Hi! Can I Request A Blurb Where Harry’s Gf Is A Surfer And Gets Attacked By A Shark While He’s On

that makes four.

PART 8 - playlist

You fiddled with the bracelet on your wrist, tugged at an earring and smiled when a group of unfamiliar faces passed by. Jeff’s birthday parties were always well attended, but this year felt different since you knew you would--and planned to--bump into Harry.

You sipped on the drink in hand--vodka with soda and some kind of juice mixed in by the bartender who complimented your necklace.

Now, in the upstairs private dining room at a restaurant in Malibu, you ignored the face Tristan made when he took a sip of his own concoction. “This has too much grapefruit juice--do you want to switch?”

“Sure,” you pushed yours forward and swapped, already taking a sip when Tristan eyed you suspiciously.

“Wait, don’t you hate grapefruit?”

“I don’t care,” you shrugged, another scan of the crowd. He wasn’t here--at least, not yet. Tristan cleared his throat and let out a sigh.

“Okay, is this how the whole night is going to be? You just anxiously waiting to confess your love?”

“I’m not going to confess my love,” you clarified. “I’m just going to chat with him, see how he’s doing and if his house is finished. Take the temperature, y’know.”

Everyone had pretty much stayed out of it. Even Jeff, for the most part. Aside from showing up in your kitchen with a bag of donuts to bribe your kids, he’d left you alone and didn’t pester you over and over about making a big mistake.

You could admit it now, partially, when you were alone at night wondering if you’d grow old in this house and be single forever. You could admit it when you drove to the office and wished there was someone to come home to, someone who’d cook dinner, and listen to how annoying Tristan had been in the afternoon meetings or at events like this.

In the back of your head it was a truth you’d always known: life with Harry in it was better than any alternative.

But now you could admit it.

Which is why your heart dropped to the floor when you saw him hug someone on the other side of the room in greeting, Tristan pulled you by the shoulder behind a wall and you both peered around the corner, watched as he found Jeff and clapped him on the shoulder in celebration.

Was it childish? Was your hardcore crush that had somehow turned into more a complete waste of time? Maybe. You’d been telling yourself for so long that nothing could ever come of sex with someone eight years younger that you didn’t even give enough room for the possibility to breathe and potentially flourish.

“I’m going to need another drink before I have to face him.”

Tristan laughed. “So are we going to hide over here until that happens?”

“Maybe,” you shrugged. “But you can go get me another one to make me chill the fuck out.”

“Do you parent your children with that mouth?” he teased, taking your almost drink.

You nudged Tristan toward the bar and kept watch, Harry mingled with people you knew and some you didn’t--made his way around the room and up to the bar twice. You wondered if he’d meant all of the sweet things he said: I wanted to defend you, I’ve been waiting for this to happen.

If you’d known back then how you felt now--alone, sad, and filled with regret--you would have played your cards differently. But how were you supposed to know that something like this, something unexpected and strange would feel so right and could actually be what you needed?

After you finished the drink that Tristan returned with, you smoothed out the dress you were wearing and asked: “anything in my teeth?”

“No, but you look like an angry chihuahua.”

“Funny. Okay--if I look like I’m failing, come intervene and pretend to be super drunk or something.”

“I will not be doing that.”

“Okay,” you nodded, knowing it would be a tough sell. “Wish me luck.”

“Be brave!”

You elbowed into the crowd and snuck by groups of people, mumbled apologies as you tried to keep a new drink from spilling over the sides. He was with Jeff, a cocktail in hand when you came up behind him. Jeff’s eyes landed on you and then he tried to cut Harry off.

“Harry--”

“I just think it’s a bad idea, you know?”

Jeff’s eyes were wide when he greeted you. “Y/N--hi, we were just talking about the album.”

“Hi,” you bit out, forced a smile and tried to ignore the anxiety that buzzed down your spine.

They were talking about you, right? That level of intensity in Jeff’s eyes used to be reserved for nights when you’d snuck vodka from his parent’s liquor cabinet and now one of them came home earlier than expected.

You swallowed, wondered for a second if you should turn around and leave, grab Tristan and head for the door and hope you never had to see him again. “Sorry, I’m interrupting, I guess.”

“No,” Harry shook his head, stepped aside to let you move closer. “We were just talking business. How are you? I didn’t know if you’d come tonight.”

You didn’t know what to say to that, blinked a few times in confusion. You knew Jeff first--he was arguably your friend and Harry’s manager. If anyone was going to have claim over Jeff, it was you. You had thirty-two years of proof to back that up.

Jeff could sense this, he laughed a little and offered you a sarcastic grin. “Of course she’s here--she’s the sister I never wanted.”

You faked a laugh in his direction but then looked back at Harry, who’s eyes were glued to yours like his life depended on it.

Jeff nodded at his failed joke and the tension in the air, took a sip of his drink and looked between the two of you.

“Could Harry and I maybe talk for a minute, Jeff?”

He widened his eyes, wrinkled his forehead in surprise but then nodded quickly. “Yeah, sure--I’ll just--I’ll be over there.”

He hurried away, looked over his shoulder when Harry pursed his lips in a firm line and tried not to laugh at Jeff’s awkwardness.

“Hi,” you said quickly.

“Hi,” he smiled a bit. “Fancy seeing you here.”

“First time we’ve been at the same party, after all these years.”

He furrowed his brow. “M’starting to think Jeff was purposely keeping us apart.”

“That would explain a lot,” you laughed. “How are you?”

“Good,” he nodded. “How are you?”

“Also good,” you lied. “Yeah--busy, you know. The girls have a lot of extracurriculars but--”

It felt strange, interacting with him without the interruption of hands grabbing for snacks before dinner or pleading questions to stay up later and watch TV. He seemed to watch you closely, his lips set in a firm line when you trailed off.

“Right, is the body wash doing well?”

“Great, yeah, sales are through the roof,” you lifted your hand to gesture along with your words, then immediately felt stupid when he let out a tiny laugh that made your heart swell and break in the same moment. You had to spit it out, take a leap of faith and hope that you wouldn’t crash to the ground in failure.

“But, I actually just wanted to let you know--”

Of course--with your luck and your karma and apparently the entire universe now conspiring against you and Harry--someone put a hand on his shoulder.

“Hey!” he turned to greet them, clearly excited and surprised. “Oh my god, I didn’t know you were coming!”

A man and woman, around your age, fancy clothes. They both hugged him, smiled apologetically at you when he angled his shoulders to face them and ask a thousand questions: when did you get to LA, how long will you be here, are you free for dinner this week?

You shifted on your feet uncomfortably and this prompted Harry to snap back to reality. “Sorry, Y/N, these are my friends Percy and Lillian,” he turned back to them. “You guys should go get drinks, the bartender is amazing.”

They nodded, moved in that direction when he called after them. “Get me another, just a sex on the beach.”

You pulled your head back and eyed him. “You drink sex on the beach?”

He laughed and looked back down at you, “I love peach schnapps--but, sorry, that was rude of me--you were going to say something?”

“Right,” you nodded, wind gone from your sails as you rerouted. “I just wanted to let you know that CeCe’s ballet recital is coming up. She’s been begging for you to come. I can text you the details?”

“Oh, right!” He smiled. “Yeah, text me, I’ll definitely be there. And I’m still good to do dinner with them this week if they’re up for it?”

“Oh, they’re up for it,” you admitted.

“And CeCe’s birthday is Thursday, right?”

“Right.”

“Great,” he leaned in and kissed you on the cheek, the Brit in him slipping out before he stammered. “Sorry--I just--I should go catch up with them.”

He rushed off at that, smiling when he rejoined his friends by the bar, completely unaware of the awkward conversation he’d just narrowly missed. Tristan, whose lips were wrapped around a paper straw, sidled up beside you with a disapproving look on his face.

“I can’t hear anything over the noise in here but I’m going to guess you didn’t actually tell him how you feel.”

“No,” you shrugged, “of course not. He and Jeff were definitely talking about me when I walked up and so that was weird and Harry said something about it being a bad idea. And then I was going to but those people showed up and then I panic-invited him to CeCe’s ballet recital!”

“Where Luke is supposed to be?”

“Where Luke is supposed to be,” you confirmed. “Because I’m a fucking idiot.”

“You’re not an idiot,” he frowned. “But that definitely just created more stress for you.”

“I know, it was dumb but I haven’t had more than one glass of wine in a few weeks and now I just think I should go home.”

“Boo,” he frowned. “Don’t be a party pooper. Have another drink and judge people with me.”

“I can’t even enjoy that right now because I’m so stupid.”

