Pairing: Y/N and Harry
Word Count: 10k
Prompt:
"You're supposed to be in the hospital gown, it's why we laid it out for you," Y/N stated, pointing the pen in her hand at the white gown by his feet.
"I'm not wearing that paper shit," Harry grumbled, "and I'm perfectly fine to leave."
"That cut says otherwise," Y/N says.
Harry watches as she sets down the clipboard and turns on the sink to wash her hands, she's cute. She's nothing like the kind Harry would go for. His usual prey would be at the bar, lonely, maybe going through a breakup, but he knew for sure that by the end of the night she would be in his bed. Y/N on the other hand looked like too pure for him, and he hated that look.
From his experience Harry had learned that girls like Y/N believed that they were too good for a guy like him. Girls like Y/N, with an innocent smile, soft skin, and soft voices, tended to only use him for one thing, to make their parents upset. Harry had seen it time and time again, it was only a matter of weeks before the girl would crush his heart and move on to someone better.
"I don't feel anything," Harry stated.
Harry had grown numb to just about everything. He couldn't feel the punches thrown at him, he couldn't feel his emotions, it all just seemed gone to him. He didn't mind though, no emotions meant he couldn't get hurt, and no pain meant he was unstoppable.
or
Boxer Harry Styles highers, incredibly perky Y/N as his on-call nurse.
"I hate the graveyard shift," Y/N stated, slumping into the chair.
The full time medical student had a love/hate relationship for her internship. There was nothing better Y/N could dream of doing, she loved the chance to shadow doctors, getting vitals for them, interact with the patients, but she hated her lack of sleep. Between morning classes, long shifts at the diner (where it seemed that she encountered every single rude costumer possible), and her internship, she couldn't remember the last time she rested for a full eight hours.
Y/N spent most of her time as a medical receptionist in the emergency room. She didn't mind it, she liked hearing the interesting stories and comparing them. Her favorite by far was when a man, no older than forty, came in with a plastic figure lodged into his throat. Y/N just couldn't comprehend how stupid people could be.
"It hasn't been too bad today," Amber, the other receptionist, smiled, "just a guy with a belly ache and is convinced it's his kidney's but obviously it isn't. He googled it and now he's convinced he's going to die."
"Looks like google is going to rid of us of our jobs," Y/N says with a roll of her eyes.
She turns her attention back to her books, biting on her lower lip as she studies for her statistic exam. It was a quiet night, not much seemed to be happening, which was a good thing. Y/N liked the quiet night, it meant less people were in pain and less people were hurting.
"Y/N," Dr. White, one of Y/N's favorites (and it wasn't because he was the youngest of all the doctors and very, very attractive), pointed his pen at Y/N, a smile on his pink lips, "care to take the vitals of the patient in room fourteen?"
Y/N scrunches her nose, "you never ask me to take vitals for you," she stated, "I'm concerned."
"He's being a hard ass, maybe a pretty face will lighten his mood," Dr. White responds.
