Heavy hands — V (Patreon)

Hello lovies! I hope you are all well. Here is a new chapter. Let me know what you think down below. No smut on this chapter, but I promise in the next with me packed with it!

word count: 5.2K

The quiet of the room felt suffocating as Y/N scrambled to gather her clothes. She was already running late, and the weight of the reality of her responsibilities was starting to sink in. Class. Her schedule. She couldn’t afford to stay here, not even for a moment longer.

But Harry—Harry made it hard to think clearly.

She heard him stir behind her, the sheets rustling as he slowly sat up, a low chuckle escaping his lips.

“Didn’t think you’d be in such a hurry to leave,” he said, his voice thick with sleep. He leaned back on the bed, propping himself up on one elbow. His eyes tracked her every movement, the faintest amusement flickering in them.

“I’m late,” she muttered, fumbling with the straps of her dress, her fingers trembling.

“Late for what?” Harry asked, his tone almost lazy, as if he didn’t quite care.

Y/N paused, glancing at him over her shoulder. “Class,” she said quickly, trying to steady herself.

“You can’t be that late,” he replied, his voice now edged with a teasing familiarity, but still quiet. “Class will survive.”

She shot him a nervous look. "I can’t afford to be late, Harry. I’ve got responsibilities.”

“You’ve got responsibilities,” he repeated softly, the words lingering between them. He propped himself up, his gaze shifting from her dress to her face, the faintest hint of something softer behind his eyes. “So what does that make me?”

She swallowed, trying not to read too much into his words. "You’re... something else," she said, still not quite meeting his gaze.

He chuckled lightly, the sound rough but with an edge of amusement. “That’s not an answer, pet.”

Before she could respond, he sat up fully and swung his legs over the side of the bed, moving toward her with that quiet, assured grace. “I’ll take you back to campus.”

She blinked, surprised. “What?”

“Take you back to campus,” he repeated, looking at her with a hint of finality in his expression. “You shouldn’t be running around like this. Class isn’t the only thing you need to worry about.”

Y/N opened her mouth to protest, to tell him that she could manage on her own, but something in his gaze made her pause. There was no expectation in his words—just a quiet offer, and it caught her off guard.

“I’m fine,” she said weakly, but the certainty of it felt off, even to her.

Harry studied her for a moment, his expression unreadable, before his lips parted in the smallest of smirks. “Don’t argue with me,” he said, a low, controlled tone in his voice. “Get dressed. I’m taking you back.”

She hesitated but didn’t argue. There was something in his tone—a subtle command that told her it wasn’t up for discussion. And somehow, she didn’t mind.

As she pulled her dress back on, Harry remained sitting on the bed, his eyes following her every move. He wasn’t exactly affectionate, but the way he watched her, the way he quietly observed, it felt almost protective.

She could feel the weight of his gaze on her back, a silent acknowledgment that he was watching over her in his own, cold way.

When she was done, he stood up, stretching slightly, his muscles still sore from the fight the night before. Without another word, he walked over to the door, throwing it open.

“Let’s go,” he said, his voice clipped, but there was something behind it—something gentle, in the most Harry Styles way possible.

Y/N followed him, unsure what to say. But the quiet sincerity of his gesture was enough to make her hold back the questions swirling in her mind.

As they walked down the hallway, her heart was still racing from the night before. She didn’t know what this meant—where things were going, what they were building between them. But there was something in the way he handled her, the way he gave her space but also made sure she wasn’t left to scramble on her own.

The rumble of the motorcycle's engine echoed in her chest as Harry pulled up in front of the campus building. He came to a smooth stop, the bike leaning slightly under his weight as he braked expertly.

Y/N hesitated for a moment before climbing off, her legs shaky from the ride, but her pulse still racing. The cool morning air hit her skin, and the reality of being back on campus set in. The sound of footsteps, distant chatter, and the bustle of campus life filled the air. Students were heading to classes or gathering in small groups for breakfast, a few glancing curiously at her as she stood beside the bike.

She reached for the helmet, pulling it off and running a hand through her messy hair. Her cheeks flushed under the weight of their gazes. There was something unnerving about the attention, the sudden spotlight on her after everything that had happened the night before.