“Oh my god,” Tristan groaned. “Just go interrupt and tell him you love him or something!”

“You what?” Jeff was behind you when you turned around quickly.

“Nothing,” you shook your head, another sip to drown out his laughter on the other side of the room.

“You love him?”

“Why’d you ask what if you heard her?” Tristan made a face.

Jeff was serious, though, he wasn’t taking any bait. “Y/N, are you in love with him?”

You let out a groan and stomped a foot on the ground. Maybe it was the alcohol or the close proximity to someone you didn’t want to love, but you whined and answered him. “I don’t know, Jeffrey, okay? Now is not the time to discuss all of this.”

“You have to tell him that.”

“Yeah, well, why do you think I asked you to give us some time to talk?”

He pointed a finger to the floor. “You were going to tell him here?”

You rolled your eyes at all of his questions, and apparently, his shock at this discovery. “No, I don’t know. I was just going to see if he missed us or something, I don’t know!”

“Oh, he misses you,” Jeff nodded with confidence.

“Well whoever those people are showed up,” you gestured in their direction, threw your chin towards the girl who had better eyebrows than you and a smile as wide as the Mississippi. “Kind of interrupted.”

Jeff looked over and nodded, hands on his hips when he let out another breath, apparently still taking all of it in.

“Wait--speaking of interrupting, what was he saying when I came over? You did that whole wide-eyed shut the fuck up look you used to do when your mom would walk in the room.”

He sipped his drink casually when he recalled the moment. “It was nothing.”

“Bullshit.”

“It was nothing, Y/N!”

“He said something was a bad idea.”

“Yeah, music shit.”

“Or Y/N shit?” Tristan challenged, a flick to Jeffrey’s shoulder with his free hand.

Jeff rolled his eyes at both of you. “How many drinks have you people had?”

“Enough to handle being in the same room with him right now.”

“Wow,” Jeff nodded, unimpressed. “You really do love him.”

You smacked him in the chest playfully and ignored his statement. “Are you going to tell me what you were saying about me?”

“Oh my god,” he complained, a grand gesture to let you know just how annoying you were. “He just said that it feels really weird to not live with you guys--I told him to tell you that and he said he thinks that’s a bad idea. But then you interrupted us, so that’s all the intel I have.”

“See?” You turned to Tristan, “I knew this was all stupid. I would have told him that I miss him and he would have shot me down.”

“You don’t know that,” Jeff held up his hand.

“Then why did he say it would be a bad idea?”

He shook his head in disbelief, made a face like you were stupid. “Maybe you don’t know this, Y/N, but he was really hurt when you asked him to move out. I’ve seen him break up with people before but--that rocked his world.”

Jeff referenced the event like it was a distant memory, like it was more than two weeks that now stood between you and the fateful launch party.

“Well he hurt me when he was late and didn’t tell me. I don’t want to live my life always wondering if he’ll show up--I already did that with Luke.”

“He’s not Luke,” Jeff said seriously, his demeanor suddenly shifting. “But if you’re going to treat him like he is, then nothing will ever work between you two.”

You shrunk back, even in a half-drunk state you could tell you’d struck a nerve in Jeff. Tristan sipped at his drink again and the silence between the three of you felt deafening.

“I just think you need to be honest with him. If you have feelings for him, tell him.”

“That was the plan tonight,” you admitted. “Maybe it will work some other day.”

“Well you need to figure something out soon. I’m sick of both of you being so scared to admit it to the other.”

“You’re filling in the blanks for him,” you reminded. “He said it was a bad idea.”

“Because he doesn’t want to get hurt again,” Jeff nodded.

“Well neither do I!”

He slung an arm around your shoulder and let out a deep breath, shedding the anger that had previously laced his voice. “I know. Shockingly enough you both want the same thing and are afraid of the same thing. But one of you has to be brave enough to take the risk.”

Tristan tossed back the rest of his drink at that, when both you and Jeff looked over to him with amusement, he shrugged. “I need to be drunker if we’re going to keep talking about all of this deep shit.”

**

CeCe turning seven made you feel ancient. So ancient, in fact, that you woke up Thursday morning with a splitting headache and a sore back. The alcohol from Jeff’s birthday probably took a few days to work itself out of your body, so you spent the first half of the week drinking your bodyweight in water and popping advil.

You weren't sure what you’d done to deserve it, but CeCe’s birthday request was simple: bring a friend to a trampoline park, with Harry, no mom.

At first you were sad. She didn’t want to spend time with you? Was Maeve’s pre-pubescent attitude rubbing off on her at the ripe age of seven?

But then, when she screamed at her sister the night before because she was wearing purple which meant Maeve couldn’t wear purple, you were glad to have the night to yourself and even more glad to dump their bickering on Harry. If he was so keen on being in their lives, he’d get all of it: the bickering, the yelling, the occasional shoving and hair pulling.

He was timid again when he arrived to pick them up, like he didn’t know how to interact with someone with whom he’d once shared a bed. Booster seats strapped in, snacks packed in a bag you prepared for him, money, water bottles, a change of socks in case someone’s got dirty. Pizza, CeCe had been begging, and soda, and then ice cream on the way home.

He nodded when you ran through the plan again, a small smirk on his face that sent a shiver down your spine. “I’ve got it.”

“What are you smiling for?”

“Well, I mean, I know what I’m doing, Y/N--s’not the first time.”

“I know, but she’s seven now and her friend still needs to be home by 9pm and make sure Maeve doesn’t have too much soda or else she’ll be texting on her stupid phone all night.”

“I thought you were taking it from her at bedtime?”

You sighed, about to reply before he cut himself off and backtracked.

“Sorry--not my place, I don’t--anyway. Okay,” he looked down at the four girls. Maeve and Hayley, CeCe and Lily. How on earth he felt comfortable bringing the four of them in public was unknown--probably would be until the day you died--but you practiced going with the flow and let out another exhale.

You were trying to play it cool in more ways than one. Cool mom, not anxious about sending her children off with a famous celebrity who had somehow doubled as the world’s best babysitter or stand-in father-figure. And then casual, nonchalant previous hook-up who didn’t have any feelings about interfacing with Harry despite all that had occurred between you. You’d practiced in your mirror a few times before she showed up, but nothing prepared you for the climbing heartbeat when he rested a hand on CeCe’s head lovingly.

“Okay, Maeve, call me if you need anything. Hayley--your mom already texted me so I’ll keep her updated if you guys are going to be late, but text her when you get to the trampoline park, okay?”

Hayley nodded and Maeve rolled her eyes. CeCe brushed hair out of her face. “Are we good? I have jumping to do.”

Harry stifled a laugh and looked back to you. “We’re good. I’ll text you, enjoy your night.”

They piled in and buckled before you could even shut the garage door and head inside. You poured some wine and stared out into the backyard for a moment, wondering how on earth you’d settled in this house and into a life you almost didn’t recognize. Just a year ago you were finalizing your divorce, trying to figure out where you’d end up, watching your father decline in health as Maeve started wearing a training bra.

Now they were choosing Harry over you and suddenly your family felt more incomplete than it ever had, simply because he moved out.

But instead of sulking in regret, you put on a movie and ordered your own take out. At only 7pm you were already struggling to keep your eyes open, but a vibrating from the end table pulled you back to the movie you were already bored of.

You grabbed your phone and saw it was Harry--a knot in your stomach twisted and tugged when you answered.

“Hi,”

“Hi, uh, everything’s fine, we’re okay, but Maeve maybe broke her arm? I don’t know--Lily’s mom is on her way to come get her and Hayley, so that’s good, but Maeve needs to go to the emergency room.”

“What the fuck happened, Harry, how did she hurt herself?”

You were already up and on your feet, flip flops on and keys in hand when you tugged a sweatshirt over your head but kept spouting off questions.

“Were you not watching them? Is she okay? What hospital?”

“She landed on it wrong, it might just be a sprain or something! Just come and I’ll tell you everything, okay? She’s alright, the EMTs already wrapped her up--”

“She’s going in an ambulance?!”

You were in the car now, heart beating rapidly when your mouth felt dry and the ignition turned on.

“I’ll meet you at the Cedars Sinai in Tarzana, okay? Breathe, Y/N,”

You hung up without another word, blew a red light on the way there and wondered if this was your punishment for being the worst mom ever. Had all of your bad decisions somehow come back to bite you in the ass, or break Maeve’s arm?

Was letting Harry take them to a crowded trampoline park a mistake? Did he get recognized and mobbed and Maeve was a casualty? The questions flew through your head as you flew down the freeway, but you couldn’t shake one particular thought: thank God Harry was calm.

