Hard Times

Hard times

summary : harry messes around before a show and gets his zipper stuck on a doggy suit costume and you come to the rescue!

warnings : swearing, crying, fluff!

*currently writing a blurb so have this little thing 😝 ps not really proof read so sorry for any confusion in my outrages writing 😭*

It felt like you had been searching for years, left and right, through all the cracks for Harry at the venue.

Jeff sent you on a mission to find him after he didn’t rock up to the soundcheck right before doors opened and he was set to be on stage in about 2 hours.

You weren’t worried, well not yet you weren’t. You also don’t think they checked his dressing room since he’s like a little energetic 5 year old who’s just had 7 bowls of sugar because he can’t ever sit still.

Knowing that for a fact because he’s either running around the stage, backstage, the whole ass venue or even exploring in some small janitors closet or something. Harry was a mad man, or let’s say he was a handful.

Opening the door into his dressing room you call out his name. “H? Are you in here, you missed sound check and everyone’s wondering where you are.” Closing the door behind you, your eyes dart to the bathroom, hearing someone mumbling in there.

Padding over to the small bathroom in his dressing room you peek your head in and holy fuck.

There he stands in front of the mirror, a large dog head from a costume is sat on the counter and he’s cursing to him self as he turns to the side, trying to rip the small zip down that goes from his neck all the way down.

“Oh my god…” you cover your mouth, walking into the doorway, his head snaps to you, his frown becoming more prominent as he turns fully to you, hands dropping beside him.

“Baby, I’ve been stuck in this fuckin’ costume for 30 minutes.” He’s almost on the verge of tears because of how hard he’s been trying.

It looks like he’s just had some hardcore sex, his hairs all sweaty and there’s sweat along his hairline, cheeks red and a panicked look on his face. His face drops as you throw your head back laughing so hard you could feel your ribs hurting.

“There’s no- no way this is real. Where did you even get this costume from!” You stumble over your words, giggles coming out of your mouth as he stands there like a child who’s just been told off, you walk over to him, your hand coming out to run your fingers against the fake fur on the costume. “You’re such a dumbass. Who knew you were a furry…” you look up at him, he’s still frowning.

“I perform in 2 hours, please get me out of this.” His expression turns serious, a hard look on his face now.

“Mm, I’d rather watch you go on stage in this. This is hilarious! What a story this is gonna be.” You smile as your hand comes up to see if you can tug on the zipper more, you squint your eyes pulling hard on the zipper a few times before you can think-

“Oops.” The zipper pulls off, leaving it with just the thing that connects it, you look to your hand before slowly lifting your head up to Harry, he stands there, eyes wide as he looks down at the zipper piece in your hand. “Well… we have a problem.”

“No, Y/N, no what.” His hands come up to his face, you place the piece onto the counter, feeling guilty because you knew Harry was frustrated having tried to get out of this dog costume for a while, you don’t realise he’s actually started crying.

He leans back against the counter, hands still on his face as he drops his head to his chest, you see his breathing is staggered, breathing unevenly with every breath he takes, you know every sign of him like the back of your hand so your heart does chip a little also knowing that if you were stuck in a dog costume you’d breakdown too.

“Oh baby, don’t cry please. Look at me, H.” You move in front of him, hands coming up to his wrists, tugging on them slightly but he keeps them pressed against his eyes.

“No. I’m crying- why am I crying, I’m so stupid.” He shakes his head. “I’m never gonna get out of this costume, I’ll be stuck in it till I’m in my grave.” He mumbles against his hands, you did want to laugh at how he was over reacting, but that wasn’t right for the situation right now.

“No you’re not, I can work something out. Baby, please look at me, it’s making me sad now. I don’t think someone wants to see me and you crying over a bloody doggy suit.” You chuckle, hands tugging on his wrists once again and he finally moves his hands, intertwining yours with his he looks down at you, eyes red and a small pout on his lips.

You then bring one of your hands up, brushing his eyelashes, wet with tears before wiping a tear that fell onto his nose, leaning up to peck his lips softly.

“Breathe, yeah? I always work things out, y’know that. You’ve been with me long enough to figure that out.” You smile at him and he smiles at you, a dimple finally poking out.

You then focus your attention on the zipper bit where the zipper teeth are together, you move your hands to the gap where the zip was and you pull and to your surprise they pull away from each other easily and you cheer, smiling widely.

“All my magic.. would you look at that, you’re free!” You giggle, pulling it all the way till he can pull the suit off as it drops to his feet, now he’s just standing there, in his boxers. “You’re a mad man, Styles. Still wondering why I didn’t get a warning contract before I started dating you…”

“Heeeeyyy, you love me.” He gives you a open mouthed grin, arms coming out to pull you into a tight hug. “Thank you for saving me, angel girl.”

“I swear if I find you in this situation again, you’re on your own.” You laugh against his chest, hands coming to wrap around his waist.

