Latest Posts by watermelon6ugar - Page 2

I would but I can’t feel my legs

A/N: This is prompt 27 <3 Hope you like it lovely anon! 

The sexual tension had been too much for anyone to stand. You had seen him, because you had texted him we’re at 5 things I like. It was a tradition by then since six years prior when your friend Ellie had turned 18, you had created the biggest bar hop of all times and then you did it every year. People had summed up during the years and so had Harry, just three years ago. 

You had met Harry through Suz. She had met him, at some set where he was shooting something and she was the lighting technician, and she had had this big, almost senseless crush on him for so long until this one day, she didn’t know how to attract his attention anymore- cause for him she was nothing but a friend- and so she had called you because you were fun, she had said, and everybody loved you. You weren’t sure whether that was true- after all, Suz had been your best friend for years- but the truth was Harry and you had immediately hit it off. 

All your girlfriends had joked about it, about how you had stolen Suz’s crush unintentionally and despite the fact that of course you found him attractive- you weren’t blind- since Suz was your best friend, and you knew she was only half joking when she said she would kill you if you ever flirted back, you had kept your distance from him. Granted, you were friends, you were good friends, you would hang out, have pizza at his flat, have a few beers at some pub when he was in town, sometimes with Suz and sometimes alone but you always kept things strictly friendly. 

Suz used to complain about how he barely texted her back and you nodded along, never letting her know he texted you almost every day. Suz was your best friend and you would never do that to her but at the same time, you knew her obsession with him was something physical and it kind of bother you a little that she would see Harry that way, as a piece of meat, when he was so much more than that. She used to say he was plain, boring, the typical guy with the typical guy’s conversation but that was not true, that was not true at all, it was just that she wouldn’t get to know him because she was annoyed that he had rejected her in a sexual way- Suz wasn’t used to rejection- she was beyond gorgeous. And it kind of bothered you, that you had to reject him yourself despite the way you felt- something you couldn’t help however hard you tried- simply because she wanted to be wanted by him. 

So you had texted him that day, because she had encouraged you to do so so she could see him and you felt, and it was bad of you to say it, you felt a little belittled by her because she didn’t even see you as a threat, did she? For she was so much more gorgeous than you and yes, she was your best friend, and yes you knew that- all your other friends would say that Harry must have been gay to say no to Suz for she was a goddess, but it kind of made you feel insecure even though it shouldn’t but…

What am I doing here then? He snapped you a picture of the pub he was with lots of your other friends and it made you smile, that he wouldn’t care about any of that. If you weren’t there, then he was in the wrong pub. You had seen Richard was with him so you had encouraged Suz to change pubs and meet him there instead of making him come and because she wanted to see him that very minute, she had playfully forced you to down your drink in a minute. Enough to have you tipsy that was. 

Harry grinned like a child opening a present when he saw the three of you walking inside. Suz had brought his new friend with benefit, this John guy from Belgium she had been sleeping with and it was your job to keep him entertain as she tried to attract Harry’s attention but as usual, Harry grinned and hugged you tight. 

“Bird!” 

He had started calling you bird after a month of knowing you, because a bird had actually shitted on your head while the two of you were having a cup a coffee. He had cleaned it off your hair but he had laughed for a long time after that and ever since then the nickname had stuck with you. 

“Suz!” He grinned and hugged her as well, shaking John’s hand and introducing himself. He wrapped his arm around your shoulders immediately after and smiled at both Suz and you. “Come on, I want you to meet some people.” 

Suz was walking behind you and you weren’t sure if he had meant you as in you or as you and Suz. You had noticed John’s face dropped and you almost felt bad for him even thought you knew he didn’t really care. Harry introduced the two of you to his band mates and your stomach tightened when he started to say this is Suz and this is my bird because you didn’t want it to happen again. You had lost your best friend when you were sixteen because her boyfriend, who was your best friend as well, had fallen in love with you- or so he said. 

So as soon as you met Harry’s friends, you saw your chance of mingling with them, so Suz could have Harry for herself. You were casually chatting to Sarah when Harry took your drink and placed it on the table, grabbing your hand and taking you to the dance floor. He smiled as he placed your body against his, his hands on the lower part of your back. 

“I knew you’d get along with the band.” He smiled. “I’ve been waiting forever to introduce you guys.” 

“Well you don’t stop touring the world, mister.” You smiled. 

“I know.” He chuckled. “And I’m having the time of my life but I’m so happy to be here now, to see you, you know? I miss you when I’m on the road.”

“Yeah, we all miss you too.”

“I was talking about you.” He pointed at your face. “I mean of course I mean everyone else too but…” He shrugged, smiling sheepishly. “You know.” 

You only nodded, your heart was beating faster than it should and he was getting closer but you turned your head and scaned the crowd to find Suz, looking at you with puppy eyes. You hated that this was probably hurting her and so you started joking with her, telling her she had the best dance partner because she was dancing with John and after joking about it for long enough, Harry got the hint and changed dance partners, grabbing Suz’s hands and giving you a tight smile. After a couple more songs, he made his way to the bar with the rest of your friends were drinking. 

“She’s just not into me, eh?” Harry whispered to Ellie as he glanced at you and Richard dancing like the scandalous idiots you were. 

“Who?” Ellie asked, hoping he would say Suz but knowing he was going to say your name. 

“Y/N.” He said as if it was obvious. “She looks so perfect tonight and I just want to hold her you know? But she’s just like elusive.” 

Ellie knew it all. You had talked to her about it and she always support the fact that you didn’t act on those feelings and kept avoiding him so she and Molly where the two people in charge of keeping the two of you apart when you had had one too many but that was enough, she thought. It had been nearly three years, three fucking years, you had been respectful enough. 

“She likes you too.” Ellie blurted out as she brought her beer to her lips. “It’s just… Suz, you know.” 

“So who’s this John then?” He asked, glaring at the way he was apparently flirting with you. 

Their conversation was cut short as both John and you walked towards the bar, laughing.  

“Well Claire is beautiful, eh?” You wiggled your eyebrows. 

“I guess.” He shrugged. “But so are you.” 

“Well thank you.” You laughed. 

“Good dance?” Harry interrupted, snapping. 

“Yeah.” 

He was jealous. Of course he was jealous and he would probably sound ridiculous if he said it out loud because as much as he wanted you, all the time, there was nothing more than one of the best friendships he had ever known between both of you. You were his best friend, simple as that, but he also thought of you in the mornings when he would wake up with a hard on only to realize he had dreamt about you. Again. 

And his eyes would drop to your mouth whenever you drank from a straw and he would wrap his arms around your waist and pull you close whenever you were dancing and tonight, tonight you looked so beautiful and that jumpsuit of yours, backless and fluffly was driving him crazy so what was that John guy doing telling you you were beautiful? Of course you were beautiful but you were his, not John’s and he had had enough of that so he bought a rose- because there was a woman selling roses on the bar- and he bought one and cut the surplus stem and tucked it on your ear. 

