Technical Difficulties - Y/N Suggests Rough Angry Sex To Let Out Harry’s Frustration After A Show

Found

Summary: An extra for Mine*

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

Word Count: 2.8k

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

“Asher?”

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

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

His friend.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes, I do. I was there.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Like…what?”

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

Your heart sinks. “Harry—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your answer is instantaneous. “Yes.”

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

You swallow thickly. “Of course.”

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

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

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

“Anything.”

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

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

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

Your breath hitches.

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

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

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

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

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

And you know it kills him to do it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

But he knows they’re here.

And he wants them to take you.

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

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

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

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

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

And those eyes.

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

But you know him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Callahan Matthews. 

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

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

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

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

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

Asher.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And if this is truly how he feels…

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

Harry.

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

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

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

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

His indifference is infuriating.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That aren’t his.

You turn and look for the answer. 

You find it with Asher.

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

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

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

A moment of silence dances between the walls.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

With a bullet hole right through his chest.

Asher.

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

Previous Part:

~ Lost (A Mine Extra)

~ Full Mine Masterlist

~ Other Harry Blurbs

~ Full Masterlist

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

MY FAVOURITE FUCKING FIC EVER IVE BEEN TRYING TO FIND THIS FOREVER.

and i can’t give that to you.

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

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Sacramento (11/10) - Only Angel

Your Delicate Point Of View

Summary : you & harry switch bodies. and well, you’ve both always been fairly curious.

TW : smut

Word Count : 2k

A/N : there is zero plot, i’ve just been wanting to write this very bizarre piece of smut. lets just go with it ya ? ✌️

you weren’t sure how it happened. weren’t even sure when it happened. and you didn’t notice until you start to stir from your sleep, arm reaching out instinctively for harry, only for your hand to smack down hard on the nightstand.

you blink your eyes open, squinting hard at the mid morning light, and when the fuck did you switch sides ? you always lay on the left side of the bed, when did you end up on harry’s side ? 

as sleep lifts from you more and more, your eyes starting to focus clearer to your surroundings, something feels off. eyebrows furrowing, your pupils fall on the hand that fell on the nightstand. is that harry’s hand ?

you blink hard and fast, willing any fogginess away, your eyes now properly focused, both hands above you, twirling them around, trying to process why you’re looking up at harry’s hands. but you were moving them ? what the absolute fuck ?

you chance to look next to you, hoping, praying, that this is some kind of really fucked up, vivid dream. but when you end up face to face with, well, your face, and your body, panic starts to set in.

you tentatively poke your body awake, watching it stir, groaning, “s’early, love.”

you notice the furrow in your eyebrows, eyes squinting open and looking back at you, jumping up as realization seems to set in quicker than it did for you.

“what the-“ harry cuts himself off, your voice coming our of what he assumed would be his mouth, completely threw him. because really, why would he assume otherwise. but now he’s staring back at his body, slight panic etched on his features.

“harry,” you whimper quietly, scared and looking for your boyfriend’s comfort.

“lovie,” he coos, noticing the need for consolation, pulling you into him, uh well, you. 

and it was all sorts of awkward. harry is not at all used to being so short and small. you’re not used to the lanky limbs and extra muscles. 

but you somehow manage, harry’s body being tucked into yours, harry giving your head, his head, a few kisses. which he did as a form of comfort to you, while simultaneously freaking himself out because he’s kissing the top of his own head, and he never knew the smell of his own hair could bring such a sense of calm. it seems your body still reacts the same way to certain things, muscle memory and all that. doesn’t mean it’s any less freaky, harry thinks to himself.

“we’ll figure this out, yeah ?” harry hums, still getting used to hearing your soft melodic tone as he speaks. 

“uhh, harry,” you murmur, a hint of embarrassment in your tone, biting your lip, his lip, as you look up, “you’re hard.”

“what ?” he asks confused, pulling his body away to look at you properly, “what are you on about, love ?”

without any words, you look down to harry’s lap, nodding, before looking back up. and realization dawns on him. his body betrays him every morning, in the form of a stiffy. something he either sneaks off and takes care of, or waits for you to wake up and take care of.

but this. this feeling was so foreign to you. not only did you now have a whole extra appendage between your legs, you had a whole extra appendage that was incredibly hard and absurdly uncomfortable pressed up to some all of a sudden much too tight boxer shorts.