The situation was resolved and now it was a one of a kind story to tell, if helping him get out of a $30 doggy suit didn’t prove your loyalty to him you don’t know what else would. You loved this crazy man and wouldn’t of changed that moment for the world.

this just popped into my mind how silly

Dividers!! @firefly-graphics 🤍

Feelings

What is it: Boyfriend Harry cries after sex

Word count: 1.1k

Warnings: smut and a whole lotta tears

Honestly this is just fluffy Harry having the feels

MASTERLIST

“Oh my god, fuck,” Harry pants, rolling off you and onto his back.

You stretch your limbs out and groan happily. It had been an intense session that climaxed with Harry pounding you into the bed and holding one of your thighs so tightly you felt it bruising. For a handful of minutes afterwards, he had kept his face tucked into your neck, turning it damp with his hot breath mixed with your own sweat.

Now he’d finally torn himself off your body. Which, while leaving you without his pleasant weight, allows you take in deeper breaths to recover.

“Jesus, Harry,” you sigh, fluttering your eyes shut. “That was good.”

He doesn’t answer, but you can hear him drawing in air next to you.

You know he’s had a busy day, going straight to band practice after work and calling at the shop before meeting you back at his, where he didn’t even eat before you fell into bed together.

“You must be tired now, hm?” He still doesn’t answer but you feel him shifting beside you so you glance over. “Oh!”

He’s sitting up and pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes, rubbing hard. His shoulders shake like he’s holding his breath. You scramble to sit up too and place a hand on one of his wrists.

“Harry, baby. What’s wrong?” You ever so gently tug his wrist. He complies, moving his hands away from his face and gulping in a shuddering breath. His eyes are red and wet. “Shit,” you whisper, panic building fast. “Shit shit. What’s happened? What did I do?”

You’re looking all over him to find the problem. Sometimes you dig your nails in too hard when it’s good, but he always says he likes the bite of pain.

To your surprise, Harry laughs and shakes his head. “Shit, YN. Nothing. You did nothing. Or fucking everything, I don’t know.” He grabs a handful of the bedsheets and covers his face again.

“I don’t understand,” you admit. “Are you having a panic attack?” He’s had them before, only twice since you’ve been dating. Usually after a gig when his adrenaline is still too high and his anxiety fights to match it. But never, ever after sex.

“I don’t think so,” he mumbles through the bedsheets. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s happening.”

You’re starting to relax a bit now. You’ve convinced yourself he’s not dying, or about to throw you out his house late at night. You rub his bare shoulder.

“Babe, can you look at me?”

He shakes his head and gasps a few times into the sheets. “No. It’s embarrassing.”

You smile at hearing what almost sounds like Harry’s normal voice. “It’s not. Did you hear some of the noises we made earlier? That’s embarrassing.”

You hear him snort and then something that sounds alarmingly like a sob. “I’m sorry,” he says. “I can’t stop it.”

“Don’t apologise, you idiot. Just let me see you, okay?”

When Harry finally emerges and faces you, his eyes well up and overflow.

“Oh, baby. Come here.” He flops into your arms and nuzzles his wet face against the top of your breast. His shoulders are broad but you’re able to hold him tightly. “Did something happen today?” You feel his head shake in a no. His body moves with his jerky inhales. “Was it the sex? Did something feel wrong?”

“No. It was amazing. I’m not sad. I just feel-“ he cuts himself off when his voice wobbles.

You stroke his hair while you hum in understanding. You think you get it. It’s never actually happened to you like this, and you’ve never experienced it in a partner, but you’ve heard about it, and it makes sense.

“I feel a lot,” he finally finishes.

“I understand.”

He pulls his head away from your chest to squint at you. You imagine you look blurry through his watery lashes. You smile at him anyway.

“I’m glad you understand because I sure don’t.” Harry hiccups on the last word and winces.

“It’s intimacy,” you say, gently pushing him to lie back against the pillows while you play with his hair. He gazes up at you and you’ve never felt more adored. “I felt really close to you tonight, too.”

“My heart is beating really fast. I’m happy you’re here.” It’s the calmest he’s sounded in the last few minutes and you take it as a good sign he’s a little less overwhelmed. You place one hand over his chest and sure enough feel the heavy thudding there.

You don’t talk for a while, just looking at each other. Until you feel Harry’s erection nudging your leg where you’ve draped it over him.

He shifts so it rubs against you and then sighs. “I’m not sure I’m up to it again, love.”

“Of course. I can do something for you though. Only if you want to.”

You find and stroke him slowly, fingers on your other hand still curled in his hair. A fresh wave of tears run down his cheeks. You gently wipe them away with your fingertips.

“I think I might cry all the way through. Is that weird?”

“Doesn’t matter.” You start kissing down his chest, the faint salty tang of sweat smearing your lips.

“What if this happens every time? And you never want to have sex with me again?”

“Harry?” You lift your head up from where you were about to take him into your mouth. He gazes down at you, eyes wide and wet. “Stop worrying and enjoy me sucking your dick, please?”

He gulps and nods. “Okay.”