If you were going to be this elevated and out of breath before you even found them in the hospital, someone needed to keep his cool and be able to remember the doctor’s orders.

You pushed into the emergency department of the hospital he’d directed you to in under 13 minutes. A sticker on your chest and a nurse who brought you down a hall to a room with a curtain pulled shut. When she opened it, Maeve was in the bed and CeCe was sat in a chair beside her, Harry paced back and forth.

His eyes were wide when he turned to see you, but you didn’t acknowledge him.

“Sweetie? Hi, what happened, are you okay?”

Harry moved closer to you, but gave you enough space to inspect your daughter.

“I’m fine,” Maeve rolled her eyes when you pressed a kiss to her forehead.

“I’m fine, too,” CeCe said in the corner with an attitude. “It’s still my birthday, you know.”

“How could we forget?” Harry offered her a smile.

“What happened?” You turned around and asked this with force.

“What do you mean what happened? I told you on the phone, she was jumping and messing around and she just landed on it wrong. It was an accident.”

“I’m fine, mom--it hurts but I’m fine, you don’t have to make this a big thing,” Maeve argued again from behind you. You held out a finger to silence her, this wasn’t the moment for her to get involved.

“Were you watching her closely enough, Harry? How many kids were around? You can’t just let her go off and mess around at a place like that, there are so many limbs flailing about, it’s dangerous.”

“There wasn’t anyone else in there,” Harry shrugged.

“What do you mean?”

He sighed, almost like he didn’t want to admit it. “I rented it out--I didn’t want anyone else there to, you know, steal the spotlight in case they knew who I was.”

You paused, looked from him to Maeve to CeCe and back. “You rented out a trampoline park for a 7-year-old’s birthday party?”

“Well, she’s not just any 7-year-old,” Harry smiled a little.

“No I’m not!” CeCe sang with excitement.

You gave him a smack across the arm. “Harry!”

“Oh my god, can you relax?” Maeve groaned.

You turned around to tell her to shut it--with a smile, of course--but the doctor pushed her way through a curtain and smiled.

“Hi, I’m Dr. Patel, you’re the mom?”

“Yes,” you nodded, crossed your arms and watched as she pushed x-rays up onto a screen.

“Good news is that it’s not broken all the way through, but there’s a fracture. We’ll do a cast for four weeks and do another x-ray then, see how it looks.”

“Okay,” you said, taking it all in. “But she’s alright? She’ll heal okay?”

“She’ll be fine,” Dr. Patel smiled. “The fracture is right here,” she pointed to the screen when she shoved the x-ray up in front of the light. “Four weeks and I’m sure she’ll heal perfectly. She needs to rest, for sure. Ice it tonight, there’s a pediatric orthopedist I recommend for the cast, we can get you an appointment tomorrow. Advil to handle pain over the next week or so but she should feel much better in a few days.”

“I told you,” Maeve snarled.

CeCe was happy sucking on a lollipop, a sticker on her shirt said Birthday Girl in sparkly pink lettering and you didn’t know if it was from the trampoline park or a friendly person in the Cedars Sinai emergency department.

Harry also had his arms crossed over his chest. Dr. Patel smiled and reported that a nurse would be in to give you discharge paperwork and verify an appointment time for Maeve’s cast. When you turned around to see her again, Maeve said: “don’t be mad at Harry.”

“Of course,” you rolled your eyes.

“Of course what?” Maeve asked.

“Of course you say don’t be mad at Harry--”

“Why would you be mad at me?”

“I don’t know! Cause she broke her arm on your watch,” you said, aware of how your emotions were getting the best of you. Maybe it wasn’t the right thing to do in front of the girls, maybe this was just another reason why you were winning the award for worst mom of the year.

“Fractured,” Maeve corrected.

“It’s not my fault,” Harry said quickly.

“Well you were the adult there,” you shot back.

“Don’t fight on my birthday!” CeCe whined.

“Typical parents,” Maeve rolled her eyes.

“He’s not your father,” you spit it out without thinking, words that caught everyone off guard and soon hovered in the air overhead when the room fell silent.

Maeve made a face, Harry let his gaze fall to the ground, his lips pursed into a thin line when he looked back up and changed the subject.

“CeCe, I heard there’s ice cream downstairs in the cafeteria if you want some?”

She perked right up at that, stood from her chair and then took his hand to head out of the room and down the hall.

Once it was just you and Maeve, she looked at you and waited.

“What?”

“You’re not going to yell at me?”

“I don’t exactly have it in me right now,” you admitted.

“I know Harry’s not my dad, just to be clear.”

You sighed, about to reply when she cut you off.

“But it feels like that sometimes. I mean, dad’s never around and Harry’s been around so much and you two--”

“I know,” you nodded. “I get it. Believe me.”

It was confusing, and if it was confusing for you, you could only imagine how confusing it was for them. Harry had become a fixture in their lives and someone they could count on, even more than they could count on their own father. And in Maeve’s defense, Harry did act like a parent in a lot of ways. Carpools, cooking, chasing them around the yard--you couldn’t be mad at Maeve for noticing the ways Harry undeniably fit into your family. She wasn’t the enemy, even when she called you on your feelings for him or pointed out the obvious chemistry. She was just observant and hopeful and innocently hoping that Harry would stick around forever. You could relate.

So it wasn’t worth getting worked up--the nurse came in and went over the aftercare plan and Maeve was in better spirits when Harry and CeCe returned with a dish of soft serve with her name on it. She complained in the parking lot that she wanted to ride in Harry’s car and when they both chose to ride with him, he shrugged innocently but promised he’d meet you at home.

He was only a few minutes behind you, let himself in the side door with both of them trailing him when you put the lid on your take out and slid it into the fridge.

“Sorry for interrupting your alone time,” he said with a nod at the half-empty bottle of wine on the island.

“Mommy, do I get another birthday since Maeve ruined mine?”

“I didn’t ruin yours,” Maeve gave her a light shove with her hip. “You got to stay up way past your bedtime, see? It’s already almost 11pm.”

“Which means both of you need to get up there and brush your teeth,” you informed them. “Say goodnight to Harry.”

CeCe filed over first, wrapped her arms around his legs and squeezed. “‘Night Harry thank you for ice cream and jumping!”

“You’re welcome, lovie,” he said, a hand on her head to smooth down her hair.

“Thanks for letting me ride in the ambulance by myself, mom never would have let me,” Maeve said when she wrapped her good arm around him.

“You went alone?” You stopped wiping the counter and looked up at them, somehow that detail got lost in the shuffle and just now clicked.

“And she’s fine and she’s home now, so,” Harry bit back a laugh when you exhaled with force.

“Okay, I can help you brush up, Maeve--I’ll be up in a second.”

CeCe took off at that, her feet disappeared up the stairs when Maeve looked at you, then Harry, then back at you. “I can do it, or CeCe can help. I’m fine, if you want to--I don’t know. Goodnight!”

Was she trying to give you two a minute alone? You made a face when she climbed the stairs but then found Harry smiling at you.

‘“What?”

“She’s trying to give us a minute alone,” he nodded, somehow aware of the thoughts in your head. You felt your cheeks flush at the immaturity of the moment, somehow your twelve-year-old was more in tune with the awkwardness in the kitchen than you were.

You stifled a laugh and stood frozen in place, unsure of what to say or how to behave. A part of you wanted to admit everything: the regret, the remorse, the way you wished he was down the hall or in the other room or simply a phone call away.

Blurting all of that out in your kitchen felt stupid and unpolished, so you put your hands on your hips and shifted your weight from one foot to another. Harry looked at the clock on the wall.

“Do you, uh, want a glass of wine?”

Maybe it was a stupid offer--it was late, the girls had to go to sleep--but something in you wanted to tug him close and ask him to never leave.

He hesitated for a moment, scanned your face, but then nodded. “Sure.”

He watched you reach for glasses and moved to sit at the island. When you corked the bottle and poured, he cleared his throat.

“I, uh, stand by the fact that Maeve getting hurt wasn’t my fault--” he smirked a little, “but, I’m sorry and I’m glad she’s okay.”

“Me too,” you agreed, pushing a glass towards him. “I guess that’s why they make you sign a waiver.”

“I know you think it’s dumb that I rented the whole place out, but I think it was a smart move, that way Maeve doesn’t have to be all embarrassed about being taken out on a stretcher.”

He ran a hand through his hair and laughed, the image of your embarrassed pre-teen brought a selfish smile to your face. He held his glass up and waited for you to clink yours against it. “To Maeve’s speedy healing and to CeCe’s seventh birthday.”

