#harry drabble

[watermelonkiwiharry]

Even if it's not exactly 100 words, if it's close enough and not up to like 200, then it's fine. :)

[harrieatthemet]

Vulnerable

in which Harry’s sensitive and you’re completely undressed. 

He’d prefer if you stayed. 

It’s his ideal perception of comfort; the warmth oozing from the usually unoccupied side of his bed, a faded essence of vanilla perfume tied in with a bit of rose oil shampoo, the amenity of another body lethargically intertwined with his. 

Bouncing back and forth between one place to another, one city to the next; it’s inconsistent. And for a while, inconsistency worked. He had nestled himself comfortably into the odd routine of inconsistency. That’s what the bulk of his foundation in larger areas of life was built off of, and you were no exception. 

“Casual,” and he used the word exactly months ago, “let’s keep it casual.”

He knows what happens when he puts his hand to the flame; he gets burned. He’s learned that lesson the hard way once. And again after that, and once or twice more after that. Casual meant there wasn’t any real need for consistency. Keeping a relationship with you as casual as possible seemed like the best fit; one that made sense. 

At least, back then it did. All that coming and going, late night text messages, sporadic sleepovers after over indulging on wine and really shitty romantic comedies, it became consistent. 2 minute phone calls every now and then turned into one, sometimes two hours at least once a day. He’s caught himself checking his phone so that he doesn’t miss a text. He’s not used to consistent. This, however, is the type of consistency he’s becoming quite fond of. 

“5 more minutes,” he’s barely gotten his eyes open but his hands are awake, pulling you a little closer to him, “s’all we need, yeah? Just 5.. maybe 10.” 

There’s a content flutter purring in his chest when you hum in response, your body readjusting as he slinks an arm over your waist. He’s not ready to draw the blinds yet. There’s a straggling strip of outside light that's fighting it’s way through the gap in the drapes. It’s got to be well into the afternoon by now, but he doesn’t wanna check his phone to confirm. Instead he just pulls you closer; he’d rather stay here, like this, instead. 

“Mm,” the scruff from his chin brushes up against the back of your neck when you hum, “I wish I could.” 

“Don’t wish,” he giggles, “just do.”

He frowns when he feels you peel your body away, a small gust of cool air hitting his bare stomach when you tussle the sheets off and sit up. And he watches forlornly from his spot; admiring the way he his shirt hangs on you. 

“I can’t,” you’re whine is playful as you snatch your pants up from the floor, “I’ve got a thing.”

“A thing?”

“Mhm,” you assure, “a date thing.” 

It’s like a punch to the gut. The words coming out of your mouth put a bad taste in his. He doesn’t even wanna talk about it beyond this point. Ignorance really is bliss, but the curiosity will eat away at him if he doesn’t try to dig a little deeper. 

“Been seein’ him long?” He’s glad your back is to him because you can’t see the worry in his face. 

“Oh yeah,” that’s one more punch to the gut; he was hoping you’d say no, “we’re getting married on our date tonight.” 

“What??”

“Harry,” your laugh is muffled as you tug your shirt over your head, “m’fucking with you.” 

His shoulders drop a bit before he sits up in the bed. Watching you get dressed has always been one of those things he enjoyed; teasing you about outfit choices, making remarks about how he should take it all off again. 90% of the time he actually does end up taking everything off again. But this time just fucking sucks. You’re not getting dressed to go back to your place; you’re getting dressed to go back to someone else’s place. At least, that’s where his mind is taking him. 

You’ve still got him all over you; a little bit surely still lingering inside of you. This no-named competitor might get to touch you like he did just minutes ago. He wonders if he knows all your best spots, whisper in your ear, hold you while you sleep. Is he gonna kiss you the way you like, run fingers down your spine until you hum in content. Can this guy please you like he can? Does he know that the the little indent above your right knee is from when you fell off your bike as a kid? Does he know you sleep with two pillows and not one? You can’t sleep with one pillow; Harry always keeps an extra one freshly fluffed for you when you spend the night. Which, evidently enough, has become more frequent than not. 

