Hey! Where’s the sequel to Out of a dream? I really enjoyed this blurb and I’m really looking forward to it!!!
HI LOVELY!! it’s still currently in the making (yes i am so sorry it’s been months.) but it should be published around next week as i have a lot of times on my hands then!! thank you for tuning in! 💞
The 14 Little Things Harry Does During Sex ~Short Scenarios~ (SMUT)
Before reading this, please read through >>> 14 Little Things Harry Does During Sex (SMUT) first so this makes more since.
AN: this idea came to me mostly from this anon. i know your request wasn't exactly like this but i decided to just do all 14 of the things harry does during sex in little scenarios because why not. and i'm not doing it where harry points out y/n's little things in this because i'd like to make a list for her as well first to explain what her little things even are. feedback is always appreciated. thanks for this idea that i kinda stuck with.
This contains: lots of sex, lots of fluff
{ any!hary (boyfriend, husband, or dad) - soft!harry - 2018 Harry era }
word count: 2296
14 short scenarios of Harry doing the little things he does during sex with you.
1. Your legs are tangled together under the sheets as you have sex in the spooning position and you can feel Harry's bare toes begin to curl. That lets you know he's about to come. "Can feel your toes curling, baby."
"Yeah, can't help it. You make me feel too good." Harry responds though panted breaths and a sweaty face.
You reach around to place your hand on the back of his thigh to try and force him closer to you if that's even possible and mutter, "Didn't say you could help it. It was just an observation. I think it's really cute that your toes curl when you're abo...."
And you're cut off by you letting out a strangled moan because Harry has brought his fingers to around your front and is vigorously rubbing your clit.
2. The pace of his hips start to pick up out of no where from Harry getting carried away due to the tremendous amounts of pleasure he's receiving. The faster and harder thrusts have you gasping for air.
It felt good but it just wasn't the type of sex you were wanting in this moment. Harry quickly realizes what he's done and imidiantly starts slowing his hips back down. "Sorry 'bout that. Got carried away for a second there." he apologizes and bends down to place a pecked kiss on your sweaty forehead.
You look up and reply sweetly, "Its fine, babe. Just want to take it slow right now, okay? You can pound me when its not eight in the morning and I'm more awake."
Harry giggles and lays down on top of your body, continuing the slow, sleepy sex the way you intended to have it.
3. It's late at night and you're riding Harry's cock with your body fully laid on top of his. Harry has his arms wrapped around your back to hold you tightly and his hands start gliding over your back. His fingers gently trace up and down your spine, sending a shiver to run through your body.
Harry laughs a bit and asks, "Was that a shiver, love. You cold?"
You lift your head out from where it was in his sweaty neck and respond, "No, not cold. Your fingers dancing on my back made a shiver run through my body. Feels nice though. You can keep doing it if you'd like to."
Harry raises his head off his pillow a bit and with puckering lips places a quick kiss to your mouth. "Gotcha, my love. I'll keep tracing your spine if you want." And when you fall back down onto his chest while grinding on his dick back and forth, you feel Harry do just that.
4. As you're riding Harry on the couch in your living room, you notice his strained face. The one he makes when he's trying not to blow his load in you. So you decide to call him out on it.
With your hands pressed into his chest and your hips rocking back and forth, you question, "Babe, why the red face? Something wrong?" The tone in your voice is playful and he knows you're asking to be a little shit.
Looking up while still having that strained look on his face, Harry responds through shallow breaths, "You know damn well why I have this face. You keep clenching around m'dick and I'm trying not to bust a nut in yah just yet."
You laugh and fall forward, placing a kiss to the side of Harry's face and mutter, "I know. Just messing with you. Love you."
Attempting to relax his face, Harry coos back, "And I love you too."
5. Harry has his arms on both sides of your head, hands pressed into the mattress, as he holds his body weight up over you while fucking into you. But then he gets this idea. Harry carefully removes one hand from its place beside your head and brings it down to your stomach.
He lays it flat on the lower part of your heaving tummy and Harry can feel himself inside you, creating a cocky smile to be plastered on his face. "Can feel m'self inside you, love. Going so deep in your tummy. Can you feel me in your belly, baby?"
You nod your head, unable to speak clearly with how well he's fucking into you. Then suddenly Harry pressed down a bit on your lower stomach and it creates the pressure in your belly to be even greater then before. "Shit." you cry out.
Harry lifts up and sits on his calves, continuing to thrust into your wet pussy but makes sure to keep that one hand pressing into your stomach. Not too hard to where it would give you a tummy ache but enough to enhance your orgasm pleasure.
6. Harry is fully on top of your body, encasing you in his arms as he sluggishly rocks his hips in and out of yours. The room is dark due to the time of night it is and the covers are over your bodies. Then you feel it. Feel the three little taps to your collar bone.
Every time you have sex in the dark, Harry will tap somewhere on your body three times and you've yet to know what or why he does so. You decide to just ask. "Babe, um, can I ask why you tap your fingers on my skin when we have sex together in the dark?"
Harry stops his slow thrusts all together and sighs from embarrassment. He keeps his head laid on your shoulder so you can't see his face, though you wouldn't be able to anyways from this dark room, and answers shyly, "Don't know. Um, I guess I do it as a way to let you know you're safe and I'm right here. Sayin' it out loud just makes me sound stupid. Sorry if its weird."
You let a grin appear on your face and while running your fingers through his messy, curly locks, reply, "Babyyy, I think that's a very thoughtful idea and I love it. Don't mind at all and its not stupid. I'd very much like if you did it from now on and now I'll know why you do it and appreciate it more."
7. As Harry is hovering over your body, snapping his hips forward to meet yours, you lift one hand up and conjoin two fingers together. Harry knows exactly what you're trying to do and opens his mouth to take your fingers inside.
While his arms support his weight above you, Harry bends his arms at his elbows slightly to lean down and bob his head onto your fingers, as if it was a tiny dick. "Fuck, that's hot." you moan out as you watch him suck your fingers.
Harry lifts off them with a pop and says with glossy, wet lips, "Love sucking your fingers. Such a turn on f'me." Then you take your wet fingers and bring them down to rub your clit, making your eyes roll back from the clit stimulation mixed with Harry's cock fucking you.
8. With Harry thrusting his large cock inside of your pussy at just the right speed for you both, you begin to hear his little pleasure sounds as he pants them in your ear. The sounds that escape his mouth are a mix between a whine and a moan. "Yeah baby, keep making those pretty sounds for me. You sound so hot with your little moans." you tell.
"Mhm, love. God, couldn't stop em' if I tried. You feel so fuckin' good 'round me." Harry heaves out and then goes right back to making those little moans and cries of pleasure.
9. Harry is hovering above you with his hands grabbing at the headboard to give him better strength as he fucks into your pussy. You're in the midst of an orgasm but something gives you the strength to look up and when you do, you see the greatest sight known to man.
Harry has his eyes squeezed shut with his mouth wide open, forming an 'O' as his orgasm takes over his own body. His head is tilted back a bit and his arms shake as they stay straight forward, clutching the bars of the headboard. Knees pressed into the mattress beside your hips.
Seconds later when both your orgasms leave, Harry lets go of the headboard and carefully falls on top of your sweaty body, still out of breath. "Love your 'O face, Harry." you coo.
Inhaling a deep breath into his lungs, Harry questions "What'd yah mean my 'O face?"
"You know, how when you're coming you'll close your eyes and your mouth falls open wide. It's hot." you explain.
Harry sits up, straddling your lap, and replies, "Didn't realize I even do those things. I guess it just happens in the heat of the moment."
10. At first Harry was on top, thrusting into your pussy at just the right angle. It gave you a clear view of his chest and tummy. You noticed his stomach muscles fluttering as he tried to contain himself in order to not come prematurely.
But then when his arms feel like they are giving out, he has to gently fall forward and lay on top of your body, still thrusting into you. Then you feel Harry's stomach spasming against yours. "Your tummy feels weird against mine." you say, breaking the rooms silence besides the sounds of sex.
Staying in his position, Harry asks, "What? My stomach contractions you mean?"
"Yeah, and here, lets flip over. Want to ride you." Harry gets off top of you and rotates until he's laying on his back. You situate yourself on his dick again and look down, placing your hands on his flat tummy. "See," you speak and Harry cranes his neck down to look at his stomach, "it flutters nicely. Bet you'd eventually get abs if you did that long enough."
"Hey," Harry growls playfully, "I already have abs and you know it."
You laugh and reply with, "You're right." Then you fall forward and crash your lips to his, feeling his stomach against yours again as the sex continues.
11. Your legs are wrapped around his waist and Harry's on top of your body with his face pressed to the side of your sweaty face. Then you begin to hear Harry let out a string of different curse words into your ear. "Mother fuckin' shit. Jesus christ, babe. Mhm, damn it feels so good."
Knowing fully well what he's referring to, you ask anyways, "What feels good, babe?" as your nails dig into the skin of his back.
"Shit, shit, shit, that. That right there. You clenching 'round m'cock." Harry explains as you purposefully start clenching around his dick to get a reaction from him.
You only giggle but that doesn't last long because a loud moan escapes your mouth when he changes the angle of his hips slightly and hits your g-spot head on.
12. The sex you're having now was planned. Planned to the extent you knew days before it was happening and have candles lit around the bedroom with a towel under your bodies so your fluids don't dirty the bedding. Everything is slow and thought out. You did several minutes of foreplay before the sex even begun.
Now Harry has his hands on your shoulders as his knees are pressed into the bed beside your rib cage, thrusting meticulously into your tight cunt. But suddenly one of his hands abandons your shoulder and he places his sweaty palm above your right breast, directly where your heart lies.
You look up with love in your eyes and ask, "What's that for?"
Harry switches his vision from his hand on your heart to your eyes directly and responds, "Like feeling your heart beat. It's comforting to me in a way. Sorry if its weird."
"Babyyy," you speak softly, "come here." Harry removes his other hand from your shoulder and falls down onto your chest. He presses the side of his face right where he had his hand over your heart beat, now feeling your beating heart on the side of his face. "It's not weird, Harry. It's super heartwarming. Shows me how much you love me, yeah."
13. As you're bouncing on Harry's cock, you feel one of his hands leave your hip and when you open your eyes, you see him give himself a little scratch to his upper chest. A smile grows on your face and Harry notices. "What?" he questions.
You laugh and answer, "Just think its cute how you scratched your itch in the middle of sex."
This has Harry breaking into a laugh as well and he mutters, "Well yeah, had an itch and I wasn't going to ignore it the entire time."
14. You're having sex on the couch. Harry's above you and you're laying on your back, into the soft but firm cushions. But suddenly he stops moving his hips and you let out a whine to show your disapproval.
When you open your once closed eyes, you see Harry gathering his damp fringe that's fallen into his face with his hands and uses the hair elastic from his wrist to tie it into a bun so it's out of his face. "I know, I know. M'hurrying m'love. Just getting my hair out of my face because it kept tickling my nose."
Before you know it, he has the top of his hair into a little messy bun and his hips pick back up thrusting into your pussy. He looks very cute above you now with his little top knot but also equally just as sexy with his glistening chest on display.
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(PLEASE REBLOG BECAUSE WRITING IS NOT EASY AND ITS FREE SO JUST DO IT)
in which YN spends the night - officially - for the first time, but Harry's daughter isn't really happy about that; fluff; angst; smut; dad!harry
wc: 5.9k
can be read as a stand alone, but if you want to understand more read Bad Habit (1) and (2)
“Hi.” Harry greets her as soon as he opens the door, smiling the same smile YN has been in love with since she was 20 years old.
“Hi.” She repeats his word as a form of greeting, and despite the shortness of it, nothing needs to be added, because the excitement they both transpire can be felt in the air between them.
This would be the first time YN officially spent the night. Of course, she’d stayed over many times in the two months they had been dating, but never officially. She’d always leave before Aidi could find her tangled in Harry’s sheets, and it had been fine at first. She hated waking up early, but she’d do whatever she could to reassure Aidi’s well being.
YN doesn’t know why all of a sudden Harry was eager to invite her over. He told her he felt ready, and she had felt excited despite feeling the fear of how his daughter would react.
Harry told her that he wouldn’t tell her right away, YN would just stay over and they’d see from there how it went. Of course, his nonchalance hadn’t gone unnoticed by YN, that on the other hand felt nervous about it all and would’ve much rather he told Aidi she would at least spend the night. But, she figured, she wasn’t a parent, and she couldn’t possibly know what was best for Aidi, so she had agreed to follow his plan with enthusiasm.
“Everything okay?” He asks when he sees she hasn’t moved from her spot.
“Just a little bit nervous” she shrugs, tightening the grip around the handle of her duffle bag.
“I see I still have tha’ effect on yah?” He chuckles, opening his lips in a teasing smirk.
“Shut up! ‘S not because of you”
“I know” he says, and his eyes soften at the sight of the girl in front of him, all shy and anxious about something that he thinks is so natural. “‘M just teasing. Everything’s gonna be okay”
She sighs at his words and takes a step closer to him, “ugh, I know… just want it to be perfect”
“‘S already perfect with you here” he smiles, grabbing her upper arm and tugging her closer to him. He circles her back with his arm and squeezes her against his chest, holding her tight in a soothing embrace.
“You’re perfect” she sighs once again, inhaling the pleasing scent of his fabric softener lingering on his hoodie.
YN still can’t believe he is hers.
“C’mon let’s go inside, yeah?”
“Mmhmm” she nods against the fabric of his sweatshirt.
Once Harry closes the front door behind him, he takes YN’s duffle bag from her hands and tells her to follow him upstairs.
“Where’s Aidi?” She asks.
“In her room”
“Is she… does she know I’m here?”
She watches as he nods his head, and she wonders for a moment if there’s something wrong going on. Is Aidi upset? Is it too soon?
“Harry…” she whispers once they enter his room, “maybe it’s too soon. We should have-“
“YN.” He interrupts her, a serious look adorning his gentle features, “I told you already everything is fine.”
“Okay” she nods doubtfully, not really convinced by his words.
He tosses her bag on his bed and after he turns around to face her. He takes her hand in his and squeezes it to reassure her. He knows how she is. How much she worries, but that’s the very same reason why he’s so sure about this. He knows she cares about Aidi very much, and he thinks she’ll be good for his daughter, even if it takes her some time getting used to having another person around more.
YN follows Harry out of his room, and, once they reach Aidi’s door, she watches as he gently knocks on it.
“Aidi?” He asks, opening the door and peeking his head inside. “Hi bug” he says softly, and YN feels herself melt at the interaction. He’s so gentle, so sweet. He makes her feel warm, like the first spring sun shining on her skin after a cold winter.
He opens the door wider and YN spots Aidi laying on her bed, her ballerina bunny squeezed under her chin. She lights up as soon as she sees her dad, and she nods timidly when Harry asks her if she was asleep.
“I was really tired, daddy” she mumbles, knuckling at her eyes sleepily.
“Tha’s okay” he reassures. “‘S almost time to eat dinner”
YN watches from the door jamb, unsure on what to do. She doesn’t want to interfere in their moment, still feeling a bit unease at the situation.
“Do you want to say hi to YN?” Harry asks when Aidi gets up from the bed.
She shakes her head no. “I already said at school”.
YN bites hard on her bottom lip. She knew it would be hard.
Harry furrows his brows and looks at his daughter, confused by her behavior. She loves YN. She always talks about how nice she is and how she’s so happy she’s his friend so he doesn’t really know where this is coming from. He figures she’s just grumpy from being woken up.
YN, on the other hand, thinks this is going to be harder than they thought.
…
It’s a little bit later in the evening, and despite the abrupt start, things seem calmer now. Aidi had played with her dolls while she watched cartoons on the tv, and YN had helped Harry with setting the table for dinner.
She thinks it’s nice. Settling into a routine and sharing it with them. She’s always been kind of alone, and she’s always thought of herself as more of a loner, but maybe she’s been wrong all along and this is where she was actually destined to be.
“Aidi?” Harry calls from inside the kitchen.
YN smiles fondly once she sees Aidi walking towards them with a pep in her step, she seems fine, until Harry asks her what she wants to eat, because nothing seems of her liking.
“Noooo daddy I don’ like that!” she protests when Harry shows her the package of pasta he intended on cooking.
“But you’ve always liked it! You looove when granny makes it for yah!”
“Yeah” she gives him a firm nod, “but yeh’re not granny”
YN has to refrain herself from laughing at them. She wonders if she’s like this everyday or she’s putting on a show just because she’s there.
“Uggh fine, then. How about…” he looks through the cupboard to see what other thing he could cook, he picks up another package of pasta, shaped like butterflies this time, and holds it in front of her, but Aidi shakes her head disgusted once again.
He moves toward the fridge then, taking out some chicken and showing it to her, but “noooo” she protests.
“Wha’s gotten into yah!” He sighs discouraged.
“I’m sorry” he mouths to YN, to which she replies with a knowing smile.
Harry opens the door to the freezer and YN spots a package of chicken nuggets inside, and she points to them trying to hide her gesture from Aidi, not sure whether she could eat that kind of food.
“She usually doesn’t like them” he shrugs, but when he takes out the package to show it to her, Aidi starts jumping excitedly in her place, “yes! Yes! Daddy want them, pleaseee”.