You sighed, “I can’t believe she’s seven. Makes me feel ancient.”

“You’re not ancient.”

“I have a twelve-year-old and a seven-year-old. I think that makes me ancient.”

He rolled his eyes at your theatrics. “How do you think people with twenty-year-olds feel?”

“Even worse,” you grimaced.

He smiled up at you when you set your glass back down. “Sorry we didn’t really get to talk at Jeff’s birthday--I know I was busy and distracted.”

“It’s okay. I just wanted to make sure you knew about CeCe’s recital.”

“It’s on my calendar.” An awkward beat. “Is Luke going to be there?”

“Supposedly, he should be.”

Harry nodded, took a loud sip and looked around the room.

“How’s the house coming?”

“Good, yeah--been moving a lot of stuff in. Haven’t stayed over yet, but probably next week. It’ll be weird to live alone, though, haven’t done it in a while.”

“The girls really miss you,” you nodded, a playful eye roll to gauge his reaction. “I haven’t heard the end of it.”

“They do?”

Hope in his eyes when you nodded.

“Of course they do,” you laughed like it should have been obvious, like he should have known about their constant begging to see him or their recounting of happy memories. Remember when Harry said, remember when we, I miss being able to…

“I miss them, too.” Quiet for a moment when he looked at the wine in his glass. He looked up slowly, met your gaze before he shrugged like the words were casual or unimportant. “I miss you.”

When you didn’t say anything he stood up, a step closer to you while you tried to gather your thoughts, your words, offer up anything other than a blank stare brought on by butterflies and beating hearts.

“Mommy, are you coming?” CeCe was at the top of the stairs, her face barely visible around the corner and through her messy hair. “Maeve can’t brush my hair.”

“Coming,” you nodded, eyes on his for a second when he let out an exhale, you lowered your voice to speak only to him. “Sorry.”

He nodded, chest deflated when he took a step back. “S’probably for the best, right?”

Your lips parted to speak, but he turned on his feet and grabbed for his keys on the counter.

“CeCe--I’ll see you next week at the recital, okay? Keep practicing those pirouettes!” He made a funny face at her, a toothy grin when she giggled and then he waved over his shoulder. A half-empty wine glass on the counter was soon the other reminder of his presence when you climbed the stairs.

**

Getting CeCe dressed and ready to go was always a nightmare. Getting Maeve dressed in something that would compliment her cast, not clash with it, was a new dilemma that had you praying the next three weeks would fly by.

With the school year coming to a close and both of your children eager for summer to hit with full force, they were in better spirits despite the clothing dilemma that had plagued your house before CeCe’s recital.

She was three minutes late but still let you kiss her on the head when you pushed her off to join the other leotard-clad kiddos backstage. You found your seats with the Azoffs and Tristan, wondered if Luke or Harry would actually show up like they’d promised.

“‘Scuse me, sorry, m’just heading right there,” you heard his voice before you saw him, felt your shoulders rise up to your ears when you felt Tristan shift beside you to make room for him. He was cutting it close and by the look on his face when your eyes met his, he knew it.

“Hi,” he said it quietly, almost uncertain if you’d reply or give a greeting at all. You offered a tiny smile, Tristan patted him on the thigh once he took his seat.

“Harry!” Maeve grinned when she leaned down and saw him. “Mom, can me and Tristan switch so I can sit next to Harry?”

You were caught off guard by her question, fumbled with the program in hand when Tristan answered for you.

“Of course,” he said, stood and side stepped your daughter as she climbed over your lap.

Maeve threw her arms around Harry when she was close enough. “I have so much to catch you up on with Hayley!”

He smiled at that, hugged her back and then brushed hair out of her face when she sat. “We’re due for a guitar lesson, we can still work on strumming even with the cast on,” he told her. “Maybe we can catch up then.”

He glanced in your direction, another awkward smile when you felt the let down wash over you again.

You tried--you had made so much effort to shift your definition of family to let him fit in it. But sometimes people were too different and goals were too different and sometimes family doesn’t mean happily ever after, just like you always knew.

And you’d tried to tell him, piece together words to explain how you felt and what you wanted, but things always got in the way. Maybe the universe was trying to save you more embarrassment or maybe that was just an excuse you landed on to save yourself any more sleepless nights.

“He smells so good, by the way,” Tristan whispered into your ear, gaining an eye roll from you when the curtain opened. The audience erupted in applause, the sounds of happy parents filled the auditorium when a herd of first graders fell into place in pink tutus.

“There she is!” Maeve pointed up at the stage, a grin on her face so wide you could count her teeth.

CeCe’s face lit up when she found you all in the crowd, but when her eyes settled on Harry, she couldn’t hide her excitement. She waved and jumped up and down a little, gaining composure only when the music started to play.

She twirled around with grace, much more than you’d seen her carry in the backyard during squishball or the knock down, drag out fights she’d been known to have with her sister. She made it through the dance numbers with ease, and you didn’t even realize you were nervous for her until Tristan pried his leg free from your grasp: you’re hurting me.

There were only a few minutes of awkwardness when the show ended. Maeve told Harry about a science project and he shifted on his feet, stealing glances in your direction every few seconds. He excused himself to the restroom only seconds before CeCe burst through the door with a grin on her face, glitter on her cheeks and a ribbon in her hair.

“Did you see me mommy?!”

“I did see you!” You knelt down to squeeze her tight. “You were graceful and poised and you looked absolutely stunning! We got you flowers,” you motioned to the roses in Tristan’s arms, he smiled when he handed them over to her. They were almost as tall as she was but she wrapped both arms around the bouquet.

“You did really good,” Maeve admitted. “And the tutu looks great.”

She was distracted now, her eyes found Harry in the crowd as he walked back from the bathroom, both hands in his pockets until he heard her call his name. “Harry!”

“Hi lovie,” he knelt down and opened his arms. “You did so well! Did you have fun?”

“So much fun!” She giggled. “I didn’t know if you’d come!”

“Of course I came,” he said, his smile faltering a little when he looked up at you. “I wouldn’t miss it.”

You bit your tongue, now wasn’t the time to break your own rule: no shit talking in front of the girls. Sure, it was a rule you first adopted post-Luke, but now it almost felt like talking badly about Harry would hurt them more to hear than if you bad-mouthed their own father.

Maeve looked excitedly in your direction. “Mom, can Harry come to dinner tonight with everyone?”

He stood up now, hand on top of CeCe’s hair when he waited for an answer from you.

You were torn, bit at your lip for a second before you realized you needed to spit out some kind of answer. Your heart wanted him there and with you always, an addition to your family that you never knew you needed or wanted until he was literally under your roof. But your head was nervous, certain that the only thing that would come from this was more heartbreak and more confusion--and that was something that nobody needed.

“Yeah, sure--of course.”

CeCe clapped and jumped up and down again, looking up at her sister. “We can play squishball! I’ll race you to the car!”

They took off, climbed into the backseat and laughed the whole way home when you tried to prevent the headache that you could feel coming on. Jeff beat you back, Shelli and Irv too--soon the grill was on and Jeff wore an apron with handprints from three Christmases ago. Best Uncle Ever.

A few of CeCe’s friends and their parents tagged along, and soon you were handing out glasses of wine to other moms and wishing it didn’t hurt to see him help Maeve put her hair up in a pony-tail.

You kept yourself busy as host, do you need another drink, thanks for coming, we love the neighborhood. Anything to keep you from staring at him from across the backyard wondering what on earth he meant when he said s’probably for the best.

But he was calm, talked with Jeff and Irv and stood by the grill to help pass around plates when dinner was ready. He helped CeCe cut her burger in half and laughed when Maeve pulled out the waterproof wrap she’d convinced you to buy on Amazon so she could still go swimming.

He didn’t speak to you, though, quick glances your way when you’d reply to someone else--talking up and down and all around each other as if direct acknowledgement might cause the house to catch fire.

It was unavoidable, though, when he wandered towards the front of the house with his head buried in his phone, unaware that he’d caught you in a private moment.

The beep of Luke’s voicemail had your blood boiling, and you’d probably leave a string of threats had Harry not looked up and realized, finally, it was just the two of you in the driveway.

“Sorry,” he said awkwardly, eyes glancing around to confirm that no one else was nearby.

“No, it’s fine.” You pulled the phone away from your face and hung up. “I was just trying to get a hold of Luke. He said he’d come but then he didn’t show up. Now he’s not answering my calls, so--”

“Seems like nothing’s changed,” he nodded, disappointment in his voice when he shoved a hand in his pocket.