“So deep in thought, eh?” You tease, “What’s going on up there?” 

He smirks briefly when you extend your pointer finger towards his head, swirling it around as though you’re mimicking his jumbled thoughts. He’s got no right to pry. After all, the groundwork of the terms regarding the dynamic between the two of you were his idea. God is he regretting that now. The idea of another man knowing you at all makes his stomach hurt, let alone knowing you the way he does. 

“Oh m’not,” he shrugs, idle hands twirling the loose sheet on his bed, “s’nothing.” 

“Going once.. going twice.. give me something, Har.” 

With your hands on your hips; expression playful, eyebrow cocked and breath baited in anticipation, he’s realizing that now might be better than ever to speak up. The answer to every unasked question is no, after all. 

His mind is racing with the worst of thoughts. He doesn’t want you to leave at all. Especially if you leave now to meet with the embrace of any other man except him. It’s not a possessive thing. Part of what makes him so feral and drawn to you is how open and genuine you are with the everyone you know. 

“This guy,” he trails, “I mean- like is this a date?”

“You writing a book or something?” You chuckle. 

“No.” 

He knows that was a joke. It wasn’t his intention to answer so seriously and he wishes so badly he could take that knee jerk reaction back. The look on your face falls and so does his heart; right into his fucking stomach. The energy of the once playful banter is ripped right out from beneath the both of you and now it’s just uncomfortable. 

“Yeah..” Your tone wanders as you look for your socks, “3rd one, I’m pretty sure. Why?”

There’s about an infinite amount of ways he could match that question. One of them being just high pitched screaming from frustration. Not even with any words, just endless agonizing groaning on a loop. Christ, the thought of it all just makes him want to melt into the mattress and become nothing. In theory he should’ve just kept his mouth shut and suffered in silence while he waited for the next time you texted or called. But he’s dug himself so deep playing 50 questions with you that there’s no point in retreating. He’s doubling down now; all or nothing. 

“Know him well?” He spits out. 

“Well enough.. still getting to know him a bit.” 

“S’good,” he feels it coming, the word vomit and he just can’t stop it from pooling on his tongue, “knows you like I know you?” 

If he was religious he’d start praying to God, any one of them, that you answer with a firm no. How could anyone know you like Harry knows you? He’s convinced that it isn’t possible. This morning, when he was wrapped up with you in a fresh set of linens sheets, he’d be so sure that nobody else had intimate access to you like he does; sexually and emotionally. Right now though, he’s starting to do something he seldom does; second guess himself. Maybe he was naive to be so sure before. 

“Not gonna put all my cards on the table just yet,” oh how badly he feels like dying when you talk all confused like that at him, “but yeah. I mean, I guess.” 

You think of how silly that question is. Why would he ask that? Everyone you know gets the same version of you; honest, open, and real easy going. You’re an open book and your relationships are all reflective of that. You are who you are, proudly and comfortably. So yes, of course he does. 

And all he’s thinking is how desperately he wants to rewind to 15 minutes ago when he wasn't the only naked person in the room. He just wants you to get back in bed; stay with him a little bit until he feels like the only one again. Turmoil and anger coincide with one another as it bubbles in his stomach, metastasizing before it becomes so unavoidable that he can feel it in the pit of his throat.

“Hm,” the sarcasm and bitterness in his tone is so goddamn thick, “lucky him than, yeah? Have fun, m’s real happy fo’ you.”

“Ok...” and he can tell by your voice that you’re offended, “I’d say thank you but that felt more like an insult.” 

Your jeans still aren’t buttoned and now that you’ve slid your shirt back on, he notices that your arms are folded over your chest as well. He doesn’t like the look on your face. It’s like you’re accusing him of something. And he really doesn’t like that the shirt you slept in, his shirt, is in a ball at the foot of his bed. 