“just-“ harry hums, his hand, your hand, reaching out on instinct to give a pull. he knows all too well how you must be feeling, never too much of a comfortable situation. he can’t imagine how it must feel for you. doesn’t exactly remember the first ever time he got a stiffy, but it was surely shocking none the less.

but as his hand, your hand, wraps itself around  his hard prick, he’s stunned to hear the loud moan come out of you, out of his throat, at the mere slight touch. “s’it good ?”

“fuck, does it always feel like this ?” you ask, biting your lip, his lip, a ragged breath escaping you, eyes looking up in slight embarrassment.

“yeah, pet. s’always like that,” harry chuckles. “fuck, this is weird isn’t it ? we can’t possibly-“ he cuts himself off, heat working its way up to his cheeks, your cheeks, as it simultaneously works its way down to his, your, core. “kinda wanna try,” he hums, knowing that you’ll surely understand what he’s trying to say, because christ, it is much too weird to speak out loud. “are you curious too ?”

and well, yes, you were curious, especially after that glorious touch harry just provided. besides, who isn’t curious ? who wouldn’t be intrigued in knowing how sex feels for the opposite form of genitalia ?

but fuck, could you really ? because at this moment you’re staring back at yourself and you’re expected to what ? start snogging yourself ? “it’s so fuckin weird,” you murmur. “so curious, but fuck, s’weird kissin on myself.”

harry chuckles, a playful twinkle in his eye, your eye, when he looks up, nodding, “it is weird. s’fuckin weird. but like you said, m’so curious. what if we keep our eyes closed ?”

you close your eyes, his eyes, biting hard on your, his, bottom lip, whispering, “you make the first move.”

and so he does, because as weird and as mind boggling as this entire morning has been so far, he can’t lose the opportunity to feel this. feel what you feel. so he tentatively leans forward, kissing your neck, his neck, trailing slow, tiny pecks up the side from shoulder to ear.

harry places his, your, hands onto your, his, hips, squeezing as he coos against your ear, his ear, “feel like my insides are vibrating. s’that your clit that m’feeling ? s’so achy, fuck.”

that manages a chuckle out of you, smirking, “now imagine that times a million, when you get in your teasy moods and wont touch.”

“m’sorry. fuck, gotta grind down on something,” he whines, “so different from a stiffy. christ, how are you feeling pet ?”

“s’so hard. it hurts, harry,” you whimper, feeling his, your, head tucking itself in your, his, neck, taking a shaky breath.

“wanna do something about that ?” he asks, hopeful. he’s never felt such an intense throbbing sensation. needs to quell it, needs to squeeze your thighs. needs to rut down on something, needs to be filled. fuck, he never thought he’d completely understand the intensive need to be filled up. but it’s the perfect description for how he’s currently feeling. your body needs to be fucked. and based on the tent happening in his boxers, he can assume his body wants the same thing.

“i do,” you whine breathily, “guide me harry ?” you ask, still not wanting to open your eyes, feeling him position you on top of him, slotted between his, your, wide open legs.

“wait,” harry whispers, “can you- “ he cuts himself off, slight embarrassment etched into the tone of voice. “i know your body’s used to it, but can i have a finger first ?”

“fuck,” you breathe, “of course harry.” because you absolutely remember how nerve wracking your first time was. so you tentatively reach down between your bodies, fingertips ghosting over your cunt.

this was something you were fairly used to, you knew how to make yourself feel good, and honestly you were a bit excited to show off your skills for harry. 

he shudders beneath you, taking a deep breath, as your finger gently flicks over your clit, stomach muscles flinching, harry gasping through a breath, “oh fuck.”

you keep stroking from your entrance to your clit, adding more pressure, listening to harry’s breathy moans, his fists tight in the bedsheets, as you coo, “s’it feel good ?”

“christ, poppet,” he groans, hips bucking on instinct, “need to feel more.”

