Love Begins
blake kathryn
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Game of Thrones Daily
🩵 avery cochrane 🩵
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NASA
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taylor price
Interview Vampire Daily
Fai_Ryy
Keni
𓃗
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Sade Olutola
Mike Driver
oozey mess
Origami Around
seen from Bangladesh
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seen from Saudi Arabia
seen from Ecuador
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@meetevieinthehallway
my writings!
my collection of harry styles writings!
[older pieces are currently under construction]
often fluffy, often angst-ridden. you can send me requests if you have one. i don’t write any smut (because i’m bad at it) or sad endings (because i hate them) so you’ll have to find another writer who does those— but other than that don’t be shy!
✦ blurb, asks, request masterlist!
✦ just harry.
in which harry is a prince but craves normalcy.
the long awaited prince!harry in which he falls in love with the gardener’s daughter.
✦ stop thinking so much.
in which harry teaches english and some poetry is hard to pick apart.
harry has grown up in fantasy worlds—half because he loves it, half because it protects him—but it’s time for him to slow his own head.
✦ why would you keep something like this from me?
in which she feels uncomfortable but doesn’t tell harry.
she is dealing with harassment at work.
✦ and i can’t give that to you.
in which harry suffers from seasonal depression and his love doesn’t know how to help.
she prays for spring and he wishes for her to be happy.
my most loved piece (’:
✦ cus y’laugh is pretty.
in which harry gets his wisdom teeth removed.
harry speaks utter nonsense when he’s all drugged up from surgery.
✦ green’s her favorite, h.
in which harry’s love is distant and broken after the loss of her mother.
harry’s sad that his love is sad, but he doesn’t know what to do.
✦ my muse.
in which harry paints for a hobby and his lovie is his inspiration.
harry fluctuates between confidence and pride, and shyness and hesitation when he tells his love that he’s painted her.
✦ even if it was momentary.
in which harry is forced to watch his worst nightmare.
harry’s brain won’t shut up or let him look at her after she’s been in an accident.
✦ i should have called—
in which harry hates the frat boy that lives below him and she can’t sleep.
neighbor!harry who falls in love with the girl who invites him in.
✦ just one more.
in which they feel as if they have no purpose, but for different reasons.
the two can’t get pregnant and it’s equally hard on both of them.
✦ you blush a lot. they made me think of you.
in which harry is a shy uni student who isn’t the best at talking to girls. more specifically: a girl he’s literally fell in love with at first glance behind a cafe counter.
harry is shy and wants to ask out the shy girl who likes his vanilla lattes.
eventually he does, and it’s the best date they’ve ever had.
✦ i wish you were the one who told me.
in which harry’s lack of memory is the part that hurts the most.
the tabloids and media get the best of them.
✦ h-how did flour get there?
in which harry thought the way to her heart was through her stomach.
harry used to work in a bakery...kind of.
✦ you’ve been spraying my perfume?
in which harry’s heart left with her on her plane ride.
harry’s sad that his lovie is on her business trip, especially on a certain day.
✦ couldn’t lose you. still can’t.
in which her beauty is ten times more illuminated by the twinkling lights of their bedroom, rather than her phone screen. harry only hopes she doesn’t lose her radiance like he has.
harry’s gone behind her back to protect her from his lifestyle.
✦ jus’ a little, i-itty bit.
in which she can’t have him when her lips are this stained.
lovie is flirty and drunk and harry thinks her antics are adorable, until she gets the wrong impression.
✦ let us heal, first. together.
in which they’ve never loved and lost so much.
the two grieve the loss of their first daughter.
✦ surprised you’re here.
in which harry ought to understand the simplicity of undivided attention.
harry’s attention is only directed at his so-called mates on the night that was supposed to be her’s.
———
heyyyyyy… how yall doin?? remember lil ol me!!!
Love on Tour
Sept. 4, 2021 // July 22, 2023
hey y’all!! lil blurb for u!! i turned 22 today (: so here’s some bday fluff. this idea was so spur of the moment, and i’m not even sure i love it, but here she is!!
—
“i’m here!!! i’m here i’m here god i am so sorry—”
she really just hates today.
she hates the date, the time of year, the way the sun hangs low yet harshly and stings with a sticky, uncomfortable feeling that has her scrubbing at her skin in the shower like it isn’t something delicate, and she hates the way she spent her two showers today washing her hair four times, just trying to move the day along. she thinks the hot water won’t return for a month, but in the moment it seemed worthwhile.
and this. this is exactly what she didn’t want to happen.
it was already bad enough that she hated her own birthday with a loathing burn in her abdomen, trying to distract from the incessant memories of empty childhood birthday parties and the pain of growing and the blatant lack of care from her parents growing up— it’s not like they decided to have her or something— they probably didn’t. to them it was just another day beneath the boil of july that needed to move along quicker than any other, and she supposed after a while, when the tears had dried and her throat stopped burning, that there was some merit to that. she hated cake anyways, and hated being the center of anything, let alone an entire day, and she never wanted any more than she needed. but this.. this was somehow worse.
harry knew of this, this loathing of the day that commemorated her life, the essence of his beautiful girl, and he thought it was the most heart wrenching thing he’s ever seen or heard of. every year he would buy her a small present that she’d scowl at him for, and even when her eyes lit up after the wrapping hit the floor, it never received much more than a soft “thank you, i love it. i love you.” and a quick kiss to his cheek or his lips, and that was it. he knew better than to spoil her the way he wanted to, and he knew better than to only wish her a happy birthday less than twice in the 24-hours. it pained him every year, but he didn’t want to make her uncomfortable for his own sake. the only thing she ever asked of him is that he spend the day with her, and she never even meant the full day— a few hours in the morning, or a lunch date, or a movie night after dinner, was sufficient. she would rather his presence than anything.
which is exactly why she didn’t want this to happen.
because this year seemed, different. she was turning an age she wasn’t thrilled about, and the loathing and anger had settled itself from swirling into a deep pit of something sad. she didn’t know why— couldn’t pin-point it, but she had been going through something of a depressive episode she couldn’t shake, and her birthday being smack in the middle of it definitely didn’t help.
but, harry promised her he’d only work the morning, and that they’d spend the entire day at home together, whether it was a movie marathon or reading by the window or just laying together and letting her bask in his familiar warmth. he knew what to do when she was going through something like this. and she actually felt a twinge of something happy in her stomach when he said that, sealing the promise with a it’s a no pressure day. i’ll even rub your back how you like.
but here it all is— the inevitable, the reason she grew to hate this day since she was sixteen, why she stopped telling friends when it was, why she hated cake and presents and everything in between: the disappointment.
because when harry barges through the door with the lingering taste of his forgotten promise, the clock’s small hand is nearing three, and by one she had already curled herself up on the couch with wet hair and an uneaten salad from the grocery store left to its own devices on the coffee table. there was a rerun of seinfeld droning on the television, and as much as she hated the show she couldn’t muster enough effort to reach for the remote. she wasn’t sure how long it was playing for. at the sound of his clamoring footsteps she winces, then sighs, and she turns over the couch to face the sound just as he barrels through.
his face says it all, mirroring her own disappointment but his expression lacks the apathy glazing over her eyes. and at the sight of that, his heart stutters, and he’s almost panting with worry and nerves and they’re staring at each other for too long of a beat without a single sound throughout the house.
she bites the inside of her lip. “hi,” she says softly.
“hi,” he breathes, rushing to the front of the couch where she has turned back to, her socks sliding together like how they do when she’s sad. his hand reaches for her heel, and he crouches, watching her hands fold under her cheek. his hand rubs at her ankle and she sighs contently at the touch, and he’s staring desperately at her face. “i’m so sorry, bug. i got caught up.”
she hums a flat “mm.” and he sighs. he pauses, biting his cheek, watching her eyes leave their glance at him to stare at the television droning behind him.
“i—.. uh. i got you something.”
at this she looks to him with the same scowl she always does, every year on this day, and he smiles weakly at the familiar expression. her eyebrows are knitted together and a frown sinks into her lips.
“didn’t want anything.” she says it differently this year, this time laced with an apathetic flatness rather than an annoyance or even a smile within the words, eyes drifting back to the screen.
“i know.” he says, hand moving up her leg. “but, it’s why i was gone today, and so i think you should at least see it before you decide to kick me to the couch t’night.”
her eyes flick back to him, her eyebrows lifting slightly from their place between the space between them, and she sees a soft smile on his face.
and as much as she hates today, and as much as she’s mad at him, she is doomed to love that smile regardless of time. before she can say anything, he stands slowly, smiles and walks out of her view, and she begins to sit up to chase him in her vision. her eyebrows are still pulled down when he disappears completely, and all she hears is a gentle rustling.
his face appears suddenly from the corner of the wall, a grin now stretching his cheeks. “gotta close your eyes, love.”
her expression breaks, and she can’t help but roll her eyes, scoffing. “harry.” she says sternly, with a tinge of warning. “no.”
“c’mon babes,” he says, eyes gleaming with something boyish.