“I shouldn’t have done that.” He whispered in your ear as he placed his hand on your waist, pulling you to him and making sure John saw that. “Because now you look way too beautiful.” 

You were blushing and he was so close so you were sure he was hearing your heartbeat. You swallowed and he smiled against your ear, caressing your bare back with one hand. 

“Sit down with me?” 

He grabbed your hand and you walked towards the table where all his friends were sitting and before you could take a seat yourself, he pulled you on his lap. 

“Just stay close, yeah?” His green eyes looked into yours, moving your hair to the side so he could see your skin. “I’ve missed you.” 

He pressed a chaste kiss to your bare shoulder and you wrap your arm around his shoulders as you sat sideways on his lap. Mitch kept bringing you drinks and you kept drinking because you were happy and Harry was so close. His hand was caressing your thigh and you had tangled your fingers on his hair, making him smile at you before he threw his head back and sighed in appreciation. 

The alcohol running on your blood was making the dim light look kind of hazy and the music sounded louder then so you had to lean on Harry when he talked to you. He’d whisper in your ear as his hands rested on your body, in places a friend wouldn’t really have his hands. 

“I love how you smell.” He whispered and his lips, you weren’t sure whether it was on purpose or because he was intoxicated himself hit your skin. “And this jumpsuit…” He held the fabric on his hand.

“What about it?” You had turned your face so you were facing him then. 

Your faces were so close you could feel his breath hitting your skin. His hand travelled up your thigh. 

“You shouldn’t wear these things around me.” He smirked. 

“You don’t like it?” 

He rolled his eyes before he smiled at you, his eyes dropped to your mouth, once, twice and he leaned in but Suz, Suz, Suz so you turned your head and his lips landed on your cheek instead. You hugged him so he knew, he had to know, and you hide your face on his neck, breathing in his scent. 

“I’m sorry.” You whispered. “I can’t.” 

He just looked into your eyes. He didn’t want to pressured you. He didn’t want you to feel like you had to. If you can’t, or if you didn’t feel like it, then that was that but then Ellie cleared her throat next to you and you looked up at her with a frown. She was smiling. 

“Will you go to the toilet with me?” She smiled. 

You got up from Harry’s lap and laughed as he held your hand playfully, not letting you go for the first few seconds. Ellie gently pulled you to a wall and shook her head at you.

“Go for it.” She said. 

“But-” 

“But it’s been almost three years and he doesn’t like Suz, he doesn’t like her. He’s head over heels for you! And you like him too so how is that fair? The fact that you guys are not together isn’t going to make him like Suz.” 

“But Suz-”

“But Suz will get over him, more so if he’s with you.”

“I thought you-”

“I know what I said but… Listen, Suz sleeps around with other people and she says she’s in love with Sean anyway and then she’s got this thing with Peter and John but…. What about you? You don’t sleep around, do you? You don’t even date because you’re in love with him! So go for it, girl.” 

“I can’t do that to Suz.”

“But you can do that to him?” 

You looked away, at Harry who was scrolling on his phone, and you looked farther away at Suz and Molly who were talking to some guys at the bar. Molly gave you a thumbs up and you rolled your eyes. Suz was in love with Sean. She had said that to you. She was going to visit him in Scotland in the summer and you… What did you have? 

When you got back to your friends, they were all waiting at the door to go to the next club and Harry wrapped his arm around your shoulders as you made your way there. He told you about the cities he had visited and about how much you’d like the people he had met and when you reached the club, you took him to the dance floor as soon as you entered. 

You danced for a few songs and you kept thinking what if it could actually work? What if you could kiss him right then and there? What if he could grab your bum or kiss your neck or take you home and make love to you? What if you could tell him you loved him? 

So you grabbed his hand and placed it on your hip as you pressed your back against his chest. You heard him swallow behind you and you felt your heart beating faster and faster as you hoped he would be okay with that. You deserved it, you deserved him if Suz had Sean and Peter and John, you could have Harry, right? You deserved him so you brought your hand to the side of his neck and brought your face closer to his, pressing a kiss on his cheek as you swayed your hips against his. Left, right, left, right, and his breath was hitting your cheek and his grip on your hips, both hands now, was tighter. 

“Y/N…” He whimpered from behind you so you turned around, you looked into his eyes, his pupils dilated making it hard for you to spot the green on his eyes. 

And then you leaned in and you kissed the corner of his mouth and that was the closest you had ever been to his lips and you pulled away and he followed, he wanted the real thing, he needed the real thing by the way he was pushing his bulge against you but you looked ahead. 

“Can I kiss you?” His voice sent a shiver down your spine.

“I want you to but I don’t want to ruin Suz’s night.”

He pressed kisses on your neck then, because he could do that without it being so obvious and he couldn’t- for the life of him he couldn’t- stay away from you now. 

“Then let’s go, bird.” He kissed your neck again. “Let me kiss you at home.” 

You squeezed his hand before walking to the door, him following suit, his body still so close to yours. You walked to his place, a little more than ten minutes away and because he had seemed calmed as he walked next to you, not really in a rush, it surprised you the way he pushed you against the wall the moment he closed it, his lips landed on yours with hunger and desperation. You gasped against his mouth and kissed him back with the same passion and you didn’t even recognize yourself as you wished for him to cup your breast. All of a sudden that thought, that had never really crossed your mind, seemed so important, so urgent, and you were dying for him to do just that so you kissed him harder, putting all that frustration on that kissed and he moaned against your mouth, sucking your tongue and diving his in that wet cave. 

“God.” He gasped against your mouth. 

He had never been so needy, so desperate for anything in his life and he almost felt guilty for the things he wanted to do to you. He had thought about it so many times, when he had seen you in little clothes, when you had done something he considered sexy, when you moaned as you took of your heels, when he saw you with wet hair after a shower. 

“You’re so perfect.” He rushed between kisses. “And you taste so good.” 

You fought for air as you surprised both of you, grabbing his hand and bringing it to your breast. 

“Fuck.” 

He squeezed the flesh, he cursed and he was afraid his knees might fail him because he had thought about wrapping his mouth around your nipples and so he had thought about you naked and he had never been this hard in his entire life. He hadn’t seen it coming, when you loosened the knot on the back of your neck and the front of your jumpsuit fell. You couldn’t wait either, you wanted him in a way that made you blushed, especially because he had pulled away from you and he was breathing heavily and he was staring down at your bare chest and maybe it had been too much, maybe you had pushed it.

“Holy shit.” He whispered. “You are actually perfect.” 

He didn’t give you enough time to say yes for he was kissing your neck a second after he had said it, his hands cupping your breasts and your waist and you could not wait anymore you could not wait at all and so you pushed your body against his, desperately, almost aggresively as if somebody had said this was the last time you’d be with him. 

“Harry” You whispered against his mouth “take me to your room.” 

He didn’t even lift his head from your neck and took you to his room, always kissing you as you walked backwards. He wasn’t saying much but then again he couldn’t believe it was actually happening, what he had thought about for years, what he had dreamt about for years. He had touched himself thinking about this, he had constantly reminded himself that you were at home for him to keep going and you had always been that lazy love of his, for the only constant thing in his life was the way he felt about you. 