“remember this when things go back to normal,” you reply smugly, your middle finger slipping effortlessly into your heat, curling up immediately, hitting that spot inside you that you know so well.

harry’s hips, your hips, raise off the bed slightly, back curling, loud whimper escaping the depths of his, your, chest, “jesus fuck-“ he cuts himself off, hips rolling into your hand. 

as you add a second finger, his eyes, your eyes, roll back, body trembling more and more, “christ, poppet, s’so fucking good, fuck. so good.”

“want more ?” you ask quietly, wanting, needing, some relief yourself. having a painfully hard prick was not something you were getting used to any time soon. and now that you’d gotten over the initial shock of hearing yourself moaning back at you, you wanted nothing more than to fall into this the same way harry seems to be doing.

“please,” he whispers around a breath, feeling your, his, lips press against his, yours. with both your eyes closed, mouths occupied with kissing, for a moment absolutely nothing felt out of place. this was a groove you could both fall into, in a natural way. 

slight nerves overtook you as your touch leaves your cunt, guiding harry’s cock into yourself.

“fuck,” you both groan, foreheads falling together, harry gasping for air, holding onto you for dear life.

you could feel your walls split themselves apart, could feel the first push from the head of harry’s cock. the overwhelming warmth, the powerful clench, the drowning wetness, it was all so much.

and fuck, harry’s never felt anything so brain fogging in his life. having something quite literally split him open and thrust into the deepest depth of his, your, tummy, legs falling open in an invitation for more. there was nothing more exhilarating, nothing more intimate, that he’d ever experienced. 

“fuck, harry,” you whine, hips thrusting at a steady pace, feeling so overwhelmed , so deliciously good, so skin tingly warm, but you had no idea how to control this body. no idea how to prolong this. you were just learning how to properly work his muscles, holding back an orgasm was a bit of a stretch.

it almost felt like losing your virginity all over again. without any awkward, slight discomforting moments. a brand new feeling entirely. one of intense pleasure.

“feels good, yeah ?” harry groans, working through the dizzying clusterfuck in his brain, unsure how to process this feeling, in an attempt to still be there for you. his typical role not being pushed aside easily, although the reversal does a fair job at trying. it’s obvious that your body likes what it likes, and being on the submissive end seems ingrained in your bones. but harry’s brain is desperate to fight it, every ounce of his being needing to be sure you were okay.

“so fuckin good, christ, don’t know how to hold back,” you whine, hands landing on your breasts, needing something to hold onto. with your, his, thumb and forefinger, you’ve got your nipples in a tight grip, harry groaning louder, back arching to press your chest further into his hands. 

“christ, shit-“ harry moans loudly, “fuck, don’t hold back, cum with me, yeah ?”

and if the desperation in him wasn’t enough, it was absolutely the hard clench of your cunt, as harry felt his orgasm peak, that tipped you over the edge.

“fuck, fuck,” you groan with each spurt of hot white cum, coating the insides of your walls, cock rutting deeper and deeper with each wave bubbling out.

harry’s jaw, your jaw, is slack, breathy pants and whimpers echoing through the room, as he comes down from the most body wrenching orgasm he’s ever felt.

“thank you,” he whispers, catching his breath, fingertips instinctively rubbing your, his, arms as you come down as well.

you hum, nodding and smiling in bliss, “can’t believe that just happened.”

harry chuckles, kissing his head, “weirdest fuckin thing i’ve ever done. wouldn’t change a thing.”

……

Masterlist

tags : @gorlsinmultifandoms

love love love

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

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

Previous Chapters:

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

Sickfic Part 1

Word Count: 3.7K

Warnings: Medical condition, hospital, mentions of death

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I know, I am too,” Mitch says.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I know baby.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Is it dangerous?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mitch-” Harry starts but gets cut off.

“I’m fine.”

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

“I can’t lose her.”

“We won’t.”

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

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

“No.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What if I don’t want to anymore?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

behind the doors

pairing: tanktoprry x yn

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

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

——————————

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

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

It was a phase, she thought.

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

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

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

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

That's how it's always been.

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

It worked every time.

But this time, it was different.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Go ahead, say it."

"No."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But there was only so much he could ignore.

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

He ran after her.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That was it.

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

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

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

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

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

"Are you not going to say anyt--"

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

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

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

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

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

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

The first time they had ever hugged.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She hummed softly, "Okay."