He doesn’t cry the whole way through. On and off you see the streaks of newly shed tears down his face. But by the end, his back is arching and his whimpers are drenched in pleasure. His thighs are vibrating where they bracket you in, humming with the stimulation of a second orgasm.

He scoops you up and kisses you lazily, thanking you without words.

“For the record,” you mumble. “I will never stop wanting to have sex with you, as long you still want it with me.”

“Always.” He rubs your nose with his. “In case it wasn’t already excruciatingly obvious, I’m obsessed with you.”

Harry falls asleep in minutes. You should wake him and make sure he eats and drinks, but for now you leave him, knowing the exhaustion that comes with a rush of emotion like the one Harry just experienced. You snuggle into him, feeling warm inside and out.

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enalovesharry

1 year ago

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

697 notes View Post

enalovesharry

1 year ago

Chapter Eight

pairing: college student!grumpy!harry × college student!sunshine!fem reader

trope: (kinda) enemies to lovers

chapter warnings: slight angst, groveling, silent treatments and guilt

series cw: angst, smut (minors dni!) fluff, sexual tension, drama, character development, drug use, alcohol consumption, foul language

word count: 6.6k

chapter one I chapter two I chapter three I chapter four I chapter five I chapter six I chapter seven | chapter eight

divider by: @firefly-graphics

Harry feels like shit. He knows he fucked up big time, not only did he lie to Y/N but he also brought up their childhood. He didn’t mean it in a mean tone but he knows she probably took it that way, he completely brushed over the fact that she said she liked him and blew up in her face. All of this happened simply because she asked for some batteries and he was quick to try to play Superman. He stares at the door sadly before setting the pack of batteries in front of her door and quickly sending a text to let her know he left them before he walks back to his car.

He can’t help the heavy feeling in his chest as he sits in the car, both hands gripping the steering wheel as he stares at the front of her house. He should’ve known she’d catch feelings first, as kids she was giggling at him and inviting him to her house. Their friendship started sometime in middle school after they bonded over their shared love for music and singing. They’d hang out at each others’ house taking turns doing karaoke and making jokes, pure happiness radiating over them. They’d hang out sometimes at lunch, the two of them sitting at one of the few picnic tables lining the brick wall. The sound of children screaming as they ran around, the giggles of girls crowded together as they gossip, and ever so often the teacher supervising everyone will yell as they correct someone’s behavior. The heat of the sun kisses their skin as both kids sit quietly together eating whatever was on the menu for today or what their parent made for them. The breeze wasn’t too strong, it was enough to cool them down slightly as it brushed against their skin.

There were days where Harry wouldn't hang out with Y/N in favor of spending time with his own friends, Y/N never minds usually simply because she’ll go to her own friends and they’ll meet up at the end of the day. The sound of a door knocking would erupt Y/N from her schoolwork and she would eagerly run to the door only to be scolded by her mother, her voice tired as she speaks.

“Honey, how many times have I told you no running and no answering the door.” She all but sighs when she sees the frown etched onto her daughter’s face.

“But it’s Harry mama!” Her tiny voice rings out, all sad and whiny as she attempts to plead with her mom. They’ve been through this scenario many times before and it’s always the same; her mom will say it’s dangerous because she can’t be for sure that it’s the curly headed boy. Y/N will pour and stomp her foot saying it is him because she knows his knocks, only for her mother to sigh and cave, allowing the young girl to open the door with a bright smile on her face.

Harry’s face would be equally happy to see her, the same bright smile plastered on her face showcasing his dimples before they’re running up to embracing each other into a tight hug. The rest of the day would be spent with the two kids doing their schoolwork mixed in with the sound of them laughing at something the other said when they got sidetracked. They’d stop briefly to eat whatever Y/N’s mom would make them for dinner and then they’d be back in the living room. Y/N’s mom would send Harry home only for Y/N to insist that they walk him to his house even though he knew his mom would be coming to pick him up shortly.

When his mom would pull up in their driveway, Y/N would walk him up to the car and give him a big hug, acting as if they wouldn’t see each other in the morning at school, but it doesn’t matter to them as they embrace each other tightly and would whisper ‘see you soon’ in each others ears. As Harry would get in the car, the young girl would wave at Anne as she backs out into the street. Afterwards, she would head back inside to do her nightly routine and spend some time with her own mom which resulted in conversations including Harry and how her mom’s day has been. She would yawn and rub her eyes tiredly as sleep overcame her after a while of them relaxing on the couch, her mom would smile softly before bringing the tired girl to bed, bidding her goodnight with a soft kiss to her temple as she tucks Y/N into bed.

That’s how they spent their days throughout the years, they were inseparable it seemed. Years of being close as ever, Harry always sticking up for his friend whenever she came to him with teary eyes explaining how someone started picking on her. He was her protector and she was his sunshine, while he tended to stay with his select group of friends, she would always be chatting with someone different every day. It was easy for her to make friends because of her bubbly personality, Harry could easily make friends as well but he chose not to. It was too much work and he deemed it be unnecessary to have so many people around him, especially if he knows the friendship won’t last after they graduate and life moves on. They’d eat lunch together occasionally and he’d walk her home after school.