“Can take it however y’want,” he answers flatly, “not sure how that’s my problem.” 

“Well what is your fucking problem?” 

You’ve never taken that tone with him before. In fact, he doesn’t think he’s ever seen you this cross before in general. He knows for sure you’ve never been this cross with him. It’s frustrating that you’re lagging in an attempt to catch up to the very obvious point he’s trying to make. The only easier route to take would be to flat out tell you how he’s completely hooked on you. He doesn’t want to do that though, not right now. 

What’s his problem? Are you genuinely that dense? Oblivious? His problem is you and how, against all odds, have become a crucial influence on whether or not he’s having a good day. His problem is if he doesn’t hear from you after a while, he gets grumpy. He hates waking up and rolling over to the left side of his bed made up and untouched. That’s where he wants you to be sleeping. All the time. 

His problem is you’re leaving to be with someone that isn't him.

“He knows you like I do?” he reiterates, “Fat fuckin chance.” 

“Harry you of all people know that I’m-”

“Shy?” he’s talking over you now because he’s completely lost all motor control between his mouth and his brain, “I know y’shy. Know that y’do tha’ little thing with y’lip, when you’re reading or real focused on something. Y’hum in the shower and, I never said this but it’s bloody fucking annoying sometimes ‘cos it’s off key. S’off key ‘n I almost like it.” 

You blinked; face flat and arms fallen to the side. All you could do was blink. And he wants to stop. God, he wants to stop talking so bad but this is your fault. You got him started so he has to keep going. 

“I know y’favorite pair of socks- those hideous fuzzy green ones with th’hole in ‘em.” 

He’s standing upright, now. How he got here, two feet planted on the ground with less distance between the two of you than two minutes ago; he’s not sure. There’s no specific expression on your face for him to pinpoint, so he considers edging himself a little closer towards where you’re standing. Until he’s right in front you, about to wave his white flag when he manages to break your blank stare and lock eyes

“Knows how y’like to be touched?” he’s brought his voice down a few octaves now, his index finger grazing over the undone button of your jeans, “knows.. how to get y’off? Like I do?” 

His eyelids are low, pupils blown as he peers down at you. A finger of his tucks away a stray piece of your hair before it embarks on a mindless journey; grazing your jaw before before he places it strategically under your chin. Then he lifts it. He’s giving you no choice but to look at him when he asks you. 

“Do y’wanna know him,” he sighs, “th’same way y’know me?”

[jarofstyles]

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[jarofstyles]

Clingy, needy, soft drunk H. Ha day and grabby, wanting to hold your hand and pressing sloppy kisses to your cheek and jaw and when you let him, your neck. Fingers sliding under your shirt for some skin to skin contact, though his are a bit cool from holding his drink and make you shiver. His speech slowed and a bit deeper than normal, telling you how much he adores you and how proud he is to show you off in front of his friends. Pulling you into his lap and wrapping his arms around you, forcing your hands to tangle together as he wraps them firmly and keeps his chin on your shoulder. The smell of his mint gum he uses to mask the alcohol taste in his mouth so you wouldn’t complain when he asks for kisses.

[jarofstyles]

can we get something soft 🥺🥺 like gang!harry where he has to go out to deal with something and yn is scared for him so she stays up waiting for her and harry comes back and comforts her and like “I’m alright baby, see I’m all okay”

Omg yes!!!

TW/ mention of guns, anxiety, but mostly fluffy fluff

——-

Y/N always worried.

Despite the fact that Harry told her not to. Despite the fact that she knew that he was incredibly strong, talented with his weapons, and never got caught without escaping… it still worried her.

Harry was working a deal tonight. One that could end a lot of danger for them- or, it could kill him. While Harry was calm, cool and collected, his lover wasn’t. She had begged him not to go, to stay home and let other people handle it. But she was also aware he was the Boss. He had to go out of respect and the fact he would look like a coward if he didn’t.