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

Trepidation^

Summary: (this ask) i was wondering if you could write one where harry feels a bit neglected when reader has an important meeting coming up or something, so she's missing date nights and stuff, a little angst if you please.

Word count: 2k

Pairing: boyfriend!harry x reader

Warnings: angst, fluff, swearing

masterlist | ask box

Harry sat alone in your dimly lit apartment, a heavy sadness weighing on his heart. He had been feeling neglected lately, as your demanding job had taken precedence over your relationship. It seemed as though each passing day brought more missed date nights and canceled plans, leaving him with a growing sense of loneliness and insecurity.

Tonight was supposed to be your special date night, a chance for you both to reconnect and forget about the outside world for a while. But once again, you had been called away for an important meeting, leaving Harry to face the emptiness of their once vibrant love life. Tears welled up in his eyes as he stared at the untouched dinner on the table, a painful reminder of what could have been.

Feeling a deep ache in his chest, Harry couldn't help but wonder if he was no longer enough for you. Thoughts of inadequacy and doubt filled his mind, tormenting him with the fear that he was being replaced by your demanding career. The anguished silence of the apartment only amplified his sorrow, as every passing second felt like a confirmation of his deepest fears.

His mind drifted to the countless nights you both had spent together, laughing, talking, and sharing their dreams. How you would hold your hands in his and you both would just lie in your shared bed, relishing in the comfortable silence and presence of each other. You had built a life together in the two years you had been with each other, promising to always prioritize each other's happiness. But now, it seemed as though those promises had been forgotten, lost in the chaos of your professional success.

He didn’t oppose your work, it was one of the things he respected the most about you. But, lately, it was all you cared about. You were about to get a promising position as a promotion in your job, and you were working day and night to make sure you got it. He supported you in that too. He started to stay home longer to take care of your dog, oreo. He even prepared meals for you throughout the day, making sure you got the proper nutrition for working so hard. He sent you multiple texts, checking in on you throughout the day.

But, completely prioritising your work might not have been the best idea. You had not been able to spend any time with your boyfriend, let alone sit and relax with him, in quite a while. It wasn’t your intention, but it had all gone south and you had to give all your time to your job. It was like Harry was the only one in the relationship now, and he felt like a one-sided lover.

The weight of his sadness grew unbearable, he questioned whether you still loved him or not. The ache in his heart was not just from the missed date nights, but from the sense of abandonment that had settled in your once warm and loving home, that shone with your love that lit it up.

Harry longed for the days when your presence brought him comfort and joy. He yearned for the laughter and the stolen moments of affection that had once defined their relationship. Now, all he felt was the sting of neglect and the bitter taste of unfulfilled promises.

He yearned for your presence, your touch, even a proper look at your pretty face.

As the night grew darker, Harry couldn't help but cry out silently, his tears blending with the shadows that engulfed him. He wanted nothing more than to be seen and cherished by you, to be loved by you, to feel the warmth of your love once again.

In the depths of his broken heart, Harry hoped that you would realize the pain you were causing and make a change. He yearned for the day when they could rediscover the love that had brought them together, and finally mend the broken pieces of your neglected relationship

Harry felt you slipping away, and he didn’t really know how to catch you.

With hot tears streaming down his face, he took off the jacket of the tuix he had worn for tonight. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out the tiny box that held all of his feelings for you. Opening it, he revealed the shiny diamond ring that he had bought two months ago, before your relationship fell into a messy blunder.

A tear fell into the soft foam beneath the ring and he tried to wipe it off aggressively. He wanted to keep it safe and shiny and pretty, so he could give it to you when the time was right, and ask you to marry him. Now, he wasn’t even sure if you wanted that.

If he wanted that.

. . .

You came home quite late, and it was around 2 am on the clock. With a tote bag stuffed with bottles of alcohol and a smile that wouldn’t go away.

You had gotten the promotion.

“Harry?” you called around the house, as soon as you entered.

You reached the kitchen, where you found the table arranged, with plates and wine glasses.

Fuck.

You and Harry had a date.

How could you forget? You both had been planning this for so long, finally being able to make a plan and spend the night together. He had even gone shopping over the weekend to make you your favorite pasta, even though it was his holiday after a whole week of work.