“harry, you know i hate this.” she deadpans, “and you know i’m mad at you. don’t push it.”
he falters slightly, his smile settling into a pout. “i know, love, i’m sorry. i-i just…” he comes around the corner completely, his hands pressed gently against a box no bigger than one for shoes, a big bow seeming to mock her atop it, “.. i wanted to do something special. i know you hate your birthday, but i can’t help wanting to celebrate you—”
“you weren’t here.”
he pauses, faltering again.
“you know i hate it, so why weren’t you here with me?”
she feels pathetic, and she can feel her emotions spinning out of control, and she hisses at the tears that dot her waterline. she’s tired of feeling so tired, and it’s all unleashing now, so she turns her face away from where he’s standing. she knows she’s stubborn and sharp and blunt but she doesn’t know what to do. all she wanted was him today, and he kept her waiting, and suddenly all the years of disappointment have piled into one blow even with the smallest occurrence. right as she says it, she feels ridiculous, and shakes her head, “harry—”
“because i wanted you to have two coming home to you.”
she halts, everything in her mind and body halts. what???
she turns back to look at him, and when she does she hears a soft thud to the floor, and her eyes follow, the box and the bow completely forgotten to their flooring. her eyes trail up, and cradled softly in his large tattooed hands is a ball of fur.
is that..—
it’s a gray little bunny, black eyes blinking at her, ears twitching despite the deafening silence.
“happy birthday” he grins at her, his fingers coming to pet at the space between his ears.
she’s speechless. her mind is racing with what’s in front of her— so small, so seemingly insignificant, but so unbelievable.
“mini lop, just like you’ve always wanted, yeah?”
she barely hears him, because she’s on her feet and padding over to him quickly, and his smile widens the closer she approaches him.
she—… she’s wanted a bunny, for, forever. it’s what she always begged her parents for for her birthday as long as she could remember, when her birthday meant something to her. she made presentations to convince them, hours of drawing and crafting in every method of attempted persuasion she knew how, just for them to not even glance her way when she talked about it. they always told her she was too young, too irresponsible for a pet at whatever age she was turning, and told her “maybe next year”, but the years faded by and the presentations became less elaborate and quicker dismissed and her excitement depleted and she stopped asking completely, stuffing her drawings to the bottom of her bed to collect dust. and once she stopped asking, she stopped caring about the day, too, and her childish dream seemed to fade with the years, and all it then became was a stupid child’s idea and greedy want.
but here, its fur nestled between harry’s fingers, it wasn’t so small and stupid and insignificant as she once told herself it was.
she had only told him once, and it was two years ago, when her head was nestled in his lap and a pet commercial whizzed by the television.
why didn’t you ever get one when you got older?
she had shrugged, turning her face to look up at him.
dunno. just kinda stopped asking, and i never thought much of it again. i do love them, though, ‘specially the ones with the floppy ears. cute lil buggers.
you should get one!
another shrug. ‘s okay. she said. just a little kid’s want. no biggie.
it was a minute-long conversation, something so fleeting and small curled up in his lap and she can’t believe that the smallest thing she said had stuck in his memory for that long.
“you.. you got me a bunny?” her voice cracks to a whisper, and her eyes are really welling up now, and harry’s eyes watch as her face softens. “you… what?”
he tucks his lips together, “yeah.” he says, and he watches as her hands join his at the spot between the fur. “i did, lovie. you wanna hold ‘im? he’s very cuddly.”
she’s silent for a moment, or two, or three, and he studies her face for any break of reaction. when it does, it’s a small nod, childlike and teary, and he passes the little thing off to her easily. her hands falter, nervous and hesitant against his weight, but she takes him, watching as he nestles in her arms.
“cute, in’he? he reminds me of you.”
she’s not even looking at the bunny in her arms, the thing she’s always wanted, the little girl’s dream never fulfilled. she’s looking at him, and her tears are flowing freely down her cheeks, and she’s beginning to laugh through her tears a bit, and harry smiles.
“i-i… i don’t— what?”
he chuckles, leaning forward to kiss the top of her head, his hand coming to rub at her bicep. “i’m sorry that i’m late. he was a little further away than i anticipated. i stopped for his food ‘n stuff, too, so i’m sorry, but i had—”
she gently lunges forward to smear her lips against his, and he startles, then softens, his hand reaching to her cheek. when she pulls away, he watches her eyes remain closed for a beat, almost drinking him in, and when she opens them, they’ve softened.
“i.. i don’t know how to thank you.” she says quietly, “harry, i… this means so much…”
“i know, love, it’s okay.”
she looks down on the gray fluff in her hold, and her smile grows quickly, until she let’s out a laugh and shifts her weight on her feet. “oh my god!” she says, “he’s really mine?”
harry’s finger hooks beneath her jaw, tilting her face back up to meet his eyes. he plants a kiss to the center of her forehead, humming into her skin. he pulls away, looking down on her smile growing brighter by the second.
“all yours.”
hey y’all!! lil blurb for u!! i turned 22 today (: so here’s some bday fluff. this idea was so spur of the moment, and i’m not even sure i love it, but here she is!!
—
“i’m here!!! i’m here i’m here god i am so sorry—”
she really just hates today.
she hates the date, the time of year, the way the sun hangs low yet harshly and stings with a sticky, uncomfortable feeling that has her scrubbing at her skin in the shower like it isn’t something delicate, and she hates the way she spent her two showers today washing her hair four times, just trying to move the day along. she thinks the hot water won’t return for a month, but in the moment it seemed worthwhile.
and this. this is exactly what she didn’t want to happen.
it was already bad enough that she hated her own birthday with a loathing burn in her abdomen, trying to distract from the incessant memories of empty childhood birthday parties and the pain of growing and the blatant lack of care from her parents growing up— it’s not like they decided to have her or something— they probably didn’t. to them it was just another day beneath the boil of july that needed to move along quicker than any other, and she supposed after a while, when the tears had dried and her throat stopped burning, that there was some merit to that. she hated cake anyways, and hated being the center of anything, let alone an entire day, and she never wanted any more than she needed. but this.. this was somehow worse.
harry knew of this, this loathing of the day that commemorated her life, the essence of his beautiful girl, and he thought it was the most heart wrenching thing he’s ever seen or heard of. every year he would buy her a small present that she’d scowl at him for, and even when her eyes lit up after the wrapping hit the floor, it never received much more than a soft “thank you, i love it. i love you.” and a quick kiss to his cheek or his lips, and that was it. he knew better than to spoil her the way he wanted to, and he knew better than to only wish her a happy birthday less than twice in the 24-hours. it pained him every year, but he didn’t want to make her uncomfortable for his own sake. the only thing she ever asked of him is that he spend the day with her, and she never even meant the full day— a few hours in the morning, or a lunch date, or a movie night after dinner, was sufficient. she would rather his presence than anything.
which is exactly why she didn’t want this to happen.
because this year seemed, different. she was turning an age she wasn’t thrilled about, and the loathing and anger had settled itself from swirling into a deep pit of something sad. she didn’t know why— couldn’t pin-point it, but she had been going through something of a depressive episode she couldn’t shake, and her birthday being smack in the middle of it definitely didn’t help.
but, harry promised her he’d only work the morning, and that they’d spend the entire day at home together, whether it was a movie marathon or reading by the window or just laying together and letting her bask in his familiar warmth. he knew what to do when she was going through something like this. and she actually felt a twinge of something happy in her stomach when he said that, sealing the promise with a it’s a no pressure day. i’ll even rub your back how you like.
but here it all is— the inevitable, the reason she grew to hate this day since she was sixteen, why she stopped telling friends when it was, why she hated cake and presents and everything in between: the disappointment.
because when harry barges through the door with the lingering taste of his forgotten promise, the clock’s small hand is nearing three, and by one she had already curled herself up on the couch with wet hair and an uneaten salad from the grocery store left to its own devices on the coffee table. there was a rerun of seinfeld droning on the television, and as much as she hated the show she couldn’t muster enough effort to reach for the remote. she wasn’t sure how long it was playing for. at the sound of his clamoring footsteps she winces, then sighs, and she turns over the couch to face the sound just as he barrels through.
his face says it all, mirroring her own disappointment but his expression lacks the apathy glazing over her eyes. and at the sight of that, his heart stutters, and he’s almost panting with worry and nerves and they’re staring at each other for too long of a beat without a single sound throughout the house.
she bites the inside of her lip. “hi,” she says softly.
“hi,” he breathes, rushing to the front of the couch where she has turned back to, her socks sliding together like how they do when she’s sad. his hand reaches for her heel, and he crouches, watching her hands fold under her cheek. his hand rubs at her ankle and she sighs contently at the touch, and he’s staring desperately at her face. “i’m so sorry, bug. i got caught up.”
she hums a flat “mm.” and he sighs. he pauses, biting his cheek, watching her eyes leave their glance at him to stare at the television droning behind him.