You let out an awkward laugh both at Harry’s sentiment and presence. “Yeah, well, I don’t know if we can ever really expect it to, right?”

“Right.”

The music from the backyard wafted over the roof, a car drove by outside the gate and he looked at you for a second before forcing out more small talk.

“How’s work been?”

“Good,” you nodded, an uncomfortable burn in your chest when you realized he now fell in the category of people who don’t know. He didn’t know how your meetings went, he didn’t know what you wanted for dinner. He didn’t know what Maeve was learning in math and he didn’t know about CeCe’s loose tooth.

“How’re things with you?”

“Good--my house is done, and I’m pretty much all moved in, so that’s nice.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, it’s kind of quiet, you know. No yelling down the hall or noise from the backyard.”

You forced a laugh, “must be nice.”

“It’s miserable, actually.”

You looked up at that, caught off guard by the emotion and seriousness in his voice. “Really?”

“Yes, really,” he laughed like you were crazy, kept himself in check but then shrugged. “I just--I don’t know. I miss being here with you three.”

“Yeah, well, it’s been kind of shitty here without you, too.”

He took a step closer to you at that, eyebrows knit together on his forehead like he’d been waiting to ask: “Why did you make me leave?”

You searched for an answer, let out a few squeaks when he seemed to hang on every word. “Because I didn’t know what was happening, everything moved so quickly between us and--”

“You were scared?”

“That’s what everyone keeps saying.”

He let out a sigh. “I know what happened between us was weird and unexpected, but that doesn’t make it wrong.”

“I know,” you nodded, honesty pouring out of you like floodgates had been opened. “I think I just pulled back when I panicked and--I don’t know. I tried to avoid what ended up happening.”

The corner of his mouth pulled up into a smirk, another step closer. “Which was?”

“You leaving and all of us being heartbroken.”

He smirked, parted his lips to speak but you cut him off. “Instead of waiting for it to possibly happen, I became the queen of self-fulfilling prophecies.”

As if on cue, CeCe burst through the front door as she searched for you. When she looked up to see both of you in the driveway, she smiled. “Am I interrupting something?”

“No,” you rolled your eyes and laughed, surprised again by her wit and charm.

“CeCe,” Harry kneeled down, held out a hand to usher her over. “Do you remember what you told me about your art project when we went for pizza, that night a few weeks ago when you got a blue gumball from the machine near the bathroom?”

“Hmm,” she thought on it for a second. “The one with Mrs. Platsky?”

“Yeah--that one.”

“What about it?” She asked.

“Can you tell mommy what you drew?”

“Well, first she asked to draw what we thought of when we thought of ‘home’ a while ago, like a few weeks ago, I think. But then the next week she helped us make family trees and I drew mine with purple leaves,” she smiled excitedly and giggled when Harry nodded.

“Do you have that somewhere?”

“Yeah, in my backpack probably!”

“Do you want to get it so we can show mom?”

This made her nervous, she looked down to her feet, still in ballet slippers. “Well, yeah, but mom said we had to stop acting like we were a family.”

He looked down at her and then up at you, a small smile on his face when she shrugged one shoulder. “I was never acting, for the record.”

You held back a laugh, rolled your eyes at his smooth remark.

“Okay, I’ll go get it,” CeCe nodded, apparently that was enough for her. She ran off, back into the house to search for whatever it was, and for some reason, tears filled your eyes when he stood back up and looked at you.

“I don’t know what your definition of family is, but I can tell you mine.”

You tried to wipe at your eyes to hide any evidence of emotion, but he caught your hands and held them in his.

“I think of people I love, people I feel like I can be myself with. I think about this house, and your daughters, and I think about you. I think about the stupid fights that they have and I think about how happy I would be if I got to see them go off to prom or to college or on their first date--but that one makes me really nervous, actually.”

You laughed at that, the crack of a smile on your face brought one to his.

“I also didn’t expect this to turn out the way it did, but I don’t care if you’re thirty-two and I don’t care if you have children, because I love them, too. And I would rather be here in this house with a nontraditional definition of family than on my own in Malibu.”

You nodded, let him wrap his arms around you when you felt your forehead hit his shoulder. And because there was no privacy in this house or in this family, Maeve also burst through the door and smiled wide.

“Are you guys hugging?!”

“Does it look like we’re hugging?” Harry teased, opening an arm so Maeve could squeeze her way in.

She wrapped her arms around you, “I’ve been waiting for you guys to figure it out.”

“I found it, I found it!” CeCe came running out again, by now Jeff had wandered out too, Irv and Shelli looked on while Zoey came out to the driveway with Benny on her hip to see the commotion.

Harry knelt down again, helped CeCe unroll a piece of construction paper that had, as promised, purple leaves.

“Here’s you, mom, you’re up here near Grandpa,” she smiled. “Then daddy’s over here, and Harry’s here, then Maeve is next to me. Then Auntie Shelli and Uncle Irv are here with Uncle Jeff--and then Benny’s here, I drew a little baby, see?”

“I do see,” you placed a hand on top of her head, smiled through tears as she pointed around to all of the people who loved you, all of the people who you could be yourself with, all of the people standing around watching as CeCe proudly displayed her family tree.

“Mom,” Maeve tugged at your arm again. “I don’t mean to put you on the spot with everyone here, but I think now would be a good time to tell Harry you like him.”

Shelli let out a laugh, wrapped an arm around Irv when Tristan shouted: “I agree, Y/N, I think now’s a good time.”

You looked around at all of them, half embarrassed, but settled and content and actually happy. Then your eyes settled on Harry, a coy smirk as he looked at you expectantly.

“Do I really have to say it?”

“Mmm,” he nodded, “I think you do.”

“Fine,” you sighed, motioning a hand around the driveway. “With everyone as my witness, I think you’re pretty cool.”

Maeve cleared her throat, “and you love him.”

You tried to fight a smile, looked at Harry when he grinned down at Maeve. “You can tell your mom I love her, too.”

CeCe had crawled her way up to Jeff’s shoulders now, a big smile on her face. “Oh just kiss already!” she giggled.

Harry’s eyes went wide in her direction, “how did you know I wanted to do that?”

“I’m just smart,” she shrugged. “I know lots of things.”

story page | talk to me + join the tag list

AN: FRIENDS! Thank you for always joining me on the journey I create. All of the comments and messages and reblogs mean the world to me and I feel so lucky that people want to read the random shit I write and make up in my head. I've added a playlist for this chapter you can find here in case you want to really feel the feels during this one. Stay tuned for more stories!!!!

tag list:

@sunflowerryvol6 @haute-romance-quotidienne @trulymadlykiki @kaybee87 @thurhomish @tpwkhoney @70s-harry @la-cey @sing-me-a-song-harry @morethanamelodyy @theresnooneheretosave @ihearthemcallingforyou @sunfloweratheart @g0bl1nqueen @millennial-teenybopper @rainbowparadiseharry @justsaying20 @harryinsweatersandbandanas @andwhenshesays @harrys-cherriesss @harrys-cherrry @cronias13 @burberryharold @15christyxoxo @stepping-into-the-light @mvaldez7821 @barnestann @styles217 @fineelineee @ursamajor603 @tayrenea @hayyyayy @mellamolayla @lovelylemonadeaddict @harrystyle-ish @harryspirate @apples2019 @rainbowbutterflyboy @goldeng1rl8 @elisassblog @staceystoleyourheart @themonsterheloved @greatestview @splendidsunsetsx @awomanindeniall @bequietdee @greeneyesandtea @sonofabitchstyles @sunsetcurve-h @dangerousdelusiondreamland @hsfics @abundanceofsoph @golden-asoab @giveyourheartabreak-xx @poguestyleskye @sabnstyles @call1800coochie

I ADORE Eden and Harry but I also really really really love your writing so if possible could you do a normal piece (not Eden and Harry I'm sorry I love them but it wouldn't work for this request if you're willing to write it but ofc you don't have to!) where Harry is an asshole to 'y/n' even though she's super sweet to him pleaseeeee? I feel like you'd write angst really well! Only if you have time though!! Thank you, hope you're well :) x

Thank you for all the kind words!  I’m not as familiar with angst…am I writing it without knowing it? I just wouldn’t be able to find it exactly in something I’m reading or writing. But I tried my best with this one, hopefully you deem it worthy of what you had in mind! I think I like it so hopefully that means something! I hope you’re doing well also! 😘

reminder since things have changed since this request was made: [requests are closed until October.] 

[04] “He’s not usually like this, you’ve just come on a bit of a rough day…rough week…weeks.”

She isn’t bothered. Isn’t rattled, taken back or discouraged by it at all.