How could you forget?

You reached the table and put the alcohol aside, looking at the casserole full of food.

He hadn’t eaten.

You felt heartbroken, all the happiness and glory you were carrying for the past few hours, fading away into a dull ache in your heart. He had put so much effort into making this night special and perfect. He bought the red wine you loved, made dinner for you, set up plates and was probably waiting for you for hours.

And you couldn’t even be bothered to text him.

A tear escaped your eyes, and you started to search for Harry throughout the house.

Entering the bedroom, you saw him there, sitting at the foot of the bed. He was wearing a suit.

A damn suit.

He had put so much effort, and all you had done was get drunk over a stupid promotion. You had completely ignored him, just caring about your job and the money you were going to get. All the while he cared about your relationship.

You did not deserve him.

You walked over to him, taking a look at his face. His cheeks were tear-stained, and he looked so broken and sad. In pain. That you had caused him.

He was crying, and had probably passed out on the floor, waiting for you.

Sitting down beside him, you pulled his hand into yours. You were drunk and sad, and he was asleep. You just decided to talk to him like that, so he wouldn't have to see your awful face.

"I'm so sorry, Harry. I’m so so sorry. And not just today. Everything. For every bit of pain that I have caused you, for every tear that rolled down your cheek because of me. I ignored you. I neglected you. I ignored our beautiful relationship. I ruined it."

Proper tears were flowing down your eyes now, clouding your vision enough to not realize that he had woken up and opened his eyes.

"I had it. I had you. I had fucking everything in my hands. And I ruined it. I just-I just can't keep good things when they come to me, can i? I just always have to go ahead and fuck everything up. Throw everything out for just a bunch of money? God, how pathetic is that? And you know-I wasn’t just doing it to earn some extra money. I did it because-because my working hours would be reduced and-and I would have to work less. Less work. More you. More Harry." you giggled at your sappiness, before continuing, "And I'm sorry, Harry. So fucking much. I really am. for ruining our relationship. For making you cry. For all the perfect efforts you did for us, and I-I just let it go down the drain. I'm so so sorry."

"And you know, I understand. I understand that you are angry with me, and don't ever want to talk to me ever again. For how bad i fucked up. And I" a few fresh tears flew down as you prepared yourself to say ``I-I would I would get it if you want to break up. Even I wouldn't want to be in a relationship with me."

"Hey! How could you say that!" you flinched, his raspy voice making you shiver.

"What-I thought you-you were asleep."

"I was. And thank god I woke up, because the one time you properly talk to me, is when you are drunk and I'm passed out."

You weren't sure if it was a joke, but it made your heart break even more.

"I'm really sorry…" you started to sob, and he quickly pulled you into his arms.

"Shh. Don't apologize. You've apologized enough. I get it. I really do. When I neglected our relationship-when I was releasing my new album or going on tour, you stayed strong throughout. You never made me feel like I was ruining our relationship. you helped and supported me, when I needed it the most. I wanted to do the same too, but I just-just kinda broke down today. It just all came crashing down on me."

Your face formed a pout, and he kissed you sweetly on your lips.

"It's alright. I understand. Don't think too much about all that stuff you just said. I mean-I was a bit sad, because I thought that I wasn't your priority anymore. I thought you loved your work more than me. And I do too, you know, sometimes. And I'm sorry if I made you feel like you aren't enough."

"So you won't break up with me?" you asked, another quiet sob escaping your lips.

"No, silly. Why would I break up with you? I want to support you even more now. Throughout your work till you get the promotion, I will be by your side. I won't let you feel less again. Ever."

You sat up straighter, wanting to give him the good news.

"About that. I-I uh, I got the-the promotion."

His face softened, and he looked so fucking happy.

"WHAT!?" He exclaimed, and pulled you in for a tight hug, that knocked out the breath from your lungs.

"Yeah. I got the promotion today. My project was finally approved and my interview was last week and I cleared it."

He was smiling so big, and there were tears flowing down his cheeks.

Not sad tears, happy ones.

Because of you.

"My sweet girl. I love you so much. And I'm so so proud of you. Gonna love on you so much tonight."

You smiled at his happiness, finally feeling the ache in your chest go away, into loads of butterflies from the way he was looking at you.