“i—.. uh. i got you something.”
at this she looks to him with the same scowl she always does, every year on this day, and he smiles weakly at the familiar expression. her eyebrows are knitted together and a frown sinks into her lips.
“didn’t want anything.” she says it differently this year, this time laced with an apathetic flatness rather than an annoyance or even a smile within the words, eyes drifting back to the screen.
“i know.” he says, hand moving up her leg. “but, it’s why i was gone today, and so i think you should at least see it before you decide to kick me to the couch t’night.”
her eyes flick back to him, her eyebrows lifting slightly from their place between the space between them, and she sees a soft smile on his face.
and as much as she hates today, and as much as she’s mad at him, she is doomed to love that smile regardless of time. before she can say anything, he stands slowly, smiles and walks out of her view, and she begins to sit up to chase him in her vision. her eyebrows are still pulled down when he disappears completely, and all she hears is a gentle rustling.
his face appears suddenly from the corner of the wall, a grin now stretching his cheeks. “gotta close your eyes, love.”
her expression breaks, and she can’t help but roll her eyes, scoffing. “harry.” she says sternly, with a tinge of warning. “no.”
“c’mon babes,” he says, eyes gleaming with something boyish.
“harry, you know i hate this.” she deadpans, “and you know i’m mad at you. don’t push it.”
he falters slightly, his smile settling into a pout. “i know, love, i’m sorry. i-i just…” he comes around the corner completely, his hands pressed gently against a box no bigger than one for shoes, a big bow seeming to mock her atop it, “.. i wanted to do something special. i know you hate your birthday, but i can’t help wanting to celebrate you—”
“you weren’t here.”
he pauses, faltering again.
“you know i hate it, so why weren’t you here with me?”
she feels pathetic, and she can feel her emotions spinning out of control, and she hisses at the tears that dot her waterline. she’s tired of feeling so tired, and it’s all unleashing now, so she turns her face away from where he’s standing. she knows she’s stubborn and sharp and blunt but she doesn’t know what to do. all she wanted was him today, and he kept her waiting, and suddenly all the years of disappointment have piled into one blow even with the smallest occurrence. right as she says it, she feels ridiculous, and shakes her head, “harry—”
“because i wanted you to have two coming home to you.”
she halts, everything in her mind and body halts. what???
she turns back to look at him, and when she does she hears a soft thud to the floor, and her eyes follow, the box and the bow completely forgotten to their flooring. her eyes trail up, and cradled softly in his large tattooed hands is a ball of fur.
is that..—
it’s a gray little bunny, black eyes blinking at her, ears twitching despite the deafening silence.
“happy birthday” he grins at her, his fingers coming to pet at the space between his ears.
she’s speechless. her mind is racing with what’s in front of her— so small, so seemingly insignificant, but so unbelievable.
“mini lop, just like you’ve always wanted, yeah?”
she barely hears him, because she’s on her feet and padding over to him quickly, and his smile widens the closer she approaches him.
she—… she’s wanted a bunny, for, forever. it’s what she always begged her parents for for her birthday as long as she could remember, when her birthday meant something to her. she made presentations to convince them, hours of drawing and crafting in every method of attempted persuasion she knew how, just for them to not even glance her way when she talked about it. they always told her she was too young, too irresponsible for a pet at whatever age she was turning, and told her “maybe next year”, but the years faded by and the presentations became less elaborate and quicker dismissed and her excitement depleted and she stopped asking completely, stuffing her drawings to the bottom of her bed to collect dust. and once she stopped asking, she stopped caring about the day, too, and her childish dream seemed to fade with the years, and all it then became was a stupid child’s idea and greedy want.
but here, its fur nestled between harry’s fingers, it wasn’t so small and stupid and insignificant as she once told herself it was.
she had only told him once, and it was two years ago, when her head was nestled in his lap and a pet commercial whizzed by the television.
why didn’t you ever get one when you got older?
she had shrugged, turning her face to look up at him.
dunno. just kinda stopped asking, and i never thought much of it again. i do love them, though, ‘specially the ones with the floppy ears. cute lil buggers.
you should get one!
another shrug. ‘s okay. she said. just a little kid’s want. no biggie.
it was a minute-long conversation, something so fleeting and small curled up in his lap and she can’t believe that the smallest thing she said had stuck in his memory for that long.
“you.. you got me a bunny?” her voice cracks to a whisper, and her eyes are really welling up now, and harry’s eyes watch as her face softens. “you… what?”
he tucks his lips together, “yeah.” he says, and he watches as her hands join his at the spot between the fur. “i did, lovie. you wanna hold ‘im? he’s very cuddly.”
she’s silent for a moment, or two, or three, and he studies her face for any break of reaction. when it does, it’s a small nod, childlike and teary, and he passes the little thing off to her easily. her hands falter, nervous and hesitant against his weight, but she takes him, watching as he nestles in her arms.
“cute, in’he? he reminds me of you.”
she’s not even looking at the bunny in her arms, the thing she’s always wanted, the little girl’s dream never fulfilled. she’s looking at him, and her tears are flowing freely down her cheeks, and she’s beginning to laugh through her tears a bit, and harry smiles.
“i-i… i don’t— what?”
he chuckles, leaning forward to kiss the top of her head, his hand coming to rub at her bicep. “i’m sorry that i’m late. he was a little further away than i anticipated. i stopped for his food ‘n stuff, too, so i’m sorry, but i had—”
she gently lunges forward to smear her lips against his, and he startles, then softens, his hand reaching to her cheek. when she pulls away, he watches her eyes remain closed for a beat, almost drinking him in, and when she opens them, they’ve softened.
“i.. i don’t know how to thank you.” she says quietly, “harry, i… this means so much…”
“i know, love, it’s okay.”
she looks down on the gray fluff in her hold, and her smile grows quickly, until she let’s out a laugh and shifts her weight on her feet. “oh my god!” she says, “he’s really mine?”
harry’s finger hooks beneath her jaw, tilting her face back up to meet his eyes. he plants a kiss to the center of her forehead, humming into her skin. he pulls away, looking down on her smile growing brighter by the second.
“all yours.”
The furrow in Harry’s brows deepened, “So your ride wanted to get his cock wet and now you have no way home?”
“It was – really, it was my idea, actually! He was trying to say no to her, but I cut in and told him to go ahead and do it but I lied about having a way home. Don’t think he would have let me take the Uber, you know?” she sighs, scratching at her cheek lightly, “Niall is nice, so he – he deserved to have a good night.”
Harry stared at her for a minute, silently, and Y/N was still making herself twist back and forth on the chair waiting for him until he finally spoke again, “Your self-preservation skills are shit.”
“Oh,” her eyes widened, “Do you think so? I thought that they were at least a little okay.”
or
Harry is a grumpy mechanic and Y/N just can’t stop talking
Keep reading
this series is BEAUTIFUL and FILTHY I LOVE IT
Madrid (7/29) - As It Was ft. tiny banana
please i beg of you to do a period comfort fic please please your comfort/fluff stuff is so amazing
maybe something where lovies in a lot of pain and is just super reliant on harry bc of the pain and he’s super sweet and gentle with her and comforting
PLEASE PLEASE
FIRST LIL WRITING AFTER A LONG WHILE!!! bear w me pls, im rusty :D
-
she doesn’t want to do this.
it could have been a worse time, she supposes— it’s not as if they were at one of harry’s a-list events where her smile would most obviously quiver from the pain and bring her abdomen to her feet, where his eyes would snap to hers with worry at the first strained sigh in her throat. but, what she does know is that she didn’t want this to happen, not now.
ever since she stopped flooding her body with birth control in a preliminary effort to try for a child, her periods have hit her like tidal waves. pain is not the word, but torture, even, and she is not one for melodrama but it all just feels so suffocating and burning and red and just god— OW.
the cramps are like knives to the skin and she’s even started to get lightheaded now between the pendulum of her moods and it all just feels so dramatic but she also knows that she’s not intending to be. and it’s exactly what she’s feeling now, because as she stands up from the oven she winces, flinches, as if electrocuted in her abdomen, and it’s a miracle that the pan had made it to the stovetop without scorching her feet as it hits the floor. and the heat from the cookies just laying there innocently is too much, all at once, and she lets out a hiss when another stab comes to her pelvis.
“fuck,” she mutters, throwing the oven mit next to the tray, her other arm coming to wrap around herself. she fumbles, clumsy feet moving to the bar stool closest to her, and just as she sits another hits, less harsh but enough to make the air in her lungs to run for cover outside of her heating body.
and of course, of fucking course, she has barely anytime to think—as if she could even attempt with the onset of a swirling vision and a pounding headache drumming at her temples—before harry waltzes in on light feet and a boyish smile decorating his face.
“ready t’go, bird?” by the time he finishes the question, his eyebrows are starting to pinch as he drinks in his wife’s expression: eyes closed, shallow breathing, her own brow furrowed in something of pain and anguish. her arms are glued to her stomach, too, which he recognizes immediately, and he clicks his tongue once. “you okay, love?” he moves to stand in front of where she sits, leaning down to meet his eyes to her closed ones. he brushes a strand of hair from her forehead, starting to dampen from the heat from her forehead.