They’re both incredibly smart children, they dedicate hours studying and going over worksheets and textbooks, it’s something they pride themselves on. They thrive off being the main hands raised in the air or the only ones in class, being able to answer any and all questions the teacher may ask while being able to back up their answers. They enjoyed going to the library together and really just anything that simulated their brains.

Years passed and now they’re in high school, both teenagers excited to experience such a new beginning. They’ve both changed as time passed, Harry’s curls have grown to past his ears and he’s grown out of his boyish face and various tattoos littered his skin and Y/N can’t help but think he’s attractive. They still hung out at lunch but it has slimmed down to once a week if they’re lucky. She watches as his friend group grows and he becomes more popular with all the students, pats on the shoulders and students calling his name as he passes through the halls.

As they drifted apart, she noticed he would do his best to beat her in answering and be the first one to turn in any homework. He was going out of his way to beat her in any way he could and so as time passed their friendship dwindled away and they became academic rivals. Simple presentations turned into competitions to see who could outdo who and who would go first, sneaking around in order to turn in assignments before the other, and remarks said under their breath when the other was presenting. This rivalry went on for months and they both secretly enjoyed the competition between them, the thrill of trying to outdo the other.

That was until out of nowhere Harry stopped trying to outdo her, in fact he seemed to stop all together. He stopped turning in assignments early and his presentations seemed as if he did it right before class, words and graphics thrown together in haste as the plain white background and the pain text was a stark difference from the hours he’d spent trying to make sure his was perfect. His hand stopped flying in the air quickly opting for a slow rise into the air. The remarks ceased and his friends seemed to drift away minus Alex, who stayed loyal to his friend. Y/N wasn’t sure what happened but that’s when everything changed, their friendship long forgotten as she watched him become a shell of who he was.

He grew quiet, barely speaking unless he was spoken to if he was at school. He never stayed at school for long if he did decide to attend, but for the most part he skipped. There would always be a chair empty in all of his classes and the school grew quiet. Y/N tried talking to him, approaching him in the halls only to be brushed off or ignored. He never stayed in place long enough for her to even begin to open her mouth to speak, and Y/N even went over to his house and spoke to Anne. She’s would ask if everything’s okay and Anne would give her a sad smile and say yes, she’ll let Harry know she stopped by and thank her for checking in.

Harry grew to dislike Y/N, he was jealous of the fact that no matter what she stayed on top of her work. She didn’t let life throw her off balance like his stepdad’s death did, and oh how he wishes he could be like that. He watches as she bounces around the school with her bright smile and glowing aura, growing disdain for the cheerful girl and the way she stays on track. He despises the way she keeps her A’s and little notes written on her worksheets telling her ‘good job.’ He started back his snarky remarks whenever he was near her, comments made about how good she is and calling her a teachers pet, he’d comment on the notes written at the top of her work in red ink. He’d tease her endlessly and whenever he couldn’t think of a remark he resulted in physical bullying, taking the last item in the cafeteria of something he knows she enjoys and bumping into her shoulder as they cross paths in the hallways.

Two weeks, he hasn’t seen Y/N in two weeks. He can’t help the small amount of sadness that swells in his chest, rooting itself into his bones whenever his eyes roam across the halls and classrooms in hopes that he’ll be able to spot her around but only coming up with nothing. She isn’t in her seat in the classrooms, the chair empty as it becomes a constant reminder of how he hurt her. He ignores the icy glares sent from her best friend every time she spots him in the hallway, he can’t talk to her. The school seems to lose its spark, it’s quieter and darker without her sunshine personality oozing into the atmosphere.

When she finally comes back, his eyes automatically land on her only to see that she become a ghost of who she is used to be. He sees her lacking the glow she usually has, he watches as she walks down the hall with her head lowered and not slipping as she normally does. Her hand doesn’t raise in the air as often and when she speaks in class, it’s quiet and doesn’t sound confident. He’s sent numerous text messages and has even resorted to calling her phone only to hear the phone ring and get sent to voicemail. He’s stopped by her house and knocked on her door, there’s no sign of her anywhere. There’s no windows open or lights on, it looks dark and empty and he can’t help the guilt that slowly starts eating at him knowing that he’s the one who caused this.

He can’t be happy when the principal tells him that he passed all of his exams. He doesn’t smirk and feel proud when he overhears the principal and a few teachers talking about how Y/N never showed up to take her exams and never answered any of their emails or let them know she won’t be able to take them. All he feels is sadness, he did this to her. He can’t be happy when he bumps into her shoulder through passing causing her to stumble, it doesn’t spark joy in him anymore to indulge in his favorite past time because it’s not the same. She’s not spitting out her own snarky remarks, she’s not shouldering him, she’s not even looking at him.

