the finger gun story! theyāll love it! especially, if you act it out! that would be so cute!ā she exclaims through her giggles. harry smiles at her as she talks, watching her as she finally settles on the couch adjacent to him.
ācute, huh?ā he teases. fucks sake, he scolds himself like his mum used to when he was a little boy and said something he shouldnāt have. it was peculiar how out of body he felt when he was around her, there were times when he could get a grip and stop his flirting, his flushing, and over all childish behavior. and there were times he could not. it seemed to be the latter most often, much to his dismay.Ā
her face flushes and she smiles back at him, muttering a shy āshut up.ā she tucks the left side of her hair behind her ear, something he had noticed she did when blood rushes to her cheeks, warming the skin there an uncomfortable amount. god.he wishes he could kiss them, or even gently nip at them, hold them in his hands and stroke them with his thumbs. harry tries to shake these thoughts from his head before he does something rash and unwelcome. the fear of making this beautiful, sweet angel of a woman uncomfortable is crushing, the thought alone cracking his heart. he decides to focus on lacing up his sneakers.Ā
she watches him, thankful for the time to calm herself down and let the perspiration starting to dampen the nape of her neck die down. sheās always thankful for the times she can just watch. a naturally shy person, she finds it hard to come back with witty comments or flirty rebuttals when harry speaks to her. she wishes she could, god, does she wish she could. she fears that her lack of response will eventually make him stop. which, in earnestness, she admits would be the worst outcome. it had happened before, in college. a boy named andrew in her statistics class, who she had really, really liked, decided to show interest in her at a party. he flirted, and flirted, and flirted. and y/n simply giggled in response before awkwardly changing the subject. and of course, he lost interest, which y/n deduced was her fault because everything she did in that moment was an indicator of disinterest. he couldnāt see her blushed cheeks with every brush of his hand or compliment passed her way. he couldnāt see her glances at him when he looked away. of course he couldnāt tell! he wasnāt a mind reader and he didnāt have eyes on the back of his head! he was a frat-boy, majoring in finance who wanted to hit it and quit it! she criticizes herself for her past mistakes, or miscommunications, hoping that it doesnāt happen again. at least not with harry.
she understands the implications of them being together. heās her employer, a fair amount older than her, and harry fucking styles. she supposes her non-response approach to flirting with him might be good, aids her in her fight to keep things professional, if not, friendly between herself and harry. regardless of if thatās what she wants, she knows thatās whatās best. and how could she even be so sure that he, of all people, would want her. she shakes her head, physically ridding herself of these thoughts before they turn mean.Ā
she continues to watch as his fingers work at the laces of the shoes, thereās a knock on the door and a call that he has ten more minutes of preparation before he must perform. itās then that she decided to snap a photo of him. she pulls the camera away from her face to look at the picture before shyly smirking to herself.Ā
āhm?āĀ
āoh, nothing, this is just a good picture of you.āĀ
ālemme see.ā
she gets up from her spot to sit next to him on his couch, showing him the photo. as he takes in the image, she takes in him and she wishes that her eyes were cameras themselves so she could keep the image of the smirk on his face, the dimple indenting his cheek, the slope of his nose, his eyelashes framing his green eyes as the sparkle under the light of the room in tangible memory.
āyou know, youāre quite talented.ā he jokes, turning his head to look into her eyes. the closeness of their faces surprising the both of them, but not enough to make them move away from each other. what the fuck am i doing? harry comments to himself, hoping for it to be enough to break him out of his trance. with the scrunch of her nose and a breath of her laughter, he knows once again that he is not strong enough.
āi think iāve been told once or twice.ā their noses brush and theyāre eyes lock on each others. theyāre still for a moment, both fighting an internal battle, so badly wanting to give in but so very worried for what it would mean if they do. they both, almost as if magnetized, move their heads ever so slightly closer, noses bumping in a clumsy manner. itās that action that pulls them apart. harry turns his head to look behind her, coughing softly. y/n turns hers forward.
āi should leave. give you sometime to relax by yourself,ā she pauses, grabbing her camera before standing. she walks to the door, standing in front of it as she looks at him looking at her.
ābreak a leg, harry. youāll do great, you always do.ā she says with a nervous smile, tucking her hair behind her ears and exiting the room. a new wave of disquieting thoughts fill the space she once occupied. but he had little time to dwell on those as he walks out of the room and to the box in which heāll be rolled to the stage. he turns around to see her, already staring back a him. she offers a gentle, reassuring smile and a thumbs up. harry returns the gesture before turning away and fits himself in.Ā
fuck.Ā
hello, everyone! this is the first installment of my harry & photographer!y/n series. i truly hope you enjoy! please, please, please feel free to leave any comments, questions, or suggests you have for me and the story!
photography, in y/nās eyes, is meant to be pure and natural. simply beautiful moments like grass and trees as they pass through the passenger seat window and flowers as they go from bud to bloom, or children as they speak and play with each other, a group of friends laughing and gossiping, and lovers as they stroll hand in hand in the street.Ā
when she turned in her senior portfolio to her professor in college, he had told her that her greatest skill was capturing love. between people, her own affections, anything and everything where love may be present. it was this skill that intrigued harry.