“yeah, yeah.” she says softly, her eyes opening to meet his, glassy and pained against the green that looks at her with concern.
“y’feel dizzy? let’s get you upstairs and i’ll run you a bath?” he says it quietly, his hand coming to the top of her head in a gentle rub of her hair, and he watches her melt into the touch slightly.
“no.” she breathes, “no, no, we… we should be going soon.” her eyes open fully now, and start to pace themselves across his face and the kitchen.
“love, you are white as a ghost and as hot as the sun.” he says softly, “let me draw you a bath, kay? or would you rather lay down, hm?”
his voice melts her shoulders like butter, but it doesn’t distract from the pain threatening to shatter her to pieces.
“no, i-i, let’s go. i’ll take some midol in the car, and—”
“it’s okay, sweet. we’re staying here.”
“no!” she musters enough to say it stubbornly, and she watches his brow droop deeper and his frown widen into his cheeks. “i’m not missing your mum’s party. it’s— it’s just a stupid period, a-and it’ll pass—”. her argument weakens the more she speaks and the more waves of heat crash into her, breaking her syllables into sad attempts of words. he shakes his head at her, swallowing an endeared smile at his wife’s notorious stubbornness.
“c’mon, baby love. let’s get you comfy.”
he learned a long time ago that there isn’t a compromise when it comes to his wife’s periods. he’s never seen anything like it— the 4 full days of pain and whimpering and sleeping and bouts of eating everything or nothing at all— but he knows now what she needs. one faint in the too-hot shower a couple months back was all he needed to learn this time like memorizing a textbook. he feels saddened for her, too, as it strips her away from the world for a bit, and god does he wish he could soak that pain into his own pelvis and head just to give her a break. harry hates to see his own little love like this, crippled by discomfort.
“i’m so tired of this,” she sighs, eyes welling in an all-too-familiar hormonal emotion.
“i know,” he says, his hand coming to hold her cheek, pressing his cool skin into her blotchy face. “’s okay, though. mum will understand, i promise.”
and he’s successful in his knowledge, too, because she opens her fluttering eyes to gaze up at him sadly, a pout forming across her cheeks.
“but what about my cookies?”
he looks over his shoulder to see the pan resting on the stovetop, still steaming with heat and chocolate oozing out the sides.
“they’re her recipe. was so excited to show her.” her voice is defeated, and harry snorts.
“i am sure they will find a happy home in m’own stomach, bug. will make sure to send a yelp review her way.”
and at this she chuckles for a moment, before wincing, and it’s then that he scoops her up into his arms like a child, ignoring her soft protests. he kisses her on the forehead with a wet pucker as he moves to ascend their staircase, and by the time they reach the top she’s still attempting to convince him— can we please just go? i’ll be fine, i swear. i— ow, i-i, c’mon h… i really don’t want to miss it!
but his curls flop between his eyes and he smiles at her, softly shushing her panicked suggestions. she knows she has lost, though, because another stab comes through her stomach and she jolts, eyes watering. she sighs, letting her weight fall completely in his hold.
“bed or bath, little love?”
You blog have been my safe space for these few days when i wasnt feeling like myself, thank you so much for it and i hope you could feel this (virtual) hug that i send to you <333
i am a year late to this but i send a virtual hug back <3 u are so welcome and i love and appreciate u!
bestieeeee
hi bestie
craving a screaming match rn . u write them saurrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr good
LOLING at this
long time no see, tumblr. how are we all doing?
“i don’t deserve you.”
harry mumbled it under his breath, looking down on his tangled fingers in front of her sleeping figure that isn’t turned to face him. his guilt was rising, because he knows the reason the whole comforter was completely wrapped around her is because of him, and for all the wrong reasons.
“fuck..i really..really don’t.”
he sighed, the tears in his eyes threatening to come down again if he wouldn’t go do what he deserves, a feeling knocking upon him that not everything is okay. he didn’t know what the coming morning hours would bring, and if he's honest—and still as selfish as he was hours ago—he isn't sure he wants to know. but he did know two things for certain: that he is an absolute prick, and that his girl is absolutely breathtaking when she sleeps. his breath was shallow and his eyes flickered around her face as he realized this. harry silently moved himself away from lying down on the same bed as she was, giving a second look that made him realize more of his faults.
he felt regret as he lies down on the carpet—with pillows and blankets he brought from the downstairs—where he set up just beside the bed, a sinking weight in his chest when his brain reminds him of the damage he’s committed. his eyes wandered her face, one last time, for any sign of awareness, and he blinked to allow his tears to fall. harry reached a shaking hand outward to caress her cheek, but quickly put it back to his side, breath staggered. he sniffled, and laid down on the floor, placing his head on his pillow and blinking his eyes at her figure; he swallowed hard as he rustled with the blanket. he turned his head over, closing his eyes, hoping to sink into the floor.
“har?”
his heart bobbed in his throat and he stared ahead of him, fists squeezing the pillow under his cheek.
just pretend to be asleep.
“...hazza?”
“yeah?” he whispered, praying that his voice would keep from wavering, his heart breaking at that nickname. “you okay?”
“why—...why are you lying down there?”
his face is turning hot as he turns and raises his head, and he did quickly, so he’d get to meet her sleepy eyes through the dim lighting.
“sorry, love. i... i can go back on the couch.” he had been unspokenly condemned to the couch for the night, because of the incident, but he couldn’t stand not knowing if she was okay: if she was crying alone as she lied in their bed. he needed to see her, and he planned to tiptoe out before she woke up.
“no, h. that’s not...i didn’t even want you there in the first place.” she whispered. her eyes had previously shed tears at the thought of harry, cold and sleeping without the warmth of his bed, without the warmth of her. all she had fucking wanted tonight was for him to hold her.
“oh.” he whispered, his murmur bringing her back to reality.
“just—just come up, harry.”
he took in a sharp intake of breath, shaking his head back and forth with his bottom lip tucked onto his teeth.
“no, baby. it's okay. want you to have the space you want.” harry’s stern yet he’s vulnerable, hands trembling as he pulled his pillow closer to his face. it did nothing to aid his pain right now. he’s hurting, a prick in his heart stinging, especially once he heard the sheets rustling; it was a sign that she officially climbed out of them.
“love—no. go—get back into bed, c'mon.”
she moved through his complaints since she was already on the floor, a sorry expression on his face as he scrambled to sit up. without asking, he whipped his blanket off his body and wrapped it around her shoulders, goosebumps raising almost immediately on his bare chest. the night air was cold and he shook, but he wanted her to be warm.
“talk to me.”
harry's hands fiddle with the blanket he's wrapping around her, trying to distract himself from the idea that he can feel her breath on his cheek.
she bats his hands away from the blanket that’s curled around her, her hands reaching to hold it herself. “talk to me.” she whispered sternly. he looked down at his hands, a lump forming in his throat that made her think that he’s never been this quiet before.
“love.”
the hand that was tentatively put on his wrist made his eyes shift to it, his eyes screwing shut as he felt the first wave of tears come out of him, his hand frustratedly going through his hair and clawing at his scalp.
“harry.”
“i don’t want to talk. i don’t wanna say something wrong.” he sniffled, his voice cracked and broken.
“say something that’s right, then.” her tone was softer now, her other hand coming to join her other in holding his wrist, pleading.
“i'm so.. i'm so sorry. i will never forgive myself.”
his tone isn’t loud but it’s weak instead, his voice cracking as he pulled to hug his knees close to his chest, trying to rock himself back and forth to calm himself down. but he knows it’s pathetic— there's no use. his cries wet and noisy and all he can think about how selfish this all is. her hands have long fallen from touching him as she stares at him with sad eyes.
“harry.”
her arms were open for him, as she's trying to touch him, but he won't stop fucking pushing her away. she finally sighed and stopped attempting to hold him.
“’m so fucking stupid. i left you." his eyes are wide on her, as if she didn't understand. "i left you in the rain at your own ceremony that I was late to attend— to support you— let alone pick you up from—” his voice was watery and purely sad. she reached up to the nightstand and flicked on the lamp, and she looked at his disheveled figure with eyes of pity and worry and sadness. his hair was unkempt and his curls were sweat ridden at the back of his neck, and his lips and jaw were quivering violently. but the thing that got her devastated was his eyes: screaming apologies as they bore into her, rimmed red and fluttering with every tear that dripped out. “’and i'm not even sure how you haven’t yelled at me for basically causing you to get hypothermia--” his jaw quivered. “a-and you always support me. you always come to stuff that celebrates my accomplishments, and i... i can’t say that it’s reciprocated.” he spoke, wiping his nose and sniffling. “i don’t deserve your loyalty and i never will— not one little bit.” he said sadly as he dropped his head, her hand reaching to card through the nape of his neck.
“harry...you’ve got to breathe, lovely.” she whispered, hands coming to attempt to hold his face but he flinches away, sniffling and whimpering.