Y/N handed Harry the helmet, avoiding his eyes for a moment as she tried to ignore the way the crowd’s murmurs seemed to grow louder around them. She forced herself to speak, her voice a little unsteady. “Thanks for the ride, Harry.”

His gaze flickered over her, sharp and intense as always. “Anytime, pet.”

She expected him to leave it at that, but instead, he caught her off guard. He reached up, his fingers curling around her chin in a slow, deliberate movement. His touch was warm, gentle, but commanding all the same. He turned her face towards him, his eyes locking with hers.

Before she could say anything, his lips were on hers. Soft. Brief. A kiss that was almost tender, but still full of that unmistakable heat that made her heart flutter.

It wasn’t the kind of kiss that left room for questions. It was possessive. A reminder that she wasn’t just some passing encounter for him. That even in front of a crowd, Harry would make sure everyone knew she was his.

When he pulled away, his thumb brushed lightly over her bottom lip, his eyes softening just for a moment. “Next time, don’t run so fast,” he murmured, voice low and dangerous in that way only he could manage.

Y/N blinked, caught in the haze of that kiss, her breath still shallow. “I… I have class,” she managed to say, but it came out quieter than she’d intended.

He didn’t say anything, only gave a small, knowing smirk before revving the engine of his bike again. The noise seemed to snap the attention of the nearby students, who turned to watch him as he pulled away.

Y/N stood there for a moment, still feeling the warmth of his touch on her lips, the memory of his kiss burning through her, even with the chatter of campus life resuming around her.

She finally shook herself out of the daze, adjusting her bag over her shoulder and heading toward her dorm. But even with her eyes focused ahead, she could still feel the weight of Harry’s gaze on her — even from a distance.

Y/N had barely made it through the door of her dorm before she was in the shower, scrubbing away the remnants of the night before. It wasn’t that she regretted it — far from it. But there was a strange heaviness in the pit of her stomach, a buzz of guilt mixed with a desperate need to keep everything in its place. She had a life outside of Harry. She had a routine.

And she was late for class.

After a quick shower and a few minutes of forcing herself to focus, she dressed in a simple sweater and jeans, pulled her hair into a messy ponytail, and grabbed whatever she could find to take with her. An orange. Some granola bars. Anything to get something in her stomach.

She had barely enough time to get to campus, but somehow, she managed to slip into her usual seat just as the lecture began. The warmth of the room felt like a contrast to the cool morning air, but there was something still off — a low, vibrating hum that was making it hard for her to focus on the professor’s words.

She sat with her arms crossed, nibbling on the orange, trying to ignore the persistent feeling in her chest. The morning with Harry replayed in flashes, each image leaving her more conflicted than the last. Part of her wanted to shove it all aside and act normal, but the more she tried, the more it felt impossible.

The door creaked open just as the lecture started, and Y/N glanced up reflexively.

Liv and Jess walked in together, heads bent in quiet conversation. They both looked... different. Their faces were cold, eyes sharper than usual, and when they spotted Y/N, the shift in energy was immediate.

Liv’s eyes narrowed for a split second as she scanned the room. Jess, too, gave Y/N a long look before they both made their way to the seats at the back of the room — far away from Y/N.

The moment they sat down, Y/N could feel their gazes cutting through her. She avoided looking at them directly, focusing instead on the professor's words, but it was impossible to ignore the quiet tension in the air. Every few seconds, she could feel their eyes lingering on her, sharp and calculating, like they were sizing her up.

Y/N shifted uncomfortably in her seat, her stomach tightening as her fingers gripped the orange peel a little too tightly. They were mad at her. She could feel it.

She tried to focus on the lecture, but her mind kept drifting back to the way Liv and Jess had looked at her. The way they had moved away from her. They were angry. It wasn’t hard to tell.

The orange was now just a half-peeled mess in her hands, and Y/N quietly tossed it into her bag before settling into the lecture. She wasn’t going to let them ruin her morning.

But as she glanced up, just for a second, she caught Liv’s eye. And it wasn’t just anger in Liv’s gaze. There was something more. Something like disappointment, mixed with... something darker. Jess, too, was staring at her, but her eyes had that sharp, judgmental edge that only seemed to grow sharper as the minutes passed.