“But-“ he’s about to protest, but he feels it’s actually pointless to argue with a child, so he sighs and: “fine!”
“Make them crispyyy please daddy” she says seriously, but when YN erupts in an uncontrolled laughter, Aidi starts giggling too.
Harry joins in on their laughter, but his is more of a disbelieving one, amazed by his daughter’s behavior.
Once dinner is ready, Harry, YN and Aidi all sit at the small table in the living room.
Harry fills his and YN’s glasses with the most prestigious red wine he had, and he serves first Aidi (the chicken nuggets with looots of ketchup), then YN (the special pasta his mother taught him to make and that’s the only fancy thing he knows how to make — but, honestly, YN was fine with everything. Even if it meant eating dinosaur shaped chicken nuggets).
The air around them is quiet, there’s a comfortable silence between them, and YN feels happy. Like she belongs. She looks at Aidi tenderly when she hears the quiet humming of what she recognizes is a cartoon’s theme song, and she watches as the little girl dips her nugget in what seems to be way too much ketchup for only a small piece, and when YN raises her glance from Aidi’s plate, she realizes Harry is looking at her with one of the softest looks on his face she’s ever seen. He smiles sweetly at her, but, as opposed to how he used to always avert his gaze when they were still in college — embarrassed she’d catch on the crush he’d always had on her, he doesn’t look away.
‘What?’ She mouths, worried she might have something on her face or that he wants to tell her something without his daughter hearing, but he just shakes his head.
‘Pretty’ he mouths back, and his eyes do that thing YN loves, they twinkle like the brightest of the lights, the warmest shade of green she’s ever seen, like the grass on a chilly spring day, the feeling of seeing a bit of color after months of whiteness.
She bushes and looks down at her plate, still not used to his cheeky compliments.
After dinner, Harry takes out of the fridge the ice cream YN had brought, and when he opens it, he smiles fondly when he realizes she picked Aidi’s favorite flavors: chocolate and strawberry. In the same bag, there’s another tub of ice cream, much smaller, and when he opens it, to his surprise, he sees his favorite flavor: mint chocolate chip.
He knows now she remembers their ice cream runs after a long day of studying, but he’s genuinely surprised she would after so many years, and he thinks it feels nice. It’s nice having someone take care of you, even if it only means picking up your and your daughter’s favorite flavors of ice cream.
He comes back in the living room with the ice cream and three small bowls, and he places them on the table.
“Look what YN got you!” He smiles excitedly, hoping to spark some excitement in his daughter, since she’d been pretty quiet all throughout dinner.
“Ice cream!” She lights up, but when Harry shows her the flavors, she makes a disgusted face and pushes the tub out of her face.
“I don’t like chocolate”
YN, that had watched the encounter proudly, feels her face fall. She thoroughly remembers Aidi loves chocolate ice cream. She’d told her many times in class, and it was what she had asked that day Harry forgot to pick her up and YN had brought her to eat ice cream to distract her. Maybe she remembers wrong? She feels herself panic inside, because how could she have gotten it wrong! She’d been so careful while picking.
“But ’s your favorite!” Harry stresses, his brows furrowing on his forehead.
YN feels a little bit relieved at his words. At least she hadn’t gotten it wrong.
“No, it’s not” she shakes her head, grimacing.
“I’m so sorry, YN. I don’t know wha’s gotten into her” he apologizes, sitting back down in his chair, his shoulder sagging, he feels undefeated.
There’s no way Aidi doesn’t like chocolate ice cream, because he remembers she ate it two days before at his sister’s house, but he chooses not to tell YN that to not aggravate the situation more. He knows this is silly, because it’s just ice cream, but it’s then he realizes maybe everything isn’t okay and Aidi isn’t comfortable with having YN here.
He’s unsure on what to do, feeling conflicted about the situation.
He knows he should put his daughter’s feelings before his, but he also cares about YN, and he doesn’t want to push her away.
“Harry” he hears YN interrupt his train of thoughts, “maybe I remembered wrong. It’s no problem at all! Do you like mint chip?” She asks Aidi the last part, and her voice is soft.
Aidi nods, “’s daddy’s favorite”
YN smiles at her and then throws a quick glance at Harry, “really? You both have great taste then! You share that with your daddy and I’ll eat the other one, okay?”
“Okay” Aidi nods once again and leans forward on the table to pick up the tub of ice cream. She shows it to Harry to signal she wants it in the bowl, and he consents quietly.
Harry — too — realizes this is going to be harder than he thought.
…
Harry feels bad. Tonight hasn’t been what he thought, at all.
He had planned in his mind all the nice and fun things he wanted to do with both YN and Aidi, and maybe, he realizes just now, he had been wrong to assume Aidi wanted to do that. He understands it’s always been them. Since she was born, it’s always been the two of them, tucked away safely in the walls of their home, and Harry understands how she could feel now that YN is here as well.
He just feels bad, because he’d like to do some of those things with YN too. He’d like to eat breakfast with them, he’d like to watch a movie and cuddle them both under his arms, he’d like to kiss both of them goodnight, he’d like to snuggle with them in his bed until it’s inevitably time to get up. But how can he? Aidi is little, and she doesn’t understand what it means to share.
“What are you thinkin’ about?” He hears YN gently ask, and he shifts his gaze from the tv to her.
Aidi wanted to watch the new Little Mermaid movie (her favorite of the week), and she had demanded her daddy watched too. YN hadn’t minded, and she sat contently next to them, but only half an hour into the movie, Aidi had fallen asleep against Harry’s chest, his shirt crumbled between her little fingers as she held onto him, almost scared he’d leave her to sleep alone.
Harry leans his head on the backrest of the couch, he then turns it and looks at YN fondly. She’s so pretty now, her hair frame her face perfectly, and the glasses on her nose make her face look softer.
He shakes his head, wary of what she could say if he voiced his thoughts aloud, and when he sees her brows close in a furrow, he averts his gaze, his face facing the ceiling as he closes his eyes.
“Hey” she whispers, careful not to wake Aidi sleeping in his lap. When she realizes he isn’t opening his eyes, she raises her arm and rests it next to his face on the back of the couch. With delicate fingers she caresses the tender skin of his neck, below his ear, where she hears his pulse quicken.
“Harry, hey” she repeats, hoping to gain his attention, but she may have been a little too loud, because Aidi stirs in his lap and opens her eyes slowly.
“Hi, bug” he smiles down at her, his expression changing as soon as she woke up. “Let’s get yah to bed, yeah?”
He stands up from the couch and props Aidi on his hip, caressing her back gently to lull her back to sleep.
She falls asleep on his shoulder almost immediately, and YN raises on her feet quickly, placing a gentle and quiet kiss on her hair. Harry smiles at her and informs her he’d be putting Aidi to bed in her room.
YN turns off the tv and picks up the throw blanket to fold it, when she’s done she puts it on the couch and makes her way upstairs towards Harry’s room.
She sits on his bed and she waits for him, her heart beating fast against her ribcage. She wonders if she should leave. Is that what Harry is so scared to tell her? She’s sure he realized too that Aidi wasn’t comfortable with YN staying over.
She hears the door close quietly and she looks up immediately. She can feel her heart in her throat, convinced he wants to send her away.
Maybe it’s too soon.
Maybe he doesn’t want a relationship with someone his daughter doesn’t like.
Whatever the reason will be, she’s sure this will be their final conversation.
“Hi” he interrupts her train of thoughts.
“Hi”.
He walks towards her and stops in front of her, sitting between her open legs.
“Harry -“ she starts saying, but he interrupts her quickly: “Baby, I’m so sorry”.
“What?” she asks confused, “why are you saying sorry?”
“I thought… today was supposed to be different” he sighs. He raises both of his hands and cradles her face in his palms, caressing the skin of her cheeks with his thumbs.
“I’m sorry” he repeats, “I wanted to make a nice dinner and maybe go for a walk, and… I don’t know, maybe watch a movie but…”
“But we did!” YN chimes in, bringing her hands up to squeeze his wrists, “it was perfect”
“I know but… Aidi…” he says, shaking his head, panic lacing his voice.
“You don’t think she’s happy…”
“It’s not that… I’m just scared. I didn’t think it would be this difficult” he sighs. He feels guilty, and if there was any way he could have this conversation with her without hurting her, he would. But YN has also taught him to communicate his feelings, and he couldn’t just not tell her what was going on in his mind, how scared he is for his daughter and to cause her pain.
“Oh Harry” she shakes her head against his hands, biting down on her bottom lip so hard she thinks she can taste the blood. “She’s just little, and not used to… all of this. I think you should talk to her.”
“I don’t know how” he looks at her pleadingly.
“Just say how you feel. Start from there. She’s the most wonderful kid I know, she will understand.”
It’s when she says things like these that Harry remembers why he is so sure about YN. She loves him, and perhaps she loves his daughter more than she loves him. Her presence is crucial in both of their lives, and Aidi needs to know her. She needs to be around her, because Harry thinks there’s a part of how YN loves that only she could teach, and he wants Aidi to learn, he wants her to see her dad happy, and he wants her to understand that love is really all that matters.
He gives her a small smile, not big enough to show the dimples YN really loves, but enough for her heart to tighten in her chest.
“Everything’s going to be fine.” She whispers, before tilting her head upwards and placing a chaste kiss on his lips.
He dips his head forward and deepens the kiss, sighing into her mouth.
Despite the heavy weight on his chest, he’s really happy she’s here.
Her lips are soft against his, and he wants to drink her in, drown in her taste, like the sweetest summer fruit.
Her hands make their way up his arms, her fingers dipping into the cotton of his shirt, and once she reaches his shoulders, she pushes him down against her.
They both fall on the bed, and with the way she’s kissing him, YN hopes she can reassure him. She hopes he understands she’s here now, and he doesn’t have to do it alone. His tongue caresses hers, and his hands are everywhere on her body, holding onto her skin desperately.
He settles between her legs, and pushes his hips forward when she bites his bottom lip, his erection pushing hard against her center where she needs him the most.
“Harry” she says as soon as he moves his head to kiss down her neck, “we shouldn’t. You’re upset” she breathes.
“Mmh” he whimpers against the skin of her neck, “please” he begs, “i need you. I need you so much.”
She tugs at his hear and he raises his head from her neck, the sight of him almost making YN cum on the spot.
As opposed to how he always is in bed, dark and dominant, he looks soft and pleading, his eyes big and veiled with lust, his lips wet with spit and a particular shade of red mixed with purple.
“You’re the only one that can make me feel better” he whispers looking directly into her eyes.
“Okay” she nods, “okay”.
Harry buries his head back onto her neck and kisses the skin there gently.
His hands travel down to her jeans and he quickly unbuttons them, tugging them down her legs and then throwing them on the floor.
His movements are frantic and eager, but everything about him is soft, from the way his hands caress the skin of her stomach to the way his fingers shift her panties to the side to expose her. He dips his thumb between her folds, rolling tight circles on her clit a couple times. She sighs heavily, and she has to refrain herself from moaning.
When he sees that she’s wet enough, he holds his weight with one arm and with the other he tugs his own jeans down, followed by his boxers right after.
When his cock is finally freed from its restraint, he doesn’t waste a second before he slides it between her folds, coating it with her juices. She brings a hand to his cheek and tilts his head up so he can look into her eyes when he slips inside of her.
“Oh” she whimpers, and he’s quick to swallow her sounds with his own mouth, sighing into her while his hips drill into her.
She feels warm against him, and he finally feels the comfort he’d been looking for.
With gentle fingers he raises the fabric of her t-shirt and exposes more of her skin, his hand resting against her ribcage, under her side boob. With his thumb he pushes her bra up and finally frees her tits, his head dipping down to kiss all over the new exposed skin.
He takes her right nipple into his mouth and sucks on it lightly, soothing it right after with his tongue.
“Please” she moans quietly, arching her back and pushing her tits into is mouth.
“Shh, baby” he giggles, leaving her boobs and going back to her mouth, “fuck” he whispers against her lips, “gonna make me cum already”
She clenches around him, flattered that she could make him reach his high so quickly.
“Baby I need you to cum” he says, and he brings a hand down between them, drawing tight circles on her clit. He knows she’s close by the way her walls clench around him, but he needs her to come before him, so he brings his mouth back on her nipple, the left one this time, and bites on it gently.
With the stimulation on her clit and now on her nipple, YN knows it’s going to take her seconds to cum, and she brings a hand to clasp against her mouth when he gives a particularly harsh thrust that makes her come on the spot. She sees stars and all her body trembles as Harry keeps moving his hips with the pace that made her cum, never taking his hand off her clit.
He parts from her nipple and when he sees her face beginning to contort in discomfort, he pulls his cock put of her and with a few tugs he comes against her stomach, his sticky liquid coming in spurts out of his slit.
“Fuck” he groans, giving another few thrusts against his hand.
When he’s done, he falls on the bed next to her, lifting his arm so she can squeezing in against his side.
She rests her head on his chest, and she can hear his heart beating hard against his chest. She almost falls asleep right there, lulled by the sound of his heart beating loud for her, but: “thank you. I love you”, he whispers against her hair delivering a soft kiss against her hairline.
She chuckles against the skin of his chest, placing a kiss there “i love you too”.
…
“I got more of that cream yeh like… the one made with wine”
They’re both still in their towel, the bathroom foggy from the steam of the hot water.
“Harry!!! Thank you!” She exclaims, “you didn’t have to” she beams at him, tucking her bottom lip between her teeth as he shows the cream to her.
“I wanted to” he smiles, leaning down to kiss the side of her head.
This is what he has longed for all his life, always feeling like there was something missing from him. The comfortableness of sharing his routine with the person he loves the most.
They stand side by side in front of the sink, their naked shoulders touching, and YN massages the cream onto her skin while Harry brushes his teeth.
When he’s done, YN hands him the cream and “want?”
He nods, and, “you put it for me” he says, closing his eyes immediately and bringing his hand up to swat away a couple of curls from his forehead.
YN grins widely and she sprinkles a little bit of cream on the palm of her fingers. She rubs them together to warm the cream, and then she raises on her tips to massage it onto Harry’s face.
She’s delicate in doing so, rubbing his cheeks gently and then under his eyes, his nose and all the way down to his chin. He looks serious but relaxed at the same time, and YN rubs at his temples a little to ease what could be left of the tension he felt before.
He sighs dreamily and once she’s done, she rubs the remaining cream on his neck, and then she places a kiss on his lips, “all done”.
“Thank you baby” he smiles, leaning down to give her another kiss. And another. And another, until she’s giggling against his lips.
“Shh” he shushes her, placing another soft kiss against her lips.
“I’m so tired” YN says, knuckling at her eyes.
“Yeah… let’s go to bed, yeah?”
Once they reach his room, they both slip into their pajamas and hurry to get to bed, the tiredness of the day catching up to the both of them.
YN asks what side of the bed Harry sleeps on (the one near the door) and YN gets in beside him. She can smell the fabric softener of his cleaned sheets (that Harry had changed before they got in the shower), and she burrows herself more into the comforter, hiding her face under it.
“Where are yah!” He whispers, and when he hears her giggle, he raises the comforter over his head and joins her under the covers.
“Hi” he says once he’s face to face with her, the mint scent of his toothpaste tickling her nose. She looks extremely soft, her skin dewy from the cream and her eyes droopy with sleep.
“Hi” she repeats, moving closer to him. She rests her head on the palm of her hand, and she looks up at him dreamily. Harry feels a little claustrophobic from the lack of oxygen and the heaviness of the comforter over their heads, but he has to admit it’s comforting, being with her like this. Close.
“Thank you for giving me this” she whispers, shifting her gaze form one of his eyes to the other.
She hopes he understands what she means, because YN doesn’t mean the cream, the dinner, or the sex. She means a family. A routine. Something to look forward to at the end of the day when she feels exhausted. She knows now as long as she has Harry and Aidi she will never feel alone, and she will never have to question herself, how she did all those years ago in college when she would wonder what was wrong with her that made her so unlovable.
…
The next morning, Harry wakes up at around seven o’clock, too early for a Saturday morning, and he casts a glare towards YN that is sleeping soundly next to him.
When he realizes what time it is by looking at his phone, he understands something is missing. Aidi isn’t awake.
She usually wakes him up at around half past six by jumping on his bed, and then falls asleep almost immediately on his chest, clutching her stuffed bunny protectively to her side.
The possibility that she’s still asleep is very slim, and he decides to check on her, not without leaving a kiss on YN’s head before.
When he reaches Aidi’s room, he opens the door and frowns sadly at his daughter. She’s awake, lying on her bed still under the covers, talking quietly with her stuffed bunny.
“Hi bug” he whispers, “g’morning!”
“Hi” she says in a small voice, but she doesn’t raise her gaze to look at him. He knows she’s still upset.
“Why didn’t y’come wake me up?”
When she shrugs, he walks towards her bed, and with his hand he gestures for her to scooch over a little so he can lay down next to her.
He lays his head on her pillow and looks at her. She’s still sleepy, her eyes laced with sleep and her hair ruffled and curly. Her pajama top has shifted a little to expose the soft skin of her tummy, and Harry adjusts it to cover her.
“Cinna” Harry addresses her stuffed bunny once he realizes Aidi doesn’t want to talk to him yet, “why’s Aidi sad?”