“go to sleep.” he whispered, moving slightly to curl further into himself. "'ll.. 'm gonna go back to the couch."
“i’m not going to sleep in that bed without you.” she whispered, taking the blanket off her shoulders and wrapping it around the both of them, moving closer to his frame.
she laid them down on the floor, pulling his head of curls into the spot below her throat. he fought against her arms but he finally fell into them, his cries getting softer. she wrapped her arm around his middle, one hand carding through his curls as his body trembled. He whimpered, his hand fiddling with her shirt’s end, the shaking of his fingers not being able to be controlled at the moment as he buried his face into her neck, his tears dampening her skin.
“i’m so sorry.” he cried, lips pressed to the bottom of her ear. his eyes were blurry from his tears, breath shaky, small whimpers filling up the empty space. his love had her own tears threatening to spill over.
but her hand was rubbing circles on his back as his breathing slowly turns stable, his arms wrapping around her middle as acceptance.
“‘m gonna make it up to you.”
“don’ need too. just want you now.” she whispered, his heart stuttering. he shook his head and pressed a wet kiss to her nose, tears falling onto her skin as his breath stuttered. a tear of hers fell onto his cheek.
“you’re cryin’” he whispered, watching her with big eyes, his fingers still shaking as he pet her cheek.
“h.” she cried. “you can’t do this every time i’m upset with you—you can’t freak out this badly.”
he nodded slowly. “it’s—” he swallowed. “i’m sorry—"
"please stop saying that."
"but—" he swallows, "i’ve already lost you once. a-and i can't—" his eyes close, and he pauses, before opening them again, his hands squeezing her middle. "i can't lose you again, love.” he whispered, eyes burning into her teary ones through the dark.
“us being apart told us we're supposed to be together, h.” she whispered, cupping his face. “and that was almost a year ago. i don’t want to leave you, and especially over something like this? i may be pissed, o-or upset for a while but you cannot jump to a conclusion like that, h.”
"i know. i jus’—... i hate makin’ mistakes like this. keep makin’ them.” he looked down at his fingers.
she sighed.
“’m really proud of you, love.” he mumbled. “like, super proud.”
"thank you, love" she murmured, nuzzling her nose into his hairline. "know you are."
"i love you."
"know you do. i love you too."
and he peers up at her through the dark, and sees the little smile that she carries with her always.
i am going to give you the world, he thinks.
guess who declared a creative writing major !!
bff where are u
dead inside from college assignments
I would love to see what aster y/n is like drunk🥺🥺🥺 I feel like harry would take such good care of her especially if it was her first time since her parents were so strict and all🥺
I hope this is what u had in mind !🥺
—————
"Y'want anythin', angel?"
(Y/N) was sure Harry already knew the answer to his offer, but he still looked at her intently like she was going to tell him he'd never heard before. His arm was heavy around her shoulders on their side of the booth, with Adam, Mitch, and Sarah sat opposing them. They had all gone out to the same venue Sarah had played at with her friend's band almost a year ago, the atmosphere holding different feelings for (Y/N) this time around. Each of her friends had requested refills from the bar, Harry offering to be the one to go and get it, stopping before he left to whisper his question to her.
"No, thank you," she answered, a small smile on her face as she gaze up at him.
"Y'sure?" Her favorite lopsided smile of his tugged at his lips.
She sweetly nodded her head in response, feeling her cheeks heat as he dipped his head down and pressed a kiss to her cheek. He gave her shoulder a squeeze before mumbling to the group that he would be right back, sliding out of the booth and leaving (Y/N) alone on their side.
"Do you not drink, (Y/N)?" Mitch's voice was slightly louder than usual, the effect of his two beers showing.
She quietly shook her head, her fingers playing with the folded fabric of the scrunchie on her wrist under her table. "My parents never liked it," she added, her smile a little tighter at the memories of her parents.
Mitch knew nothing of what she had gone through growing up, easily nodding his head at her answer while Sarah shot (Y/N) a sad look. Sarah knew everything and tried her best to never bring anything up that might upset her, much like Harry did.
(Y/N) had never really drank before. It had never been allowed when she was growing up, her parents filling her head with horror stories of inevitable addiction and shunning extended family members for ever partaking in any kind of social drinking. When she moved out, she was much too scared to go against what she knew, along with a plethora of other rules she was unknowingly conditioned into following.
Mitch's attention was quickly stolen as Harry approached the table with his hands full of glasses containing different colored liquids. (How he was able to hold so many while (Y/N) struggled with holding just two of those cups, she didn't know). He distributed out the glasses before sliding into the booth beside (Y/N) with a pink tinged drink in front of him. He slipped into the conversation with the others, everyone listening as Adam told a story about one of the patrons at the bar earlier in the week.
Harry wrapped his arm around (Y/N)'s shoulder, the weight welcome as she pressed herself further into his side. His fingers wrapped around her bicep, giving a squeeze before relaxing and running his nails gently over the skin exposed by her short sleeved top. She watched as he brought his drink to his lips, sipping from the glass before settling it back down. She hadn't meant to be rude, with not listening to Adam and then staring at Harry, but it was so hard when he looked so good.
He left his hair down for the night, the curls especially soft as her eyes followed the spirals down his shoulders. He wore a black and white floral button up, his surname stitched on the breast in cursive, and a pair of black flare trousers on his legs. His cheeks held a slight flush as an easy smile kept his features soft, telltale signs of his drinking.
(Y/N) had never seen Harry anything more than a little tipsy—leaning on drunk, once or twice— but whenever he drank she couldn't help but admire him even more than she already did. He was always soft and loving (at least for her), but when he had alcohol in him, it was like he had fallen in love with her all over again right in that second. He could barely contain himself, wanting to be touching her in some capacity with his preferred contacting being any kind of kissing. When he wasn't trying to kiss her, he would talk on and on about anything that came to mind, including his affectionate thoughts over her. He wasn't that far gone tonight, only two drinks in which just made him a little flush and a lot tired.
"What are y'doin', love bug?" Harry cooed to her, breaking her from her silent admiration. He teasingly smiled at her, knowing he had caught her staring at him. He ran his tongue over his lip ring, the piercing twisting.
"Nothing," she peeped, a little shy over being caught looking, "Just thinking."
"Thinkin' 'bout what?" he pressed, ducking his head closer to hers with his smile only splitting wider as he took in her bashful expression. (Y/N) instinctively drew her hand up, passing her fingers gently under his eyes to collect some of the smudged black eyeliner that had bled throughout the evening.
"You," she mumbled, aware of the way Sarah had her eyes on them as Mitch and Adam went off on their own conversation.
"Me?" Harry gasped, his expression playfully shocked with a smile on the edge of his lips, "Took y'long enough. Been waitin' forever f'you to like me back."
(Y/N) rolled her eyes at his words. This was how it was when he had a little bit of alcohol. He was still coherent and Harry, but (Y/N) found herself having to fend off his flirty remarks and teasing more often than not. It always made her heart skip a beat. He knew just how to talk to her, even when things were a bit hazy.
(Y/N), feeling bold despite the small audience they had garnered on the other side of the table, settled her hand firmly on his jaw and pressed a quick kiss to his lips. It was only an innocent peck, but when she pulled back, she found Harry with his eyes still closed and a blissed out smile on his lips.
"Mmm, come back," he crooned, shifting his hold on her shoulder with his palm sliding onto the flat of her back. He pulled her towards him, (Y/N) breathing a laugh as she turned her cheek to him instead of allowing him another kiss.
She could feel his smile against her skin as he planted a garden of kisses on her face. She pressed her hands flat against his chest, her smile unrelenting as she tried to speak through her laughs. "Harry, stop, people are looking," she bubbled, aware of their friends on the other side of the booth.
"I don't care," he countered, settling his hands on both of her cheeks before pressing a soft kiss against her lips. (Y/N) had barely any time to prepare herself, leaving Harry to kiss her smile, but he didn't seem to have a problem as he kept kissing on her.
Soon enough, Harry did listen to her, drawing back after pressing his lips to the corner of her mouth. He threw his arm over her shoulder again, settling back into their previous positions. He casually brought his drink to his lips, sucking the straw as a gulp of the pink liquid disappeared from his cup. The others watched on with amused looks on their faces, Sarah raising her eyebrows at (Y/N). They were never ones for PDA, mostly due to (Y/N)'s preference, so she knew she would be hearing about this at home.
(Y/N) only shook her head, sharing a laugh with Sarah across the table before Harry shot into some story from the week before about one of the boys from the shop. She happily melted into his side, his fingers absently tracing heart shapes on the skin of her arm. She didn't mind playing wallflower as she listened in on the story she already heard, taking note of the way his words were even slower than normal and his story trailed off into five difference directions before settling back into the main point. He genuinely didn't care that the others had witnessed their affection, his cheeks flushed from nothing more than the warmth of the alcohol he drank.