She knows he’s anxious, stressed and all the other words that fall under the same umbrella.

It isn’t an excuse for him to act like this. It’s a factor, but it isn’t an excuse. She knows that, she thinks she knows that. Maybe, she wants to know that.

He’s waiting for a call he isn’t even sure he’ll get. The one about the role he’s been praying for since leaving the place he auditioned for it.

So, she gets it. She does. She gets it. It just doesn’t make things simpler, or easier to handle. But she understands it…on most days.

But she still tries, for whatever it’s worth, on the off chance that today or maybe even tomorrow will be a better day. So she spends her Saturday outings (the ones they used to take together) alone. Which she’s willing to do, with a hope that in a few Saturdays from now he’ll join her.

“Found these monogrammed mugs for us whilst I was out. Looking at them now they’re a bit silly aren’t they…” She still smiles looking at them as he finishes his late breakfast. “S’just one of those things right, you see the first letter of your name and you just have to have it.” She sets them down in the sink to wash them, always have to wash the things you buy before using them. “We’ve got too many fancy mugs anyway, these are more us right? Less uptight maybe?”

He doesn’t answer, maybe he hums in response but that might as well have been silence.

→ → →

Harry still hasn’t used his monogrammed mug. That’s fine, she isn’t bothering herself with that for too long. Maybe he isn’t in the mood for a hot drink or maybe he’s just too busy for one.

But it’s not that he hasn’t used it for his morning brew, nighttime tea or any of the aforementioned. He’s thrown his out. Properly, threw it out. In the bin. The monogrammed mug is in the bin.

She wouldn’t have noticed if she hadn’t peeled that clementine and looked for where to throw out the peels. But she did. At first she thought maybe because it had a crack in it. (But she could have just returned it if he had seen one.) Or maybe it wasn’t microwave safe, but what mug isn’t? And she checked just to be sure before she bought it.  

But it’s in the bin now.

For no good reason.

And she pulls it out just as he comes down the stairs for someone at the door.

“You don’t like it? Didn’t have throw it out…” she shrugs grabbing for an apple. “There are nicer ones on Etsy.”  

“We’ve got plenty. We don’t need anymore bloody mugs.”

They’ve got twelve, maybe two more than that. But that isn’t plenty. That’s six or seven between the both of them. And she has tea twice a day and so does he. So she knows it isn’t about the excess or lack of mugs that’s ticking him off.

“Well good morning to you too,” she mutters before biting into her apple.

→ → →

The next day is something else. Like it always is. It’s always something else.

Her friend dropped her cat off with them. With her. (She isn’t sure if Harry will be around much.) But she thinks she’s a suitable cat sitter all on her own. She prefers dogs but she likes the way cats know what they want, and what they don’t want. And maybe this could be a chance to show him that they really should get a friend.

What’s unsettling, perhaps disappointing (the common theme for the last few weeks) is that Harry doesn’t even notice. Let alone ask why there’s a cat in the middle of his living room. Doesn’t ask if she’s rescued it from a nearby tree or rescued it from a shelter.

So she fills in his blanks, the ones he’s not looking for.

“Fleur’s, she’s going on holiday, Portugal I think so I told her we’d watch her cat. I can do it, you’re busy I know.” She smiles up at him. “But you like cats, thought it’d be good for you, for a few days—”

“Keep him, don’t keep him…” he slips on his coat as he shows her just how much he couldn’t  care less. “Your friend isn’t she?” He glances at his phone.

“He’s soft,” she grins. “Good too, keeps to himself for the most part. I know they all do but—”

She can’t complete her argument about how even though most cats keep to themselves he’s extra good. And she wants to add how most of them are independent and love you just enough for you not to get too spoiled. But he’s taking a phone call she knows is important before she can say any of that.  

“Haven’t got many toys for you to play with,” she pets the small thing as she wonders how small paws like those get him around. “Or do you just make everything into a toy of yours?”

“Got to step out for a bit.” He looks back down at his phone.

“It’s raining,” she looks to the window at her right. “You’ve got an umbrella?”

And he’s out the door before he can give her answer that he wouldn’t have given anyway. She’s surprised he’s even told her that he’s off somewhere. She can’t wish him a good day because the door shuts without a word.

“He’s not usually like this, you’ve just come on a bit of a rough day…rough week…weeks.” She assures the cat on its back. “How’s he usually?” She asks, because the cat is asking. “Not like this, but it’s a been a while since then…think I forgot a bit how he’s usually. Maybe this is the new usually…”

She doesn’t want it to be, needs it not to be but there just isn’t a flicker of light at the end of this tunnel. And she can’t remember a time where there was.

He isn’t usually like this, that’s the thing. He’s never like this. She doesn’t know this, she didn’t know this before it happened. And that’s pretty hard if she says so herself. To deal with something she never expected. She knows that’s usually how it goes but still. He’s still her Harry that isn’t like this.

“Good thing you’re just visiting. Not that I don’t like you, I do, but you wouldn’t have much fun here now. Maybe once he’s got that role he’s chasing so bad he’ll be back. Then you and I can throw a party for him. And you’ll see how he usually is.”

The cat understands.

→ → →

That evening it’s something else. Like it always is.

“We can go out, eat at that place your mum said was really nice,” she turns her head to him in the kitchen from the couch she’s sat on. “Or the one raved about in the paper yesterday.”

“Not tonight.”

“I know you’re still waiting for that call, you’ll get it though. M’not just saying that either.” She sets her bookmark down in between the pages of her book. “You know I don’t go around saying things I don’t mean.”

No answer.

“Think the cat agrees as well. And he doesn’t even know you that well yet.”

No answer.

“Oh, your dad called, said he wanted to take us to dinner. Well actually, he wanted us to come over. Said he has a new recipe he wants to test out. Wants us to be lab rats for a night.”

“When’s that?”

“He said if tomorrow works—”

“Did you tell him we were coming?”

“No, not ye—

“Good.” He kicks off his boots. “Coz we’re not.”

“But—”

“Need to have a shower.”

→ → →

The next day is something else, brings something else.

It’s that food fair at Regent’s Park she wants to go to.

It’s that fair at Regent’s Park that she knows she’ll have to beg for him to come to…it’s that one she knows he won’t come to.

It’s not like she’s gonna ask him to ride the carousel they have there. (Even though it’s a nice one.) So she doesn’t see why he could say no. It’s a food fair.

And she’s willing to bring out all the logistics she’s already thought about. They wouldn’t even have to drive, the tube will do just fine. Would bring them right to it, that way he doesn’t have to be fussed with parking when he really doesn’t want to be fussed with anything.

But before she could, he seemed too annoyed with the fact that she hadn’t gotten the right type of orange juice. (They all taste like oranges don’t they?)

She’s used to it, him getting mad at her for the smallest things that he’s got no grounds for.

So she doesn’t ask about the food fair at Regent’s park.

She figured going with the cat would be more of the same thing either way.

So she went with Harry’s PA. She’s the one who told her about it. Said it’d be something fun for him to do. Get out of the house for a bit, even though he’s worried about leaving because there might not be cell service wherever he might be going. (There’s cell service at Regent’s park. She checked. Double checked. Was about to triple check…)

The food fair was what it was. A food fair. And there were too many kids on that one carousel she liked and she wasn’t in the mood for feeling silly. Not when Harry’s not there to be silly with her either. Because she’s old and some small kid with a runny nose might tell her she’d break it.

If Harry were there he’d know what to say to that supposed kid with a runny nose. That maybe if she’d break it, he’d shatter it. He wouldn’t say that though, he’d probably tell the kid he was going to build her one. One much bigger and better than this small thing.

So she passes it by it as Harry’s assistant asks the same questions about him like she always does.

She’s sick of answering to other people about him too. Because she doesn’t know. She doesn’t know why he’s got to act like this. She knows why, but she doesn’t know why he’s choosing to let it affect him this way.

Because when she gets this way, when she’s anxious…waiting for something. She’s got to do something else. Take a bath, a few. Go to a food fair. Go to that restaurant raved about in the paper.

And there’s only so many excuses she can come up with. Harry can’t have the flu for two weeks, or hay fever on a Monday and a stomach bug on a Wednesday.

They all start thinking it’s got something to do with her at some point. She thought so too at some point, she still lets that sink in sometimes. That he’s acting this way because things aren’t good between them anymore. That maybe he’s had it.

But she assures them (while she isn’t assured at all) that he’s just feeling overwhelmed and anxious. Which sounds a lot better. And a lot blander, and a lot more of what she’d like it to be instead.