He held you tightly in his arms, his chest now swollen with pride for you. How much you have achieved. How much you worked hard, all the rough times you had to go through, but it was all worth it in the end.

After a few moments of holding each other, your stomach grumbled.

"You hungry?" he asked, swiping his thumb across the apple of your cheek.

"Yeah. You made pasta?"

"Mhm, your favorite. You are gonna love it."

"I know. I always do. And I love you, Harry."

"I love you too, sweet girl. Now go and clean yourself up. I'll put the food in the microwave and heat it. Hurry, I have lots of things I want to do tonight." he said, his left hand swiping across the ring box in his pocket.

. . .

taglist:

@freedomfireflies @gurugirl @thechaoticjoy @styleslover-1994 @gem1712 @ellaorchard @bxbyysstuff @opheliaofficial07 @rafaaoli @tchlamqtsgf @the-mouse27 @indierockgirrl @vrittivsanghavi @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @drewrry @babyiamperfectforyou @avalentina

let me know if you want to be added or removed!!

that’s so sex

Nah I’m feral for this man 🫠

haircuts…

summary: harry got a haircut, y/n isn’t pleased. 

warnings: none. 

pairing: harry styles x fem!reader

•••

“Sex with you just isn’t the same anymore.”

Harry and Y/N were in bed, watching Venom on the TV, all snuggled up against each other. They just had sex, although already cleaned up. Harry was shirtless and wearing sweatpants while Y/N had one of Harry’s shirts on along with panties, her head resting against his bicep. Eddie Brock was having dinner with Anne while Venom was making fun of him. 

“It’s a haircut!”

Y/N shrugged and reached over to grab a piece of popcorn from the bowl on Harry’s lap, popping it into her mouth. 

“Don’t care.”

“Baby, look at me.”

“No, your hair’s too short. You’re practically… bald.”

Harry rolled his eyes, throwing a piece of popcorn at her. 

“Excuse you.” She gasped and sat up, appalled. She looked offended and her mouth was open, while Harry had a smile on his face, soft craters in his soft cheeks. He popped another piece of popcorn into her open mouth. 

“You called me bald.”

“Because that’s what you are.” She retorted, bringing both hands to run through his hair, moving them upwards to watch the short strands slip past her fingers. She already missed his hair that had grown out because he just never found the time or desire to get a haircut. Except for now, apparently, and he didn’t even tell her. Rude.

“It’s just so short.” She frowned, grasping his face while lightly squishing his cheeks together as he chewed on popcorn. 

“It’ll grow back?”

“And that takes time, H. You think I wanna wait that long?”

a/n: i ❤️ venom

🏷: @crow-i-guess, @planetflos, @harrycanyonmoonn, @bxtchboy69, @sweet-as-lilacs, @lyricalniall, @venusincleo (couldn’t tag you!), @bxbun111, @tenaciousperfectionunknown, @emispleased, @goldenhrry, @cinnamongirlrry, @manifestrry, @sadqn1, @judesgfirl, @taylorsreputationsversion, @violetsandfluff, @phoebebridgersforqueen, @a-strange-familiar, @moonlightbea-33 (couldn’t tag you!), @famedrs-blog, @coochiesteak, @blahblahblah-888 (couldn’t tag you!), @milesisntdonewritingyet, @harrysgoth, @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite, @cinnamonlola, @youcan-nolonger-run, @velvetrylie, @vamprry, @ellie-luvsfics, @gorlsinmultifandoms, @littlenatilda, @straightontilmornin

Always a Fineline

warnings - little angstyyy blurb!

summary - basically just you and harry divorcing. lol.

—————————————————————————

There sat the divorce papers between you and your husband, Harry.

Nothing had worked, you’d both been doing couples counselling and tried to build the love back up with endless dates and nights with just the two of you.

Still nothing.

You two weren’t toxic to each other, no, the spark between you both just wasn’t there anymore. It’s like the love between you and Harry had died down, all that was left was an empty hole in both of your hearts.

You met Harry while he was alone at a bar in 2013, from there you both built a really good relationship that soon turned romantic with Harry finally getting down onto one knee in 2016. Now, 2 years later you were both sat at the table Anne gave you and Harry after you’d both moved into the new house.