Aidi pets the bunny’s ears and keeps her eyes forward, not looking at her dad.
“Is it because YN is here?” He asks gently, whispering as if it was a secret between them.
Aidi wraps her small fingers around the bunny’s neck and makes it nod its head. Harry smiles sadly at her, his chest aching at the sight of his daughter hurting, and him being the cause of that pain.
His sudden reaction is to just reassure her and he wonders if YN would understand if he told her to wait a little before coming over again, but then he remembers what she told him: that Aidi is smart and she will understand if he talks about his feelings. He figures it’s worth a try.
So, “Come here, bug” he says, stretching out his arm so she can rest her head on his chest.
It takes a while to convince her but after a little bit she shifts and places her cheek on his chest, holding her bunny tight under her chin.
“My baby” he coos, petting the hair out of her face, “just because YN is here it doesn’t mean we can’t do what we always do!”
He hears her sigh loudly through her nose and he understands she isn’t really convinced by his words.
“It doesn’t change the love I have for you” he says, but she’s little, and he tells her he loves her everyday, so it doesn’t do very much.
“YN is really nice” he tries, “and she’s my friend. She’s funny and she loves ice cream. And she gives great cuddles. Like… great. Way better than I do, because she’s warm and she smells nice, like candy”
He hears her giggle at his words, so he keeps going, “and she makes me really happy” he coos.
“How much?” Aidi asks, her voice muffled from the cheek she has smushed against his shirt.
“Ooooh, like how much happy we are when granny comes over”
Aidi hums and raises her head from his chest to look at her daddy. She looks a little less sad now, her lips open in a small smile.
“And she loooooves bunnies. She has like three stuffed bunnies,” he smiles, and Aidi looks down at the bunny clasped in her small hand.
“Really?”
“Yeah… she actually asked me if you and Cinna’d like to meet ‘em?”
She nods her head eagerly, “maybe we could invite them over next time?” She asks doubtfully, almost shy, and Harry beams with pride upon seeing her reaction.
“‘f course bug!” He exclaims excitedly, circling her back with his arms and squeezing her against his chest. He tickles her back and she giggles uncontrollably, her laugh muffled from his shirt, “daddy stooop! Please daddy!”
He joins in on her laugh and he stops tickling her, squeezing her hard against his chest one last time.
“Is miss YN still asleep?” Aidi asks.
“Dunno,” he says, “do yeh want t’check?”
When she nods her head, he sits up on her bed and takes her in his arms, propping her on his hip and picking up her stuffed bunny.
They make their way towards Harry’s bedroom, and when they open the door, YN is still sound asleep under the duvet.
“She’s sleepin’” he whispers, and smiles when Aidi clasps her hand on his mouth, shushing him.
“Do yeh want t’sleep a little mo’?”
“Like always?” She asks, looking at him with big eyes.
“Yeah”
Aidi nods her head and points toward the bed with the hand that’s holding the bunny, “in here”.
“Okay” he nods amused.
He lays her down on the bed next to YN, tucking her under the covers, and then he scooches in next to them, shutting the small light on his bedside table.
“Harry?” He’s almost half asleep when he hears her small voice, and he opens his eyes tiredly to look at her.
“Everything’s okay?” YN asks, her voice laced with a bit of worry, that he’s quick to reassure.
“Yes. She wanted to sleep a little bit more”
“Okay.” She nods happily.
“Go back to sleep, darlin’. Everything’s perfect” he reassures, stretching a hand to caress her face.
He smiles fondly when she turns her head to kiss the skin of his wrist and then he lulls her back to sleep like he did with his daughter, petting her hair soothingly.
YN falls asleep almost immediately, and Aidi, too, is sleeping peacefully between them.
Harry, despite the tiredness, stays awake a little longer to look at both of his girls trough the dark, sleeping next to him, his heart growing in his chest every second he spends looking at them, and he wonders what they’re dreaming about, these two girls that in different ways gave him a reason to love again.
In the morning, he’ll be the last one to wake up, alone in his bed, and he’ll hear the laughter coming from the kitchen along with the sweet scent of pancakes and bacon. He will let Aidi tell him all about how YN really gives the best cuddles and smells of candy, and he will kiss YN tenderly on the head. Aidi will ask YN when she can meet her bunnies while she bites down on her Nutella pancake, and YN will say whenever her and Cinnabunny are ready.
And Harry will finally feel at peace in his routine. No pieces missing.
omg bad habit 3 is finally here 😭 i missed writing for them so much, they're all so cuteeeee ugh lmk if you liked it and if i should write more blurbs about them!!! love you all so much
Summary: (this ask) i was wondering if you could write one where harry feels a bit neglected when reader has an important meeting coming up or something, so she's missing date nights and stuff, a little angst if you please.
Word count: 2k
Pairing: boyfriend!harry x reader
Warnings: angst, fluff, swearing
masterlist | ask box
Harry sat alone in your dimly lit apartment, a heavy sadness weighing on his heart. He had been feeling neglected lately, as your demanding job had taken precedence over your relationship. It seemed as though each passing day brought more missed date nights and canceled plans, leaving him with a growing sense of loneliness and insecurity.
Tonight was supposed to be your special date night, a chance for you both to reconnect and forget about the outside world for a while. But once again, you had been called away for an important meeting, leaving Harry to face the emptiness of their once vibrant love life. Tears welled up in his eyes as he stared at the untouched dinner on the table, a painful reminder of what could have been.
Feeling a deep ache in his chest, Harry couldn't help but wonder if he was no longer enough for you. Thoughts of inadequacy and doubt filled his mind, tormenting him with the fear that he was being replaced by your demanding career. The anguished silence of the apartment only amplified his sorrow, as every passing second felt like a confirmation of his deepest fears.
His mind drifted to the countless nights you both had spent together, laughing, talking, and sharing their dreams. How you would hold your hands in his and you both would just lie in your shared bed, relishing in the comfortable silence and presence of each other. You had built a life together in the two years you had been with each other, promising to always prioritize each other's happiness. But now, it seemed as though those promises had been forgotten, lost in the chaos of your professional success.
He didn’t oppose your work, it was one of the things he respected the most about you. But, lately, it was all you cared about. You were about to get a promising position as a promotion in your job, and you were working day and night to make sure you got it. He supported you in that too. He started to stay home longer to take care of your dog, oreo. He even prepared meals for you throughout the day, making sure you got the proper nutrition for working so hard. He sent you multiple texts, checking in on you throughout the day.
But, completely prioritising your work might not have been the best idea. You had not been able to spend any time with your boyfriend, let alone sit and relax with him, in quite a while. It wasn’t your intention, but it had all gone south and you had to give all your time to your job. It was like Harry was the only one in the relationship now, and he felt like a one-sided lover.
The weight of his sadness grew unbearable, he questioned whether you still loved him or not. The ache in his heart was not just from the missed date nights, but from the sense of abandonment that had settled in your once warm and loving home, that shone with your love that lit it up.
Harry longed for the days when your presence brought him comfort and joy. He yearned for the laughter and the stolen moments of affection that had once defined their relationship. Now, all he felt was the sting of neglect and the bitter taste of unfulfilled promises.
He yearned for your presence, your touch, even a proper look at your pretty face.
As the night grew darker, Harry couldn't help but cry out silently, his tears blending with the shadows that engulfed him. He wanted nothing more than to be seen and cherished by you, to be loved by you, to feel the warmth of your love once again.
In the depths of his broken heart, Harry hoped that you would realize the pain you were causing and make a change. He yearned for the day when they could rediscover the love that had brought them together, and finally mend the broken pieces of your neglected relationship
Harry felt you slipping away, and he didn’t really know how to catch you.
With hot tears streaming down his face, he took off the jacket of the tuix he had worn for tonight. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out the tiny box that held all of his feelings for you. Opening it, he revealed the shiny diamond ring that he had bought two months ago, before your relationship fell into a messy blunder.
A tear fell into the soft foam beneath the ring and he tried to wipe it off aggressively. He wanted to keep it safe and shiny and pretty, so he could give it to you when the time was right, and ask you to marry him. Now, he wasn’t even sure if you wanted that.
If he wanted that.
. . .
You came home quite late, and it was around 2 am on the clock. With a tote bag stuffed with bottles of alcohol and a smile that wouldn’t go away.
You had gotten the promotion.
“Harry?” you called around the house, as soon as you entered.
You reached the kitchen, where you found the table arranged, with plates and wine glasses.
Fuck.
You and Harry had a date.
How could you forget? You both had been planning this for so long, finally being able to make a plan and spend the night together. He had even gone shopping over the weekend to make you your favorite pasta, even though it was his holiday after a whole week of work.
How could you forget?
You reached the table and put the alcohol aside, looking at the casserole full of food.
He hadn’t eaten.
You felt heartbroken, all the happiness and glory you were carrying for the past few hours, fading away into a dull ache in your heart. He had put so much effort into making this night special and perfect. He bought the red wine you loved, made dinner for you, set up plates and was probably waiting for you for hours.
And you couldn’t even be bothered to text him.
A tear escaped your eyes, and you started to search for Harry throughout the house.
Entering the bedroom, you saw him there, sitting at the foot of the bed. He was wearing a suit.
A damn suit.
He had put so much effort, and all you had done was get drunk over a stupid promotion. You had completely ignored him, just caring about your job and the money you were going to get. All the while he cared about your relationship.
You did not deserve him.
You walked over to him, taking a look at his face. His cheeks were tear-stained, and he looked so broken and sad. In pain. That you had caused him.
He was crying, and had probably passed out on the floor, waiting for you.
Sitting down beside him, you pulled his hand into yours. You were drunk and sad, and he was asleep. You just decided to talk to him like that, so he wouldn't have to see your awful face.
"I'm so sorry, Harry. I’m so so sorry. And not just today. Everything. For every bit of pain that I have caused you, for every tear that rolled down your cheek because of me. I ignored you. I neglected you. I ignored our beautiful relationship. I ruined it."
Proper tears were flowing down your eyes now, clouding your vision enough to not realize that he had woken up and opened his eyes.
"I had it. I had you. I had fucking everything in my hands. And I ruined it. I just-I just can't keep good things when they come to me, can i? I just always have to go ahead and fuck everything up. Throw everything out for just a bunch of money? God, how pathetic is that? And you know-I wasn’t just doing it to earn some extra money. I did it because-because my working hours would be reduced and-and I would have to work less. Less work. More you. More Harry." you giggled at your sappiness, before continuing, "And I'm sorry, Harry. So fucking much. I really am. for ruining our relationship. For making you cry. For all the perfect efforts you did for us, and I-I just let it go down the drain. I'm so so sorry."
"And you know, I understand. I understand that you are angry with me, and don't ever want to talk to me ever again. For how bad i fucked up. And I" a few fresh tears flew down as you prepared yourself to say ``I-I would I would get it if you want to break up. Even I wouldn't want to be in a relationship with me."
"Hey! How could you say that!" you flinched, his raspy voice making you shiver.
"What-I thought you-you were asleep."
"I was. And thank god I woke up, because the one time you properly talk to me, is when you are drunk and I'm passed out."
You weren't sure if it was a joke, but it made your heart break even more.
"I'm really sorry…" you started to sob, and he quickly pulled you into his arms.
"Shh. Don't apologize. You've apologized enough. I get it. I really do. When I neglected our relationship-when I was releasing my new album or going on tour, you stayed strong throughout. You never made me feel like I was ruining our relationship. you helped and supported me, when I needed it the most. I wanted to do the same too, but I just-just kinda broke down today. It just all came crashing down on me."
Your face formed a pout, and he kissed you sweetly on your lips.
"It's alright. I understand. Don't think too much about all that stuff you just said. I mean-I was a bit sad, because I thought that I wasn't your priority anymore. I thought you loved your work more than me. And I do too, you know, sometimes. And I'm sorry if I made you feel like you aren't enough."
"So you won't break up with me?" you asked, another quiet sob escaping your lips.
"No, silly. Why would I break up with you? I want to support you even more now. Throughout your work till you get the promotion, I will be by your side. I won't let you feel less again. Ever."
You sat up straighter, wanting to give him the good news.
"About that. I-I uh, I got the-the promotion."
His face softened, and he looked so fucking happy.
"WHAT!?" He exclaimed, and pulled you in for a tight hug, that knocked out the breath from your lungs.
"Yeah. I got the promotion today. My project was finally approved and my interview was last week and I cleared it."
He was smiling so big, and there were tears flowing down his cheeks.
Not sad tears, happy ones.
Because of you.
"My sweet girl. I love you so much. And I'm so so proud of you. Gonna love on you so much tonight."
You smiled at his happiness, finally feeling the ache in your chest go away, into loads of butterflies from the way he was looking at you.
He held you tightly in his arms, his chest now swollen with pride for you. How much you have achieved. How much you worked hard, all the rough times you had to go through, but it was all worth it in the end.
After a few moments of holding each other, your stomach grumbled.
"You hungry?" he asked, swiping his thumb across the apple of your cheek.
"Yeah. You made pasta?"
"Mhm, your favorite. You are gonna love it."
"I know. I always do. And I love you, Harry."
"I love you too, sweet girl. Now go and clean yourself up. I'll put the food in the microwave and heat it. Hurry, I have lots of things I want to do tonight." he said, his left hand swiping across the ring box in his pocket.
what it is: YN is Harry’s personal assistant and she gets sick, but he’s playing Wembley
word count: 4k
The air is crisp and clean as YN steps out of her hotel into the streets of London, hurrying down the sidewalk as she scurries to the first pharmacy she can find.
It’s 7.54 in the morning and she’s been awake for almost twenty-four hours. Not on purpose, obviously. And not on her boss’s orders either, despite having there been nights the team deemed important and she was required to pull an all nighter, but those were usually times of celebrations, either spent at an afterparty or waiting until midnight for Spotify to release the album everyone had been working hard on.
The air hurts her lungs as she stops to catch her breathing, the pounding behind her temples not dimming the slightest as she trespasses the sliding doors of the pharmacy, only intensifying with the bright artificial lights shining down on her from the ceiling.
She pulls her sunglasses out of the pocket of her sweatshirt and slides them over her eyes, relishing in the temporary relief washing over her sensitive eyes.
Her phone vibrates in her pocket and she pulls it out, grimacing at the name on the screen; it’s her boss, Harry, asking her what time she’s ready to leave for the venue.
Once her turn comes, she quickly explains her symptoms to the pharmacist and just as quickly she pays for the medicine the pharmacist has taken out for her.
She walks out of the pharmacy and types back a short response to Harry, telling him she’s on her way to his room.
She hopes the medicine she has stuffed in her pocket will make her feel better, and she thinks as she’s making her way back to the hotel that she’ll ask Harry to stop along the way to grab a coffee, hoping it will soothe the tension behind her temples. There’s no way she can be sick when her boss is playing at Wembley for the first time.
…
Harry isn’t one to comment on other people’s appearances, his mum taught him that and it has stuck with him since he was a little kid, a sort of an unspoken rule out of kindness, and therefore he’s never asked if someone was sick because they weren’t wearing makeup or if someone had eaten a little more over the holidays. He never considered other people’s looks something that concerned his range of business, but once he sees YN, he can’t help but wonder if she’s okay.
Her hair is tied in a messy braid, and there’s some strands falling out of it and in front of her eyes. She’s wearing a big love on tour sweatshirt and a pair of yoga pants, but that isn’t particularly concerning, because he’s used to her comfy articles of clothing.
What’s concerning is her face… and Harry already feels bad for thinking that, but she doesn’t look like herself. And Harry would know. Of course he would know, because he spends a lot of time looking at her face, especially when she’s not looking, most of the times when she’s reading a book next to him in a moment of rest or when she’s answering emails on Monday mornings. So… he knows her. He knows her skin looks paler than normal, and the circles under her eyes aren’t the same as that one time they partied all night after Harry won album of the year at the Grammys.
He wants to ask if she’s okay, because after a year of working together they have that kind of confidence, but he doesn’t want that to be the first thing he says to her, so he just smiles at her and welcomes her with a side hug and a good morning.
“Hi” she’s quick to greet back, and Harry notices even her voice sounds scruffier than usual.
“Are you ready to go?” She asks a second later.
“Yeah, yeah, the car’s down already?” He asks surprised. Sometimes it takes a while before the drivers find the hotel, and YN and Harry spend that time watching videos on youtube or talking about the day’s schedule.
YN shrugs but doesn’t say anything in response, which is weird to Harry because she’s usually really bright and energetic in the morning, and she’s really meticulous on top of everything: she never lets him wait without finding something to pass the time first.
“Let’s just stay until we don’t know for certain” he suggests.
She agrees with a nod of her head and she heads to his bed, sitting down on the end of it. It’s not uncommon for her, because she’s always in his space, and there have been times where they were forced to basically sleep in the same bed (one time YN fell asleep on his bed, and Harry was so in his song-writing-bubble he didn’t even realize until he was so tired he couldn’t keep his eyes open, so he slipped in next to her and literally passed out).
He still needs to tie his shoes, so he sits next to her and ties the laces of his ratted vans.
“How’d yeh sleep, pet?” He asks, because she’s freakishly quiet and it’s making him anxious. She’s never quiet, and with this being a stressful day already for Harry, every little thing that’s different from normal alerts him.