When she gets back, he’s cranky again. He’s cranky and wondering why his personal assistant isn’t answering her phone. He’s supposed to read through the scripts for the other projects he’s been sent. But how can he do that if he hasn’t even seen them yet? And he’s just as cranky to his girlfriend because wasn’t she just with her?

“She did call you, I was there…” she prepares herself for his usual behavior. “You weren’t answering her so she dropped them off with me. Just told me not to peak or anything since they’re classified and for your eyes only.” She sets them down on the kitchen island.

“She can’t even do her lazy job,” he stacks them up irritably.

“She—” she begins but lets it evaporate into the tense air. Because what difference is that sentence gonna make?

→ → →

“Harry, Harry!” She climbs onto their big bed where he sits reading the stack of pages delivered to him. “They’ve put them back on the menu! The samosas we really like! They’re back!”

He likes them just as much as she does so he’s got to have some type of a reaction.

But he doesn’t have one.

“Can we go? Won’t take long, we can take them to go since you’ve got all this to read.”

“Not tonight.”

“What about this weekend, you pick a time. I’ll follow.” She fixes some loose strands of his hair that probably are bothering him but he’s too invested to worry about anything else.

“M’busy,” he mumbles with a pen in between his lips and more importantly he says her name right after. And he hardly ever does that, only when he’s not being him.  

“Maybe next week.” She scoots off the mattress, convincing herself that next week will be better.   He doesn’t answer her.  

Later when she’s in the bath, trying to wash or scrub away the day she tries to think of new ways. New ways to get him back to what he was. She knows that this has to be one of those ‘wait it out’ type of things. But she doesn’t know if she’s willing to stand by that for much longer.

She calls, she calls his PA nearly every day. Needing to know when Harry will expect the call he’s been waiting for. And she doesn’t know either.

So it really is about waiting it out. Waiting it out until the water runs cold.

She’s busy playing with bubbles and thinking of new things to get him back to her when he walks in.

A bath, she’s never thought of that. A bath cures everything. Washes, kneads and melts away all the worries. They’ve got a nice one too, spacious and pearly white.

“Wanna come in? The water’s still warm.”

No answer.

She sighs loudly through her lips before submerging herself fully in the water as he turns the shower on. She likes it here, under. But she’s got to come back up at some point, when her lungs nearly give out.

She’s undecided. And that’s not a fun place for her to be either. She can’t decide if she’s hurt or angry or understanding. She doesn’t know if she’s managing understanding well anymore either. Because hurt is seeping in and it’s dragging anger along for the ride.

When she’s out of the bath, soft and still warm she heads downstairs for one last bedtime snack. The one she isn’t supposed to have. Because she’s trying to kick the habit of something sweet before bed. But she’ll start that tomorrow.

“Why is my mum calling about lunch this Wednesday?” Harry asks coming down the stairs as she sits on the couch with her oreos.

“I called her, well I called her back, she’s been ringing you about having lunch—”

“Christ—why’ve you got to meddle into every little thing!”

“I didn’t—”

She chooses not to complete her sentence because she knows it won’t do anything. He won’t understand anything from it. The completley innocent motive behind it. “Didn’t mean to, sorry Harry.” She gets up from no longer comfortable spot on the couch.

She wants to say that she didn’t, she isn’t meddling. His mum just hasn’t seen him in nearly two weeks, and hasn’t heard from him in about the same time.

He keep his line open, barely answers any other calls just in case the call he’s waiting for is comprised because of a food order he wants to make over the phone. So Anne called her to see why that is and frankly, she didn’t know what to answer. She can only us the words stressed and busy so many times.

She didn’t mean to let his mum know he was fine and that her usual visit is still a go. She probably should have checked his schedule first but he didn’t think he’d have anything scheduled for that same time.

It rushes in at right about now, at how all of these last few weeks have made her feel. They made her feel stupid, genuinely stupid. She feels stupid for keeping at this. For taking it, for sitting there and taking it. Blow after blow.

She hasn’t been able to lay a finger on what is that she’s feeling while he goes through his storm of feelings. But she thinks she’s found it. She feels dumb.

And once she’s found it, after digging deep she decides she doesn’t want to feel dumb anymore.

There are plenty of rooms, too many for just the two of them. So she chooses, not at all like goldilocks would because she’s much too tired but she happens upon one. She doesn’t care if he notices or he doesn’t. She just needs to not feel like she’s a speck of sand or gum stuck on his shoe. One minuscule and the other a bother. And she feels like both with him.

The cat’s followed her and managed to make it onto the guest bed. She pets their cat for a week slowly. Keeps doing so as she settles into the unfamiliar bed. Keeps doing so until the door opens.

“Was looking for you, what are you doing in here?” He asks even though he understands when he sees her in bed.

“Think you need your space for a bit,” she adjusts her pillow, nearly punches it to get it just right. And Harry wonders if she wants to do the same to him. Just maybe. “In addition to the rest of the space you’ve been keeping.”

“Stop,” he sighs. “Stop being silly, get up love.”

“Don’t want to.” She answers honestly. “S’not like it’s any different than how it’s been.”

“How’s it been?”

“Where you’re at the other end of the bed avoiding me like I’ve got the plague or something you could catch. Bunch of silence too. And maybe I need some of that space and silence now.”

“And what would you need space and silence from?”

“You.” She turns the beside lamp off.

“Me?” He asks turning it back on.

“You.” She turns it back off.

“Why me?” He turns it back on.

“Being around you makes me feel like I might as well be here to pull your teeth.”

“Where’d you get that—”

“You do this, you always do this!” She doesn’t care if he won’t believe her. It’s the truth. She’s been around to know for sure. “Stop unleashing all of your stress on me, I’m here for you! I’m on your side! Always been on your side!”

It’s not that he’s surprised she’s yelling, he knows she’s got a yell or two in her. He’s taken back that it’s him, just him that’s making her yell. She’s not yelling to let off steam about something her mum said to her, something that happened at work, or something she saw. It’s just because of him.

“You don’t see me angry with you about orange juice when I’ve got back to back exams in a week!” She yells and if she could yell louder she would. It’s her turn now. “You know what I do instead? I go with you to whatever event it is you need to show your face at! Even if it’s the day before an exam!” She’s done that, and she’ll keep doing that for him. “You know why! Because my stress hasn’t got anything to do with you! I know how to keep them separate! And if I feel like m’about to unleash it all on you just because you happen to be the one in the room in that moment, I tell you! That I need a minute because I don’t want to blow up on you!”

“I—”

“M’not done!” She yells. “I know exams about child behavior aren’t ever going to be some fancy role in a film but it’s just as important to me! Just as stressful for me! And I don’t shut you out or ignore you as I wait for results!”

She still isn’t done.

“Had a week off right, a a week ago, for Easter. And you spoke a handful of words to me the entire time. For someone who’s always complaining about not seeing me, not being able to take me on holiday…interesting choice of action.”

She still isn’t done, just a bit left.

“M’on your team. Always have been, and you’ve always been on mine. So start acting like it.”

She catches her breath. “M’done now.”

“So what do you want now? What have I got to—”

“I want to turn this light off without you turning it back on. And I want to sleep in here with the cat you haven’t even acknowledged.”

“Gonna sleep alone, in here all night?”

“M’here aren’t I?”

“When m’I gonna fix this then?” He asks worriedly. Because even though he doesn’t exactly how to just yet (he’s dug himself that deep) he still needs to.

“Tomorrow.”

So he’s going to let her sleep here. Even if he absolutely dreads sleeping alone. Might as well not sleep at all. But he’s going to let her. Because from all that she’s been revealing to him, she deserves this all. Some space for herself and for him to feel how that’s like.

He turns the light off so she can get to it.

“Sleep well love,” he kisses her shoulder because he isn’t sure she’ll let him that much. And he does pet the cat, even if it hates him just as much he thinks his girl does. He is soft. “Gonna watch her for me right?” He whispers.

→ → →

It takes Harry a few days to fix it all. With a tool box of things he can think of.

It started with the samosas they like and ended with the carousel at Regent’s Park. (The food fair won’t be back till August.) But he still left his phone at the house and she had to double check and make sure he knew he was doing so.

And somewhere in between it was the mugs as well.

“Got the mugs, the nicer ones from Etsy.” He tells her when she walks into the kitchen.

“We don’t have too many?” She asks.

“Threw some of the boring ones out to make room.” He shrugs taking the orange juice he didn’t want three days ago from the fridge. And he pours some into the mug she bought him as he holds the cat in the other. It tastes just like oranges, and it tastes better than the kind he’s used to. It’s because of the mug and he knows so.