Y/N’s heart beat faster, and she turned her attention forward, trying to block them out. But the weight of their stares lingered like a shadow on her chest.

They weren’t done with her. And somehow, that felt worse than anything.

As soon as the lecture ended, Y/N was out the door before anyone else could catch her eye. The space had become suffocating — the weight of Liv and Jess's glares unbearable. She needed to breathe. Needed to escape.

She walked briskly down the hall, her thoughts tangled with the way they'd looked at her, the way the room had felt like it was closing in. By the time she reached her dorm, her heart was still racing, and the unease hadn't left her.

Just as she was about to open the door of her room, she nearly collided with someone coming the other way.

“Whoa, hey!” Emma’s voice was like a fresh breeze. She grinned when she saw Y/N, and the familiar sight of her roommate’s warm smile made her feel a small sense of relief.

“Hey,” Y/N replied, forcing a smile, her shoulders sagging as she allowed herself a moment to relax.

Emma raised an eyebrow, noting how visibly tense Y/N was. “You alright? You look like you’re about to pass out.”

Y/N laughed softly, shaking her head. “I’m fine… just, uh, the usual.”

Emma gave her a skeptical look but didn’t press. Instead, she grabbed Y/N’s arm and pulled her inside the room, nudging the door shut with her foot.

“Sit down. You look like you could use a break.” Emma plopped down on the carpet, patting the spot next to her.

Y/N hesitated, then sat beside her, drawing her knees up to her chest. She glanced at Emma, unsure of how to start. She hadn’t meant to talk about it, but now that she was sitting there, alone with someone she trusted, the words seemed to spill out.

Y/N sat on the carpet with Emma, legs crossed, her mind still spinning. It was like the moment Emma opened the door for her, everything just spilled out. Y/N told her everything from the very beginning — how Liv had convinced her to go to the first fight, how she couldn’t stop watching Harry, how he followed her after and how the night had escalated.

She told her about their kiss in the alley, how Harry had taken her to his apartment, how they’d done things, but not gone all the way. She shared how she’d been feeling, the confusion, the guilt, the undeniable attraction.

Y/N also confessed the tension with Liv. How she once considered her a friend, but now, she was hurt. Liv liked Harry, and after he turned her down, Y/N felt the cold distance.

She admitted her fears. She had never felt alive like this, and with Harry, for the first time, she could breathe. But the other parts of her — the doubts, the confusion — made it hard to keep everything in balance.

Emma listened, calm and steady, never interrupting. Y/N had expected judgment or questions, but Emma didn’t ask why or how. She just listened, offering a safe space.

After a while, Emma smiled softly and asked, “Well, are you going to see him again?”

Y/N swallowed, her stomach twisting. “I don’t know. He hasn’t texted or called. Maybe he’s busy.”

Emma raised an eyebrow. “Or maybe he’s waiting for you to make the next move.”

Y/N frowned. “I don’t even know what the next move would be. I don’t even know what we are. We haven’t really... talked about anything. It’s just been... intense.”

“Are you scared, though?” Emma asked, her voice shifting from playful to softer, more sincere.

Y/N took a deep breath. “I am. A lot.”

Emma tilted her head, considering. “Yeah, I get that. But also... it sounds like you’re really into him. Like, really.”

Y/N let out a small laugh. “I guess I am. But it’s just all so... fast, you know?”

Emma nodded, her face thoughtful. “Yeah, I get that. But hey, if you’re feeling something, you’re feeling it. Just don’t ignore it. That’s all I’m saying.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, looking at Emma with doubt. “You really think he likes me?”

“Does it matter?” Emma asked with a grin. “What matters is you. You’re still figuring out what you want, and that's okay. But don’t waste your energy stressing about him, or what he’s doing. You’ve gotta be sure about what you want. He’s not going anywhere. And if he’s really worth your time, he’ll make it clear.”

Y/N chewed on that for a second, then sighed. “I guess.”

Emma gave her a look that was half-sarcastic, half-amused. “You guess? Girl, you need to stop second-guessing everything. He isn’t the problem. It’s all your self-doubt that’s making it complicated.

“I don’t know,” Y/N said softly, “I just don’t want to get hurt.”