Harry stared down at the piece of paper, a sad gloomy dew clouding his eyes, the green appearing almost a dark grey colour.

Signing this paper was the last thing you’d have to do before parting ways for good.

“Who gets the house..?” Harry asks, holding the tip of the pen just above the signature box on the form, a frown prominent on his lips, eyes never leaving the paper.

“H, we already talked about this. I’m okay with staying with my parents till I get my new apartment.” You lean back in your chair slightly, eyes still on the curly headed boy you’d thought you’d always call home.

Harry nods sadly, bringing the pen down onto the paper, signing his name slowly before dropping it onto the page, sliding it across to the middle of the table. Yet, he still doesn’t look at you, his eyes still find his way to either the table, the wall behind you or the piece of paper.

“So.. that’s it?” He almost whispers, shrugging one shoulder, finally his eyes meet yours, both your hearts almost break, seeing the visible pain and tiredness on both of your faces, dark circles under your eyes from the lack of sleep due to the build up of this moment.

“You’ll be okay, Harry. I’m still gonna be here for you.” You smile sadly, trying to lighten the mood, even though there’s nothing light about this.

He shakes his head. “It won’t be the same as it was, Y/N. You know that.” He frowns, his head bowing down once again to avoid eye contact.

You stand up, walking around to his side of the table, hands softly coming in contact with his jaw, picking his face up so he’s looking up at you, like he’d always do when you were sad. “I know it won’t be the same, H. But we have to do this, do it for the sake of our mental health. All we’re doing is going around in circles, It’s an endless cycle of this.. of us.” You choke on a sob at the end, tears finally spilling out of your eyes.

Harry had tried so hard to be strong and not breakdown in front of you, but seeing you cry did it for him. Endless tears are shared between the two of you in what seems to be your last moments close to each other. “I still love you though Y/N.”

“Do you really love me or do you just love the thought of me being around you. Think about it Harry, our love is gone.” You lean down, pressing your forehead against his as you both cry, thumbs caressing the pads of his cheeks.

“I really wanted forever.” He whispers.

“Forever in another lifetime, i promise. We’ll be alright.”

————————————

2021, Las Vegas.

The screams of fans roar through the MGM Grand Garden Arena, it was his first show of Love On Tour where he’d debut his latest Fineline album.

Taking the place onto the centre of the stage, a crew member passes him his guitar as the stage rises up slightly, “This is a special one to me, i know a lot of you have been dying to hear it. I hope you love this song as much as I do.” He smiles, clapping and awes can be heard all around the stage.

The first strum of the guitar to the beat of Fineline is played, Harry takes a deep breath, a sudden emotion coming over him in a flashback of how this song was made. Who inspired this special song to him.

“Put a price on emotion, I’m looking for something to buy.”

“You’ve got my devotion, but man I can hate you sometimes.”

Singing from the crowd can be heard, harmonising Harry in a way no other concert could compare.

“We’ll be a fineline.”

“We’ll be a fineline.”

“We’ll be a fineline.”

Somewhere through the song Harry had closed his eyes, he finally opened them, looking out to the crowd, something in him tells him to take a quick glance up to the VIP box, so he does.

It takes time for him to recognise the person peering over the edge, before it clicks. Y/N.

The person that inspired him to make this album was watching Harry like a hunter show this special album of his to the world.

A small smile cracks at his lips before returning his eyes back to the crowd.

Maybe they will be a fineline.

————————————————————

TBH THIS WAS REALLY BAD AND SHORT CONSIDERING BUT IT IS MY FIRST EVERY WRITING PIECE SO DONT FEEL BAD IF YOU CRINGE BAHAHA!! PLEASE GIVE ME FEEDBACK LOVE YA! I AM ALSO NEW TO WRITING SO THERES PROBS ALOT OF GRAMMAR ISSUES ALSO COS I RUSHED THIS WHILE LISTENING TO MONTELL FISH 😭

i dont exactly like this so feel free to skip like the whole thing!! this is my first time writing a piece like this even though i have many drafts put away, but I wanna say a big thank you to my kind friend @harringtons-honey for quite literally helping me for tips with my writing, i want to truly give you the world for that!!