And the cat understands.

LOVE ON TOUR (HSLOT VERSE)

LAS VEGAS 🔥

DENVER

DALLAS

HOUSTON

SAINT LOUIS 🔥

PHILADELPHIA

WASHINGTON DC 🔥

DETROIT 🔥

SAINT PAUL 🔥

Omg silly sex with harry 😌😌

i'm on mobile so i'm going to do a wee headcannn bc they do be kinda fun

blowing raspberries against your skin while he's inside you

giggling so hard he has to stop thrusting

he's smiling to himself about your boobies bouncing

dirty talk isn't very successful and you end up sputtering through every sexy thing you can think of

harry places loving kisses to the weirdest parts of your body like your elbow or your belly button

bringing up the most random things like "did you listen to that podcast i sent you about coyotes" or "how does thai sound for dinner" as you're literally going at it

lots of nose budging

a playful nip on the flesh of your ass or the curve of your shoulder

him stopping in the middle to go get a scrunchie to tie his hair back (his little butt wigging as he runs to go get🥰)

between lightning and thunder|harry styles.

summary: he’s your best friend’s boyfriend, you have feelings for him, you know the drill.

“In thunderstorms, you count the seconds in between the lightning and thunder, the more you counted the furthest the lightning had struck. 5 seconds equals 1 mile. In matters of the heart, and considering this situation. The more you counted, the closer you were.” 

word count: 7k

pairing: Harry Styles x reader

warnings: alcohol mention, a bit sad, Little Prince, some songs. 

PART TWO: thunderstorms and shooting stars PART THREE: stars and fate

So, here’s my first official Harry Styles one shot (kind of two-part one shot), thanks to @peachybloomss and @laurieteddy for helping me out with beta reading. Yes, there will be part two if you guys want it. I’ll see if you like it, please send feedback, reblog, be kind. 

The rain pattered against the asphalt, now bright and dense, reflecting the tinkling lantern that barely gave an excuse of light to the street. There you were, in that corner, shading the sidewalk with those sneakers that used to be white. You were getting wet, that was an understatement, you  knew you would have a cold the very next day. You clutched your dark blue umbrella as you waited for a miracle.

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subrry with mommy kink and breastfeeding blurb? please?😩

"Mummy! Hurry up!" Harry shouted from the bed as he got into bed and rubbed at his eyes.

"Be patient," I called back and grinned as I heard him whining. Grabbing my floss, I flossed my teeth as quickly and thoroughly I could. Flashing my teeth at the mirror, I nodded satisfied, and shut off the light.

"Mummy," Harry cried as I walked into the bedroom. He made grabby hands at me.

"I'm coming, baby," I smiled and put my robe over the chair in the corner.

"Want milk," he whispered as he squirmed on the bed while rubbing his eyes again.

"Are you so sleepy tonight?" I asked as I pulled back the blankets on my side and slid under them. He always got a little emotional and extra needy when he was very tired.

Harry nodded. "Yeah," he replied and pouted as he moved closer.

Lying down on my side, I got comfortable before nodding. "Okay, come here," I said.

Immediately Harry put his mouth to one of my breasts and started suckling greedily.

"Take it easy, baby. Going to get a tummy ache," I whispered as I ran my fingers through his hair.

Harry blinked up at me before slowing down and suckling a little slower.

"Good boy," I told him while grabbing the blankets and covering us more.

Sighing happily, Harry switched over to my other breast and started suckling on that. His hand loosely holding me close, his fingers occasionally twitching against my back.

Closing my eyes, I let him suckle away as we slowly feel asleep.

updated: 4/21/2021

✰ = smut

☂ = angst

(if there’s nothing next to it, then it’s fluff)

take a look at my fic recs!

here are all my playlists!

24 hour bookstore→part one, part two✰: you meet harry one night while he’s in nyc and then he asks you on a date and things get…dirty

quarantine confessions: harry’s in la and you’re in nyc and he stops calling and you wonder if your kiss screwed everything up

the quarantine couch✰: you’re staying with your parents during quarantine and you have…needs

a trim: harry really needs a haircut

fuck ‘em only we know (light smut): based off of Bank’s song

boardwalk (summer feeling challenge): you and harry have a fun night on the boardwalk in ocean city, md

wallowing: after another one of your relationships end, you pour a large glass of wine and decide it’s time for some wallowing while fine line blasts throughout your apartment and your best friend comes to comfort you

wallowing part two (wip): you and harry have been seeing one another but nothing’s official; you two go out one night and he fucks up so you go home to wallow in your feelings—again.

ungodly hour→ part one, part two✰: request based off of chloe x halle’s song

26 ☂, part two✰: request based off Gracie Abrams’s song 21 

fine line✰:harry plays you fine line for the first time and some things come out

tis the damn season: ✰ based on miss swifts iconic tune

green eyes☂: based on the song green eyes by Joseph, or harry wants to take a break

faking it: (light smut) you fake an orgasm and harry knows

october✰☂: september was filled with heartbreak, but october is offering you better things

house hunting: you and harry are looking for a house in italy

needy✰: you just really need dick

playlist fic challenge masterlist

SOMEBODY ELSE: you and harry are friends who start an arrangement…and then that arrangement ends and you’re left with impossible feelings as you watch him move on.*COMPLETED*

MASTERLIST

EARLY MORNING GLORY (Extended Fic; chaptered): a slow burn, friends to lovers, harry au where he’s just starting out and it takes place in NYC.*ONGOING*

MASTERLIST

IN MY FEELINGS: you and harry hate each other, but that doesn’t stop you from hooking up *COMPLETED*

MASTERLIST

CRUEL SUMMER: a secret relationship in the south of france that breeds nothing but hurt *COMING SOON*

MASTERLIST

Imagine posting an aftersex picture with Harry.

“Babe, I have to post this,” he states as he’s taking a closer look on the picture, a wide grin spread across his face. 

“You can’t post an aftersex picture for the entire world to see,” and even though you chuckle, you’re quite serious, knowing very well that it’s clear to see what the two of you have just been up to; messy hair, flushed cheeks and both of you smiling satisfied. 

“Come on, we look great,” he pleads, watching as you walk across your shared bedroom to open the balcony doors, the smell of sex hanging in the air and lingering on the sheets. “And I don’t care if it’s obvious what we’ve just done, I mean, everyone already knows that we have sex,” a chuckle leave his lips, a thin layer of sweat having formed on his chest after the round you’ve just done.

“Fine,” you eventually give in, knowing very well that he won’t stop begging for your permission until you surrender. Harry smiles in victory, quickly uploading the picture with just “xx.” as a caption, the picture being the topic of many conversations afterwards. 

Rough Day

Summary: For Harry, nothing makes up for a bad day better than rough sex. Luckily, he has his friend Y/N to help out with that.

Word count: 2.1k

Warnings: smut (friends with benefits, mean dom!harry, degradation, bondage, spanking w hands and belt, choking, oral, anal, use of ball gag and butt plug)

***

Harry slams the door behind him as he enters Y/N’s apartment. He texted her earlier to ask if he could come over. His message alluded to the possibility of rough play, which Y/N could hardly ever refuse. As soon as he arrives, she can sense the irritability radiating off of him. It shouldn’t excite her this much—her friend being in a crappy mood—but it does.

“Hey,” she greets him, sitting up on the couch where she’s been indulging in some online shopping for the past hour.

He just hums in response and drops his duffle bag on the floor before removing his shoes, coat, and gloves.

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what about H playing with your boobs

What about this playing with my emotions 🙃

Listen..,.,.,he’d love it. Sucking on your nipples, tonguing at them lightly, flicking just the tip against them to tease you. And then he’s full on lapping at them with the thick of his tongue, feeling them get perky under his rough tastebuds.

His head ducked down to your chest as you sit against the headboard with a hand clutching the hair at the nape of his neck, eyeing him hazily as he sucks one entirely into his mouth, his huge hand cupping and massaging the other with his cold, chunky rings catching on the little bud and sending your spine shivering.

Harry would look up at you through his thick lashes, the damp corners of his swollen crimson lips quirking up in a cheeky simper. He’d hollow out his cheekbones as he sucks, lulling his eyes to the back of his head because he knows what it does to you, moaning all low and whiney. The vibrations wash goosebumps across the supple skin of your breasts, every cell in your body spazzing out of control.

He pulls back, a tiny thread of saliva dipping between his plumped lips and your pebbled nipple. He licks the excess wetness from his mouth, worrying his bottom lip between his two front teeth as he takes your chest into his humungous palms, squeezing both together and smirking softly. “Gonna miss these so much on tour.”