Still, she couldn’t eat. She couldn’t sleep. Kissing Harry before he left and feeling a gun pressed against her hip should have been comforting because he was protected and he was amazing with the weapon. It just made her more aware that her boyfriend lived a dangerous life and every day with him was a blessing.

She sat up on the couch, biting at her nails and trying to watch a new Netflix original but… there was no safety in that. There was no distracting her from the fact that the love of her life was out there with enemies who could potentially have an upper hand. Harry was smart, quick and his instincts hadn’t ever failed him before, but Y/N worried about the time they could.

Her heart stopped when she heard the beep of the alarm, letting her know the key code had been punched in. Her body sat straight on the couch as she waited. The anticipating nearly killed her, bur as the form filled the doorway, her whole body sagged in relief.

Harry. He was home.

He furrowed his brows as he saw her form on the couch. “Sweetheart…. What are you doing awake?” The meeting had gone successful and he finally felt like he could breathe again. A treaty was formed and boundaries set, and for once he felt the utter calm he hadn’t felt in a long while. But the man was exhausted.

All he had wanted to do was come home, strip and lay curled up with his beautiful lover in their bed. He hadn’t expected to see her awake. Let alone in tears.

“Oi… my love, why are you crying?” He began to step towards her but Y/N beat him to it. Running at him, she flung herself into his arms. The relief coursing through her veins was incredible, burying her face in his cinnamon and smoke scented shirt. Her body jumped as the tears left her, hands gripping him tightly.

“Was s-so scared. I was scared t-they’d hurt you and you’d-You’d never come back to me.” She whimpered into the fabric, trying desperately to get as close as she could. It wasn’t often that she let herself show how scared it made her sometimes, she usually took it all and trusted in him. Today had broken a bit of her.

His arms wrapped firmly around her as he did his best to soothe her. It was a bit of a shock but he should have expected this sooner. His love was strong… but people could only take so much when not raised around this.

“S’alright, my love. I’m all safe. It’s a good thing, hm? You’re with me now… don’t have to worry.” He whispered, kissing the top of her head as his hand ran up and down her back. It seemed to be doing the trick, his murmurs into her hair having her sag against him.

“M’right here. Always going to be right here, my angel. Promised you I’d come home safe, didn’t I? Always keep my promises. I’ve got you to live for… to protect. M’never gonna put myself in danger for no reason.” He whispered, rocking them back and forth. Harry was lucky. Not everyone had someone to worry about them. Not everyone had the love and protection emotionally like Y/N gave him.

Before Y/N, he was an ass. To be honest, he still was. But having a safe spot in a person changed him for the better, and he truly believed that. He wouldn’t ever give her up.

“Look at me, m’baby.” He murmured. “Look.” His hand took hold of her tear stained face and smiled softly, leaning his forehead against hers. “M’here. M’always coming back. I love you so much, yeah? My perfect love. M’all safe, without a scratch this time. So why don’t we go to sleep, and we can talk about what happened tomorrow? It’s all good.” He lovingly rubbed his nose against hers, pecking her swollen lips.

“Okay….” Her sniffle tugged at his heart. “But I’m just warning you. If you ever die because of this? I’ll kill you.” Her scowl looked like an angry kitten, making his own smile grow.

“Mm. I’d expect nothing less.”

[jarofstyles]

let's take a fluff break 😌 we know what y/n did for nerd!harrys birthday, but what would he do for hers? <3

AHHHH FLUFF!

So for Nerdy H, he would do something sentimental.

———

“Can I take this off yet?” She giggled, feeling that it was warm outside. It was nearly night time but Harry had coaxed her out of the house in a blindfold, not allowing it off until they got to their destination.

“Almost. Just… stand there and don’t move.” He laughed at the vision of Y/N in her blindfold. He was working on the finishing touches of the birthday surprise he had made for her. He was a bit of a perfectionist, and when it came to her…. It was even worse. All he wanted was to make her happy. And while she always said that anything he did would mean the most because it was from him, he wasn’t satisfied with that. He wanted her to have the best she ever possibly could. As soon as he was satisfied, he turned around.