Even observing the others, none of them seemed to give her's and Harry's private moment a second though before falling into their own lax state of listening to her boyfriend's mumbling. She couldn't help herself as she gazed at Harry's drink, wondering for a second if she should ask him for a sip. She knew it would no doubt burn her throat, despite the unassuming pink coloring, but she wanted to know what it felt like to not care.
She wanted to know if she would grow bubbly and excited like Sarah, or loud and impulsive like Mitch. Or would she grow quiet and sleepy like Adam, or lazy and affectionate like her Harry? She just wanted to know what it felt like to allow herself to slip, just once.
Although curiosity reigned in her mind, she couldn't help but feel a pit of anxiety in her stomach. As much as she was excited at the idea of having fun the same way plenty of people her age did, without a care in the world, she couldn't help but feel a tiny bit of fear at what the experience might feel like. She didn't want to wake up the next morning with no recollection of the night before, or with any kind of hangover that she had heard so much about. She was also afraid she would be the kind of drunk she didn't like; those aggressive types that were always the villains in her parents' horror stories, or the whiny crier she had heard her classmates complain about after a long weekend.
As much as she wanted to find out, she was afraid to know the answer to her bubbling questions.
Instead, she cuddled herself further into Harry's side, pretending as if she didn't want to experience the same thing that caused his mouth to go lazy as he finished his story with a giggle. The rest of the table erupted into their own laughs at the ending (Y/N) hadn't heard before moving into other idle chatter she was disconnected from.
"Y'alright?" Harry whispered beside her, pressing a kiss to her temple as he ducked down. He squeezed her tighter against his side with his arm around her shoulder.
"Mhm," she hummed, nodding her head absently before sparing him a glance.
"Y'sure? Look like y'thinkin' too hard, and not 'bout me this time," he teased, hoping to lighten her heavy head.
"I'm sure," she smiled, reaching over and grabbing his free hand in extra reassurance.
Harry gave her a lazy smile, bringing their joined hands to his lips and pressing a kiss to the back of her's. "'Kay. Let me know when you're ready t'go home, y'get t'drive tonight."
(Y/N) only nodded her head, Harry's attention quickly drawn away as Mitch pulled him in to settle a debate on the other side of the table between him and Sarah.
—————
Since the night at the bar, (Y/N)'s curiosity over finally drinking hadn't lessened. She just wanted to know what it felt like, to feel that giggly, bubbly warmth that everyone raved about. More than once had she peeked through Harry's stash of liquor while he was at work, wondering if she could get away with taking a single sip. She always pulled herself back, knowing it would be rude anyway to take something from him without asking, and she was too scared to be alone in case she really did let go.
Now, sitting next to Harry on his couch while he sipped a glass of red wine, she couldn't get the idea out of her head. The tall, skinny bottle was sat off to the side on the coffee table, the label colored with a picture of strawberries and cursive writing naming some vineyard in France she knew nothing of. (Y/N) watched as Harry brought the glass of wine to his lips, his black painted nails cradling the stem.
A movie was playing on screen, a ritual on their Friday nights at this point, but she had no interest in what was going on. She couldn't break her gaze from him as she wondered if—maybe—he would allow her to try it. She was too scared to try it alone, and too scared to try around a group, but Harry was the safest person she knew. If there was ever a time she felt comfortable enough to try, it would be now with her Harry in his empty house when Mitch was going to be staying with Sarah for the night.
"C-can I try?" she squeaked, her gaze fixed on the delicate glass he set on the coffee table in front of him.
"Hm?" he hummed, strands of hair falling from the bun in his hair. He turned to face her, his eyes still fully coherent despite being half a glass down with his lips stained a faint red at the center.
"Your wine, can I try?" she reiterated, sitting up from her laid down position on the couch. She tucked her legs underneath her and shifted closer to Harry, the cushions giving way under her knees.
Her favorite lopsided smile of his spread across his lips, his hand settling on her thigh once she was close enough. "I know there's strawberries on the bottle, but I don't think y'would like this much, baby. S'a little too strong f'your first drink."
She deflated a bit at his denial, rolling her lips between her teeth. She just wanted to try, and if she didn't like it she wouldn't ask anymore. She just wanted to be able to join in when everyone held that warm flush on their cheeks and their laughing grew free.
"Just a sip? Please?" she tried again, unconsciously widening her eyes.
Harry knew he didn't stand a chance when she looked at him like that; she always got what she wanted when she looked so angelic.
"Alright," he relented with a sigh, "Jus' a sip, and no more, 'kay?"
"Okay!" she agreed eagerly, nodding her head to any conditions he might set.
Harry shifted his hold on her and looped an arm around her waist, pulling her closer to his side as he lent forward to grab the stem of his wine glass. The deep red of the wine swirled along the bowl of the cup, Harry's grip firm as he settled his free hand on the back of (Y/N)'s neck. His fingertips brushed through the baby hairs on the nape of her neck before pressing a distracting kiss to her cheek.
She reached her hands out to take the glass from him, falling short as he moved it out of her reach. He shook his head at her, a small smile on his face as he gazed down at her.
"I'll hold it f'you, alrigh'? I'll let y'know how much y'can have," Harry crooned to her, his voice quiet between them. She nodded her head, butterflies fluttering through her tummy whenever he spoke to her like that. He smiled at her response, his thumb on the back of her neck curling through her baby hairs.
He brought the glass to her lips, watching as they cupped the edge. He raised the angle of his hand, the red liquid sliding closer to her lips. (Y/N) could smell the sweetened scent of strawberries accompanied by the burning scent of alcohol. The first sip slipped passed her lips, the first touch tasting of strawberries. (Y/N) was pleasantly surprised, eager to gulp down more just before the strawberry scent was washed out by the unfamiliar burn of alcohol taking over her palate. Her face must have taken on a sour expression as she heard Harry breathe a laugh and tip the glass away from her lips.
A small cough left (Y/N)'s lips as a shiver went down her spine. She thought it was supposed to taste like strawberries, and she's never known a strawberry to taste like fire in the back of her throat.
"Y'alright?" Harry asked, an amused smile on his lips. His hand on the back of her neck shifted to cradle her jaw, his thumb running along the line of her bone.
"I thought it was supposed to taste like strawberries," she complained, the burn of the alcohol leaving a bad taste in her mouth.
Harry only let out a laugh at her whining, leaning down and pressing a kiss to her lips. She could taste the remnants of the sweet part of the wine on his lips, wishing that she could just get drunk on him instead. She melted into the contact, leaning into his lips and deepening the kiss.
Harry was the first to pull away, pressing a dozen small pecks against her skin before fully drawing himself away. "S'okay, baby," he cooed, bringing the glass to his mouth and taking another sip of the wine, "S'not f'everyone."
(Y/N) rolled her lips between her teeth as Harry refocused his gaze on the tv with his arm now loose around her waist. She really hadn't thought it would be that drastic of a taste, remembering all the times people had described wines as sweet with all these notes of fruit. She was only able to pick up on the strawberry taste for a moment before the burn of the alcohol blazed through. Maybe she hadn't gotten a good enough taste? Since it was her first time and all, maybe she was too focused on the aftertaste to appreciate and savor the sweetness beforehand.
She wanted to try again.
"Can I have more?" she peeped, her voice quiet as her fingers fumbled together in her lap. She hoped Harry didn't think she had a problem.
He turned to her with his brows raised, his eyes wide and lips pulling into a small smile. "Thought y'didn't like it, love bug?"
"I don't know," she mumbled, looking up to him with her brows in a worried pinch, "Maybe, I'll like it more a second time?"
"Are y'sure?" Harry pressed, always the worry wart over her. His arm around her tightened with his fingers curling around the dip of her waist. His eyes turned soft as he ducked his head to meet her gaze, the liner on his waterline brightening the green of his iris. "Y'know I don't care that y'don't drink, right? Y'don't have to try if y'don't like it, still love y'jus' the same."
(Y/N) couldn't help but feel a small weight on her heart become lifted, an unknown fear she had no idea she had. There had always been a lingering fear in the back of her head on if she was so-called "cool" enough for Harry, especially after she had found him with that blonde girl at that party all that time ago. She knew he loved her—he never let her go a day without being reminded at least a hundred times—but what if he got bored? What if he got tired of having a girlfriend who was too scared to drink, and too naive to know what the little baggy of green stuff was on his dresser (what a conversation, that was)? Those fears had always been there, so to hear him so readily address them before she could even voice them was more reassuring than she's sure he even knew.
"I know," she said quietly, leaning forward and pressing a kiss to his lips, "But I'm sure, H. I wanna try."
A playful smile took over his features, the soft look in his eyes prevailing as he moved to wrap both his arms around her. "C'mere then," he breathed, moving her to sit astride his lap with his hands settling on the small of her back.
(Y/N) laid her palms flat on his chest as he lent forward, reaching to grab the wine glass he had sat on the coffee table now behind her. He brought the cup between them, his black painted nails sticking out against the delicate stem. He moved the glass towards her, raising an eyebrow.
"Wanna hold it this time? Or do y'want me to?"