She keeps her head down in the hallways, in the classrooms, and she actively avoids her fellow classmates. He doesn’t even see her hang out with her best friend and that’s the scariest part. He doesn’t know what to do in this scenario, he feels absolutely useless and needs to fix this. He watches as her best friend lingers behind her as she walks, a look full of sadness and pity etched onto her face as she follows her. He slowly makes his way up to her, cautious because he’s almost certain he knows what’s gonna happen. He weaves the way through the crowd of students in the parking lot until he reaches her, reaching an arm out to tap on her shoulder hesitantly.

He doesn’t even get to touch her before she’s turning towards him with an icy glare - one identical to the one Y/N gave him weeks ago - and she wastes no time grabbing his hand and dragging him away from wandering eyes and ears. He stumbles behind her as he attempts to keep up with the girl, clumsily walking behind her as they reach the back of the school.

“You fucking asshole! You’re such a fucking selfish prick, Y/N’s done nothing to you!” She seethes and Harry nods, he knows he deserves this.

“I oughta hit you, smack some sense into you. God, I hate you Harry. I fucking hate you. Do you hear me? You broke her!” She yells as a few stray tears fall down her cheeks.

“I know. I’m sorry. She hasn’t talked to you?” He asks and she shakes her head.

“She hasn’t talked to me in two weeks. She wants to be left alone and it’s all your fault.”

He can’t help but to sigh as he listens to her, the guilt only growing bigger as it gnaws on his heartstrings.

“I’ll fix it, I promise. I’m so fucking sorry. I was a dumbass. I was jealous and I just wanted her to stumble a bit, throw her off course for a change.” He watches as her face wrinkles up in confusion, the fire still lit in her eyes as she stares at him. He sighs softly before explaining their story. He explains what happened between them and why they fell apart and why he treats her the way he does. She listens intently to him speak and she sighs.

“You dumbass, could’ve apologized and explained.” She huffs and he shrugs.

“Yea but it just sucked watching her keep the top while I fell off and I just wanted to be on the other end of it.” He watches as she huffs again only to begin walking away.

“You better fix this shit Styles, otherwise you’re not gonna like me one bit. I’m gonna make sure you regret this.” He nods as she walks away.

“I already do.”

Harry’s known for his bad boy look, the way he’s very popular with the ladies and notoriously known for the way a frown is etched onto his face. He’s known his short and clipped responses and most importantly his usually sour mood. He doesn’t like interacting with people for long periods of time so he absolutely despises grocery shopping. He hates having to interact with the cashiers and making unnecessary small talk with the other shoppers crossing his path.

He quickly walks through the the aisles as he grabs everything he needs and setting them inside his basket. He’s eager to get out and back to his little oasis and away from all of these people, and he’s so close to finishing the list made for both him and his roommate. He can just feel his bed calling his name as he throws a couple cans of cat food into his basket, grumbling to himself about the seemingly endless line of customers waiting in line. The people talk amongst themselves as they wait and the obnoxious sound of someone’s baby crying behind him.

He pulls out his phone and replies to a couple unread messages and his eyes linger on Y/N’s message thread, the last message showing him asking if she’s okay and he’s sorry. His message that’s been on delivered for a week, a reminder of the pain he inflicted on the girl. Maybe this is his karma for the way he handled his situation, shutting her out until he grew resentful of her. The way he pushed her away instead of letting her in, ignoring her instead of talking to her.

The distance between them should be normal considering they weren’t friends, they shared a mutual dislike towards the other. They weren’t friendly, they weren’t even tolerable of each other until Harry decided he wanted them to for his own benefit. They never spoke about anything else other than the exams so why does the silence between them now feel so heavy? Maybe it’s just the guilt of his actions eating at his conscious and hitting at his heart.

He almost never regrets anything, maybe aside a couple tattoos, so it’s frustrating to say the least that he’s so torn up about this. He hates that he actually wants to fix this and maybe he might want to be her friend again, that’s if she’ll actually listen to him first. He regrets taking advantage of her kindness, allowing himself to indulge in the fact that she never once doubted him and always saw the best in him.

As he gets closer to the register, he feels someone behind him which shouldn’t bother him because hello, he’s in a grocery store but the familiar flutter in his stomach is hard to ignore. It makes him frown because of course the way they get to interact for the first time after the argument is in a grocery store of all places. He doesn’t look back even though he wants to, he’s trying to respect her space and not create a scene. He wants to do this right, and yelling at her is definitely not the way to go. He bites his cheek as he moves forward in line and tightens his grip on his basket.

He can’t smell her signature scent and it bothers him because he’s oh so sure that she’s right behind him. The feeling in his stomach says all he needs to know. He huffs when he’s finally at the self-checkout register and begins to check out his items. He takes his time checking out each item, dragging it slowly in hopes that the woman beside him will finish up so he can see Y/N one more time. He’s hoping to maybe make some small talk as they check out their grocery items, and soon enough the lady leaves and someone else takes her place.

This girl looks nothing like Y/N though, her face looks too thin and she’d never have bags underneath her puffy eyes. He knows Y/N would never go out without putting her best effort forward, and this girl looks like she has no care in the world. She kind of smells like her though, he could recognize that scent from a mile away, her perfume just faint enough to filter through his nose as if it attached itself to her clothes. There’s just something about the way she’s carrying herself, almost as if she’ll burst into tears at any moment.