“Fine” she whispers, knuckling at her eyes, his question bringing back the awful memory of the night she spent tossing and turning in the scratchy hotel sheets, praying for a moment of solace every time she tried to breathe through her nose and failing.
“Me too…” he nods.
YN feels bad because she should be more engaging, but she really doesn’t have it in her to make small talk.
Some time passes before the driver calls YN’s phone to tell her the van is here, shaking her awake. She remembers closing her eyes to rest them, and next thing she knows she’s sound asleep on her boss’s bed. She’d be a bit embarrassed if it wasn’t for how awful she feels already.
“Crap! I fell asleep!” She exclaims once she hangs up the call.
“Yeah” Harry says from next to her, still laying on his bed, “just fo’ like… fifteen minutes though” He’s playing on his phone, and YN pushes at his bicep, “we need to go, driver’s here”
She gets up from the bed and slips on her shoes, grabbing her work bag (it’s really a tote bag but she finds calling it work bag makes her waaaay more professional) from the floor next to the door.
“YN” she hears Harry clear his voice, and she turns around to look at him.
He’s still sitting on the bed, and he passes a hand through his hair before saying, “are yeh all right?”
She closes her eyes in a furrow and tries not to wince when a sharp pain shoots behind her eyes with the movement, “yes, yes” she stresses, although not convinced.
“Are you sure? C’mon yeh can tell me!”
“I’m fine, Harry” and despite her words, she sniffles, “maybe I have a cold or something…”
“You can take the day off if you need to, yeh know that”
“No, there’s no way” she shakes her head swiftly, “no”.
“YN…” he trails off.
“Harry, I told you I’m fine. I can work! Let’s just go, okay?”
He sighs but does as she says, following her out of his room.
Harry isn’t a worrier. If someone from his team, or band whatsoever, says they can work, he at least presumes they’re mature enough to know the expanse of their limits.
With YN, it’s different. He worries.
Not because he considers her immature, but she’s just… different. Ever since she started working for him as his assistant, he’s always looked out for her, despite being the one that didn’t want to hire her in the first place.
She’s young, she works a lot to prove herself to him, despite him telling her lots of times she doesn’t need to prove anything and she’s doing a great job as she is.
She does unthinkable working hours, sometimes pulling all nighters, other times hurrying to his house in the middle of the night because he’s a little bit of a hypochondriac and she needs to check immediately what’s that new mole he has on his back (turns out it was a speck of dark chocolate that stuck onto his skin).
She’s soft and she always puts her job (him, actually) first, so he doesn’t really trust her to know her limits. If she’s sick she should rest. She should lay in bed and maybe eat a little soup and watch comfort movies tucked under the sheets, but he knows she won’t. And he knows he’s the reason behind that, because he’s playing at Wembley tonight, and she doesn’t want to cause trouble. Harry thinks she in no way could ever be described as trouble.
And maybe, and he feels a little bit scared to admit this, he could postpone the show just by a couple hours, at least until he knows she’s resting at the hotel. but, she hurries into the van and pretends like she’s just got “a cold or something”, so Harry doesn’t question her further.
He could just order her to take the day off, but he knows that would hurt her feelings, and he can imagine the look on her face, like a puppy being scolded, so he bites his tongue: there’s no way he could ever hurt her feelings.
…
YN has to stop a couple of times when she starts feeling dizzy on her feet. She shouldn’t run this much when she’s probably feverish, but there’s so much to do! She doesn’t trust to delegate, and not because she’s pretentious, but because she’s a control freak that needs to know how things are being handled, so she would only get much more frustrated and it would eventually just end up in her doing all the work anyway, increasing her fever undoubtedly.
So, she chugs downs a lot of water and a lot of ibuprofen, taking deep breaths every time she starts feeling nauseous. She should probably inform Harry at least that she doesn’t feel good, so if anything were to happen he wouldn’t be too surprised, but she knows how he is; he would demand she stop immediately and go back to the hotel to rest, and she can’t allow that to happen.
Wembley is the dream of a lifetime, and Harry sound checks every song two times before passing on to the next one. YN sits quietly in one of the seats, preparing Harry’s next instagram post on her phone. She handles all of his socials, because that’s what she was originally hired for. “A young set of eyes”, Jeff had defined her, and from then, her life had changed completely.
Of course, she wasn’t aware she’d develop a crush on her boss at the time she was hired. She figured she’d be immune to his charm; she’s younger than him, much less experienced (in every aspect of her life), and hasn’t really seen anything yet, so she thought they’d just be too different to get along. Spending each second of the day together didn’t help, though, because it was then she got to know Harry for who he truly was, and with that, came the awareness of how many things he’d lived through and how many things he could teach her. How soft he was with her, how he would always drape a blanket over her when she accidentally fell asleep on his bed, and how he would tell her she looked pretty even after pulling an all nighter and probably looking like a raccoon. That’s just how he was.
And that’s why she values his dreams more than her health. She would never do anything that could harm him, so she shrugs off the dreadful feeling off her back and keeps working.
…
“Hey” Harry plops down on the couch next to her, draping his arm on the backrest of the couch. If he’d stretched his fingers he could touch her shoulder, but he doesn’t just yet. He knows she still doesn’t feel good, he can see it in the way she’s hugging herself in the Love on tour hoodie she has on (probably one of his because their laundry always gets mixed up).
“Hi” she says softly, her voice much lower than it’d been the last time he saw her.
It’s closer to show time now, but he’s still not in his outfit. YN wonders if that’s the reason why he came in the dressing room in the first place.
“What are yeh doin’ hidin’ in here all alone?”
“‘m not hiding!” She pouts, “jus’… resting”
“Mh, yeah?” He hums, turning his head to look at her, “restin’ your ears? Are you tired of my music yet?” He jokes.
“Never!” She beams, swatting at his chest playfully.
He lets his arm fall down on her shoulder, and he tugs at her, squeezing her against his chest.
She breaths him in, and despite her stuffy nose, she can smell the faint scent of his fabric softener. Musk and lavender. It’s the same as hers.
“I’m sorry I’ve been a bit of a pain lately…” he trails off, his mouth buried in her hair, “nothing to do with you… was jus’ nervous is all”
She squeezes his hoodie between her fingers to tug him closer, “I’m really proud of you. You’ll do great.”
“Thanks, pet” he grins, breaking away from the hug.
She sniffles and he looks between her eyes warily, “’s there anything you want to tell me before I go on stage?”
“Jus’ to kick ass” she giggles, aware that wasn’t what he was alluding at.
“Mmmh” he muses, getting up from the couch. He knew she’d be stubborn about this so he doesn’t pressure her.
“Hav’to start gettin’ ready” he clears his throat, heading towards the portable hanger YN set up in his dressing room.
He then proceeds to take off his hoodie and his tank top, leaving him shirtless before her.
She’s seen him in his underwear many times, but maybe it’s the fever, maybe it’s the crush on him that’s growing stronger everyday, but she feels her insides get warm at the sight.
He tugs his sweats down his legs too, kicking them off his feet, and YN pretends to pick up her phone to respond to a message that definitely could have waited.
He picks up the heart printed overalls he’d be wearing and tugs them over his legs, jumping a little in his place so they could fit over his bum.
Once he’s fully dressed, he looks over at YN and finds her looking at him already, her eyes a little droopy. He feels his heart tug in his chest at the sight. He wishes she’d let him help her. If he could he’d send her back to the hotel straight away, but he has to admit he’s selfishly relishing in the idea of having her here, looking at him perform. It makes him want to do even better than he always does.
“All ready then” he smiles, dimples denting both his cheeks.
“Mmhh” she hums, getting up on her feet. She walks towards him and adjusts the neck of his shirt, petting it down.
“Good luck Harry” she smiles. He has to refrain himself from lowering his head down to kiss her, and he’s aware these thoughts are way too unprofessional of him, but he can’t help himself. Not when she’s looking at him like that.
“See ya after the show, pet”
…
“Harry!” Jeff pats down on his shoulders as soon as Harry runs backstage, “you just smashed it! Fuckin’ smashed it mate!”
Harry laughs with him out of politeness, but his mind is really on something else.
“Fuckin’ Wembley, Harry! Wembley’s Harry’s house!” Someone else shouts, and he thinks it’s Lloyd but he doesn’t really pay much attention to him. There’s someone missing from the crowd. YN. She’s nowhere to be found, and he’d really like to celebrate with her. She’s the one that should join in on the fun and get a little bit of praise too, because without her, harry doesn’t think he could’ve played Wembley.
Everything was going fine, and he saw her next to his mother standing in the private part of the pit, but then, when he came back after chatting with a couple of fans, she was gone. He wonders if she’s okay.
“Hey, Jeff” he clears his throat, hoping to be discreet with his tone of voice, “where’s YN?”
“Oh…” he nods, “she wasn’t feeling proper good, so I sent her to your dressing room. I told her to get back to the hotel, but she refused to leave”
Harry nods and after a ‘thanks’ he hurries towards his dressing room, hoping to find her there.
Once he opens the door, the sight of YN sleeping on the couch crouched on herself makes his heart somersault in his chest.
“Hey, pet” he coos softly once he crouches down next to her.
He repeats the endearing greeting, and this time she stirs awake. YN brings one hand to knuckle at her eyes tiredly, and Harry frowns at the sight of her bloodshot eyes. He brings one hand to caress her cheek, but when he realizes how warm she is, he brings it up to her forehead. She’s burning hot.
He immediately feels guilty. He should’ve sent her back to the hotel as soon as he realized she was sick, hell, he shouldn’t have let her leave his room that morning!
“Harry?” She asks timidly, her voice coming out scruffy. She gulps but flinches as the hurt in her throat doesn’t subside.
“Yeah, ’s me” he whispers, moving the hair away from her face, “let’s go back to the hotel, okay?”
“No Harry! The show! You can’t leave… the show! It’s wembley” she stresses, gripping his bicep tightly to refrain him from leaving her.
“Shh, shh” he shushes her, “calm down. ’s okay. The show was great. Everything was great” he coos, pressing his lips down her forehead and flinching from how hot it feels, “you did so great”.
She sniffles and: “great?”
“Yeah” he nods, reassuring her, “let’s go now, okay?”
He helps her get up on her feet, and she stumbles a bit in her place. She grips the fabric of his overalls tightly between her fingers, and he lets her, hoping to be at least a little bit of comfort.
…
“How are you feelin’? What hurts?” He asks her once they reach his hotel room (he wanted to go back to hers, but couldn’t find her key and didn’t want to startle her too much).
“Everything” she pouts.
“I’m so sorry, darling” he sighs, ushering her inside his room.
She’s stable on her feet now, the little nap at the venue kind of helped a bit in soothing her, but still, everything hurts, and the thought of being in a hotel room and not at her own house bothers her.
She also doesn’t want Harry to look at her like this, all sweaty and red in the cheeks. She must look so embarrassing!
“I’ll draw you a bath, how about that?” He proposes, not waiting for her response and heading directly towards the bathroom.
Now that he thinks about it, harry’s glad she’s in his room, because (being the Harry Styles) his room has a bathtub, whereas hers doesn’t. He also has lots of salt baths and bubbles to add to the water, courtesy of the hotel, and he adds everything he can to soothe her stuffed nose and make the bath as pleasing as possible.
She knocks on the door delicately, and he turns his head to look at her.
“Bath’s ready” he smiles gently, and he dips his index finger to test the temperature of the water, careful not to make it too hot to not aggravate her fever any more.
Harry excuses himself from the bathroom, and tells her to give him a shout if she needs anything.
It’s a couple of minutes later when he hears her calling for him, her voice still lower than normal.
He knocks on the door and after he gets her consent he opens it, peeking his head inside. She’s laying in the bathtub, the water submerging her almost to her neck, and he’s aware she’s naked under, but the bubbles cover her body entirely.
“Are yeh all right?” He asks worriedly.
“Mhmh,” she hums, “jus… keep me company?”
He’s happy she’s more responsive now, and he happily sits at her side, plopping down on the toilet seat next to the tub.
They sit in silence for a while, Harry’s aware he’s still in his fancy (and uncomfortable) show clothes, but he doesn’t care. He’s just happy to dote on her now as she’s been doing with him since she’s been hired.
“I can’t believe you played at wembley and I missed half of it” she says after a while, the water sloshing around her as she turns to look at him.
“There’s always next time” he grins at her playfully.
She throws a smile at him, “bet”.
His mouth opens in a sideway smile, his dimple indenting only one of his cheeks, and more seriously than he did before, he says “I wish you’d told me you weren’t feelin’ good”
“Didn’t want to spoil your day” she shrugs.
He wants to tell her she wouldn’t have spoiled it, that if she’d asked he would’ve postponed his show and crawled in bed with her, cuddling her until she felt better, even with the risk of getting himself sick too, he didn’t care. He would have done anything to make her feel good; but how can he tell her? How can he be honest about something like that without revealing another part of himself to her? He’s her boss. He’s older than her. And he doesn’t know if she feels the same way.
So, instead of making a complete fool out of himself, he ushers her out of the tub, passing her a towel without looking at her. He engulfs her in the bathrobe and ties it tight on her stomach, careful to have her bits covered completely by the fabric of the towel.
When he reaches his room, he takes out a t-shirt and a pair of boxers for her to sleep in, and he leave her to change in the bathroom.
While he waits for her to come out, he texts his mum if she could make that delicious soup she always prepared when he was sick, promising he wasn’t sick himself and that he’d explain in the morning. His mum answers a couple of minutes later with a thumbs up and a kissy face.
He locks his phone and plugs it in the charger next to the bed, leaving it on the bedside table.
When YN comes out of the bathroom, she looks better already. Her cheeks aren’t as red and her eyes appear to be more rested, but, she still looks tired, and he smiles at her as he tugs the comforter down for her to slip in.
She curls up under the covers and waits for Harry to tuck her in, “comfortable?” He asks.
She nods with her cheek against the pillow, “just wish I was home” she whispers and the affirmation pains him.
“I’ve been overworking yah, haven’t I?” He sighs deeply, feeling extremely guilty.
She’s quick to shake her head no, flinching when a sting of pain hits her temples with the movement.
“Yes I have… you’ve been s’good” he smiles down at her.
“You’re a Wembley player now” she whispers, her eyes closing on her as she speaks, and Harry chuckles endeared at her.
“Get some rest” he coos, but she’s already fallen in a deep sleep that will probably be tainted with a curly headed guy with green eyes and a pretty smile.
He fishes from inside her bag a tab of ibuprofen and, with a glass of water, he places them on the bedside table closer to her side, so, if she’d ever were to wake up in pain, she could take the medicine immediately.
He takes the shortest shower he’s ever taken, quickly putting on his pajamas and brushing his teeth. Once he’s ready for bed, he slips in next to her, leaning down to press his lips on her forehead to check her temperature. She’s still warm, but the bath seemed to be of help, and probably the much needed sleep, too.
He thinks he’ll give her the rest of the month off. He owes it to her, so she can get back up on her feet and spend some time at home if she’d like. He takes a minute to wonder why hasn’t he ever given her more than a day of rest, and he doesn’t have to wonder too much, because he knows the answer already, one that is overbearing and too deep to even analyze after the day he’s had: he doesn’t want to be away from her that much time. It’s as simple as that. He’s fucked.
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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.
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.
summary : you and THE harry styles had a one night stand.. the night was a blur so the morning you wake up you’re quite surprised.
warnings : mentions of sex, swearing, fluff?? pls let me know if there was anything else!!
*HEY GUYS!!! first of all I want to thank you for everything on my first ever writing post, i know it’s not the best thing you’ve ever read, it’s definitely not the best thing I’ve written but I didn’t expect that much love. I’m so sorry for just disappearing, life has been very busy but I will get back to things soon! p.s this is how y/n will be in most of my writings, not shy, very outgoing and sarcastic!!!*
Last night was very much a blur.
The only thing you remember was drinking at a random club in the Hollywood Hills, then stumbling into a SUV before everything else was just a blackout.
Waking up to the sun beaming onto your face, your eyes flutter open, hand coming up to block the bright light from your eyes. Although everything seems quite normal, you feel a heavy thing over your torso and a soft aroma of a Tom Ford cologne, pushing yourself up quickly you scan the room, confused on how you might of ended up here.
Well, you already know because the most logical reason would be that you wanted to get someone’s dick wet. You look down to see if the man you pleasured was good looking at-least and-
“Holy fuck.” Your eyes widen, your heart beating out of your chest as you freeze. Harry fucking Styles is sleeping right beside you, curls sticking up left and right, you realise his face was buried into your stomach because of the red mark on it.
You also realise you both were naked, quickly scrambling out of the bed- or wait, his bed. You grab your panties from the floor pulling them up, panic mode absolutely activated.
You hear him moving on the bed, sheets rustling as he sits up, glancing to him he’s stretching his arms above his head, turning his head to you and you notice the panic now evident on his face.
“Hey.. uhh, are you okay? Did I scare you or something, I promise I didn’t kidnap you.” He watches you as you put on your bra, grabbing your shirt and jeans to put on.
“I didn’t realise I literally just fucked Harry Styles, sorry.” Looking into the full-size mirror he has next to the bed you fix your hair up, not noticing how he’s got out of his bed and put his boxers back on, you also didn’t notice how he winced from what you said, he didn’t like when he was labeled as just a famous celebrity a random girl had fucked after having the best sex he’s ever had.