Emma looked at her, eyes full of understanding, but her tone was light when she responded. “Who wants to get hurt?” she asked, the corners of her lips curling in that serene, knowing way. “No one does. But that’s part of living, Y/N. You can’t really avoid the risk of it. That’s the catch, you know?” Emma paused, her voice softening. “And if Liv’s giving you trouble about it, screw her.”

Y/N frowned, then sighed. “It’s just... I don’t get why she’s acting like this. I was considering her a friend. Now, she’s been avoiding me.”

Emma’s expression darkened for a moment, but then she shrugged. “Liv is obviously jealous. And if I’m being honest? It’s weird that she took you to that fight. If she didn’t want you involved, why the hell would she drag you into that world?”

Y/N blinked. “You think so?”

“Absolutely,” Emma replied, her voice cool. “She likes Harry, too, and she doesn’t want you to get too close to him. But he has chosen you”.

Y/N let out a slow breath, her heart a little lighter. Emma’s words sank in deeper than she expected.

“You don’t have to have all the answers right now. And maybe that’s the hardest part,” Emma continued, her tone soft but certain. “But you can’t spend your life waiting for everything to fall into place before you take a step. Sometimes, you have to just go for it. Even if you’re scared.”

Y/N gave her a small, grateful smile, feeling the warmth of Emma’s words sink into her bones. “Thanks, Emma”

“Anytime,” Emma said, shrugging casually, though her eyes were warm. “Now, how about we get some food? You need something to eat after all this emotional rollercoaster.”

Y/N chuckled, feeling the last of her tension ease. “Yeah, I could definitely use some food. Let’s go.”

Y/N was sitting quietly behind the counter of the bookstore café, a worn paperback cracked open on her lap and a fork digging into the last bite of a slightly-warmed apple pie. The scent of cinnamon still lingered in the air, mixing with the usual blend of espresso and paper and dust. The café was quiet — just the low hum of a few students tapping away at their laptops, a couple whispering over their cappuccinos.

She thought the moment was hers — small, warm, and undisturbed.

Until the bell above the door chimed.

And her stomach flipped.

She didn’t have to look up to know it was him.

But she did.

Harry Styles stepped inside, moving like he owned every breath of air he took. He didn’t scan the room — he didn’t have to. His eyes landed straight on her.

He was dressed in all black: a snug t-shirt stretched across his broad chest and lean waist, and dark jeans that hung perfectly from his hips, low enough to hint at the ink peeking just above the waistband. He was wearing a leather jacket — the same one from the night of the fight — and his dark boots sounded like thunder against the old wooden floor.

His face was still bruised, though the swelling had gone down slightly. The cut on his cheekbone had scabbed over, and there was a fresh purple blotch under his jaw, just beneath the stubble lining his face. One eye was still faintly puffy. He looked like hell.

But he also looked obscene.

Utterly stunning. Even beat to shit.

His jaw was sharp, his expression unreadable. His hair was messily pushed back like he’d just run his fingers through it on the walk over, and his lips — full, parted slightly — were tinted a little pink from the cold.

Y/N’s mouth had gone completely dry.

He didn’t smile. He didn’t wave. But there was something in the way he looked at her — like she was the only thing in the room.

Her heart slammed against her chest as he walked forward, boots heavy against the old floorboards.

He stopped just on the other side of the counter, leaned forward on his forearms, and looked at her with those green eyes — darker than usual under the bruises, but no less intense.

“You weren’t gonna text me?”

Y/N’s throat tightened. She blinked, clutching the edge of her book like it might shield her from the intensity in his gaze. “I—I didn’t know if I should.”

Harry tilted his head, voice low.

“Didn’t know if you should what? Say hi to the guy who had you moaning his name in his lap last night?”

His smirk deepened when she blushed hard.

“Harry,” she hissed quietly, glancing around. Her voice dropped to a whisper. “You can’t say that here.”

“Why not?” he murmured, tilting his head, amused. “Something about that couch make you shy now?”

She shut the book with a soft thud, trying to compose herself, but it was hard when he was standing there like that — tall and bruised and still managing to look like sin dressed in leather and muscle.

His voice softened, dipping into that tone that curled down her spine. “You’re blushing.”