His eyes gravitate towards her, watching as she scans her own items and sniffles softly. He takes in the way she’s dressed as if she just rolled out of bed; a plain white tank top paired with a cardigan and some sweatpants and hair thrown haphazardly into a bun at the top of her head. She looks miserable, as if she’s been having a bad day that’s lasted for weeks. He can’t help the pang in his chest as he watches her, his own groceries long forgotten.

He quickly shakes his head and continues scanning his items before paying for everything, stepping aside so the next person in line could use it. He doesn’t want to cause a scene or make this girl uncomfortable if it isn’t the girl haunting him and eating at his conscious. It doesn’t take too long for her to finish checking out as she grabs her bags and heads towards the front door. His legs immediately begin to move as he follows her.

“Excuse me? Excuse me, I’m sorry to bother you. Is your name Y/N by any chance? You just look familiar.” He says and she keeps her head forward. She refuses to acknowledge him and he’s almost convinced it’s not her.

His eyes trail over her frame and spots her tote bag, the same one that’s usually filled with textbooks and papers, is now lighter and seems to only be carrying a few items before she shoves some of the lighter items she bought into it. He’s determined now, determined to apologize and move forward. He’s determined to rid himself of his pride and acknowledge his mean behavior towards her.

“Y/N! Please. Just let me talk to you!” He follows her out of the store and towards her bike. He knows he doesn’t have much time before she’d be heading off down the street.

“C’mon, I’m trying to fix this. I really am sorry. Can you, fuck, just look at me at least? No? I’m sorry! I know I hurt you and I know I fucked up. Big time. I’m an asshole, I’m fucking selfish and I was jealous.” He almost wants to grab her hand or her arm, grab her just to make sure she won’t leave and make her listen.

She’s still walking, though it’s slowed down some as if she’s actually listening to him.

“I was jealous because you stayed at the top, you never lost your fire, that spark you had growing up. No matter what happened in life, you still gave all your effort and then some. I just wanted you to know how it felt and that’s fucking cruel. I should’ve talked to you, and I’m so fucking sorry for hurting you. You didn’t deserve any of this, and I… I really miss you, I miss the friendship we used to have, I miss us. You tutoring me was the closest we’ve gotten in years and I didn’t want to admit it but it felt nice. All the subtle references and to see that some things just haven’t changed. Please, just say something.” He all but begs her, and at this point he’s not ashamed to fall to his knees. His eyes burn as they fill with tears as he stares at the girl standing in front of him. She’s stopped talking sometime in his little speech, showing just the slightest interest in what he has to say.

He doesn’t know what to do, he’s never seen her so quiet before. He’s never seen her look so tired, so beat down and it only pains him to know he was the cause. He’s met with her silence and it scares him, he doesn’t know what to expect. The chilly air flows against their exposed skin and the sounds of cars honking fill their ears as he waits for a response. He hopes they’ll be able to move forward, she’ll forgive him and they could be friends like how they were years ago. He’s tired of pretending to dislike her, tired of the constant remarks and having to treat her the complete opposite of the way he wants to.

She stands still in front of the bike rack, her shoulders rising and falling with each breath she takes. The faint conversations from customers leaving and entering the store as they pass by fall on deaf ears. Their conversations don’t matter to the two people desperate to move forward. Harry sighs as one ringed hand runs through his hair, his frustration beginning to seep into his breath with every moment that passes of silence.

“Y/N, c’mon. I know you have something you want to say, scream at me, curse me out. I deserve it, I know I do. You deserve to be able do this, let it out. Say something, anything. I want to fix this, let me fix this. I can’t stand your silence, I fucked up. I need you to say something to me, I need you to talk to me lala. Tell me how to fix this.” His voice has begun to shake and quiver towards the end, sadness and guilt crashing over him as he speaks.

He knows he’s about to cry but he can’t bring himself to care, the only thing he cares about right now is fixing this. He won’t leave his spot until she agrees to talk it out, to properly hear him out. He stands still, his hands clasped in front of him as he plays with one of his rings to keep them from shaking, the tip of his nose beginning to turn into a soft shade of pink and his eyes fixed on her frame.

“C’mon honey. I’m sorry, okay? I know words don’t mean a lot especially seeing the way I treated you for so long, but I promise I’m gonna show you I mean it this time. Can you just at least look at me? You didn’t deserve this, I’ll accept whatever you wanna do. You deserve to treat me the way I treat you. I want you to blow up and go off on me, please just say something.” He sniffles and he watches as she begins to turn slowly.

He can’t look away no matter how bad it makes his chest hurt, his eyes rake over her face taking in every small detail. Her face is stained with tears and her eyes are red and puffy, she looks exhausted and he just wants to wrap her inside of his arms and hug her tightly. Her gaze is firm, set on his once she’s fully turned around but they don’t shine the way they used to when she looked at him. They aren’t filled with happiness, they’re filled with anger and a hint of sadness and it’s all directed towards him. She sniffles once before she takes a deep breath in, Harry braces for the spew of angry words that’ll fly his way but they never come. The only words that come out of her mouth are worse than any scream and insult she could say.