He kept pushing you against all walls on his ways, devouring your lips and your neck and grabbing your flesh, your hips, your waist, your bum… You couldn’t take it anymore and the only thought of him being inside you, stretching your walls that had long been forgotten by yourself- because you were somehow waiting or somehow thinking that maybe, one day, Suz would forget about him and then you could tell him and he would know but the only thought, the only thought of him making you yours, of him entering you, his body connected with yours so you were one in that moment forever silent, something exclusively between you and him…

He lied you on the bed hovering above you and you took off his pants- his shirt had fallen somewhere on the way to his room- and his hard on sprung free, red, wet, swollen and you imagined it must be somewhat painful and your mouth watered- for you had never seen someone so big and so hard and thinking you had done that and that was for you made it watered double so you ran your thumb against his swollen tip as you held it in your hand, hot and hard, and he hissed and clenched his teeth. 

You kissed him so his jaw relaxed as you held him on your hand and you caressed the thin skin on his sex as your tongue was running on his bottom lip. He was a groaning, his hands holding his weight over you on the sides of your body as he let you explore him as he had explored you before and with a slow calm unfitting for the desperation in your belly, you kissed down his neck and chest and you seeped down his bed sheets until you were face to face with his arousal and the heat burnt your skin as you ran your tongue down his silk skin making a throaty groan come out of Harry who was trembling by then, still supporting his weight on his hands. 

He couldn’t take it anymore, the way you smelled, the way you sounded, the way you looked, the way you touched him because it had never felt like this, so intense, so wanted, so desperate and because it was you and he had never been more certain of anything in his entire life so the same moment you sucked his sex in your mouth, as if you were trying to drink all of him, he pulled out with a plop sound and grabbed you by your elbows pushing you against the bed. For a second you were afraid- you had done something wrong and he hadn’t liked it- but it was the suddennes and the desperation in which his mouth ravished yours as he pushed himself inside you that cleared that slight concern away. 

“Fuck, you’re soaked baby.” 

He moaned out loud even though he had barely got the tip in and he waited, for you to say something, for you to stop him, for you to make any signal of pain and he would immediately stop, but instead you placed your hands on his butt and pushed him inside you.

“I’m not wearing a condom.” He whispered. “But you were driving me crazy… That mouth of yours.” 

“I’m on the pill, H. Get inside, please.” You cupped your face and kissed him as he groaned. 

“Just tell me if it hurts yeah?” 

“Yeah.” 

But you wanted it to sting, you wanted him to thrust into you so rough it made your head spinned for a while and you could tell how hard he was trying to control himself, to go slow because of you but you wanted it to burn your swollen lips and so pressing your hands against his bum, you thrusted your hips forward until you felt him on your stomach and he could barely breathe. 

He looked into your eyes and the moment he saw your pupils and how big they were dilated he understood without you having to say and thrusted his hips aggresively against yours so you shut your eyes and frowned as you moaned out loud, arching your back and he wanted to see that again so he pulled all the way out and all the way in again in one swift movement. Your sex grew thicker and thicker the more he thrusted his hips into you and he kept groaning- he wouldn’t last for long, he would embarrassingly come in no time- because you kept moaning and digging your nails on his back and he was fucking you harder than he had never fucked anyone before and it felt so good and so raw and pure, as if he had finally reached that place he had forever been walking towards. 

He fell on top of you, sweating, exhausted, and you wrapped your arms around him and massaged his scalp as he pressed lazy kisses on your neck. You didn’t say a word for as long as you kept trying to calm down your erratic breathings and even though it had only been a few minutes since he had been inside you, you already felt it sore and you weren’t sure if you could even move but your worries stopped the moment he looked into your eyes, with the biggest relieved grin you had ever seen on him and his hair was a mess and his eyes were dreamy and glossy and his lips red and swollen. He chuckled and pecked your lips once right before he stood up from the bed and walked inside the bathroom. You heard the shower running. 

“Are you coming?” He grinned from the bathroom door and you gave him a look as if saying not moving. He laughed. “Okay, would you please shower with me?” 

You smiled. 

“I would but I can’t feel my legs.” 

via

Secret Love Song

Hello, everyone! I’m writing again for the first time in about a year and I am so excited. I’ve been playing with this idea for a while but I finally got the motivation over last few weeks. ( i wonder why ;) ) There’s a bit more to it and I was considering posting a Part Two. So let me know if you want to see that!

“Why can’t I say I’m in love? I wanna shout it from the rooftops.”

It was all happening for him. Having a solo career was something Harry had dreamed of since he was a kid – it was what he had showed up for at the X-Factor audition in the first place. He’d been more than happy to have the opportunity to be a part of the band and to experience everything with boys by his side. But now, for the first time in 7 years, his dream had finally become his reality.

The day had come for his debut album to release, one of the most anticipated days in the industry, and you couldn’t find anything suitable to wear to the release party. Some of your dresses were nice enough but nothing screamed important industry party to you.

You throw yourself down on your bed, burying your face deep into your pillow, figuring maybe you wouldn’t go. Between the music executives, press and fans, Harry would be tied up all night anyway. And the fact that the public still didn’t know about the two of you wouldn’t help much. He’d practically begged you to come though but his insistent invitation had a bit of a damper to it when he gently reminded you, you’d be going as his sister’s date. But even so, he swore up and down that he wanted you there, whether you got to be together or not.

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oh and a request for her watching him get ready in the morning while she's still in bed and he kisses her goodbye before he leaves but it turns into a proper kiss and he pulls away and looks at her before cursing as he undoes his belt and they only take of the necessary clothing because he's going to be late but he needs her now

Sometimes you wake up before his alarm. It’s still very early, so everything is still very quiet and the light is very dim, and Harry is still enjoying his last precious moments of sleep. You raise up on your elbow and watch him breathe, watch his eyelids flutter as he dreams, and you can never resist pressing little kisses to his shoulder and his cheek and his arm, tracing the length of his spine with your fingertips.

When he wakes up and finds you already awake, he always gives you a sleepy smile and pulls you close, whispering into your hair that you make it harder for him to get out of bed. Sometimes you walk your fingers carefully down his belly, tracing the line of coarse little hairs that lead into his low slung boxers, and tell him that you can make it a little harder for him, if that’s what he wants. Other times, you just giggle and push on his shoulder and tell him to stop being such a bum.

This is one of those times; prying his fingers from around your waist and rolling out of his arms, telling him to go shower before he’s late.

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shy

being mr. azoff's assistant was y/n's dream job, it was just a bummer that his most beloved client seemed to hate her.

wordcount: 13.5k+

—————

"Did you want anything, Harry? (Y/N)'s about to make a coffee run." 

Although she'd never admit it, (Y/N) held her breath as she fiddled her fingers behind her back, awaiting any response. She already had a good idea of what he would say when he bothered to give an answer, but she still had a tiny hope he'd prove her wrong. 

"No, 'm alright." 