“Hey, chill out. Calm down I’m not gonna like bite you or anything. Unless..” he walks up behind you, looking at you through the mirror.
“Harry, this isn’t funny. 15 year old me would be absolute screaming right now that I actually finally fucked Harry Styles.” Your face blooms in redness at the confession, you see him raise his eyebrows in the mirror, smiling.
“‘S really cute y’know, your dream coming true. You don’t have to go right now.” His hands find their way to your hips, pulling you back into his chest as you keep your eyes on yourself in the mirror, clipping your earrings back into your ears.
You practically lose your breath as his hands caress your hips, all you want to do is pounce onto him and fuck him yet again. But you can’t, you always tended to have attachment issues and having them with Harry Styles was not the way to go.
You had to continue on with life and hide the fact that you hooked up with Harry in the back of your head.
“I have to go, Harry. I have a home and a life, maybe we can hook up some other time in like 3005 or something!” You muster up a smile for him, turning to look up at him, his eyes shine a beautiful emerald green, a dimple pokes out of his cheek, his lips a beautiful shade of pink.
Oh you wanted him so bad again, you knew Harry, from his music of course but you didn’t know or let’s say like him enough to be a fan, that’s for sure. He tugs on your hips again, your hands coming to his waist to brace yourself.
You did wonder if this is what the routine was with all his hookups, fuck them till he was satisfied? Part of you also didn’t think so as he was such a gentleman.
“Come on, darling. Jus’ a little bit longer? I promise, this is not what happens wit’ all the girls I have seen.” The pet name makes you all giddy, your hand coming up to comb through his chocolate curls.
“Are you just trying to make me feel bad for you so then I can follow your music and promote it and whatever?” You ask, eyebrow raising. You see he’s taken aback by that, his eyebrows creasing.
“No, no! Y/N im so sorry if it looks that way, oh my god. I promise that’s not- that’s definitely not what I’m trying to do.” You giggle at his panic, a little surprised that he remembered your name.
“I’m just kidding.” You smile as he pushes his bottom lip out in a soft pout, without thinking you push up onto your tippy toes, pressing your lips against his soft ones, he kisses you back almost instantly, innocently pecking your lips a few times before he slips his tongue into your mouth.
Harry then lifts you up, your legs wrapping around his waist as he moves back to the bed, mumbling something softly against your lips.
“Maybe you could give me your number or something if I prove to you that the night was really worth it.” He pulls away, a smirk on his lips, you laugh, biting your bottom lip softly.
“Yeah, yeah. Dream on Watermelon Sugar singer.”
You see a spark in his eyes and as he leans back in to kiss you again your vision goes black.
You feel heat on your body and your eyes snap open, the sun beaming on you, yet again. You look around the room, sitting up, you’re in your own room. You look beside you, a messy empty spot beside you.
Your head then whips to someone walking into the bedroom, it was your fiancée, a bright smile planted on his face seeing you’re finally awake.
“You were having a good dream so I didn’t want to wake you, sounded like you were having fun.” He wiggles his eyebrows, coming to move onto the bed, pulling you into his chest.
“Yeah, it was about the first time i met you.” You plant a kiss onto his bare chest, arms wrapping around his waist.
“Ohh, s’right when I was Watermelon Sugar boy.” He smiles, kissing the top of your head. “Lucky you finally gave into giving me your number, hey? Now getting married to my one night stand in two weeks.”
“You’re still a loser, Harry. And no I’m still not following your Spotify even when we’re married.” You mumble against him.
summary : you and THE harry styles had a one night stand.. the night was a blur so the morning you wake up you’re quite surprised.
warnings : mentions of sex, swearing, fluff?? pls let me know if there was anything else!!
*HEY GUYS!!! first of all I want to thank you for everything on my first ever writing post, i know it’s not the best thing you’ve ever read, it’s definitely not the best thing I’ve written but I didn’t expect that much love. I’m so sorry for just disappearing, life has been very busy but I will get back to things soon! p.s this is how y/n will be in most of my writings, not shy, very outgoing and sarcastic!!!*
Last night was very much a blur.
The only thing you remember was drinking at a random club in the Hollywood Hills, then stumbling into a SUV before everything else was just a blackout.
Waking up to the sun beaming onto your face, your eyes flutter open, hand coming up to block the bright light from your eyes. Although everything seems quite normal, you feel a heavy thing over your torso and a soft aroma of a Tom Ford cologne, pushing yourself up quickly you scan the room, confused on how you might of ended up here.
Well, you already know because the most logical reason would be that you wanted to get someone’s dick wet. You look down to see if the man you pleasured was good looking at-least and-
“Holy fuck.” Your eyes widen, your heart beating out of your chest as you freeze. Harry fucking Styles is sleeping right beside you, curls sticking up left and right, you realise his face was buried into your stomach because of the red mark on it.
You also realise you both were naked, quickly scrambling out of the bed- or wait, his bed. You grab your panties from the floor pulling them up, panic mode absolutely activated.
You hear him moving on the bed, sheets rustling as he sits up, glancing to him he’s stretching his arms above his head, turning his head to you and you notice the panic now evident on his face.
“Hey.. uhh, are you okay? Did I scare you or something, I promise I didn’t kidnap you.” He watches you as you put on your bra, grabbing your shirt and jeans to put on.
“I didn’t realise I literally just fucked Harry Styles, sorry.” Looking into the full-size mirror he has next to the bed you fix your hair up, not noticing how he’s got out of his bed and put his boxers back on, you also didn’t notice how he winced from what you said, he didn’t like when he was labeled as just a famous celebrity a random girl had fucked after having the best sex he’s ever had.
“Hey, chill out. Calm down I’m not gonna like bite you or anything. Unless..” he walks up behind you, looking at you through the mirror.
“Harry, this isn’t funny. 15 year old me would be absolute screaming right now that I actually finally fucked Harry Styles.” Your face blooms in redness at the confession, you see him raise his eyebrows in the mirror, smiling.
“‘S really cute y’know, your dream coming true. You don’t have to go right now.” His hands find their way to your hips, pulling you back into his chest as you keep your eyes on yourself in the mirror, clipping your earrings back into your ears.
You practically lose your breath as his hands caress your hips, all you want to do is pounce onto him and fuck him yet again. But you can’t, you always tended to have attachment issues and having them with Harry Styles was not the way to go.
You had to continue on with life and hide the fact that you hooked up with Harry in the back of your head.
“I have to go, Harry. I have a home and a life, maybe we can hook up some other time in like 3005 or something!” You muster up a smile for him, turning to look up at him, his eyes shine a beautiful emerald green, a dimple pokes out of his cheek, his lips a beautiful shade of pink.
Oh you wanted him so bad again, you knew Harry, from his music of course but you didn’t know or let’s say like him enough to be a fan, that’s for sure. He tugs on your hips again, your hands coming to his waist to brace yourself.
You did wonder if this is what the routine was with all his hookups, fuck them till he was satisfied? Part of you also didn’t think so as he was such a gentleman.
“Come on, darling. Jus’ a little bit longer? I promise, this is not what happens wit’ all the girls I have seen.” The pet name makes you all giddy, your hand coming up to comb through his chocolate curls.
“Are you just trying to make me feel bad for you so then I can follow your music and promote it and whatever?” You ask, eyebrow raising. You see he’s taken aback by that, his eyebrows creasing.
“No, no! Y/N im so sorry if it looks that way, oh my god. I promise that’s not- that’s definitely not what I’m trying to do.” You giggle at his panic, a little surprised that he remembered your name.
“I’m just kidding.” You smile as he pushes his bottom lip out in a soft pout, without thinking you push up onto your tippy toes, pressing your lips against his soft ones, he kisses you back almost instantly, innocently pecking your lips a few times before he slips his tongue into your mouth.
Harry then lifts you up, your legs wrapping around his waist as he moves back to the bed, mumbling something softly against your lips.
“Maybe you could give me your number or something if I prove to you that the night was really worth it.” He pulls away, a smirk on his lips, you laugh, biting your bottom lip softly.
“Yeah, yeah. Dream on Watermelon Sugar singer.”
You see a spark in his eyes and as he leans back in to kiss you again your vision goes black.
You feel heat on your body and your eyes snap open, the sun beaming on you, yet again. You look around the room, sitting up, you’re in your own room. You look beside you, a messy empty spot beside you.
Your head then whips to someone walking into the bedroom, it was your fiancée, a bright smile planted on his face seeing you’re finally awake.
“You were having a good dream so I didn’t want to wake you, sounded like you were having fun.” He wiggles his eyebrows, coming to move onto the bed, pulling you into his chest.
“Yeah, it was about the first time i met you.” You plant a kiss onto his bare chest, arms wrapping around his waist.
“Ohh, s’right when I was Watermelon Sugar boy.” He smiles, kissing the top of your head. “Lucky you finally gave into giving me your number and accepted me into your life, hey? Now m’getting married to my one night stand in two weeks.”
“You’re still a loser, Harry. And no I’m still not following your Spotify even when we’re married.” You mumble against him.
being mr. azoff's assistant was y/n's dream job, it was just a bummer that his most beloved client seemed to hate her.
wordcount: 13.5k+
—————
"Did you want anything, Harry? (Y/N)'s about to make a coffee run."
Although she'd never admit it, (Y/N) held her breath as she fiddled her fingers behind her back, awaiting any response. She already had a good idea of what he would say when he bothered to give an answer, but she still had a tiny hope he'd prove her wrong.
"No, 'm alright."
He didn't even raise his head from where it was buried in his phone. Mr. Azoff gave (Y/N) that same polite smile he always did whenever Mr. Styles rejected her services, like he wasn't sure why Mr. Styles wasn't more accepting but it wasn't his place to ask or change the habit. Mr. Azoff treated her right and that was what she tried to focus on, not that the fact his best friend and someone she could consider to be a creative idol, couldn't seem to even give her a moment of his time.
"Okay, I'll be back in a minute, Mr. Azoff," (Y/N) chirped pleasantly, well versed in how to brush off being brushed off.
(Y/N) was grateful for the fact her boss's preferred shop was only a few blocks away from his office, giving her the chance to clear her head with fresh (or as fresh as it could be here in L.A.) air instead of stuffing herself into her car.
Mr. Styles was always like this. Why it still bothered her when he brushed her off or ignored any of her offers of help, she wasn't sure, but it did. That world famous kindness that circulated within the industry as well as what was flung around Twitter had been what she was expecting when she finally made it through the vetting process to be hired as Jeff Azoff's assistant, knowing full well who one of his biggest clients was. She had been realistic, knowing that Harry Styles wasn't going to be her best friend, fawning over her at all times, or suddenly fall in love—this wasn't like those stories she remembers reading when she was young—but she had figured he would give her more than a passing glance the first time she met him.
Since that first day where he offered a single sentence introduction, she'd been waiting in vain for anything more to happen. More often than not, his conversation would stop when she entered the room or go quiet enough to let her know she wasn't to be included. He gave her plain smiles, not even the hint of a dimple, when he bothered to acknowledge her presence, usually when he would skirt around her to leave the room she'd just entered. She never got a chance to experience firsthand the humor everyone praised, the kindness he all but trademarked as a middle name, or the gentle vulnerability he gave to those who needed it. He could barely even meet her eyes, his gaze moving to his phone or where he plucked at his sleeves or painted nails.
To be fair, she was still fairly new at the job, only about six months in to her position, so there was a good chance he still needed some warming up after being so used to Mr. Azoff's last assistant that had been employed for years before relocating and leaving the position. Mr. Styles was also known to be shy, something a few others had disclosed to her when they noticed she didn't have much to add whenever he was brought up. Maybe he needed a little more time, and that was something she was more than willing to give, along with the space it seemed he needed.
At least until his European tour started. Then, he would have to at least get used to her presence, seeing as they were to be sanctioned to matching flights, hotels, and backstage areas for the better part of the next three months. She wouldn't be able to give him much space then. Hopefully he wouldn't hate her more after those ninety days together.
As much as the walk to the cafe and the extra Matcha latte she treated herself with, cleared her head and had her back on her feet after being blown back by the nonchalance paid to her entire existence by someone she felt singled out by, the effect could only last for so long when she entered the office.
Before pushing the door open, she could hear the voices inside happily chattering away. Mr. Styles' cackling laugh that she was sure had his eyes creasing closed with his head thrown back was the most prevalent noise, something she usually only caught the tail end. As she expected, the second she gave a gentle rapping of her knuckles against the door just before pushing it open, all sound stopped, even Mr. Azoff's chattering trailing off once he realized Mr. Styles was done interacting for the moment.
"Here you go," she chirped, passing along the coffee to her boss with an unbothered smile that was much stronger than she felt, "Is there anything else I can do for you?"
"No, no," he shook his head, "Not until this afternoon. Go and enjoy your lunch, (Y/N)."
She gave a quiet nod of her head, chancing a single look in Mr. Styles' direction. He had his gaze fixed on his hands. A flush clung to his skin, surely a lingering effect of the laughter she had interrupted.
"Okay, let me know if that changes," she offered with a short smile before turning on her heel.
Just as she left the room, closing the door behind her, she heard Mr. Azoff heave a muffled sigh on the other side.
"Harry..."
"Jeff, please. She jus'—"
(Y/N) left before she could hear much more. She didn't need to know what Mr. Styles thought about her.
—————
Despite the buzz filling the terminal, (Y/N) almost couldn't believe the way not a single person had noted Mr. Styles' presence. Not even a single muttering or whisper of his name could be heard in the busy place.
He sat in peace, a grey hoodie with the strings tied covered his torso, hood up over a pink beanie that concealed his curls. He sat with his legs spread wide, taking up space with his black sweats folded over his legs. Scrolling through his phone, he was in his own world with his chin propped up in his hand, cheek smushed against his ring-bare fingers. He only looked up when boarding was called.
(Y/N) followed quietly behind the trio of Mr. Styles, her boss, and Mr. Lambert, the tour's stylist. She could hear the tittering and quiet conversation in front of her while other members of production and the team trailed behind her. Without Mr. Azoff's wife joining them just yet for this tour, she didn't have many close friends within this group for the time being.
It was all a blur, finding her seat on the plane and placing her carryon above. She was the first in her row, huddling close to the window seat. She knew Mr. Azoff was going to join her as soon as he finished doing whatever it was he and the Harry's were doing, so at least she wasn't going to be completely alone.
Biding her time until take off while the rest of the plane filled up, (Y/N) distracted herself with answering emails on Mr. Azoff's behalf. She verified hotel arrangements, replied to all the correspondence that went along with Mrs. Azoff joining them later in the week, and anything else that needed her attention before takeoff.
Huddled into her corner of the row, the early call time for the flight began to catch up with her. The emails in front of her couldn't hold her attention against the tiny pillow she had managed to sneak into the backpack she shoved under her seat, the plush sandwiched between her cheek and the sidewall of the plane. The sound of shuffling feet as the rest of the flight filled up was like white noise to her cloud-puffed brain.
(Y/N) couldn't help herself before she was fluttering her eyes closed. Surely, Mr. Azoff would wake her before takeoff if she really passed out.
She wasn't sure how long she sat, resting her eyes with her limbs floating in the in-between realm before much of the shuffling ceased and the heft of someone settling in beside her sounded in the empty space. She didn't bother blinking her eyes open, even when she heard chattering beside her. Mr. Azoff was one of the voices, followed by someone who sounded a little too close to her for his comfort.
"Jeffery..." Mr. Styles sighed.
"Stop acting like a child, H," her boss scolded, voice stern though he was quiet, "She's asleep, I'm not going to make you talk to her."
(Y/N) was grateful for the way she had her cheeks mushed between her shoulder and her fluffed pillow. Maybe if she covered them, her seat mates wouldn't be able to feel the embarrassed heat gathering under her skin.
Mr. Styles was sitting right next to her, she realized when she heard the heavy intake of a breath leave his lungs. She wasn't sure how she'd do it, but it looked like she was going to have to pretend to be asleep all the way to the hotel. Maybe, she could convince everyone she was a very well-organized and direction-following sleepwalker if she was careful.
That thought didn't last long, (Y/N) having to break her facade at the sound of Mr. Azoff's voice calling to her.
"(Y/N)," he started, speaking around Mr. Styles. He repeated her name a couple of more times, prompting her to mime opening her eyes as if she'd been dead asleep only moments prior before he continued, "We're about to take off."
"Oh," she smiled, the curve tight, "Thank you."
If not for the fact she was sure she would die if they knew she had overheard the way Mr. Styles couldn't stand to even sit next to her, she would have hesitated more before she crossed her gaze to the man beside her. His eyes were already on her when she looked at him, expression tight as he seemingly forced a smile in her direction. His back was stiff against the seat, hands twisted in his lap with flaking nail polish. His gaze didn't linger on her for very long before he looked away, just in time for the safety spiel from the steward team.
Following suit, she followed through the motions of checking her seatbelt, absently locating the exits, and curling into her seat by the time they were cleared for takeoff. She didn't like this part, but it was enough to huddle herself against the back of her seat and brace herself with her hands clenched into the armrest to her right side.
She sat with her eyes closed, nails digging into the leather of the armrest as she felt the motion beneath her feet, the runway disappearing underneath them until the turbulence of takeoff shook the body of the plane. (Y/N) breathed her way through it, hunkering down into the slouchy fit of her hoodie.