“I hate you, Harry.”

It’s the breaking point for him. The tears come flowing down his cheeks and his chest heaves. He shakes his head as if that’ll clear it from his brain but he sighs shakily.

“That’s fine, I’m sorry. I’m gonna fix this, I promise. I’d hate me too.” He turns around and makes his way to his car as her words bounce around in his memory. He lets the tears fall as he walks away, if he didn’t already feel like shit before - he definitely does now. He never realized just how important she is and how much he still cares about her, but he’s determined to make up for the years of torment he gave her.

*He’s gonna fix her and he’s gonna fix them.*

Harry’s made his decision to prove just how serious he is about fixing this mess he made. He’s mapped everything out, wrote down a list of everything he needs to do in order to prove his point. He’s researched online on how to win a girl back and he’s even gone to ask his closest friend Alex on what to do. The first day is simple, something small and simple. He figures the easiest way is to build up to the ‘grand finale’ as the people online call it.

He’s written out a little note on a piece of paper stating how sorry he is and he feels horrible, folding the piece of paper small enough to fit through the little slit in her locker. He’s wary of the few students lingering in the hall as it’s still pretty early and the bell hasn’t rung yet, he can almost feel their eyes following him because he’s actually here at school before noon. He can’t help the small flutter in his chest as he slides the paper in, the prospect of doing something so elementary in hopes of making things right and fixing them.

He sighs at the ridiculousness of his actions, doing something so silly just to get the girl’s attention. He can’t think about it too much, otherwise he’ll regret the entire plan and chicken out. He huffs as he runs his hands through his hair as he walks away, heading towards a spot close enough to watch everything happen. He finds a corner and chooses to lean against it and pulls out his phone. He wants to be as inconspicuous as possible, not wanting to draw attention to him and the oddly creepy behavior coming from someone who supposed to hate her.

He texts a couple people back, and scrolls through the seemingly endless posts of all of his social media’s to pass the time before she shows up. He’s anxious and excited all at once, fighting the battle of wanting to know how she’ll react and not even wanting to think of her reaction. Ultimately he knows he wants to see if he can get a small smile from his old friend, wants to know there’s still a chance for them. He knows he’s not gonna give up even the outcome is bad, if he’s not doing it for his own selfish sake, he wants to do it for her and Leya. He knows they both deserve to get back to their own form of normalcy, and he’d feel horrible if he’s the cause of them drifting apart.

The sound of his fellow schoolmates talking fills the halls as more people begin to fill the halls and soon he spots her, all dressed in a baby blue knee length dress he’s never seen before, white sandals and a white cardigan draped lazily over her shoulders. Even though she dresses like her, she still looks like a stranger. Her eyes lack the light and sparkle they normally do, eye bags have been beginning to form underneath her sad eyes, her hair that’s usually styled is once again thrown into a bun made with a lack of effort. He watches as she keeps her head as low as she can get it while still being able to see in front of her as she makes her way to her locker. His eyes are locked onto her and the butterflies begin to beat rapidly in his stomach from excitement, he finds it hard to stay still as he watches her.

His fingers begin to twist his rings around and he bites the inside of his cheek nervously, anxious to see her reaction to his note. She walks slowly and looks likes she’s about to curl into herself at any given moment and Harry can’t help the flare of anger towards himself for hurting her like this. His eyes never leave her as she gets closer and closer to the locker, the bright lights cast over her and makes her eye bags even more prominent and he watches her shoulders rise and fall as she takes a deep breath. The sound of the surrounding students walking through the halls and making conversation is barely a buzz in his ears, his only concern is making sure she reads the notes.

He watches as her fingers begin to twist the lock, inputting her combination in and to Harry it all seems to move in slow motion. The door to her locker opens slowly and he watches as her head follows the paper falling downwards. He watches as she takes a deep breath before she bends down slightly to pick it up. Her eyes scan the floor in attempts to find out who left the note, but move back down the paper when it’s fully unfolded.

Her eyes flit over the paper and he can see a furrow to form in between her eyebrows as she reads the note. His heart feels like it’s falling into his stomach when she shakes her head and folds the paper back, she’s gentle with the way she handles it. She grabs her books and sets them in her tote, closing the locker after she’s done and walking over to the trash can and releases the note over it, her eyes following the paper as it flutters down into the hole.

His heart feels like it’s being torn in half. He knew there was a high chance of this happening, that she’d want nothing to do with him anymore but seeing it happen right in front of his seems to be a type of hurt he could never prepare himself for. It’s devastating and almost, just almost might bring him to tears. She’s given him chance after chance to try and be better, but he just shrugged it off.

You can only take so much before the other runs out of things to give.