“Okay.” His nerves could be heard in his voice as he gently untied the blindfold with his nimble fingers, letting out a shaky sigh as she opened her eyes and began to look around.

Harry had set up movie night for them at the lookout. A place he brought her when he was feeling specially romantic, overlooking the lake and the foothills of the mountains of their town, the beautiful view was nearly uninterrupted at night and the best view of the stars. He had come before and set up some balloons, and he had a large projector screen off to the side. The car was parked with the trunk open and blankets and pillows lining the back, his Range Rover coming in handy for it. The small picnic table was lined with a soft yellow tablecloth, her favorite snacks and a cooler to the side with fancy bottled lemonade she liked.

“I hope you like it… I know that you really wanted to have a movie night under the stars again, and I was hoping to go to a drive in up I know you like privacy so I-“ Harry’s explanation was cut off by a pair of lips and warm hands cupping his cheeks. A squeak of shock was given against them before he realized what was happening, calming slightly. His hands went to her waist and he let out a laugh before returning the kiss, pulling her into him.

He barely was able to pull away, as soon as he was apart, being attacked with kisses all over his face which had him laughing. Her kisses had his face flushing and nerves unbundling from his stomach. It had to be a good sign.

“Oi! I hope… this means you like it?” He laughed, looking at her face as he caught it in his large hands.

She was over the moon.

Everything was just further proof that Harry listens. No one knew how rare it was until they found someone who did. Harry, her sweet, nerdy and thoughtful boyfriend was the epitome of perfection to her. He was soft spoken and calm, and he was goofy in his own right. People may not understand the appeal, bur she knew him. And she did.

“I love it. I love it so much, Harry.” She whispered, flinging herself into his chest, snuggling in to hug him. All of Y/N’s favorite things. Her food. Her boyfriend. His car (she had a weird attachment to it). “You did this by yourself?”

“Erm… yeah. Mostly. I had my dad help me figure out which projector and screen would be good because I har to get one of those portable generators to get it to work. But everything else… yeah. You said nothing big, no big dinner out.” She hated getting too dressed up and going to snooty places where the food portion was too small anyways. “So… I got us pizza from Frankies… the fried dough stuff. Popcorn, the white cheddar kind, and some candy. And I have presents. The cake is in the display thing.” He blushed as he followed her to go look at it.

It was a Grey and blue cake with Totoro on it, one of her favorites. Some stars were on it and it had her tearing up. He had put so much effort into making this personal for her. It was incredible. How he spent his own money and time putting all of this together for her birthday.

“I can’t believe…. You’re not real.” She said in disbelief before her eyes caught something at the end of the table. It was two canvases and paint. Two easels folded at the end. Offhand, she had mentioned she would love to do one of those painting dates when she saw it on Pinterest while she was laying in bed with him. He remembered it too.

“You aren’t fucking real, Harry Edward. You aren’t. What movie is this?” She whimpered before grabbing him again for another kiss and hug, knocking the air out of him slightly.

Yeah. She was in love with him.

[harrywritingsbyme]

3 am

A/N: Sorry for the crappy ending :/

Based off of this ask

By now, you were desperately trying to go to sleep. You’ve been wanting to got to sleep for the past few hours now. You went to bed with Harry in the beginning of the night, but you woke up a few hours later to take a sip of water, and now you couldn’t go back to sleep. You’ve been awake for about two hours now laying in bed next to Harry, just starring at the wall to pass the time. You didn’t know what would help you go to sleep, maybe you needed  some hot tea, or a cuddle with Harry; all you knew was that you wanted some rest. 