It wasn't until the turbulence evened out, steady windfall starting in the dark of the early morning, that she felt eyes on her. Without really thinking, she blinked her eyes open only to find Mr. Styles looking to her with something softer painted over his features.
He didn't immediately flit away when her eyes met his, allowing himself to touch over her features with the warmth of his gaze. His tanned skin still held a buttery warmth even under the draining overhead lights of the cabin, stubble covering the bottom half of his face she'd never seen him grow out until recently. His eye contact was famous around the world, unrelenting though welcoming as it gave her a chance to see the flecks and streaks through the moss of his irises. (Y/N) floundered under his attention, unsure of what to do with something she doesn't think she's ever had before.
"Um—Did—Or, do you want m-my pillow?" she asked, blindly reaching for the little plush fit between her body and the sidewall.
At the sound of her voice, Mr. Styles seemed to realize what exactly he was doing and who he was glazing over with his eyes. He shook his head then, curls peeking out from underneath his beanie.
"No, thank you," he mumbled, reaching into his hoodie pocket to pull out a pair of headphones.
That was all his attention that she was granted until his headphones were plugged into his ears and she was alone again in her row.
—————
"And finally, on drums, Sarah Jones!"
(Y/N) was blown away as the area erupted into cheers she was sure could rival the screams that sounded when Mr. Styles first appeared on stage. She watched on from the mouth of the backstage area, her boss at her side with a drink in hand, as Mr. Styles reveled in the screaming and yelling, a bright dimpled smile on his face. If not for the fact she was technically there in a professional sense and this was only the second show she'd had the privilege of watching, she would have joined in and screamed and cheered for the band that was being introduced. (After getting a chance to meet every moving part of his touring band as well as watching them perform, she very much so understood the enthusiasm offered to these characters).
It was when Mr. Styles joined in on the fanfare, pumping his fist and making a noise that sounded like he was barking along with the crowd that she couldn't hold back her laughter. The layered fringe hanging from his jacket glittered in the light, matching the sheen of sweat that covered his shirtless body. He threw his head back with a bright laugh she almost wished he had the microphone held to his mouth for, just so she could hear what his joy sounded like.
Even just this moment alone was something she was sure she was always going to remember, no matter how many times she was going to witness this over and over. Never had she been to a concert that held the same energy as these arenas—and eventually stadiums—she'd visited. She couldn't blame a single person in this room for everything they did to get to this place, every moment of planning, saving, celebrating, and crying. She understood.
Mr. Styles was meant to perform. Even with his brief breaks he spent on movie sets, it was clear why he came back to this space with these people that followed him like honeybees and gave so much love and kindness to him.
She watched as he finished his introductions of the band, launching into another song that had the whole arena moving and dancing. Even without the help of the spotlight and the cameras following his every move, she was sure she wouldn't be able to keep her eyes from him; he commanded the space, with every intention of taking that attention and thriving under it.
Despite the relationship—or lack there of—off stage, (Y/N) couldn't wait to see this almost every night for however many months she had the privilege of standing stage side.
—————
"Call me if you need anything!"
Mr. Azoff shook off (Y/N)'s offer as she started off in the direction of the green room being used as the catering space for the day. A busy morning had ensued, leaving (Y/N) running around trying to find any trace of an adequate wifi connection in the middle of the venue just so she could answer emails and show up to video meetings she was attending on Mr. Azoff's behalf. It wouldn't have been so bad if not for the time differences given the fact she was on a completely different continent than any business she was working with. The stress of it all had her beat before the morning had even touched into the double digits for the day, still with another handful of hours worth of work to get through.
Finally—finally—she had typed away at every email, fielded every phone call, and spaced out the following day's agenda given the lack of a performance crowding Mr. Azoff's schedule. Now, she could sit down and eat before shuttling back to the hotel for a nap—as long as she wasn't needed for anything else, of course.
The catering space wasn't as busy as she sure it had been an hour prior, only a few others lingering about. One of the few happened to be Mr. Styles.
A clip was holding his curls back, a plain t-shirt with a pair of basketball shorts covering his legs revealed he had just finished with a workout before he would shower off and get to his soundcheck. He had his phone in hand as he forked food into his mouth, that intense look on his face that she always seemed to catch on him. His brows were knitted heavily in the middle, shrouding the bright green of his eyes in the shadow of his brow with his jaw tight as he chewed down whatever he had picked over from the table.
(Y/N) flitted her eyes to the rest of the crew littering the space before she was caught by Mr. Styles who seemed to always somehow know when someone had spotted him, even with nothing more than a phone camera. The little whiteboard catering hung above the food table was filled out with the day's menu. The prettily curved words brought a bright smile to (Y/N)'s face when she spotted the forth item down the list.
The catering team's arancini was easily one of (Y/N)'s favorite things she's ever eaten, on this tour or otherwise. She didn't care that it wasn't more than some risotto rice left over from the night before's dinner, repurposed as to minimize waste and turned into a crunchy, cheesy ball with the perfect acidic marinara served alongside it. If she could, she would live off those little pieces by themselves. Hopefully, there were at least a few left for her to devour, even if they were a little cold at this point.
Readying her plate with a small serving of Caesar salad and the lemon baked salmon (Mr. Styles' favorite and top request from what she'd heard), (Y/N) worked down the line until she reached the covered basin that held the arancini she easily dreamt of at least five times since the first bite. Lifting the lid, the fresh scent of bright tomatoes and fragrant oregano filled her senses, the bite of the smell hitting her harder with her empty stomach.
Nothing hit quite as hard on her expectant tummy than the fact she realized only a second too late that there wasn't a single rice ball left in the warmer. A thin layer of remaining sauce was laid along the bottom, but nothing was dropped beside the mushed tomatoes.
Maybe she was being a little dramatic, but (Y/N) felt her shoulders drop at the sight of the empty container. To be fair, she was almost two hours late to serving time, so she couldn't be that surprised that there wasn't any left to spare. Surely, she wasn't the only one obsessed with the parmesan coating on the outside of the sticky rice. She couldn't blame anyone for jumping on the opportunity to take as many as they could while they were there.
(Y/N) replaced the lid, taking her half filled plate to one of the small tables set up in the room. The day began to catch up with her as she sat down. Her morning had been hectic enough to suck the energy out of her bones, now combined with the disappointment of how high she put herself at the mention of her favorite food before finding it all gone. She slumped into her chair, taking out her phone and finally looking at something that wasn't work-related for the first time that day.
Every bite she scooped into her mouth was monotonous as she slipped a pair of earbuds in before screening the missed messages she'd had to ignore for the morning. Music was filtering through her headphones, the perfect distraction to her brain that felt entirely too empty now that she wasn't running at top speed like she had been the second she'd woke up. If not for the texture of each bite she took, she wouldn't know exactly what she was eating with the way she couldn't use even muster the minuscule amount of energy it would take to glance at her fork.
With her eyes glued to her phone as a video now played out on screen, (Y/N) didn't have enough room in her head to keep track of the rest of the room. As much as she prides herself on being a good assistant, especially being so new to this position, she doesn't think she would notice if Mr. Azoff walked in and screamed out her name while banging pots and pans.
That was exactly the reason she didn't notice Mr. Styles approaching her table either.
It wasn't until she noticed a plate being slid onto the table beside her, a hand complete with a tattooed cross and green glittery nails keeping a hold of the lip until she managed to pull an earbud out. Looking up, Mr. Styles still had that tight look on his face, his free hand fidgeting at his side like he was itching to get out of there.
"Yes?" she chirped, assuming he was finally taking her up on her offers to help him as well when she assisted Mr. Azoff.
Watching as Mr. Styles dropped his gaze from hers, (Y/N) had to keep from tipping her head at him. That wasn't like him at all, unable to keep eye contact. From what she knew, that was something he insisted on. She hoped he was okay.
"Um—'M full, but I thought I'd ask if y'wanted any before I threw these away," he said, his voice floating under his breath.
It was then that (Y/N) finally noted what was on his plate, finding a duo of the arancini balls she had been mourning only moments earlier. The same fragrant, acidic sauce laid underneath it along with shreds of parmesan cheese sprinkled atop, the same way she would have plated it. She had to keep herself from drooling at the sight.
"A-Are you sure?"
A beat passed, the green of Mr. Styles' gaze finally meeting hers again. "I thought these were your favorite."
(Y/N) had to stop herself from letting a pinch touch at her brows. "I mean, yeah, they are, b—"
"Then, 'm sure."
The deep vibrato of his voice was more soothing than any note of music she played could ever hope to be, the same voice she'd had the privilege of listening to every night while on the road on the loudspeakers. Despite the giving nature of his tone, underlying softness floating alongside, she knew there wasn't much room to argue. Besides, (Y/N) didn't think she had the strength to say no to his offer with that plate in front of her.
"Thank you, Mr. Styles," she smiled, reaching for the plate as he retracted his grip.
A chaste smile curved his lips, the tip of his nose seemingly blushing red before he gave her a quiet nod of his head. He didn't say anything else before he walked away, leaving her to constitute her two plates of food into one with that warmth in her stomach that could have energized her enough to work another hectic morning. Her only complaint was that she wished he would have sat down with her. She'd even give up his offer of the arancini if that meant he'd sit down beside her and finish his meal.
She didn't see him again until he was leaving the greenroom with a granola bar in hand, one bite already taken out. She had thought he said he was full.
It was with that thought that, shortly after, (Y/N) realized she had never told Mr. Styles what her favorite food was.
—————
"Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday, dear (Y/N), happy birthday to you!"
(Y/N)'s skin felt warm with all eyes on her, a sheet cake in front of her with frosting flowers and twinkling candles stuck through. She didn't know what to do with everyone's eyes on her, twisting in her spot with a shy smile on her lips as the song came to a close. Fluttering her eyes to a close, she blew out the candles while everyone cheered. A wish absently flittered through her head, hoping for happiness to come to everyone in this room with her as they deserved so much after surprising her with a birthday celebration in the middle of an international tour.
"Thank you all, so much," (Y/N) muttered once the room grew quiet, her fingers knotted into a sheepish pile as she swept her gaze across the gathered crowd, "I didn't even realize anyone knew it was my birthday, this really means a lot. Thank you."
All of her new friends, crew and production members for the tour that she had grown close with over the last few weeks, all gave her mixed mutterings of more birthday wishes, that of course they remembered, and they were all more than happy to be a part of this with her. After the show tonight, they all promised to take her out to one of the clubs in town to help her celebrate before they would be off for the next city the following day. Cutting the cake came next, the grouping of crew began to break off as conversations rose in volume in the green room, leaving (Y/N) to soak in the atmosphere as the creamy icing spread over her tongue at first bite.
She truthfully had no idea anyone had been aware of her birthday, let alone have the time to put something like this together. Sure, it wasn't a huge celebration, but the fact a cake had been secured, complete with personalized frosting spelling out her name while on the road, was enough to have her heart hurting from how full it was. Even Mr. Styles had made it, huddling himself in one of the small corners with his arms folded across his chest as he sang along to the birthday song. She was pretty sure he had even been a few minutes late to a fitting for the next slew of tour outfits just so he could be apart of something like this for her.
"Happy birthday, (Y/N)," Mr. Azoff said, coming up behind her with his wife only a few paces behind, both with a plate of cake in hands.
(Y/N)'s features softened immediately as she took him in. "Thank you so much, Mr. Azoff," she started, still disregarding every invitation for her to call him by his first name, "You didn't need to put anything like this together at all. Really, thank you so much."
He would be the only one that might recall her birthday, she figured, coming from her hire paperwork. Besides, they spent enough time together she may have accidentally let it slip out while talking. Mr. Azoff would definitely be the kind of boss that would do something like this for her.
Instead of the humble way he swept away her gratitude she had been expecting, her boss let out a bubbling peal of laughter. Mrs. Azoff matched (Y/N)'s confused expression, knitted brows and all as they looked at him.
"I didn't put this together," he clarified, shaking his head before spearing another bite of cake, "I've been so busy I can't even remember what year it is, let alone the day."
"Oh," (Y/N) sounded, face dropping. "Do you know who it was then? I just want to thank them properly."
A shared look happened between the Azoffs, the missus' blonde brows raising in her husband's direction as if she was wondering the same thing. Mr. Azoff gave her a pointed look, flicking his gaze to (Y/N) for only a moment before he raised a brow. Realization seemed to spring across Mrs. Azoff's face, the kind (Y/N) was hoping she could share in.
"Tell her," Mrs. Azoff mumbled, quiet enough (Y/N) knew she wasn't necessarily meant to hear the command. She watched as Mr. Azoff floundered, his lips pressing into a thin line with wide eyes as if he were pleading with her without words. "Jeffery, I think it would be nice for her to know. He's not going to mind."
Her reasoning seemed to loosen him up some, only enough to have his gaze returning to (Y/N)'s with a small pivot. "Sorry," he told her, excusing the last few moments with a chaste smile on his lips, "Um—It was Harry. He was the one who remembered and put this all together."
(Y/N) had to keep her jaw from dropping at the new information. Her fork was limp in her hand. "Really?"
"Mhm," Mrs. Azoff chirped, "He was the one who came to us, telling us he had everything all planned out, we just needed to be here to surprise you. He did a good job, didn't he?"
The picture of Mr. Styles standing so nonchalant in the corner of the room, singing quietly to the birthday song while she stood in front of the warm glow of the sparkling candles took on a new tint. This had been all of his idea, even the light pink and warm green frosting spelling out her name with petite flowers on the sheet cake had been his idea. The cake itself was even her favorite flavor, something she was doubting was a coincidence.
"Really?" she asked, the question feeling dumb on her tongue but she couldn't help but ask.
"It's all he's been talking about his last couple of days off. He wanted to make sure everyone knew and would be able to come celebrate with you."
Mrs. Azoff's warm smile along with her boss's quiet curl to his lips was all the confirmation (Y/N) needed to know they were being completely serious. They were acting as if they were sharing a secret with her despite the room full of people that were in on it before she was.
"Th-That's really nice of him," she settled on, unsure if there were any real words that could convey just how much the idea of Mr. Styles planning this little surprise made her heart ache. "I'm going to have to tell him thank you when he has a minute."
"I think he'd really like that," Mr. Azoff told her, voice quiet as if he were sharing a tiny secret.
With the way Mrs. Azoff looked at hm after he spoke, (Y/N) wondered if there really was another secret she wasn't privy to.
—————
Screaming cheers filled the SUV the second the door flung open, Mr. Styles piling inside with a towel hung over his shoulder and a bright smile gracing his features. His energy was vibrating off of him in waves, intoxicating the small space of the car as they pulled out of the venue as the curtains closed behind them. (Y/N) never really got to see him this closely after a show, tonight being an occasion that Mr. Azoff and she were to head back to the hotel with him right away in prep for the late night meetings needed before any of them were to be dismissed to bed (Mr. Styles' next album was coming up closer and closer, and labels needed answers if he wanted the vinyl pressings to be done in time).
Tonight, (Y/N) was packed into the backseat of the SUV with Mr. Styles, feeling that bright energy he harnessed on stage settling in like another person sitting between them. He used the towel offered to him by security to wipe off his glistening face, sweat soaking the fabric though he didn't stop smiling.
"Jeff, Jeff," Mr. Styles started, pulling on the neckline of his blueberry embellished top, drawing the fabric away from his skin, "Did you see that back there?"
She watched as her boss let out a small laugh, turning around where he sat in the front passenger seat to face his client. "See what, H?"
The smile that broke out on Mr. Styles' face somehow grew bigger. His breathing was still coming in pants, something (Y/N) wasn't sure was coming from his excitement or the lingering exertion from his stage time. "That girl, she was dressed like a clam and her head was the pearl! I think she had a sign too, but I couldn't see it because every time I looked, she was dancing and I couldn't stop laughing."
"Oh, that's why you could barely finish singing Sushi?" Mr. Azoff pressed, matching Mr. Styles excitement with his own bubbling smile. A small glance was flicked in (Y/N)'s direction, as if she were telling her to get a load of this guy.
"It was so funny, Jeffery," Mr. Styles insisted, the purple leather of his pants squeaking against the seats with the way he couldn't manage to sit still, "It was like there was a bobblehead out there, but with these little legs." Just when Mr. Azoff went to answer, Mr. Styles completely changed with his jaw dropping before he turned to (Y/N) with another layer of excitement brewing in the car. "Wait, (Y/N)! Did you see that girl dressed like a fairy? She was standing with the angel and the sushi roll!"
(Y/N) tried to school her features, keep the surprise off her face at the fact Mr. Styles was acknowledging her—and with a smile too! Attempting to focus on the question at hand, she racked her brain for whoever it was that he was referencing. "Maybe. Were they standing in pit?" she asked, settling into the leather of her seat with Mr. Azoff watching on with a less than neutral expression giving away his own shock.
"Yes, yes," Mr. Styles chattered off, "Towards the exit catwalk! She had on big sparkly wings, and everything!"
"Oh, yeah," (Y/N) perked up, giving him a matching grin, "That was the same costume—"
"—you wore for Halloween!" Mr. Styles cut her off to finish her own sentence, bouncing in his seat in time with the rhythm of the pavement underneath the wheels of the car. "That's why I noticed her! Y'had the same wings, and the dress, and everything, right?"
