Another one for Harry would be him and the reader being at a shoot (maybe a holiday video or something like that) and the reader notices Harry‘s social battery is drained and she takes him away to be alone with him and comforts him. Would be really nice if she also relates to his situation :) I was thinking mostly fluff and a little angsty for this one x
Recharging
Pairing: Harry Lewis x Reader
Warnings: Fluff, angst, drained and overwhelmed Harry
Word Count: 630
Masterlist
A/N: YALL IM COOKED i have math aa sl paper 1 tomorrow and I haven't started studying. might as well write to make myself feel better :)
The chalet was chaos.
Fake snow drifted from a too-powerful machine in the corner, giant boxes wrapped in glittery red paper were scattered across the floor, and someone — probably Tobi — had just spilled hot chocolate all over the set Santa throne. The camera crew was frantically trying to reset a shot while Ethan and Simon debated about who looked better in an elf costume.
You sat off to the side, watching the mess unfold with a bemused smile.
And then you noticed Harry.
He was standing by the fireplace prop, stiff and unfocused. His laugh was a second too delayed when someone cracked a joke. He was twisting his fingers together — not out of nerves, but out of habit. The one he always did when he was overwhelmed but didn’t want anyone to know.
Your heart tugged.
It wasn’t loud in the normal sense — no blaring music, no screaming fans — but it was too much. Too many lights. Too much fake cheer. Too many people in too small a space. You knew the feeling well. Your own social battery had dipped an hour ago, but you’d been trying to tough it out for the team.
You stood up and made your way over to him quietly.
"Hey," you murmured, gently touching his elbow.
He turned his head slightly, and the second your eyes met, his shoulders dropped. He didn’t even say anything — just gave you the smallest nod, like thank God you noticed.
“Come with me?” you asked softly, already steering him away.
You led him through the back hallway of the rented cabin until you found a small sitting room — unused, dimly lit, and blissfully quiet. You pulled him in and shut the door.
Harry sank onto the old couch with a heavy sigh and leaned forward, elbows on his knees, hands raking through his hair.
“I’m sorry,” he mumbled, not looking at you. “I’m trying. I just... I feel like I’m gonna explode.”
“Don’t be sorry,” you said, sitting beside him. “You don’t need to explain.”
“I didn’t sleep much,” he added, voice smaller now. “And it’s just been non-stop people all week. And I hate feeling like the one who can’t hack it.”
You reached out and gently tugged his sleeve until he let you take his hand.
“I get like this too,” you said quietly. “Everyone thinks I’m fine because I smile and keep talking. But sometimes I go home and sit in the dark and don’t answer my phone for a day because I’m just... drained.”
He looked over at you, eyes soft and a little glassy.
“There’s nothing wrong with needing a second to breathe. Or needing someone to pull you out for a bit.”
He laced his fingers through yours, squeezing gently.
“You’re really good at this,” he said, voice rough with exhaustion. “At knowing when I need it.”
You smiled. “It’s not a superpower. I just... care. A lot.”
A beat of silence passed between you. Then Harry leaned back on the couch and tugged you with him until your head was resting on his chest, his arms loosely wrapped around you.
“Can we just stay here for a while?” he whispered.
“Of course,” you said. “As long as you need.”
The world outside was still spinning — fake snow, bad jokes, and Christmas chaos. But in that little room, the two of you existed in a soft kind of silence. No pressure to be “on.” Just warmth, quiet, and the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath your cheek.
And somehow, even with the chaos still waiting outside, everything felt just a little bit lighter.
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Pairing: Harry Lewis (W2S) x Reader (established relationship)
Warnings: fluff and bad financial decisions
a/n: saw this pic on my Pinterest and new i wanted to write something ab it! (also look at his arms, im going feral) also sorry i’ve been missing. finally graduated and now im on a grad trip!
⸻
Harry stumbled into the flat at 7 PM, looking like he’d gone twelve rounds with JJ and lost all of them.
You were waiting in the kitchen, nervously sipping a juice box.