"You," she mumbled, her own fingers wrapping around the wrist of the hand holding the glass.
A smile spread across his lips at her answer, his dimples denting his cheeks. He always got a look like that on his face when she let him do things for her like that, his explanation being that he loved taking care of her.
"'Kay," he smiled, his free hand settling again on the back of her neck with her strands of hair slipping between his fingers, "Open up f'me, angel."
She followed his direction, parting her lips for the glass to rest of the full of her bottom lip. She prepared herself this time as the deep red of the wine spilled over her tongue, concentrating on the sweetness as opposed to the after burn.
It went down much smoother this time, the initial shock of the alcohol lessening as she continued to take small sips. Harry eventually pulled the glass from her lips, his hand on her neck sliding down her back in a soothing motion along her spine. A soft smile graced his lips as a small shudder went down (Y/N)'s spine, the alcohol taste now prevalent without the fruit of the wine to cover it up.
"Better?" he laughed, his fingers on her back running long circles.
"Yeah," she said, a sour look on her face as the burn lingered, "Still don't like the aftertaste, though."
Harry only laughed at her words, looping both of his arms around her middle with the glass of wine brushing against her back. He pulled her close to his chest, (Y/N) shuffling over his thighs before cuddling against him with her chest flush against his.
"Am I allowed to have more?" she asked, her eyes wide as she played with the stray strands of hair that had escaped from his bun. She could already feel a warmth in her tummy from the previous sips; she wanted to see what she would feel like with more.
"If y'want," Harry answered, already pulling the glass back around, "Y'hold it now, yeah? I think y'can handle it."
His words were accompanied by a lopsided smile as he handed her the glass, their fingers touching for just a moment on the stem. She gently took the cup between her hands, looking to Harry for a moment.
"How much am I allowed to have?" she questioned, looking at the small amount left in the bottom of the bowl.
"S'all your's, angel. Think 'm done for the night, but y'can have as much as y'want," he replied, his hands landing on her hips with a squeeze.
There was over half a bottle left behind her with the remaining single glass Harry had poured himself that was now her's. (Y/N) didn't think she could finish a full bottle, but she wondered what a full glass all by herself would be like. She simply nodded her head in response, Harry pressing a kiss to her cheek as she looked over her shoulder at the television screen. Their forgotten movie continued to play on screen, (Y/N) bringing the glass to her lips as she watched the scene play out. She could feel Harry's eyes on her as she drank down the remaining liquid, her shoulders tightening for a moment at the abrasive aftertaste.
She turned back to him, pushing the now empty glass against his chest.
"Easier?" he asked, shifting her off his lap as he took the cup from her. He lent forward, (Y/N) now sat next to him, popping the cork off the bottle of wine and refilling the bowl.
"Easier," she confirmed, happy to have the glass back between her fingertips.
She didn't know if it was because she was expecting to feel something, but she swore her mind had already become a bit lazy. She didn't even think about it before she took another pull of her drink, the sipping turning to gulps in an effort to avoid the burning for as long as possible. Harry threw his arm around her shoulder, the weight heavier than she remembered.
"Feelin' good?" he laughed with an amused smile on his face.
"Mhm," she hummed, looking to him for a moment before boldly crawling atop his lap. She sat with her back against his chest as Harry clasped his arms around her middle and settled his chin on her shoulder.
He brushed her hair behind her shoulder before pressing a kiss to the underside of her jaw, nose nudging the bone. "Take it easy, 'kay, love? Have a feelin' you're gonna be a handful."
(Y/N) didn't even have it in her to pout at his words, feeling too sucked in by the movie she didn't recognize and the warming pit in her tummy.
—————
"Harry, I love this song."
"I know y'do, baby" Harry laughed, unable to keep a smile off his face at the way his angel was behaving now two full glasses in.
He figured she would be a lightweight, her low tolerance making it that much easier for her to get drunker quicker, but he hadn't expected this. As soon as she had gotten halfway through her first drink alone, she was draping herself all over him with her gaze stuck on his face and her fingers messily tracing along his features. She had been surprisingly quiet, just obviously looser than he had ever seen her. It wasn't until she had started her second one that all the talking came.
The movie he had picked at the beginning of the night was quickly abandoned, (Y/N) having turned herself around in his lap to be facing him. She had requested Harry play music for her, claiming the want to hear what each of his playlists meant and know every song on them. He just put on the one he had mixed in her honor, full of songs that made him think of her, songs they would listen to together, and songs he knew she liked. Currently, a song with filtering notes and lyrics of a "cherry flavored conversation" played through the bluetooth speaker he had hooked up to his phone, a song she had expressed her love for more than once causing Harry to add it to the playlist. She innocently swayed on his lap, her hands steady on his shoulders as she closed her eyes. She mumbled the lyrics off-key, a small giggle escaping her lips every time she messed up the words.
"It's, like, my favorite song, H, did you know that?" her words were slightly slurred as she lent into him, mouthing the lyrics against his neck as he wrapped his arms around her. He smiled at her words; she had a new song everyday as far as he knew, she loved anything that made her happy.
"I did know that," he hummed, an amused smile on his face, "Told me the other day."
"Do you like this song?" she bolted upright in his arms, an earnest look on her face as she looked at him.
After tonight, Harry's decided it might as well be his favorite song; something that would always remind him of this night.
"I do, s'very pretty," he answered, mimicking her serious expression though he was sure there were cracks in his facade as he fought off a smile. He just didn't want her to think he was laughing at her, although everything she was doing was so adorably funny.
An almost dreamy expression took over her features, her eyes rounding out, cheeks softening, and brows raising just a bit as her lashes fluttered. Her gaze flitted over his features, her arms around his neck moved to settle on his jaw. "Really?" she breathed, "Because it makes me think of you."
Yeah, this song was definitely a favorite of his now.
Before he could even answer, she was back to swaying in his lap. Her hands abandoned his neck and moved to twist above her head, definitely off-beat but she was happy. He watched her with his hands on her hips, seeing her slow down as the song came to a fluttering end and her blissed out expression left her face.
"Play it again?" she pouted at him, "Please?"
Harry didn't even answer before he tapped on his phone, playing her song again. The bright smile returned to her face, surging forward to plant a clumsy kiss to his lips. She shuffled off his lap, Harry's hands falling from her hips as she moved to stand in front of him. She stood on wobbly legs, her gaze darting around the room as she searched for her balance.
She let out a breathy laugh as she steadied herself, looking sheepishly at Harry. "Oops," she laughed, her mouth forming a pout as she looked to him. "Will you dance with me?"
It was Harry's turn to let out a chuckle at her request. His brought his black painted nails to his lips, plucking at the full of his bottom one. "No, but I'll watch you," he settled, knowing he would have more fun watching her try her hand at dancing when she could barely stand straight, than to pretend he could dance at all, sober or not.
"No," she whined, dragging out the "o" sound with a furrow in her brow, "Want you to dance with me, please?"
Harry could have swore her eyes grew glossy as she pleaded with him, her bottom lip trapped between her teeth in a bruising hold. "Lovebug, y'know I can't dance. 'M sure you'll have just as much fun without me."
An almost panicked look took over her face as she stood with her hands fumbling in front of her. "Am I annoying you? I'm sorry I drank so much, I shouldn't have."
"No, no, no," Harry rushed, standing from his position on the couch to hold her waist in his hands as he ducked his head to meet her sad face. "S'not that at all, darling, not annoyin' at all. Jus' want y'to have fun, and 'm happy you're feelin' good and safe enough to drink around me. Don't be upset, okay?"
"Promise?"
Harry's lips quirked up into a soft smile, pressing a kiss to her cheek. "I promise. Love seein' y'so happy."
Just like that, her mood turned around with a grin splitting her cheeks. "Will you dance with me then? Please, daddy?"
Harry's resolve crumbled as soon as his title left her lips, something they typically never brought outside of the bedroom. She looked up at him innocently still, as if she had no idea what she had just said. She was saying everything that came to mind, and Harry couldn't help but wonder if she often referred to him as daddy in her head. He hoped she would say it out loud for him more often.
"Okay, baby. Only cause y'asked so nicely," he mused, a lopsided smile taking his features and denting a dimple in his cheek.
He settled his hands on the curve of her waist, watching as she perked up and bounced back into the music that was now playing on an endless loop. She reached for his hands on her waist and tangled her fingers between his before 'dancing' with flailing limps and a smile on her cheeks. Her eyes fell closed as Harry moved along with her, much more reserved with only his hands following her's and his head bopping to the beat as he smiled at her. He was much too entranced with her free-spirited behavior to take his eyes off her.
The same cherry flavored song looped around a few times, (Y/N) often pulling him to her to place a clumsy, misplaced peck on his lips (or cheek, or chin, or jaw, or neck). Harry was always more than happy to share in her affection, endeared by how willing she was to give it when she was so floaty. Eventually, she slumped into his arms, now tired out from her flailing and singing.