He didn't even raise his head from where it was buried in his phone. Mr. Azoff gave (Y/N) that same polite smile he always did whenever Mr. Styles rejected her services, like he wasn't sure why Mr. Styles wasn't more accepting but it wasn't his place to ask or change the habit. Mr. Azoff treated her right and that was what she tried to focus on, not that the fact his best friend and someone she could consider to be a creative idol, couldn't seem to even give her a moment of his time. 

"Okay, I'll be back in a minute, Mr. Azoff," (Y/N) chirped pleasantly, well versed in how to brush off being brushed off. 

(Y/N) was grateful for the fact her boss's preferred shop was only a few blocks away from his office, giving her the chance to clear her head with fresh (or as fresh as it could be here in L.A.) air instead of stuffing herself into her car. 

Mr. Styles was always like this. Why it still bothered her when he brushed her off or ignored any of her offers of help, she wasn't sure, but it did. That world famous kindness that circulated within the industry as well as what was flung around Twitter had been what she was expecting when she finally made it through the vetting process to be hired as Jeff Azoff's assistant, knowing full well who one of his biggest clients was. She had been realistic, knowing that Harry Styles wasn't going to be her best friend, fawning over her at all times, or suddenly fall in love—this wasn't like those stories she remembers reading when she was young—but she had figured he would give her more than a passing glance the first time she met him. 

Since that first day where he offered a single sentence introduction, she'd been waiting in vain for anything more to happen. More often than not, his conversation would stop when she entered the room or go quiet enough to let her know she wasn't to be included. He gave her plain smiles, not even the hint of a dimple, when he bothered to acknowledge her presence, usually when he would skirt around her to leave the room she'd just entered. She never got a chance to experience firsthand the humor everyone praised, the kindness he all but trademarked as a middle name, or the gentle vulnerability he gave to those who needed it. He could barely even meet her eyes, his gaze moving to his phone or where he plucked at his sleeves or painted nails. 

To be fair, she was still fairly new at the job, only about six months in to her position, so there was a good chance he still needed some warming up after being so used to Mr. Azoff's last assistant that had been employed for years before relocating and leaving the position. Mr. Styles was also known to be shy, something a few others had disclosed to her when they noticed she didn't have much to add whenever he was brought up. Maybe he needed a little more time, and that was something she was more than willing to give, along with the space it seemed he needed.

At least until his European tour started. Then, he would have to at least get used to her presence, seeing as they were to be sanctioned to matching flights, hotels, and backstage areas for the better part of the next three months. She wouldn't be able to give him much space then. Hopefully he wouldn't hate her more after those ninety days together. 

As much as the walk to the cafe and the extra Matcha latte she treated herself with, cleared her head and had her back on her feet after being blown back by the nonchalance paid to her entire existence by someone she felt singled out by, the effect could only last for so long when she entered the office. 

Before pushing the door open, she could hear the voices inside happily chattering away. Mr. Styles' cackling laugh that she was sure had his eyes creasing closed with his head thrown back was the most prevalent noise, something she usually only caught the tail end. As she expected, the second she gave a gentle rapping of her knuckles against the door just before pushing it open, all sound stopped, even Mr. Azoff's chattering trailing off once he realized Mr. Styles was done interacting for the moment. 

"Here you go," she chirped, passing along the coffee to her boss with an unbothered smile that was much stronger than she felt, "Is there anything else I can do for you?" 

"No, no," he shook his head, "Not until this afternoon. Go and enjoy your lunch, (Y/N)." 

She gave a quiet nod of her head, chancing a single look in Mr. Styles' direction. He had his gaze fixed on his hands. A flush clung to his skin, surely a lingering effect of the laughter she had interrupted. 

"Okay, let me know if that changes," she offered with a short smile before turning on her heel.

Just as she left the room, closing the door behind her, she heard Mr. Azoff heave a muffled sigh on the other side. 

"Harry..." 

"Jeff, please. She jus'—" 

(Y/N) left before she could hear much more. She didn't need to know what Mr. Styles thought about her. 

—————

Despite the buzz filling the terminal, (Y/N) almost couldn't believe the way not a single person had noted Mr. Styles' presence. Not even a single muttering or whisper of his name could be heard in the busy place. 

He sat in peace, a grey hoodie with the strings tied covered his torso, hood up over a pink beanie that concealed his curls. He sat with his legs spread wide, taking up space with his black sweats folded over his legs. Scrolling through his phone, he was in his own world with his chin propped up in his hand, cheek smushed against his ring-bare fingers. He only looked up when boarding was called. 

(Y/N) followed quietly behind the trio of Mr. Styles, her boss, and Mr. Lambert, the tour's stylist. She could hear the tittering and quiet conversation in front of her while other members of production and the team trailed behind her. Without Mr. Azoff's wife joining them just yet for this tour, she didn't have many close friends within this group for the time being. 

It was all a blur, finding her seat on the plane and placing her carryon above. She was the first in her row, huddling close to the window seat. She knew Mr. Azoff was going to join her as soon as he finished doing whatever it was he and the Harry's were doing, so at least she wasn't going to be completely alone. 

Biding her time until take off while the rest of the plane filled up, (Y/N) distracted herself with answering emails on Mr. Azoff's behalf. She verified hotel arrangements, replied to all the correspondence that went along with Mrs. Azoff joining them later in the week, and anything else that needed her attention before takeoff. 

Huddled into her corner of the row, the early call time for the flight began to catch up with her. The emails in front of her couldn't hold her attention against the tiny pillow she had managed to sneak into the backpack she shoved under her seat, the plush sandwiched between her cheek and the sidewall of the plane. The sound of shuffling feet as the rest of the flight filled up was like white noise to her cloud-puffed brain. 

(Y/N) couldn't help herself before she was fluttering her eyes closed. Surely, Mr. Azoff would wake her before takeoff if she really passed out. 

She wasn't sure how long she sat, resting her eyes with her limbs floating in the in-between realm before much of the shuffling ceased and the heft of someone settling in beside her sounded in the empty space. She didn't bother blinking her eyes open, even when she heard chattering beside her. Mr. Azoff was one of the voices, followed by someone who sounded a little too close to her for his comfort. 

"Jeffery..." Mr. Styles sighed. 

"Stop acting like a child, H," her boss scolded, voice stern though he was quiet, "She's asleep, I'm not going to make you talk to her." 

(Y/N) was grateful for the way she had her cheeks mushed between her shoulder and her fluffed pillow. Maybe if she covered them, her seat mates wouldn't be able to feel the embarrassed heat gathering under her skin. 

Mr. Styles was sitting right next to her, she realized when she heard the heavy intake of a breath leave his lungs. She wasn't sure how she'd do it, but it looked like she was going to have to pretend to be asleep all the way to the hotel. Maybe, she could convince everyone she was a very well-organized and direction-following sleepwalker if she was careful. 

That thought didn't last long, (Y/N) having to break her facade at the sound of Mr. Azoff's voice calling to her.