She looked away.

“You always blush when I talk about touching you?” he went on, like he couldn’t help himself. “Or just when I walk in the room?”

“Harry.”

“What?” he said, smiling now. “I missed you.”

Her breath caught.

He wasn’t lying — not with how he was looking at her. Not with how his hand subtly reached over the counter to graze her fingertips where they rested near the register.

“Didn’t think I’d come here, did you?” he asked, eyes narrowing slightly as he studied her. “Didn’t think I’d show up and remind you what you did in my lap.”

“People are watching,” she whispered, heart in her throat.

“Let them.”

Y/N’s pulse throbbed in her ears.

Before she could answer, a girl waiting for a cappuccino glanced toward the counter — but Harry didn’t even blink. He kept his gaze on Y/N like she was the only person in the world.

“Shift ends at five, right?” he said casually, like they were discussing the weather.

She nodded slowly.

“Good.” He pushed off the counter. “You’re coming with me.”

His eyes dragged lazily over her face, lingering on her lips, his fingers drumming once against the edge of the counter like he was debating something.

“Look at you,” Harry murmured, stepping just close enough for his fingers to trail down her arm, stopping at her wrist. “Standing there like you don’t know exactly what you do to me.”

Y/N felt her cheeks burn, but she didn’t look away. She couldn’t. His gaze had her rooted, breath stuck somewhere in her throat.

He leaned over the counter slightly, both hands braced on the surface, arms flexed — and her eyes flicked down to them before snapping back to his face.

“Come here,” he said, voice rough around the edges.

Y/N hesitated, but only for a second before she rounded the side of the counter.

Harry met her halfway.

His hand slid around her waist with ease, pulling her gently in until they were chest to chest. He dipped his head, eyes flicking between her gaze and her mouth.

Harry kissed her fully, hungrily, one hand sliding to cup her jaw while the other tugged her gently toward him. The world blurred. Her pulse pounded in her ears. He kissed like he wanted her to remember it all day.

She tasted like fruit — sweet, tangy, like whatever pie she’d just finished. He hummed against her mouth, savoring it, lingering as long as he could allow himself.

When he finally pulled back, he licked his bottom lip, eyes still heavy on hers.

“You always taste like fruit,” he murmured, lips brushing hers with every word. “Sweet. It’ll get me in trouble.”

Y/N’s heart stuttered. Her knees went weak.

Harry smirked as he took a step back, clearly pleased with the effect he had on her.

“I’ll see you in a few” he said, and then turned and walked out — leaving her standing behind the counter, completely breathless and burning.

It was just after seven when Harry showed up at the shop again, this time not in bruises and bandages — at least not fresh ones — but in black jeans, a white tee, and his leather jacket slung over one shoulder. He looked annoyingly good. Effortless. Like sin wrapped in denim and cologne.

Y/N blinked up at him from where she was shelving a stack of used poetry books behind the counter. “You’re early.”

“I like watching you pretend you don’t get flustered when I walk in,” he smirked, bracing his hands on the edge of the counter.

She rolled her eyes, ignoring the way her cheeks warmed. “Did you come here just to tease me?”

“Nate and Tasha are throwing something tonight. A proper club, not the fight scene,” he said, ignoring her question as usual. “They want me to bring someone.”

Y/N paused. “Me?”

“Yeah,” he said simply. “They asked if I’d bring you.”

Y/N blinked. She hadn’t seen Tasha since that hallway moment a few days ago, but she remembered the warmth in her smile — and how Nate had gently shielded her from all the chaos.

Still… “I don’t know,” she said, glancing down at herself. Just jeans, a sweater, boots. Nothing club-worthy. “I’m not dressed for a party.”

Harry gave her a once-over, and his mouth quirked. “You look good in anything, but I can take you to change if you want.”

“To my dorm?”

“Unless you want to go to mine and borrow something of mine instead,” he teased.

She shook her head, trying to hide the small smile tugging at her lips.

“Please take me to the dorm,” she said quietly.

They walked back together, the ride quiet but charged. As they reached her dorm building, Y/N felt a flutter of nerves low in her belly. She hoped Emma was gone — she didn’t want to explain. Not yet.