Harry swayed to the song with his arms looped around her middle, (Y/N)'s cheek smushed against his chest as she mumbled to him. He had switched the playlist over her shoulder, changing it to the playlist he made for her when she had trouble sleeping, or when she just wanted to talk to him with no other distractions like a movie or TV.
"What was that, love?" he asked, pressing a kiss to the top of her head after she mumbled something particularly incoherent.
"Just love you so much, Harry, do you know that?" Her words were slightly more clear than before, her cheek still squished against his chest.
"And I love you, angel," he sighed, a large grin on his face.
"And I love your hair, and your eyeliner, and your nails, and your rings, and your tattoos, and the way you let me call you daddy, and how you always call me a pet name, and how you're just so pretty and make me so happy. You're my best friend." Her laundry list of compliments were jumbled as she tripped over her words, separated by small laughs at her inability to talk clearly. His shirt was curled into her fists, the grip tightening as she went on. She pressed featherlight kisses to his chest through the fabric.
Harry didn't even know where to start after she settled back into his arms, now quietly letting him lead in their swaying. She had made each of those compliments about his appearance at least once in the past, always followed by a flutter of her lashes and the burying of her face in his neck. She had whispered to him in their soft moments that he was her best friend and that she loved him with her whole heart before, but never had she been so bold to tell him to his face. She had especially never been bold enough to tell him how she liked calling him daddy.
Although he had picked up on the fact through the sheer quantity of times she had uttered the word while in the bedroom, and the way she was so willing from the beginning to grace him with the title. She had never so plainly told him as such, making it that much harder for Harry to form any words back, his thoughts occupied.
He instead held her tighter against him, his arms around her middle. She was thoroughly squished against his chest, her cheek straining against the muscles underneath his shirt as she tried to smile. He pressed a kiss to the top of her head, his eyes fluttering closed as he gently shifted his weight from foot to foot.
"Yeah? Y'mean that?" he hummed, his nose buried in the strands of hair, "You're m'best friend too, y'know. S'precious t'me."
"Mhm," she nodded the best she could in her position, her fingertips digging into his back as she reciprocated his hold, "I think your eyeliner is so sexy, and I don't want you to ever cut your hair, please! Your hands with your nails, and your tattoos, and your rings are my favorite; its so nice when you hold me. Your tattoos, especially, are so pretty! Like a—uh—coloring book! You always call me angel and baby, and stuff like that so it just makes you extra daddy to me; like you're always daddy but especially then because you make me feel so loved. Makes me wanna move in with you, honestly."
At the end of her mumbling rant, Harry froze. He had been holding back little laughs at her complimenting him, but it wasn't until she had confessed to thinking about moving in with him did he feel his heart skip and beat and a love-tinged haze muddle his thoughts. He hadn't wanted to scare her or pressure her, but he had been thinking about it non-stop lately. He loved waking up to her and going to bed with her, the spot in his dresser dedicated to her things and the toothbrush in his bathroom just for her only further solidified the yearning for her to be with him always. But, he wouldn't want to have her move into the house with him, he wanted a find a place for just the two of them to be in, that was their space right from the jump. He didn't know she wanted all of that room always figuring that they would take that step later, after much more time as passed. In all honesty, he hadn't thought she would even entertain the idea until he had put a ring on her finger, so to know he wouldn't have to wait that long to have her wrapped up in his sheets all the time was enough to get his heart to skip a beat only to start back up again in double time.
(Y/N) looked up at him with a small pout to her lips, setting her chin on his chest with her eyes wide and glassy as she gazed at him. "Are you okay? Why did we stop dancing?"
She didn't even realize any of what she said, did she?
Harry only dipped his head down and pressed a pouring kiss against her lips, each of his bundled and hidden emotions translating through the contact. Even if she didn't remember this in the morning, he would, and he will wait until she wanted to bring it up. Even if it didn't happen tomorrow, or next week, or next year even, it was enough to know that the thought had crossed her mind at all.
"'M perfect, m'angel," he mumbled against her lips, pressing his mouth against hers one more time before pulling back. "How are y'feelin', more importantly?"
"I'm sleepy," she whined, her eyes dimming as a small yawn pulled from her lips. Harry had to stop himself from cooing at her and bundling her in his arms.
"Yeah? Finally all tired out, m'lovebug?" he crooned, settling his hands on her hips after turning his playlist off and leaving the living room in silence. The time on his phone screen read 2:05am, much later than he knew she preferred, always waking up much more grumpy after going to bed after midnight.
"Mhm," she hummed, curling one of her hands into a fist to rub at her eye. Harry gently grabbed her wrist, pulling her knuckle from her eye and pressing a kiss to her hand.
"Don't do that, love, it hurts your eyes, 'kay?" he explained, knowing she would appreciate his intervening no matter how hard she pouted in the moment. "Lets get ready for bed."
She absently nodded, happily lacing her fingers through his as he led her to his bedroom. He flicked the lights on behind him, letting go of her hand only to pat at her bottom and send her off to sit on the edge of his bed. From her unsteady steps, he figured it would be best for him to pick out tonight's pajamas and have her safely sit on his bed as he did so.
He quickly pulled a pair of sleep shorts he had bought her on a whim a few months ago and one of his t-shirts she frequented. He tucked the set under his arm after he changed into his own sleep clothes, shutting the door behind him as he exited the closet to find her laid flat on her back with her hands straight up above her head. She was mumbling something to herself as he approached, the small slur to her words making it hard for Harry to decipher anything other than the word pink leaving her lips.
"Budge up, m'love," he said, his voice deepening as he crouched before the edge of the bed in front of her legs. She sat up at the sound of his voice, looking down at him with a crease between her brows.
"Why?" she questioned, her darting around his face.
"Gotta get y'ready f'bed," he laughed, warming her calf under the palm of his hand, "Now, budge up so I can get your shorts on."
"No," she whined, the "o" sound elongating as she fell back onto the bed, "I don't want pants, Harry!"
He softly laughed at her words, unfolding the pair of satin shorts from under his arm, "C'mon, love, I know y'don't want t'wear those, do you?" He gestured to the pair of tight leggings on her form, knowing she didn't like to sleep in this particular pair because she felt they were too restricting.
"I don't want to wear any pants tonight, please don't make me!" Her words were punctuated with a sniffle, Harry already fearing the glossy sheen covering her eyes.
She was already sensitive when sober, but he couldn't have accounted for these near misses with her tears. His love was just a bit easier to cry when she was like this, something he would need to remember for the future wine nights he was sure they would have.
"Okay, okay," he relented, planting a line of kisses along the bone of her shin, "Won't make you, but y'can't cry then, yeah? Wanna see a happy smile on your face when we change your shirt, okay?"
He could see her nod in agreement to his words, the bedspread creasing and her hands disappearing to assumedly wipe at her eyes. He made quick work of peeling off her leggings, revealing the sunflower yellow panties she had on, an embroidered daisy right over where he would kiss her right before eating her out. She helped kick them off her feet, Harry breathing a laugh at the sigh she let out after she was free of the confines of the fabric.
He stood to his full height after tossing her leggings in their hamper, her shorts being sat on his dresser top. She sat up with him, already tugging at the hem of her top and tossing it onto the bed beside her before raising her arms above her head. Harry smiled at her, pulling the white tank top down over her toros, the black stitching on the side spelling out the word 'loved' in capital letters. She sighed contentedly once the fabric settled against her thighs.
She shot him an innocent smile, her cheeks soft and eyes glossy as she reached ups and wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled her to him.
"Thank you, daddy," she sighed against his lips, Harry falling beside her. He caught himself with an arm beside her head, breathing a laugh at her affection.
"Of course, angel," he smiled, planting his lips against hers in a few warming kisses before reluctantly pulling back. "Let's get under the covers, yeah? Thought y'were sleepy?"
"Oh yeah," she hummed, as if remembering her earlier words. Her eyes suddenly drooped again, the sleep returning to her body as she allowed him to maneuver them atop his bed before turning the duvet down.
Harry got under the covers first before sliding her in next to him. She was quick to cuddle up against his chest, her arms around his neck and her fingers in the cinnamon swirls of curls going down his shoulders. He pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead, running his hand down her side with his thumb tracing the loved tattooed to the side of her top.
He thought that might make a nice tattoo for her, just to remind her how loved she always was, especially by him.
She was quiet for a while, her breathing even as Harry fought off his own sleep to make sure she fell asleep okay. He didn't think she would get sick or even have any kind of hangover, having hydrated along the way of her drinking, but he still worried. He figured she had gone to sleep until she mouthed at the tattooed skin of his neck, whispering a jumble of words he couldn't decipher.
"What was that?" he hummed, his eyes closing.
"Do you think I'll remember this in the morning?" she asked, her words punctuated with a yawn.
"I think y'will, m'darling, but we'll have to see."
"I hope I do. I never want to forget any time I spend with you."
Harry could get used to nights like this.
—————
hi !!! thank u so much for reading and to whoever requested this!!! I hope u all like it and sorry for any mistakes and anything!! if u have any requests of ur own just send them in !
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