"(Y/N)," he started, speaking around Mr. Styles. He repeated her name a couple of more times, prompting her to mime opening her eyes as if she'd been dead asleep only moments prior before he continued, "We're about to take off." 

"Oh," she smiled, the curve tight, "Thank you." 

If not for the fact she was sure she would die if they knew she had overheard the way Mr. Styles couldn't stand to even sit next to her, she would have hesitated more before she crossed her gaze to the man beside her. His eyes were already on her when she looked at him, expression tight as he seemingly forced a smile in her direction. His back was stiff against the seat, hands twisted in his lap with flaking nail polish. His gaze didn't linger on her for very long before he looked away, just in time for the safety spiel from the steward team.  

Following suit, she followed through the motions of checking her seatbelt, absently locating the exits, and curling into her seat by the time they were cleared for takeoff. She didn't like this part, but it was enough to huddle herself against the back of her seat and brace herself with her hands clenched into the armrest to her right side. 

She sat with her eyes closed, nails digging into the leather of the armrest as she felt the motion beneath her feet, the runway disappearing underneath them until the turbulence of takeoff shook the body of the plane. (Y/N) breathed her way through it, hunkering down into the slouchy fit of her hoodie. 

It wasn't until the turbulence evened out, steady windfall starting in the dark of the early morning, that she felt eyes on her. Without really thinking, she blinked her eyes open only to find Mr. Styles looking to her with something softer painted over his features. 

He didn't immediately flit away when her eyes met his, allowing himself to touch over her features with the warmth of his gaze. His tanned skin still held a buttery warmth even under the draining overhead lights of the cabin, stubble covering the bottom half of his face she'd never seen him grow out until recently. His eye contact was famous around the world, unrelenting though welcoming as it gave her a chance to see the flecks and streaks through the moss of his irises. (Y/N) floundered under his attention, unsure of what to do with something she doesn't think she's ever had before. 

"Um—Did—Or, do you want m-my pillow?" she asked, blindly reaching for the little plush fit between her body and the sidewall. 

At the sound of her voice, Mr. Styles seemed to realize what exactly he was doing and who he was glazing over with his eyes. He shook his head then, curls peeking out from underneath his beanie. 

"No, thank you," he mumbled, reaching into his hoodie pocket to pull out a pair of headphones. 

That was all his attention that she was granted until his headphones were plugged into his ears and she was alone again in her row. 

—————

"And finally, on drums, Sarah Jones!" 

(Y/N) was blown away as the area erupted into cheers she was sure could rival the screams that sounded when Mr. Styles first appeared on stage. She watched on from the mouth of the backstage area, her boss at her side with a drink in hand, as Mr. Styles reveled in the screaming and yelling, a bright dimpled smile on his face. If not for the fact she was technically there in a professional sense and this was only the second show she'd had the privilege of watching, she would have joined in and screamed and cheered for the band that was being introduced. (After getting a chance to meet every moving part of his touring band as well as watching them perform, she very much so understood the enthusiasm offered to these characters).

It was when Mr. Styles joined in on the fanfare, pumping his fist and making a noise that sounded like he was barking along with the crowd that she couldn't hold back her laughter. The layered fringe hanging from his jacket glittered in the light, matching the sheen of sweat that covered his shirtless body. He threw his head back with a bright laugh she almost wished he had the microphone held to his mouth for, just so she could hear what his joy sounded like. 

Even just this moment alone was something she was sure she was always going to remember, no matter how many times she was going to witness this over and over. Never had she been to a concert that held the same energy as these arenas—and eventually stadiums—she'd visited. She couldn't blame a single person in this room for everything they did to get to this place, every moment of planning, saving, celebrating, and crying. She understood. 

Mr. Styles was meant to perform. Even with his brief breaks he spent on movie sets, it was clear why he came back to this space with these people that followed him like honeybees and gave so much love and kindness to him. 

She watched as he finished his introductions of the band, launching into another song that had the whole arena moving and dancing. Even without the help of the spotlight and the cameras following his every move, she was sure she wouldn't be able to keep her eyes from him; he commanded the space, with every intention of taking that attention and thriving under it. 

Despite the relationship—or lack there of—off stage, (Y/N) couldn't wait to see this almost every night for however many months she had the privilege of standing stage side.

—————

"Call me if you need anything!" 

Mr. Azoff shook off (Y/N)'s offer as she started off in the direction of the green room being used as the catering space for the day. A busy morning had ensued, leaving (Y/N) running around trying to find any trace of an adequate wifi connection in the middle of the venue just so she could answer emails and show up to video meetings she was attending on Mr. Azoff's behalf. It wouldn't have been so bad if not for the time differences given the fact she was on a completely different continent than any business she was working with. The stress of it all had her beat before the morning had even touched into the double digits for the day, still with another handful of hours worth of work to get through. 

Finally—finally—she had typed away at every email, fielded every phone call, and spaced out the following day's agenda given the lack of a performance crowding Mr. Azoff's schedule. Now, she could sit down and eat before shuttling back to the hotel for a nap—as long as she wasn't needed for anything else, of course.

The catering space wasn't as busy as she sure it had been an hour prior, only a few others lingering about. One of the few happened to be Mr. Styles. 

A clip was holding his curls back, a plain t-shirt with a pair of basketball shorts covering his legs revealed he had just finished with a workout before he would shower off and get to his soundcheck. He had his phone in hand as he forked food into his mouth, that intense look on his face that she always seemed to catch on him. His brows were knitted heavily in the middle, shrouding the bright green of his eyes in the shadow of his brow with his jaw tight as he chewed down whatever he had picked over from the table. 

(Y/N) flitted her eyes to the rest of the crew littering the space before she was caught by Mr. Styles who seemed to always somehow know when someone had spotted him, even with nothing more than a phone camera. The little whiteboard catering hung above the food table was filled out with the day's menu. The prettily curved words brought a bright smile to (Y/N)'s face when she spotted the forth item down the list. 

The catering team's arancini was easily one of (Y/N)'s favorite things she's ever eaten, on this tour or otherwise. She didn't care that it wasn't more than some risotto rice left over from the night before's dinner, repurposed as to minimize waste and turned into a crunchy, cheesy ball with the perfect acidic marinara served alongside it. If she could, she would live off those little pieces by themselves. Hopefully, there were at least a few left for her to devour, even if they were a little cold at this point. 

Readying her plate with a small serving of Caesar salad and the lemon baked salmon (Mr. Styles' favorite and top request from what she'd heard), (Y/N) worked down the line until she reached the covered basin that held the arancini she easily dreamt of at least five times since the first bite. Lifting the lid, the fresh scent of bright tomatoes and fragrant oregano filled her senses, the bite of the smell hitting her harder with her empty stomach. 

Nothing hit quite as hard on her expectant tummy than the fact she realized only a second too late that there wasn't a single rice ball left in the warmer. A thin layer of remaining sauce was laid along the bottom, but nothing was dropped beside the mushed tomatoes. 