But just as they reached her room, Emma stepped out of their shared space, duffle bag over one shoulder and keys in hand.

“Oh,” she said, eyes bouncing from Y/N to Harry. “Hi.”

“Hey,” Y/N replied, slightly breathless. “You’re leaving?”

Emma nodded. “Yeah. Going to my parents’ for the weekend — family gathering.”

She glanced at Harry again, lips twitching with amusement. “You must be the infamous Harry.”

Harry nodded, extending a hand. “That obvious?”

Emma shook it, smiling. “Have a good weekend, both of you.”

She winked at Y/N before heading down the hall.

Y/N bit her lip as she opened the door, heart still racing, Harry just a step behind her.

Harry stepped in behind her, his eyes immediately scanning the space. Half of the room was covered in books, a small record player on the desk beside a stack of vinyls, her bed neatly made with a soft throw blanket folded at the foot. Fairy lights twinkled faintly above the headboard, and a candle — unlit — sat on the window ledge.

He turned slowly, taking it all in.

“I thought dorms were supposed to be messy,” he muttered, stepping further in and eyeing the tidy desk with its stack of color-coded notes and pens arranged in a perfect line. “Yours looks like a fucking catalogue.”

Y/N flushed a little as she tossed her keys on the desk. “Emma’s the organized one.”

He arched a brow. “You sure about that?”

She ducked her head, pretending to rummage through her side of the closet, fingers grazing over a few simple dresses and crop tops she’d barely worn since starting university.

Harry sat on her bed with a grunt, the mattress dipping slightly under his weight.

“It’s cute,” he added after a beat. “Didn’t expect this from you.”

She turned to look at him over her shoulder. “What did you expect?”

He shrugged, leaning back on his palms, the smirk already forming. “Something a little messier. A little more chaotic. Like you.”

Y/N rolled her eyes and turned back to the closet, trying to hide the stupid grin threatening to stretch across her face.

After a few minutes of rummaging through Emma’s half of the closet, Y/N settled on an outfit.

“I’m just gonna change in the bathroom,” she said, clutching the bundle of clothes and nodding toward the door.

Harry, still lounging on her bed, leaned back on his elbows, his eyes dragging over her from head to toe. “Why?”

She blinked. “Why what?”

“Why go in there?” he asked, lips twitching into a cocky smirk. “I’ve already seen you in your underwear.”

Y/N flushed instantly. “Harry.”

He shrugged, unapologetic. “Just saying. Nothing I haven’t seen before.”

Her breath caught as he sat up straighter, legs spread slightly, forearms resting casually on his thighs. He looked at her like she was something worth devouring — but only when he decided the time was right.

“You can change here,” he added, voice low and teasing. “Promise I’ll be good.”

Y/N narrowed her eyes but didn’t move.

He leaned in slightly. “Unless you want me to look.”

Her throat went dry.

Y/N turned her back to him, cheeks flushed, but she didn’t say anything. She simply set the clothes on her bed and began shedding the ones she had on—slowly, carefully.

Harry didn’t speak. But she could feel him behind her.

Her fingers trembled slightly as she peeled her shirt over her head. The air in the room felt heavier now, charged with the kind of tension that made her skin prickle. She reached behind to undo her bra, slipping it off and letting it fall quietly onto the bed.

Still silent.

She could feel his gaze on her bare back, even though he hadn’t said a word.

When she bent to step out of her jeans, Harry’s voice finally came—low, rough.

“Fuckin’ hell.”

She paused, her breath catching.

He still hadn’t touched her. But it felt like he had.

“You know how hard it is,” he said, voice closer now, “watching you do that and not getting up to ruin you a little?”

She turned her head just slightly, catching the edge of his reflection in the mirror.

His eyes were on her. Dark. Heavy. Unblinking.

“I thought you weren’t going to look,” she whispered.

Harry gave a low chuckle. “I lied.”

A beat passed.

And then she smiled—just barely—and picked up the top she’d chosen.

Behind her, Harry exhaled slowly, a sound full of restraint and something darker.

“I’m gonna need a minute before we leave,” he muttered, rubbing a hand down his face.

She laughed softly, slipping into the top. “Your problem, not mine.”

“Mm,” he hummed, still watching her, “Not for long.”