As if right on schedule, Harry gets out of bed for his routine late night trip to the bathroom. You take the opportunity to spread out on the bed, continuing to lay wide awake. As he’s coming out of the bathroom he notices you laying across the bed wide awake. He could tell from the frustrated pout that took over your face the you needed a little help getting to sleep. He turns the bathroom light out and he goes straight to the dresser in the corner of your shared bedroom. He grabs a pair of joggers, quickly pulling them on before grabbing a pair out of your drawer. He makes his way back over to the bed and he pulls the warm comforter off of your body.

“M’takin ya for a drive” his voice laced with sleep. The way his voice sounded in the morning never failed to turn you into a complete mess. It was something about the deepness and the ‘gravelyness’ in his voice so to speak that you found unbelievably sexy, and you couldn’t get enough of it. Seeing him all soft and sexy made made you want to just pull him back onto the bed with you. You’d been up for a few hours now and you weren’t going to sleep anytime soon, so why not make the most out of it. Maybe early morning sex would be the answer to your sleeping problem. 

He grabs you by your ankles and he pulls you to the end of the bed. He helps you pull the pants up your legs before sitting you up at the edge and he plants a kiss onto your forehead. You stand up from the bed and you finish getting dressed. Meanwhile, Harry throws on a shirt and he grabs his phone off of the charger and disappears down the stairs. You follow suit a few moments later and you find a dressed and ready Harry waiting by the front door with a blanket tucked under his arm. You grab one of his hoodies off the hooks by the door and you throw it on along with your beat up vans and the two of you head out of the door. You both get in the car and you set out on your mission to get you asleep. 

The first stop was a complete shock to you. You weren’t expecting to be tucked under Harrys arm waiting for your order from your favorite fast food restaurant. Normally Harry would be a complete stickler for fast food, absolutely hating when you suggested it or picked it up on your way home from work. So you were pleasantly surprised when he voluntarily got the food for you two. Once your unusually large order of burgers, fries, and anything else you could have possibly wanted was done, the two of you make your way back to the car with you happily skipping along behind him with the bag of food in your hands. 

You thought the two of you were going to go home and maybe watch a movie, but Harry had other plans. He knew the one thing that could get you to sleep in no time. When he was writing his second album, every once in a while he would bring you along with him to Malibu. The two of you would take a drive up the coast and enjoy the scenery together. Many of those times were after he finished writing and recording for the day. He would put you both in the car and he would just drive. No real sense of direction, just following the path the road took him down. One of those nights though, he found a small, secluded beach not too far away. That night and almost every night after that, was spent visiting the beach. It became your place. It was the place that you and Harry had serious conversations, where you and Harry laughed and cried together. It was in a way, your home away from home, so Harry knew that this would do the trick. The drive up was filled with the continuous chatter and laughs between you and Harry, just enjoying the ride. 

Harry would never tell tell you this, but that night was one of the nights where he was completely exhausted, completely wiped out from everything. But when he saw you lying awake in bed, he held onto any energy he gained from his short rest, and he made it his mission to make sure you made it to sleep. Because if you weren’t comfortably sleeping, he wasn’t going to be comfortably sleeping. So if you sleeping meant that he had to eat some fast food and drive up the Malibu coast in the wee hours of the morning, he’d do it all. 

When you finally made it to the beach, there was still an hour before the sun would start to come up. The two of you make your way down to the sand and you settle down on the blanket that Harry brought with him. After you both finish eating, he pulls you in between his spread legs and you just lay there together, enjoying the sounds of the waves crashing softly in front of you. He then starts to say the two of you back and forth, in an effort to lull you to sleep. 

“Stop trying to make me sleep, I want to see the sunrise” you lean your head back onto his shoulder, tilting upwards to get a better look at him. 

“Fine” he chuckles at your response and he presses a warm kiss to your lips. 

“Another one” you pucker you’re lips for another kiss. Harry gladly obliges and he gives you a longer, drawn out kiss.

And that’s when you started to feel the sleep coming down on you.

You rested against his chest, giving up on any hope you had on seeing the sun come up. If you had only stayed awake for a little while longer you would have been watching the sunrise with a now wide awake Harry. 