Maybe she was being a little dramatic, but (Y/N) felt her shoulders drop at the sight of the empty container. To be fair, she was almost two hours late to serving time, so she couldn't be that surprised that there wasn't any left to spare. Surely, she wasn't the only one obsessed with the parmesan coating on the outside of the sticky rice. She couldn't blame anyone for jumping on the opportunity to take as many as they could while they were there. 

(Y/N) replaced the lid, taking her half filled plate to one of the small tables set up in the room. The day began to catch up with her as she sat down. Her morning had been hectic enough to suck the energy out of her bones, now combined with the disappointment of how high she put herself at the mention of her favorite food before finding it all gone. She slumped into her chair, taking out her phone and finally looking at something that wasn't work-related for the first time that day. 

Every bite she scooped into her mouth was monotonous as she slipped a pair of earbuds in before screening the missed messages she'd had to ignore for the morning. Music was filtering through her headphones, the perfect distraction to her brain that felt entirely too empty now that she wasn't running at top speed like she had been the second she'd woke up. If not for the texture of each bite she took, she wouldn't know exactly what she was eating with the way she couldn't use even muster the minuscule amount of energy it would take to glance at her fork.  

With her eyes glued to her phone as a video now played out on screen, (Y/N) didn't have enough room in her head to keep track of the rest of the room. As much as she prides herself on being a good assistant, especially being so new to this position, she doesn't think she would notice if Mr. Azoff walked in and screamed out her name while banging pots and pans. 

That was exactly the reason she didn't notice Mr. Styles approaching her table either. 

It wasn't until she noticed a plate being slid onto the table beside her, a hand complete with a tattooed cross and green glittery nails keeping a hold of the lip until she managed to pull an earbud out. Looking up, Mr. Styles still had that tight look on his face, his free hand fidgeting at his side like he was itching to get out of there. 

"Yes?" she chirped, assuming he was finally taking her up on her offers to help him as well when she assisted Mr. Azoff. 

Watching as Mr. Styles dropped his gaze from hers, (Y/N) had to keep from tipping her head at him. That wasn't like him at all, unable to keep eye contact. From what she knew, that was something he insisted on. She hoped he was okay. 

"Um—'M full, but I thought I'd ask if y'wanted any before I threw these away," he said, his voice floating under his breath. 

It was then that (Y/N) finally noted what was on his plate, finding a duo of the arancini balls she had been mourning only moments earlier. The same fragrant, acidic sauce laid underneath it along with shreds of parmesan cheese sprinkled atop, the same way she would have plated it. She had to keep herself from drooling at the sight. 

"A-Are you sure?" 

A beat passed, the green of Mr. Styles' gaze finally meeting hers again. "I thought these were your favorite." 

(Y/N) had to stop herself from letting a pinch touch at her brows. "I mean, yeah, they are, b—" 

"Then, 'm sure." 

The deep vibrato of his voice was more soothing than any note of music she played could ever hope to be, the same voice she'd had the privilege of listening to every night while on the road on the loudspeakers. Despite the giving nature of his tone, underlying softness floating alongside, she knew there wasn't much room to argue. Besides, (Y/N) didn't think she had the strength to say no to his offer with that plate in front of her. 

"Thank you, Mr. Styles," she smiled, reaching for the plate as he retracted his grip. 

A chaste smile curved his lips, the tip of his nose seemingly blushing red before he gave her a quiet nod of his head. He didn't say anything else before he walked away, leaving her to constitute her two plates of food into one with that warmth in her stomach that could have energized her enough to work another hectic morning. Her only complaint was that she wished he would have sat down with her. She'd even give up his offer of the arancini if that meant he'd sit down beside her and finish his meal. 

She didn't see him again until he was leaving the greenroom with a granola bar in hand, one bite already taken out. She had thought he said he was full. 

It was with that thought that, shortly after, (Y/N) realized she had never told Mr. Styles what her favorite food was. 

—————

"Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday, dear (Y/N), happy birthday to you!" 

(Y/N)'s skin felt warm with all eyes on her, a sheet cake in front of her with frosting flowers and twinkling candles stuck through. She didn't know what to do with everyone's eyes on her, twisting in her spot with a shy smile on her lips as the song came to a close. Fluttering her eyes to a close, she blew out the candles while everyone cheered. A wish absently flittered through her head, hoping for happiness to come to everyone in this room with her as they deserved so much after surprising her with a birthday celebration in the middle of an international tour. 

"Thank you all, so much," (Y/N) muttered once the room grew quiet, her fingers knotted into a sheepish pile as she swept her gaze across the gathered crowd, "I didn't even realize anyone knew it was my birthday, this really means a lot. Thank you." 

All of her new friends, crew and production members for the tour that she had grown close with over the last few weeks, all gave her mixed mutterings of more birthday wishes, that of course they remembered, and they were all more than happy to be a part of this with her. After the show tonight, they all promised to take her out to one of the clubs in town to help her celebrate before they would be off for the next city the following day. Cutting the cake came next, the grouping of crew began to break off as conversations rose in volume in the green room, leaving (Y/N) to soak in the atmosphere as the creamy icing spread over her tongue at first bite. 

She truthfully had no idea anyone had been aware of her birthday, let alone have the time to put something like this together. Sure, it wasn't a huge celebration, but the fact a cake had been secured, complete with personalized frosting spelling out her name while on the road, was enough to have her heart hurting from how full it was. Even Mr. Styles had made it, huddling himself in one of the small corners with his arms folded across his chest as he sang along to the birthday song. She was pretty sure he had even been a few minutes late to a fitting for the next slew of tour outfits just so he could be apart of something like this for her. 

"Happy birthday, (Y/N)," Mr. Azoff said, coming up behind her with his wife only a few paces behind, both with a plate of cake in hands. 

(Y/N)'s features softened immediately as she took him in. "Thank you so much, Mr. Azoff," she started, still disregarding every invitation for her to call him by his first name, "You didn't need to put anything like this together at all. Really, thank you so much." 

He would be the only one that might recall her birthday, she figured, coming from her hire paperwork. Besides, they spent enough time together she may have accidentally let it slip out while talking. Mr. Azoff would definitely be the kind of boss that would do something like this for her. 

Instead of the humble way he swept away her gratitude she had been expecting, her boss let out a bubbling peal of laughter. Mrs. Azoff matched (Y/N)'s confused expression, knitted brows and all as they looked at him. 

"I didn't put this together," he clarified, shaking his head before spearing another bite of cake, "I've been so busy I can't even remember what year it is, let alone the day." 

"Oh," (Y/N) sounded, face dropping. "Do you know who it was then? I just want to thank them properly." 

A shared look happened between the Azoffs, the missus' blonde brows raising in her husband's direction as if she was wondering the same thing. Mr. Azoff gave her a pointed look, flicking his gaze to (Y/N) for only a moment before he raised a brow. Realization seemed to spring across Mrs. Azoff's face, the kind (Y/N) was hoping she could share in. 

"Tell her," Mrs. Azoff mumbled, quiet enough (Y/N) knew she wasn't necessarily meant to hear the command. She watched as Mr. Azoff floundered, his lips pressing into a thin line with wide eyes as if he were pleading with her without words. "Jeffery, I think it would be nice for her to know. He's not going to mind." 