(Yes. A juice box. It felt like a “you might be in trouble” kind of drink.)
He dropped his bag with a thud and immediately groaned. “I swear to God, if JJ throws one more egg at me and calls it ‘content’—”
“Hi, baby,” you said quickly, walking over to kiss his cheek.
He blinked. “Hi?”
“I love you,” you added, in that suspicious, too-bright tone people use when they’re about to drop bombshells.
He narrowed his eyes. “What did you do?”
You took his hands, lacing your fingers through his. “Okay, before anything, promise you won’t get mad.”
“Y/N.”
“Just say it,” you pleaded. “Say you won’t be mad.”
Harry looked you over once, suspiciously. “Did you buy something stupid?”
“…Not stupid, per se.”
“Did you spend more than two hundred pounds?”
“Emotionally? Yes.”
“Oh God.”
“Okay, okay!” you said, tugging him toward the back door. “Just — trust me. You’re gonna laugh.”
“I’m scared.”
You gave him a winning smile. “You should be.”
⸻
The moment you opened the back garden door, a soft bleat echoed through the air.
Harry froze mid-step.
“…Y/N.”
“Yes?”
“Tell me that was not what I think it was.”
“It might have been a sheep,” you said, gesturing grandly to the garden.
Standing in the middle of the grass, looking extremely pleased with itself, was a white fluffy sheep… wearing Harry’s Sidemen bucket hats.
“Babe.”
You winced. “Okay, yes, I maybe… might’ve… adopted her?”
Harry turned to you slowly. “You bought a sheep.”
“She needed a home!”
“We live in London.”
“She’s an emotional support animal!”
“For who?”
“…Me.”
Harry ran a hand down his face. “How did you even find a sheep to adopt?”
“I went to brunch with Faith, and there was a rescue farm next door, and then— I don’t know! She made a noise and headbutted me gently and looked sad, and next thing I know they’re handing me a folder and a leash.”
“Wait,” he blinked. “There’s a folder? Like legal documentation?”
You nodded eagerly. “Her name is Peaches.”
Harry stared. “You named her Peaches.”
“She came with that name,” you said. “It felt rude to change it.”
Peaches bleated again and waddled toward Harry, the bucket hat she was wearing falling slightly over her eyes. She nuzzled his shin.
Harry looked down at her. Then at you. Then back at the sheep.
You held your breath.
“…She’s kind of cute,” he muttered.
You gasped. “I knew you’d love her!”
“I didn’t say love. I said kind of cute.”
“She’s wearing your hat.”
“She’s ruining my hat.”
“She missed you.”
“She doesn’t even know me!”
You smiled sweetly. “Yet.”
⸻
Later that night, you were curled up on the couch together, legs tangled, a movie playing in the background. Peaches was asleep on a blanket near the patio door, gently snoring. (Yes. She snored. Like an old man.)
Harry was running a hand up and down your back absentmindedly.
“You know,” he murmured, “I always imagined our first pet would be, like… a dog.”
“You said you hated dogs.”
“Yeah, but you like them. So I figured I’d compromise eventually.”
You tilted your head. “Is that what this is? Compromise?”
Harry gave you a crooked smile. “No. This is called: ‘I’m stupidly in love with you and letting you get away with things you absolutely should not.’”
You laughed, resting your chin on his chest. “She’s growing on you.”
“She literally tried to eat my sock.”
“She’s a baby!”
“She’s the size of a small fridge!”
You kissed his jaw. “But you still like her.”
He pretended to groan. “She’s alright, I guess.”
“Say it.”
“No.”
“Say it.”
“I like the sheep, alright?!”
Peaches let out a satisfied bleat in her sleep.
You giggled. “She approves.”
Harry rolled his eyes, then turned your face toward him gently.
“You’re lucky I love you,” he murmured, eyes soft.
“I know,” you said, smiling against his lips. “But now Peaches loves you too. So you’re stuck.”
He kissed you — slow, warm, familiar.
“God help me,” he muttered into your mouth. “We’re gonna end up with a fucking petting zoo.”