Weeks fly by and it’s the same cycle over and over again, Harry would do something to show he’s sorry and she wont even bat an eye. He’s begun to up his antics, all of his notes thrown in the trash and the small bouquet of flowers attached with a note scoffed at and thrown away as well. He figures the anonymous way of trying to win her back won’t do, he’ll just have to accept the hit to his reputation that’ll come with being seen with the girl he’s sworn to hate.

As she’s walking to class, Harry begins to jog to catch up with her. She’s dressed in a pair of leggings and an oversized sweater paired with her favorite pair of shoes today, a type of outfit he’s noticed she’s been sporting more often and he finds that he misses her getting all dolled up. If he’s being honest with himself, he just misses the way things were and the her he knew before he went and messed it all up. If he could, he would go back in time and just hand her the batteries and maybe things might’ve gone a little different.

Maybe he would’ve stayed close to the girl and built back their friendship, or maybe he would’ve realized his feelings for her and found a way to express them and start a budding relationship with her. Worst case scenario is that nothing would change except the change of heart he had, and they would keep the same interactions as usual. That would be better than the silent treatment and the way she makes him feel invisible with every discarded apology. There’s an emptiness in his chest that only seems to grow with every passing day that can only be filled with her sunshine.

He casually bumps into her shoulder, one that would be exchanged by close friends, before he clears his throat.

“You look comfy today.” The only thing he gets in response is silence from the girl, her head stays facing forward and not even a twitch forms on her face in acknowledgment of his commitment. The two of them dodge their way through the crowded halls as they continue to walk.

“I’m sorry. I really am, lala. If I could go back and fix this, I would.” Once again, she says nothing and he sighs softly before continuing to follow her.

He pulls out all stops for her, walks her to class, brings her small bouquets of her favorite flowers, buys her boxes of chocolates and begun to walk her home after she ignores his offer to take her home. After every good deed, it’s always the same response. She’s quiet and refuses to speak, her eyes tired and dull as if she’s staying up all night. He’s even ditched his old friends, started studying and paying attention in class - while the change wasn’t happen overnight, it was still enough to capture the attention of some of the teachers. He could hear this whisper in the halls and see the proud smiles on their face whenever he turns in the work or comes up to them after class to ask a question.

Even after all this change, the only person that he needs to see it is still ignoring him. She’s still stuck in the constant state of tiredness and heartache, but he has noticed that she tends to linger near her best friend whenever she can find her. His seemingly to be done for nothing, none of the praise matters if it’s not coming from her. He’s only doing this to get the acknowledgment from the only person that matters most to him right now. He follows her around like a lost puppy and just looks helpless.

“Y/N, I’m really sorry.” He begs her daily and it’s always the same response. She doesn’t speak, but the corners of her mouth begin to slightly curl upwards before she’s clearing her throat and any trace of a smile is wiped away.

He can’t tell how long he’s been begging the girl made of sunshine, but it’s been weeks and weeks of the same thing over and over again. He’s beginning to give up when one day, He hands her the chocolates and walks her to her home after school, and she smiles softly before turning towards him.

“Thank you, Harry.” Her voice rings through his ears and he bursts into a bright smile, one that would definitely hurt his cheeks afterwards but he doesn’t care.

“Y/N! You’re welcome! I missed you! I’m so sorry for everything, I’m sorry I was a proper dick, I feel so bad.” He rushes out and a small smile forms on her face, and her eyes begin to shine once more. Harry can feel his heart pounding in his chest as he returns her smile and hurriedly embraces her in his arms tightly.

“S’okay H. You’re cute, y’know that?” She says through a laugh.

“You really changed for me?” She asks and he nods happily.

“Told you, I’d do anything for you. I was determined to make it up to you.”

“Well, you’re not forgiven all the way yet, still gotta prove it to me, but I’m okay with moving forward slowly. You really hurt me and you should’ve been honest with me. As much as you deserve the hateful words and yelling, it’s not me. Stop breaking hearts, Harry.” He nods softly and clears his throat.

“You’re gonna be the last one I break and I promise I’ll fix it as much as I can. I missed you.”

As they walk into her home with soft smiles and the smallest hint of hesitation, Harry begins to explain everything from start to finish. She listens intently before wrapping him in a tight hug and tells him how much of a dumbass he truly is, and for the night.. it feels like they’re back in their childhood. Sharing smiles and laughing over nothing, the budding garden only begins to grow the longer they stay rooted on the couch talking as if the years of hatred and harsh words never happened.

Harry wished he would've talked to her sooner but deep down he knows it’ll never be the same as it once was.

hi everyone! hope you enjoyed this chapter, we are now done with this story! i’m willing write some blurbs and i might revisit and write an epilogue for them, i can’t bear to part with them just yet. let me know how you like it!

taglist: @witchywolfewood27 @ch3rry-styles @hillzrry @iamjustaholeforyousir @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @tenaciousperfectionunknown @zucchinimalfoy @missmielyhoran @daydreaming-laur @harrysgothicbitch @lovrave @kimmi-kat @jassesjo @harryscherri @mypolicemanharryyy @keepstillbecalm @peterbenjaminparke07 @lomlhstyles

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