This time (Y/N) wasn't as smooth to recover at his words. She had been the only one to dress as such for the holiday, and she hadn't thought Mr. Styles had seen her at all in his own rush to be dressed in his own costume and prepping the extra song he was to cover for the occasion. It could have only been twice where she thought he might have seen her, especially as more than a blur that had to run past while doing whatever errands Mr. Azoff needed.
"Y-Yeah," she bubbled off, pretending she didn't stutter in hopes that no one else would notice, "that was my Halloween costume. I didn't realize you noticed."
The curls that flopped over Mr. Styles' forehead added to the boyish sparkle in his eyes as he looked at her, dimples denting his cheeks. "Your's was m'favorite costume."
It was only a second later that Mr. Styles was distracted once more in his adrenaline-fueled post-concert excitement, drawing Mr. Azoff into another bubbling conversation about a moment that happened on stage. (Y/N) was left to settle into her spot, seatbelt tight around her chest as her heart struggled to beat out of its cage.
If he wasn't careful, (Y/N) was going to start thinking he didn't hate her.
—————
(Y/N) sidestepped out of the doorway, allowing Mr. Styles to brush past her in his rush to exit the room she'd just entered. He didn't bother to even make eye contact with her or shoot her an awkward smile she'd become accustomed to. All she caught of him was his strained expression as she bounced into the room, feeling much more awake this morning after the bubbling excitement she felt while riding back to the hotel with Mr. Styles being so happy to talk with her.
That excitement drained as soon as she saw the way he all but flinched at her presence now that the after show adrenaline had worn off. Mr. Azoff seemed just as surprised at the blatant switch as he watched Mr. Styles run off.
"Uh—Good morning, Mr. Azoff," (Y/N) attempted to chirp out.
She could see the way he floundered for words, his eyes flicking between her and Mr. Styles' retreating figure she was forcing herself to keep from glancing at. "(Y/N), I—"
"It's okay, it's okay," she waved him off, doing her best to convince herself with her own excuse, "He's probably still tired from last night, it's okay."
The look on Mr. Azoff's face told her he knew something she didn't. (Y/N) figured it was a secret she didn't want to know.
—————
This had to be the first time (Y/N) had ever seen Mr. Azoff so stressed, especially after setting out on this tour with his favorite client. His hair was a mess with the usual day's worth of stubble on his face now growing into almost a full beard with the way the last few days have come stumbling around him. Near constantly did he have a phone pressed to his ear, preferring to take all of these phone calls as opposed to allowing (Y/N) to take care of them like he had so far in this route.
"We don't know if he's going to be able to make it on this Friday," she heard Mr. Azoff sigh into the receiver, dragging a heavy hand through his hair. Mrs. Azoff looked just as glum as she listened into the conversation from the small couch that was set up in the living space of their hotel room. "I know—we're trying. He's barely been able to get out of bed since he got off stage last night, we haven't started on the road at all."
(Y/N) felt concern spike in her chest at the mention of Mr. Styles' state. She knew he wasn't doing so well after last night, especially with how hard he had to start straining himself towards the end of the show just to hit notes she knew would otherwise be easy for him. What she hadn't known was the fact he didn't have the strength to even get out of bed. She'd hate for him to have caught the same flu that one of the crew members had suffered through just a couple of weeks earlier.
"We don't want to cancel or reschedule anything, yet, no," Mr. Azoff rushed out, sinking into the couch cushion beside his equally as exhausted wife, "We have a few days still, so we'll see if he feels any better by Thursday. If not, I'll call you with options."
It was only moments later that Mr. Azoff hung up the call, looking just as exhausted as he started the call. Seeing as how it was Tuesday, and Mr. Styles had only a few days left to be feeling better in time to even travel for his next show, she could understand his stress.
Before (Y/N) could even offer her services, Mr. Azoff said her name with a lingering exhaustion. "Could you call one of those liquid IV offices, please? And get his doctor on a call; if he needs antibiotics, I want them picked up by the end of the day."
Very few times did Mr. Azoff feel like a boss, always talking to her in gentler tones with requests rather than demands. Not that he was flexing any superiority and unforgiving directions even now, but she knew this was something he needed done thirty minutes ago, but was still willing to accept it being done now.
That was all she needed to hear before she had her phone pressed to her ear. Even if Mr. Styles didn't care for her as much as she may have thought a week ago, she wanted him better just as much as Mr. Azoff did, and not just because of the touring schedule.
—————
How (Y/N) happened to be the only one within the central crew to have been vaccinated for the flu this season, she didn't know, but she didn't mind the added responsibility tied with the booster. Armed with a takeaway container of hot soup, a liter bottle of water, and another round of medication for Mr. Styles, Mr. Azoff sent her off to his hotel room.
Mr. Styles had all but been quarantined since he started exhibiting those early flu symptoms, a medical team having been the ones tending to him the previous couple of days as he apparently worsened into running a fever and getting sick to his stomach. It was into the late hours of the evening that Mr. Azoff finally shooed them off (at his client's request, supposedly. Mr. Styles felt bad to have so many people fussing over him, he had said), and thanked them for everything they did for his client. They were left with the tools and a regiment on the best and fastest way to get Mr. Styles healthy again. She remembered watching Mr. Azoff read over the extensive list left in his care, a humorless laugh leaving his lips and he muttered something about the miracle of this week being one of the longer breaks he had scheduled between shows.
As the crew couldn't afford anyone else getting as sick as Mr. Styles was, (Y/N) was chosen to be the first one to tend to him given the fact she would be the least likely to catch whatever virus he had—and even if she did, they could afford to have her on bed rest for a few days. Mr. Azoff had passed along the printed schedule of his medication times and what foods and fluids would be best to get his system back on track in the remaining forty-eight hours left until a decision would have to be made on whether or not the next show was in jeopardy, and she was on her way.
An apology was ready on her tongue for the second she breached the sanctuary of his hotel room, knowing that she was most likely one of the last people he wanted to see at a time like this. That was the hardest part, she figured. She wasn't afraid of falling ill or seeing him sick, it was knowing just how unwelcome she was going to be in his space, especially since he wouldn't be able to flitter away from her like she knew he was used to. But, that fear was going to have to be shoved into a box in the back of her mind. Mr. Styles wasn't feeling well and needed someone to help him, and that was what she was going to focus on.
After a quiet rap of her knuckles against his hotel room door went expectedly unanswered, (Y/N) pulled for the keycard Mr. Azoff had slipped into the bag of essentials he'd passed off to her. As soon as the handle clicked with a green light blinking, she twisted the knob carefully. A quiet creak whined from the hinges as she entered the dark room.
Mr. Styles' messy bed was empty, the only light coming from the dimly set bedside lamp revealing the creases and folds in the bedding she was sure housekeeping hadn't had a chance to come by and change since he'd been holed up in the space. His luggage was left neatly beside the closet, only a pair of brightly colored socks laid atop the case letting her know it had been touched in the last few days. If not for the fact she knew there was no where else for him to have gone without someone on his team being notified, (Y/N) would have assumed his hotel room to be deserted by the way the air felt stale as she stepped in.
"Mr. Styles? It's (Y/N). I know you probably don't wan—"
Before she could finish her apology for stepping into his space, a gagging noise from the bathroom gave away his position. That was when she noticed the sliver of light leaking from underneath the closed door.
Rolling her lips between her teeth with concern knitting her brows together, (Y/N) abandoned her doctor assembled and boss ordered care package on the bedside table. It was with shaking hands that she gently knocked on the bathroom door.
A groan answered a beat later. "Jeff, I promise 'm going to be alright in a couple of days," Mr. Styles grumbled out, voice deep and sour, "Don't cancel anything, please."
Releasing the hold her teeth had on her bottom lip, (Y/N) sucked in a deep breath. "Actually, it's (Y/N)."
"W-What are y'doing here?" was his stuttered response, raw voice leveling out in volume.
Not quite as biting as she may have expected in a moment like this, but (Y/N) had figured he would ask something of this type. "I'm the only one that's had my flu shot, so Mr. Azoff wanted me to come check on you. Is it alright if I come in?"
"Please, don't." That was the clipped response she had been anticipating, but (Y/N) thought his tone dipped into something more embarrassed than angry.
"Mr. Styles, I have water and food, and the medication you'r—"
Before she could get much further with her explanation, she was cut off by the sound of a guttural noise on the other side of the door. Mr. Styles gagged alone in the bathroom, his panting breaths being cut off only to be replaced with the sound of him getting sick.
As much as (Y/N) wanted to respect his privacy and foster a kinder relationship between the pair of them, there was no way she was going to be able to sit idly by knowing that she could help him when he so clearly needed some support. That was all it took for her to barge into the bathroom, rushing over the tiles to where Mr. Styles was hunched over the toilet.
Focusing herself on him and not what was currently leaving his system, (Y/N) stroked her hand down his back while the other worked on drawing his hair out of his face. A stray clip was fit against the top of his head, a sloppy attempt she was sure he had executed with shaking hands.
"(Y/N), no," he stuttered over her name until she felt a shudder rack his spine, his head being sent back to the toilet bowl as another round of sickness left his body.
She didn't say anything back, knowing not only would it fall on deaf ears, but this wasn't the time to start pleading with him to let her stay. That wasn't up for debate as far as she was concerned; whether he liked it or not, she wasn't going to leave him to be sick all by himself in a hotel room in a country he didn't call home. Nothing sounded more dreadful than that.
Instead, she only shushed him and lead a soothing hand down his spine with her other hand fixing his hair from his face. The strands had lost their curl after a few days without wash, matching the stale texture of his clothes that she was sure he hadn't changed out of in just as long. Having heard about how heavily he prioritized his self-care, especially when touring, she knew he really must feel terrible if he couldn't bring himself to do any of those basic things.
Nonetheless, she stayed a constant, steady presence beside him on the bathroom floor. She tucked baby curls behind his ears, the strands too short to reach clip on the top of his head, and she shushed him with a gentle hand on his back as he emptied his system before being reduced down to dry heaves and gags resulting in nothing more than stolen breath and teary eyes.
"It's okay, Mr. Styles, just breathe," she reminded him as he reached to flush the toilet, his breathing coming in rapid pants through his raw throat.
"Don't call me that," he panted, sitting back on his heels though he still didn't care to turn to face her, "I don't like it when y'call me that."
"Okay, okay," she soothed, the same word having fallen from her lips at least a hundred times at this point, "What do you want me to call you? What do you like better?"
"Jus' H, please. Want y'to talk to me like y'know me."
Her heart just about broke at how pathetic he sounded in that moment, his request just short of a whine given his burned throat. "Okay, I can do that," she agreed with a gentle pat to his back. "I'm going to be right back, alright? I brought you some water for you to sip on."
Before (Y/N) could even get to her feet, Mr. S—Harry—H twisted in his spot and raced to wrap his fingers around her wrists. He kept her from going any further with his manacle-like grip, bloodshot eyes glossy in the low light of the bathroom. "Wait, please. I-I don't want to be alone if I get sick again."
As much as she knew it was against her better judgment to leave the liter of water out in the bedroom, there was no way she could argue against him when he looked at her like that. And, for the first time ever, he was pleading with her to stay with him, not fighting for a way out of her presence. How could she say no to that?
"Okay, I'll stay a few minutes longer, but I need to have you drinking something soon," she reasoned, settling back down onto the tile floor. She crossed her legs underneath her, opting for something more comfortable than the cuffs of her knees digging into the hard floor as she was prepared to sit there for as long as Harry needed her (or until she could convince him of the importance of water right now).
Harry all but deflated with relief at her words, slumping into her arms in a way that had (Y/N) doubting he knew he was doing. Another sign of just how bad he was feeling then—he'd never seek comfort in her like this otherwise. Nonetheless, (Y/N) wrapped her arms around him without question, cushioning her back against the wall of the bathroom behind her while Harry's clumsy limbs found purchase around her. He shuffled up beside her with legs folded underneath him, his bottom on his heels. He was close enough to the toilet incase of an emergency, but his knees still knocked into hers with his arms around her waist, face tucking into the curve of her throat.
"Thank you," he murmured into her neck once he burrowed himself against her skin, his forehead clammy.
"Of course," she told him, her arms around his middle with her palms spanning the planes of his back. "Has it been like this all day?"
"Mhm," he practically whined, his nose scrunching against her skin, "I hate it. I hate being sick. I jus' want to be better already."
(Y/N) held him tighter the second she felt wetness slide over her skin, moreso than the sheen of sweat that covered his forehead. He was crying. That gloss that had lacquered his gaze had overflown, now leaking over her skin and pooling in the line of her collarbones. "I know, H, I know," she crooned to him, forcing herself to stay composed despite how much her heart ached for him then, "I brought stuff for you that's supposed to help you feel better. Do you want to try taking some medicine or drinking some water?"
"I don't think I can keep it down," he told her, voice watery as he spoke, "'M sorry."
"No, don't be sorry, okay?" she gently scolded him, shaking her head as she brought her hand up to card through the length of the curls on the back of his head.
"I jus' want to be better, (Y/N)," he repeated earnestly, a sniffle following right after to match the wiggle of his nose she felt against her skin. She wanted to be endeared at the small touch but that was quickly outweighed by the concern she felt the second another wave of tears washed over her skin, Harry's breathing shifting until she feared he would start sobbing.
"And you will be," she promised, hugging him tighter with her fingers lacing through his hair, "You need to give yourself a little more time, okay? Sleep a little more, and once you're up to it, we'll have you eating and drinking again and you'll be feeling so much better. I promise."
"But—"
Harry tensed in her arms before could finish his thought. A scramble of limbs ensued then, leaving (Y/N) feeling the absence of his warmth while he hunched over the toilet and threw up the nonexistent contents of his stomach. (Y/N) was behind him in a rush, rubbing his back and cooing to him as he began to dry heave, only bile leaving his system now.
It was (Y/N) this time that flushed the toilet down for him after a few minutes of nothing else triggering his gag reflex, proceeding to gather him back into her arms once he was settled enough to unlock his joints and allow his muscles to go malleable again.
"It's alright, H—"
"See?" he cut her off, voice particularly raw after his latest showing, "'M not getting better, (Y/N). I jus' want to be better and-and play a show and I do-don't want to let anyone down."
"You're not letting anyone down," she cemented, relaxing into the stiff sidewall of the tub as he tucked himself into her warmth one more time with his face in her neck.
"I've heard Jeff talking about cancelling or rescheduling shows," he mumbled, a sniffle following after, "I don't want to do that. S-So many people travel jus' to see me, and 's be-been so long an—"
Harry was cut off by his own crying, the stress of the situation along with the just how awful he felt in that moment catching up to him now that someone was there to listen. His grip on her tightened with his arms around her waist and his face buried in her neck, his chest stuttering with his uneven breaths and squeezes of his sobbing lungs.
All she could do then was hold him against her, as if her hug could keep him from shaking so hard with his heady breaths. Her neck was slick with his tears, the tip of his nose wiggling with every sniffle he sucked in in hopes of regulating his breathing.
"Its okay, H, really," she cooed to him, drawing one of her hands up to the back of his head with her fingertips twirling through the curls, "You need to stop crying, okay? You're only making yourself more sick by crying, you know. Just breathe, alright? It's going to be okay, I promise."
Though it took him a moment, she could feel the way he tried to heed her advice. He fought off the stutter of his sobs, his breathing coming out in shaky pulls with the exhales being long and drawn out over her skin. Her palms soothed down his spine, the length of her nails dragging over his shirt in what she hoped was calming runs.
"Feel a little better now?" she asked once he curated a rhythm of deep breaths and sinking exhales. Though she could feel just the smallest remnants of his tears having seeped against her neck, she didn't feel that dampness growing as opposed to the way it was only a few moments earlier.
"Y-yeah," he mumbled, nodding his head against her neck, "Sorry."
"Don't be sorry, okay?" she told him, parroting her earlier words, "There's nothing to be sorry for. No one likes being sick, and I know you're under a lot of pressure since we're also on the road. It's okay."
A nasally little thank you sounded against her neck along with the brush of his lips being felt against her throat. A small smile touched at the corners of her lips as she felt him relax into her, exhaustion weighing him down now that he wasn't clinging to the edge of the toilet. (Y/N) tentatively laid her cheek on the top of his head, lending him more of her warmth in hopes of holding off another wave of his fever.
Just when she figured he'd fallen asleep, his breathing even with puffs of air fanning over her skin, he pulled his face from her neck. Harry's cheeks were flushed as he looked to her, ruddy and glistening with a sheen of sweat. His eyes were puffy and red, the scleras bloodshot from his crying session. Even his lips were swollen, the same hue as his red-tipped nose.
"Can I have some water?" he asked her pathetically, voice nasally given his clogged sinuses, "And a blanket. 'M really cold."
(Y/N) nodded her head right away, feeling her eyes rounding out as she took him in with pity in her gaze. "I'll be right back, okay?" she told him, brushing stray curls behind his ears.
Harry gave her another sad look, mimicking the nod of her head. "Thank you," he told her before tucking his swollen bottom lip between his teeth.
She made quick work of collecting the liter of water she'd put off to the side along with the knitted blanket that was bundled over the hotel bed. She knew that was something he'd brought from home, an item she'd seem him cart around to every venue and every hotel room to help him feel more at home despite the miles between. Hopefully it would be just what he needed in that moment.