Her reasoning seemed to loosen him up some, only enough to have his gaze returning to (Y/N)'s with a small pivot. "Sorry," he told her, excusing the last few moments with a chaste smile on his lips, "Um—It was Harry. He was the one who remembered and put this all together." 

(Y/N) had to keep her jaw from dropping at the new information. Her fork was limp in her hand. "Really?" 

"Mhm," Mrs. Azoff chirped, "He was the one who came to us, telling us he had everything all planned out, we just needed to be here to surprise you. He did a good job, didn't he?" 

The picture of Mr. Styles standing so nonchalant in the corner of the room, singing quietly to the birthday song while she stood in front of the warm glow of the sparkling candles took on a new tint. This had been all of his idea, even the light pink and warm green frosting spelling out her name with petite flowers on the sheet cake had been his idea. The cake itself was even her favorite flavor, something she was doubting was a coincidence. 

"Really?" she asked, the question feeling dumb on her tongue but she couldn't help but ask. 

"It's all he's been talking about his last couple of days off. He wanted to make sure everyone knew and would be able to come celebrate with you." 

Mrs. Azoff's warm smile along with her boss's quiet curl to his lips was all the confirmation (Y/N) needed to know they were being completely serious. They were acting as if they were sharing a secret with her despite the room full of people that were in on it before she was. 

"Th-That's really nice of him," she settled on, unsure if there were any real words that could convey just how much the idea of Mr. Styles planning this little surprise made her heart ache. "I'm going to have to tell him thank you when he has a minute." 

"I think he'd really like that," Mr. Azoff told her, voice quiet as if he were sharing a tiny secret. 

With the way Mrs. Azoff looked at hm after he spoke, (Y/N) wondered if there really was another secret she wasn't privy to.

—————

Screaming cheers filled the SUV the second the door flung open, Mr. Styles piling inside with a towel hung over his shoulder and a bright smile gracing his features. His energy was vibrating off of him in waves, intoxicating the small space of the car as they pulled out of the venue as the curtains closed behind them. (Y/N) never really got to see him this closely after a show, tonight being an occasion that Mr. Azoff and she were to head back to the hotel with him right away in prep for the late night meetings needed before any of them were to be dismissed to bed (Mr. Styles' next album was coming up closer and closer, and labels needed answers if he wanted the vinyl pressings to be done in time). 

Tonight, (Y/N) was packed into the backseat of the SUV with Mr. Styles, feeling that bright energy he harnessed on stage settling in like another person sitting between them. He used the towel offered to him by security to wipe off his glistening face, sweat soaking the fabric though he didn't stop smiling. 

"Jeff, Jeff," Mr. Styles started, pulling on the neckline of his blueberry embellished top, drawing the fabric away from his skin, "Did you see that back there?" 

She watched as her boss let out a small laugh, turning around where he sat in the front passenger seat to face his client. "See what, H?" 

The smile that broke out on Mr. Styles' face somehow grew bigger. His breathing was still coming in pants, something (Y/N) wasn't sure was coming from his excitement or the lingering exertion from his stage time. "That girl, she was dressed like a clam and her head was the pearl! I think she had a sign too, but I couldn't see it because every time I looked, she was dancing and I couldn't stop laughing." 

"Oh, that's why you could barely finish singing Sushi?" Mr. Azoff pressed, matching Mr. Styles excitement with his own bubbling smile. A small glance was flicked in (Y/N)'s direction, as if she were telling her to get a load of this guy. 

"It was so funny, Jeffery," Mr. Styles insisted, the purple leather of his pants squeaking against the seats with the way he couldn't manage to sit still, "It was like there was a bobblehead out there, but with these little legs." Just when Mr. Azoff went to answer, Mr. Styles completely changed with his jaw dropping before he turned to (Y/N) with another layer of excitement brewing in the car. "Wait, (Y/N)! Did you see that girl dressed like a fairy? She was standing with the angel and the sushi roll!" 

(Y/N) tried to school her features, keep the surprise off her face at the fact Mr. Styles was acknowledging her—and with a smile too! Attempting to focus on the question at hand, she racked her brain for whoever it was that he was referencing. "Maybe. Were they standing in pit?" she asked, settling into the leather of her seat with Mr. Azoff watching on with a less than neutral expression giving away his own shock. 

"Yes, yes," Mr. Styles chattered off, "Towards the exit catwalk! She had on big sparkly wings, and everything!" 

"Oh, yeah," (Y/N) perked up, giving him a matching grin, "That was the same costume—" 

"—you wore for Halloween!" Mr. Styles cut her off to finish her own sentence, bouncing in his seat in time with the rhythm of the pavement underneath the wheels of the car. "That's why I noticed her! Y'had the same wings, and the dress, and everything, right?" 

This time (Y/N) wasn't as smooth to recover at his words. She had been the only one to dress as such for the holiday, and she hadn't thought Mr. Styles had seen her at all in his own rush to be dressed in his own costume and prepping the extra song he was to cover for the occasion. It could have only been twice where she thought he might have seen her, especially as more than a blur that had to run past while doing whatever errands Mr. Azoff needed. 

"Y-Yeah," she bubbled off, pretending she didn't stutter in hopes that no one else would notice, "that was my Halloween costume. I didn't realize you noticed." 

The curls that flopped over Mr. Styles' forehead added to the boyish sparkle in his eyes as he looked at her, dimples denting his cheeks. "Your's was m'favorite costume." 

It was only a second later that Mr. Styles was distracted once more in his adrenaline-fueled post-concert excitement, drawing Mr. Azoff into another bubbling conversation about a moment that happened on stage. (Y/N) was left to settle into her spot, seatbelt tight around her chest as her heart struggled to beat out of its cage. 

If he wasn't careful, (Y/N) was going to start thinking he didn't hate her. 

—————

(Y/N) sidestepped out of the doorway, allowing Mr. Styles to brush past her in his rush to exit the room she'd just entered. He didn't bother to even make eye contact with her or shoot her an awkward smile she'd become accustomed to. All she caught of him was his strained expression as she bounced into the room, feeling much more awake this morning after the bubbling excitement she felt while riding back to the hotel with Mr. Styles being so happy to talk with her. 

That excitement drained as soon as she saw the way he all but flinched at her presence now that the after show adrenaline had worn off. Mr. Azoff seemed just as surprised at the blatant switch as he watched Mr. Styles run off. 

"Uh—Good morning, Mr. Azoff," (Y/N) attempted to chirp out.

She could see the way he floundered for words, his eyes flicking between her and Mr. Styles' retreating figure she was forcing herself to keep from glancing at. "(Y/N), I—" 

"It's okay, it's okay," she waved him off, doing her best to convince herself with her own excuse, "He's probably still tired from last night, it's okay." 

The look on Mr. Azoff's face told her he knew something she didn't. (Y/N) figured it was a secret she didn't want to know. 