“Isn’t it pretty love?” He asks you, looking towards the sunrise in front of him. When he doesn’t get a response he looks down to see your now sleeping figure. A smile stretches across his face when he sees you. “Sweet dreams” he whispers pressing one last kiss to your head, pulling you further into him. He stays like this for a while, taking some time to appreciate this moment. Appreciating the two beautiful sights in front of him. The sunrise stretching across the sky, and you sleeping peacefully in his arms. 

Masterlist

[nicetomeetniall]

Coming Home  Late-HS

You had tossed and turned most of the night. At first, you were simply struggling to get to sleep. It was probably the caffeine you had with dinner, or maybe you were holding onto some stress about the wedding planning you had done just earlier in the day with your fiance, Harry. After an hour of reading and another of mindless scrolling through your phone, you realized that the man you would marry should slip through the door any minute. He had gone out with a few friends after dinner at 8:00, and since it was now past midnight, you assumed he’d be home soon. The two of you were comfortable going out, alone or together. Loyalty wasn’t something that was questioned. Never. As long as you came home at a reasonable time, unless otherwise discussed, it was fine. You had gotten good at communicating. With Harry being away from home so often, it was necessary to talk.  

Harry hadn’t mentioned staying with a friend. In fact, he had told you he’d most likely be home before you fell asleep and he’d call on his way home to see if you wanted any food picked up for a late-night snack. You were in bed, deep into some bad documentary when you peeked at your phone. 3:54 am. That was late for Harry to be out when it’s just a normal night with his friends. He also knew that most nights you were well into your sleep by this time. It was late. After a few minutes of contemplation, you sent a text that said, ‘my laptop is open on a page I need to look at in the morning. please don’t close when you get home.’ That was true, you were holding your spot in line for a sale on some wedding favors. You put your laptop to the side, closing the lid just slightly, so the light wasn’t bright in your face, and tried to get to sleep once again.

You weren’t sure how long had passed until you heard the front door open. It had to have been a while since it scared you slightly, and you were nearly asleep. Aside from the minor jump you did, you continue to lie in bed, eyes open, just waiting for Harry to come into the bedroom. The worry you had about him being gone went away since he was now safe at home. 

The bedroom door opened slightly, just enough for you to see Harry peek in, and then shut it, as if you were a child and he was checking to see if you had fallen asleep yet. After a few minutes and he still hadn’t come back into the bedroom, you went towards the living room. He had undressed to his boxers and laid on the couch, the small throw blanket only covering him partly.

“It’s late.” You said, making him look up at you. The digital clock below the tv read ‘5:32′. It was basically morning.

“Yeah, it was a long night.” He said while he fixed the blanket around him, settling into his spot on the couch.

“Why are you out here?” You asked, trying to understand why he had put himself on the couch. You never understood why people did that. Had he done something he shouldn’t have?

“No reason, really.” He answered.

You sat in the chair next to him. “Harry, what’s wrong?”

“I’m just thinking about us.” He said There was something admirable about his total honesty, but in the moment it was terrifying. 

“Okay.” You said, letting him know that you weren’t sure what else to say. Not right now, anyway. It was late, you hadn’t slept, and you were stressed.

“Really, Y/N. I was only thinking.” He repeated as if it was supposed to be reassuring. It wasn’t.

“Are you having second thoughts about everything? Did you do something? Why are you out here instead of in bed?” Your words came out quickly. Maybe you knew what to say.

“I did nothing except keep you up all night, love. Time got away from me and the boys and I felt bad for keeping you waiting so I decided to hang out here.” He said, making the corners of your mouth lift slightly. “Thinking about how much I love you and how I need to better my time management for you.”

“You’re sweet.” You said, wanting to laugh at the ridiculousness of it all. “But I really like it when you’re in bed with me.”

Harry gave you a small smile. “Come on, we need to get some rest.”

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