Stepping into the bathroom, Harry was just where she had left him. He was bundled beside the bathtub, his legs now bent in front of him to make himself into a small ball with his arms around his shins. His glossy eyes seemed to widen at the sight of his blanket, completely glancing over the water in her opposing hand in favor of reaching for his token from home.
"Thank you so much," he repeated, grabby hands taking the knitted blanket as soon as she offered it to him.
Despite his aching limbs, the blanket was wrapped around Harry's shoulders in quick succession, the fabric being pulled up to his face with a finger wrapped in the material from underneath absently rubbing against his cheek. He soothed himself enough to have his eyes flutter to a close as (Y/N) settled in beside him, taking her spot against the bathtub wall with her legs criss-crossed underneath her bottom.
"Still want some water?" she asked in a crooned tone, hoping to keep from disturbing him too much from the sweetened state he was falling into.
"Yes, please," he murmured, eyes still closed.
Twisting off the cap of his water, (Y/N) offered it to him with a nudge against his shoulder. Harry begrudgingly untangled his hand from the knit of his blanket, taking the bottle with his eyes opened to only a slit.
"Only take sips, H," she told him as he raised the bottle to his lips, "Any more and it might make you sick again."
"But 'm so thirsty," he whined, brows pinching together in the middle.
"I know, but if you drink too fast it'll make you sick again," she reasoned with him, scooting in closer to him with her arm pressing against his own, "Just sip it for now and if you can keep it all down tonight, you can drink all the water you want."
Heaving a sigh, he gave a nod of his head as he heeded her advice and took small sips from his bottle. (Y/N) kept an eye on him as he drank, watching for any turn of the tide that would garner her helping him back to the toilet bowl. By the time he finally seemed satiated, handing her the bottle in search of the cap to be fixed back on top, he sunk down and lent his cheek against her shoulder. His eyes were shuttered closed once more, his hand working its way back under the knit of his blanket to press the material against his cheek again.
"Tired?" (Y/N) murmured, maneuvering to wrap her arm around his shoulders and cuddle him close.
"Yeah," he said, voice cracking some under the pressure of his raw throat.
"Here," she said, shuffling in her spot to move just far enough away from him to get a whine filtering through his throat. Uncrossing her legs, she unfurled them in front of her with her ankles folding over one another, "Lay down, H, its okay. You can put your head in my lap."
He seemed calmed at the prospect of her only moving so he could more comfortably. With his legs curled against his tummy into a ball, Harry laid his head in her lap, her plush thighs acting as his pillow. "Thank you," he sighed, nasally voice quietly bouncing off the tiles.
"When you wake up we'll take some medicine, okay?" she told him, placing her hands in his hair as she unclipped the sprout she'd made with the strands to card through his curls.
All she earned in response was a quiet okay, leaving him to fall asleep only moments later.
Sinking against the sidewall of the bathtub, (Y/N) let her own eyes close. Cuddling with Mr. Styles was definitely not how she saw this morning going. She was going to have to text Mr. Azoff to let him know not to expect her for the rest of the day.
—————
"(Y/N)?"
Humming to acknowledge the call of her name, (Y/N) continued to clean up the little medication station she made up on his bedside table now that each of the pills were in his system. She was going to have to call up for another large water bottle for him now that there was less than a fourth of the liter left. And, probably another serving of hot soup since that had been forgotten hours earlier, going cold.
"'M sorry," Harry said behind her, the warmth of his glossy gaze being pinned on her back.
"You don't need to be sorry, remember?" she said to him, constituting all of his orange and white bottles back into the small pack the medical team had prepared as she gave him a small glance over her shoulder. "No one is upset with you; it's not your fault you're sick, we all know that."
"No," he croaked, shaking his head against the fluffed pillow, "That's not what 'm talking about."
"Oh?" she asked, settling into the nest of bedding she'd made her own since they carted him back to bed after his nap. He hadn't been sick for hours at this point, the main concern shifting to fend off the fever that was sapping his energy and drawing a fog over his brain.
As soon as he saw her close once more, Harry made a move to lay his head in her lap again. It was instinctive at this point to have her hands carding through his hair, pulling the strands from his flushed skin. This time though, Harry looked up at her with his slightly hooded gaze, a touch unfocused despite the fact he'd been awake for the better part of the last hour.
"'M sorry 'm so mean to you," he breathed, a sheen collecting over his eyes as he took her in, "You're taking care of me, and I don't deserve it."
(Y/N) felt like a deer in headlights with his tired gaze on her. This was definitely not how she ever saw this conversation going—if this conversation ever happened, anyway. She floundered for words as she shook her head, distracting him with a particularly drawn out run of her fingers through his curls.
"Don't say that, okay? What you don't deserve, is staying alone in a hotel room while you're sick," she murmured, "But, you don't need to worry about that right now, okay? You don't need to apologize for anything."
To be fair, she never really considered his behavior mean. He avoided her, sure, but he was never blatantly rude to her.
"No, no," he shook his head in her lap, "'M so mean to you 's not fair. I-I barely even talk to you, and you're still taking care of me. 'M sorry, (Y/N)."
"Harry, really, I don't think you're mean, ok—"
"I jus' don't know how to talk to you, (Y/N)," he continued as if he hadn't heard a single word she said, "'S so hard to talk to you, and-and m'brain hurts when I try to think about it."
Canting her head as she gazed down at him, she dropped one of her hands from his hair only to skate over the planes of his face. She traced over the height of his cheekbone, and brushed the length of his lashes before she grazed the bridge of his nose. "It's okay, Harry," she soothed him, watching as his eyes fell closed, "It's okay to be shy. I know Mr. Azoff's last assistant was really close to you, it's fine if we're not there yet. We'll get there someday, right?"
"No," he whined, drawing out the syllable as he peeked his eyes open, "'S not like that—not like with Mallory, (Y/N). I like y'so much that m'brain doesn't work around you. It wasn't like that at all with Mallory—I didn't have a crush on her."
(Y/N) was thankful for the cover of his illness to keep him from fully noticing her reaction to his confession. While it was sweet the way he described his feelings—a crush, he'd said—that had to have been at the very bottom of the list of reasons she would have thought up as to why he behaved the way he did around her. What was she supposed to say to something like that? How was she supposed to take it given the fact that this could be nothing more than one of his delirious ramblings given the state of his fever?
"I can't believe 'm telling you like this," he muttered, eyes fluttered closed in a tight pinch as he turned in her lap. He faced the soft of her tummy, his arms wrapping around her middle as he nosed at the fabric of her top. "I smell like vomit and I haven't washed m'hair for four days, 'm sorry."
A quiet sigh left her lips as she carded her fingers through his hair, the unwashed curls slipping between her fingers. "It's okay, Harry. Don't worry about any of that right now, okay? We can talk about that later, but you need to focus on getting better right?"
"Right," he peeped, voice slowing and dredging deeper into sleep, "And you'll stay with me?"
Her answer was automatic, "Of course. I'll be here to take care of you, I promise."
It was only moments later he was asleep again, face tucked against her tummy while (Y/N) was wide awake.
—————
(YN) woke with a stiff neck to the sound of the shower running, still wrapped up in Harry's bedding though now she had his knitted blanket draped over her form. The side of the bed she had slipped him into once she was too tired to stay awake was now cold, only the impression of his body on the sheets giving away his presence.
Blinking her dry eyes, she tried to get her bearings after the long night she'd had tending to her boss's favorite client, along with every rambling confession he woke up in the middle of the night to share.
He apparently thought her hair was very pretty, wanted to share clothes with her, and thought she had a cute laugh. Though, those were only the confessions she could decipher in his sleepy, nasally voice.
She was still clothed in the outfit she'd donned the morning before, her phone waiting with a handful of texts from Mr. Azoff asking about Mr. Styles' state and if there was anything the pair of them needed now that (Y/N) had taken on the role of nursing him back to health for the time being. She pushed those messages off to the side at the moment, instead trying to untwirl her brain now that she had a moment alone without Mr. Styles' health at the front of her mind.
He liked her, he'd said—he had a crush on her even. That was why he didn't have it in himself to hold a conversation with her, too shy to speak to her without making an ass of himself. The thought made her heart flutter, a fact she couldn't deny especially after she realized the smile on her face when she recalled his exact words.
Despite the fact his kindness didn't always extend to her in the obvious ways, thinking back, she realized the signs were there. He remembered her birthday and put together an impromptu party that he couldn't even properly attend. He remembered her Halloween costume even though he was running around all day, preparing for one of the biggest shows of the year. He paid attention to her; he listened for her favorite foods, favorite colors, favorite books. While he was too shy to talk to her about those things directly, he still went out of his way to find them out and keep them to himself.
It was easier for her since she knew she got this job to send her own feelings packing, out of her head and her heart before she could find herself in trouble with an infatuation with her boss's favorite client and best friend. That fact grew even more important as soon as Harry started behaving the way he did around her, but now that she had that glimmering confession, the tender explanation, it was hard to keep those feelings from marching right back in. All those months that she had to school herself into knocking away the melancholy at the fact that one of her inspirations didn't seem to like her now were turned in a new light, trying to see those same moments from Harry's point of view.
How many times had she thought she felt his eyes on her, only to turn and find him looking the other direction? Had she really been only a second too late to catch his gaze? Every time she had chattered away with a member of the crew or Mr. Azoff himself, with Harry scrolling through his phone distractedly had he really been listening in and collecting information he was too scared to ask for? Or even the times he had dropped his gaze when she met his, the blushing hue to his skin now could be out of sheepish affection and not the need to get away from her as soon as possible.
She hadn't been invisible to him, or even a negative presence in his day-to-day, she was piecing together. He thought of her the same way she thought of him. What a heart-stopping thought.
"Morning."
(Y/N) jumped in her spot, the bedsheets rustling around her denim-clad legs at the sound of Harry's rumbling voice. Dropping back into the moment, she saw him standing just outside the bathroom door, luggage at his feet as he packed away the clothing he would need sent off to be washed before they were on their way to the next destination. A quiet smile was on his lips, a shy shifting to his gaze that kept him from meeting hers. His socked feet dug into the plush carpet on the floor, legs folded over in a pair of heavy black sweats along with a crewneck from his brand that hadn't been released to the public just yet. His hair was damp and dark, finally washed after the few days she was sure it had been bothering him.
"Morning," she chirped back, finding her voice, "How are you feeling?"
"Better," he mused, running a hand through his damp hair, "Finally getting to actually sleep last night helped a lot, I think. I took the medicine y'left on the table, and took a shower and I'm really feeling a lot better."
"Good, that makes me happy. Now, you can sleep all day and actually eat something instead of laying on the bathroom floor." (Y/N) felt proud of herself when she caught sight of the dimples denting his cheeks as he huffed out a quiet laugh.
A beat of silence passed between them as Harry finally dropped the guise of rifling through his bag to face her. Stuffing his hands into the pockets of his sweats, he toed at the ground as he looked at her through the fan of his lashes.
"Um, thanks for taking care of me and everything yesterday, (Y/N)," he drawled, a pinch touching between his brows, "I really, really appreciate it. 'M sure it wasn't easy. My mum says I always get whiny when 'm sick, so..."
"You weren't that bad," she told him with a gentle smile, crossing her legs underneath herself from where she sat on the bed, "I used to babysit when I was in college, and you are definitely not as bad as some of the kids I used to help."
"Great," he laughed with a playful roll of his eyes, "'m not as bad as a child. I'll have to tell my mum, that'll show her."
After the short peals of laughter died down, silence filled in for their voices. Was she supposed to say something? Did he want her to say something? Or was what was said last night meant to stay right there—in the evening hours, in the brain fog that came along with his fever?
"Listen," he said, swallowing hard as he finally met her gaze head on, "'M really sorry about yesterday. I know I said a lot of things, and 'm really sorry if I made y'uncomfortable or anything. I-I don't know why I said any of that, honestly."
Fighting the urge to drop her own gaze as she'd seen him do so many times before, (Y/N) kept herself focused on him, following the small droplets of water that clung to his forehead from his damp curls. "You didn't make me uncomfortable," she said, "But—um—di-did you mean it? What you said? About being shy and everything because of... me?"
Another harsh swallow had his throat bobbing, the green of his eyes disappearing for just a moment as he blinked towards the ceiling before returning. "I mean, yeah. I did mean it. I never wanted to tell y'like that, though, that's for sure. I know y'were being nice, but I definitely did smell like vomit and you're a saint for sitting there and letting me talk like a crazy person all night. I don't even know how you found time to sleep with me constantly bothering you."
"You weren't bothering me," she said, a smile cracking her features now that she realized there was no catch to his confession. There was no reason to quash the happiness filling her chest. "I thought it was really sweet what you were saying to me. It was nice to hear all of that stuff, especially since I was pretty sure you didn't like me just two days ago."
He clenched his eyes shut at her finishing words. "I really am sorry about that, I hope you know," he said with a heady sigh, "I wish I had a better explanation, but really, you jus' make me nervous."
"It's okay," she waved off, shuffling towards the edge of the bed closest to him without much thought, "You make me nervous, too—I get it."
"I do?" he asked, a boyish smile touching at his features while his eyes seemingly sparkled in the low light.
"I mean, yeah," she revealed, a duh tone to her words, "Why do you think it's always so hard for me to talk to you?"
Harry took slow steps towards the edge of the bed, his socked feet dragging through the plush carpet. "But you're always so—," he trailed off, flicking his hands out in front of him with a flourish, "Everywhere, I guess. Talking to everyone and laughing. I don't think I've ever seen y'nervous."
"Well, I don't like everyone else the way I like you, so I don't get nervous like that. It's harder to talk to you when all I want is to say the right thing."
Before she even realized it, Harry was stood right in front of where she was sat on the edge of the bed. He towered over her with warmth radiating from his chest, the heat much more pleasant than the fever he was running the night before, especially when he looked at her so sweetly with his big eyes. It was in slow movements that he brought his hands out and settled them on her wrists, only to trail down to lace his fingers between hers. When she didn't pull away or make any sound of protest, she felt him squeeze her hands.
"I like hearing y'talk. Y'have a pretty voice," he murmured, his voice just a touch deeper than normal given the last week of his life.
"I like your voice too," she beamed up at him, "Why do you think I'm always out there during the shows?"
"Because, Jeff makes you?" he teased, shyly dropping her gaze to where their hands were bundled between them.
(Y/N) shook her head, adjusting her position on the bed to sit with her bottom on her heels and her legs folded underneath her. "I like listening to you sing and talk to everyone. You're amazing on stage. It's my favorite part of being on the road with everyone—getting to see you every night like that."
He keened under her praise, canting his head as he squeezed her hands. Dimples dented his cheeks as he looked to her. "Thank you," he murmured, the blunt ends of his front teeth sinking into his bottom lip once he got his gratitude out.
Looking at him like this, feeling the strength of his hands and the heat of his skin all the while he looked at her so tenderly had (Y/N)'s heart racing. How was this real?"
"Harry?"
"Hm?"
Dropping her eyes to his lips, the raspberry color just a bit drained from his illness though he wasn't any less appealing. She spoke without thought as her stayed stuck on his mouth, "Can I kiss you?"
She watched as a smile grew on his lips at her words. "I—uh—'M sick, remember?" he protested less than half-heartedly.
"I got my flu shot, remember?"
That was all the convincing it took to have Harry dropping her hands from his, only to then cradle the soft of her cheeks in his hands. His lips slotted against hers in a tender press, allowing her to taste the clean mint of his toothpaste and whatever scented chapstick he'd swiped over his pout. She didn't even have time to think about the fact she was still wearing her clothes from the day before with unbrushed hair and unwashed skin, not with the way he was holding her and pressing into her mouth for more. It was as unhurried of a kiss as it was wanting, making up for the lost time that had been wasted over the past few months.
The contact remained innocent, only sweet presses of their lips growing more and more delicate until Harry pulled away just to press a smattering of kisses against her pout. His actions drew a laugh from her chest, her hands reaching for his shirt as he kissed her smiling mouth.
"We don't have to leave for the venue until tonight, right?" he asked, slightly breathless though he matched her smile tenfold. (Y/N) nodded her head still in his delicate grip, the pad of his thumb sweeping under her eye. "We should probably leave for a little and let housekeeping clean up a little, but 'm still really tired," his gaze flickered over hers, his smile growing that much more at whatever he found in there, "Could we go back to your room? We don't have to do anything"—that had his cheeks blushing—", but I don't want to sleep alone again after this."
That was all (Y/N) needed before she was dragging him down the hall to her hotel room, following right after him into her unused, plush bed. It was instinct at this point the way he cuddled up to her, face in her neck with his nose pressed to her pulse. All she felt was a press of his lips to the curve of her throat before he was asleep again, leaving (Y/N) the time to send Mr. Azoff a message.
Harry was fine, she told him, but he'd probably need another day of rest and looking after. A job she was more than willing to continue to take on. She'd tell him the full story later, she decided, especially after he saw the room service charges for double meals to her room.
—————
I got a request for something like this a super long time ago so thank you to whoever requested for being so patient! thank you so much for reading and sorry for any mistakes! if anyone has any ideas or requests of your own pls pls send them in !
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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