Harry Styles One Shots

Break My Own Rules

Tonight has been the most fun you've had in a while. You're sat at a table in Harry's favorite pub, crowded with his close friends. There are some that he keeps in regular contact with, but more that he only gets to see on the off chance that he's home for a while and free from any work.

Harry's been smiling all night, cracking terrible jokes and laughing overzealously at the little quips that anyone else makes. He's had at least one too many. His smile is lazy, an uneven little smirk. His arm is stretched out across the back of your chair and he keeps touching you, brushing his thumb over your far arm, randomly spattering kisses along your cheek or over your bare shoulder. Sometimes he leans on you and you have to shove him off when he becomes a little too heavy, worried about tipping out of your chair. But he only grins at you and then joins back into whatever conversation is happening.

The group has begun to thin out. A few friends have left in pairs, babbling about being tired or having things to do tomorrow. You and Harry assure each of them that there will be more get-togethers before he's off around the world for work again. Harry expresses his love with sloppy words, too buzzed to get up from his chair and hug them. Then there's only Nick left.

"Yeh 'bout ready to g'home, kitten?" Harry's leaned his head on your shoulder again, growing hair falling into his heavy eyes.

"Oi, mate. The guests generally leave before the hosts," Nick reminds him with a laugh from across the table.

"Yeah, yeah." Harry laughs along, cheek vibrating against your skin.

"Just let me pee first." You press a quick kiss to the top of his head before he sits up in his chair, arms falling onto the table.

"All righ'," he agrees with a nod, turning to Nick as you stand up. He mumbles some incoherent joke that has Nick rolling his eyes and laughing despite himself.

You feel just slightly wonky on your feet, stumbling only once as you make your way down the length of the bar. The bathroom is just around the corner and you've almost made it there when you feel a jolting grab of your bum. Gasping, you spin around to find a random, middle-aged man smirking at you from his barstool. You stand frozen for a moment, staring in shock with a slowed brain. Nothing like this has ever really happened to you, and it takes a moment for you to decide to just leave it alone instead of giving him the attention he's seeking.

You whirl back around, hurrying around the corner and into the girls' room. You feel off, skin buzzing with discomfort. But you try to put your unpleasant thoughts from your mind, washing your hands when you've finished peeing and wiping a bit of smeared mascara from the corner of your eye.

A loud thump from outside the bathroom draws your attention and you exit promptly. When you round the corner, your mouth falls open in shock. The creep from before has fallen to the ground and is pushing himself back up to his feet. Harry looms over him, eyes wide and alert, jaw clenched more menacingly than you've ever seen.

Before you've even processed what's happening, the man is standing and swinging at Harry, knocking him in the face. You gasp in horror as your boyfriend stumbles backward into a stunned Nick. His tongue slips out to lick over a newly-busted lip that makes him wince.

Harry lurches forward before being yanked back again. Nick has his arms wound through Harry's, holding him tightly in place. A sound of frustration that's not unlike a growl leaves his mouth.

"Oi! Out, now!" the owner shouts from the other end of the bar. "Not in m'pub!"

"'F yeh even look a' her again!" Harry shouts. His leg comes up, kicking into the man's gut and sending him tumbling back.