—————

This had to be the first time (Y/N) had ever seen Mr. Azoff so stressed, especially after setting out on this tour with his favorite client. His hair was a mess with the usual day's worth of stubble on his face now growing into almost a full beard with the way the last few days have come stumbling around him. Near constantly did he have a phone pressed to his ear, preferring to take all of these phone calls as opposed to allowing (Y/N) to take care of them like he had so far in this route. 

"We don't know if he's going to be able to make it on this Friday," she heard Mr. Azoff sigh into the receiver, dragging a heavy hand through his hair. Mrs. Azoff looked just as glum as she listened into the conversation from the small couch that was set up in the living space of their hotel room. "I know—we're trying. He's barely been able to get out of bed since he got off stage last night, we haven't started on the road at all." 

(Y/N) felt concern spike in her chest at the mention of Mr. Styles' state. She knew he wasn't doing so well after last night, especially with how hard he had to start straining himself towards the end of the show just to hit notes she knew would otherwise be easy for him. What she hadn't known was the fact he didn't have the strength to even get out of bed. She'd hate for him to have caught the same flu that one of the crew members had suffered through just a couple of weeks earlier. 

"We don't want to cancel or reschedule anything, yet, no," Mr. Azoff rushed out, sinking into the couch cushion beside his equally as exhausted wife, "We have a few days still, so we'll see if he feels any better by Thursday. If not, I'll call you with options." 

It was only moments later that Mr. Azoff hung up the call, looking just as exhausted as he started the call. Seeing as how it was Tuesday, and Mr. Styles had only a few days left to be feeling better in time to even travel for his next show, she could understand his stress. 

Before (Y/N) could even offer her services, Mr. Azoff said her name with a lingering exhaustion. "Could you call one of those liquid IV offices, please? And get his doctor on a call; if he needs antibiotics, I want them picked up by the end of the day." 

Very few times did Mr. Azoff feel like a boss, always talking to her in gentler tones with requests rather than demands. Not that he was flexing any superiority and unforgiving directions even now, but she knew this was something he needed done thirty minutes ago, but was still willing to accept it being done now. 

That was all she needed to hear before she had her phone pressed to her ear. Even if Mr. Styles didn't care for her as much as she may have thought a week ago, she wanted him better just as much as Mr. Azoff did, and not just because of the touring schedule. 

—————

How (Y/N) happened to be the only one within the central crew to have been vaccinated for the flu this season, she didn't know, but she didn't mind the added responsibility tied with the booster. Armed with a takeaway container of hot soup, a liter bottle of water, and another round of medication for Mr. Styles, Mr. Azoff sent her off to his hotel room. 

Mr. Styles had all but been quarantined since he started exhibiting those early flu symptoms, a medical team having been the ones tending to him the previous couple of days as he apparently worsened into running a fever and getting sick to his stomach. It was into the late hours of the evening that Mr. Azoff finally shooed them off (at his client's request, supposedly. Mr. Styles felt bad to have so many people fussing over him, he had said), and thanked them for everything they did for his client. They were left with the tools and a regiment on the best and fastest way to get Mr. Styles healthy again. She remembered watching Mr. Azoff read over the extensive list left in his care, a humorless laugh leaving his lips and he muttered something about the miracle of this week being one of the longer breaks he had scheduled between shows. 

As the crew couldn't afford anyone else getting as sick as Mr. Styles was, (Y/N) was chosen to be the first one to tend to him given the fact she would be the least likely to catch whatever virus he had—and even if she did, they could afford to have her on bed rest for a few days. Mr. Azoff had passed along the printed schedule of his medication times and what foods and fluids would be best to get his system back on track in the remaining forty-eight hours left until a decision would have to be made on whether or not the next show was in jeopardy, and she was on her way. 

An apology was ready on her tongue for the second she breached the sanctuary of his hotel room, knowing that she was most likely one of the last people he wanted to see at a time like this. That was the hardest part, she figured. She wasn't afraid of falling ill or seeing him sick, it was knowing just how unwelcome she was going to be in his space, especially since he wouldn't be able to flitter away from her like she knew he was used to. But, that fear was going to have to be shoved into a box in the back of her mind. Mr. Styles wasn't feeling well and needed someone to help him, and that was what she was going to focus on. 

After a quiet rap of her knuckles against his hotel room door went expectedly unanswered, (Y/N) pulled for the keycard Mr. Azoff had slipped into the bag of essentials he'd passed off to her. As soon as the handle clicked with a green light blinking, she twisted the knob carefully. A quiet creak whined from the hinges as she entered the dark room. 

Mr. Styles' messy bed was empty, the only light coming from the dimly set bedside lamp revealing the creases and folds in the bedding she was sure housekeeping hadn't had a chance to come by and change since he'd been holed up in the space. His luggage was left neatly beside the closet, only a pair of brightly colored socks laid atop the case letting her know it had been touched in the last few days. If not for the fact she knew there was no where else for him to have gone without someone on his team being notified, (Y/N) would have assumed his hotel room to be deserted by the way the air felt stale as she stepped in. 

"Mr. Styles? It's (Y/N). I know you probably don't wan—" 

Before she could finish her apology for stepping into his space, a gagging noise from the bathroom gave away his position. That was when she noticed the sliver of light leaking from underneath the closed door. 

Rolling her lips between her teeth with concern knitting her brows together, (Y/N) abandoned her doctor assembled and boss ordered care package on the bedside table. It was with shaking hands that she gently knocked on the bathroom door. 

A groan answered a beat later. "Jeff, I promise 'm going to be alright in a couple of days," Mr. Styles grumbled out, voice deep and sour, "Don't cancel anything, please." 

Releasing the hold her teeth had on her bottom lip, (Y/N) sucked in a deep breath. "Actually, it's (Y/N)." 

"W-What are y'doing here?" was his stuttered response, raw voice leveling out in volume. 

Not quite as biting as she may have expected in a moment like this, but (Y/N) had figured he would ask something of this type. "I'm the only one that's had my flu shot, so Mr. Azoff wanted me to come check on you. Is it alright if I come in?" 

"Please, don't." That was the clipped response she had been anticipating, but (Y/N) thought his tone dipped into something more embarrassed than angry. 

"Mr. Styles, I have water and food, and the medication you'r—" 

Before she could get much further with her explanation, she was cut off by the sound of a guttural noise on the other side of the door. Mr. Styles gagged alone in the bathroom, his panting breaths being cut off only to be replaced with the sound of him getting sick. 

As much as (Y/N) wanted to respect his privacy and foster a kinder relationship between the pair of them, there was no way she was going to be able to sit idly by knowing that she could help him when he so clearly needed some support. That was all it took for her to barge into the bathroom, rushing over the tiles to where Mr. Styles was hunched over the toilet. 

Focusing herself on him and not what was currently leaving his system, (Y/N) stroked her hand down his back while the other worked on drawing his hair out of his face. A stray clip was fit against the top of his head, a sloppy attempt she was sure he had executed with shaking hands. 

"(Y/N), no," he stuttered over her name until she felt a shudder rack his spine, his head being sent back to the toilet bowl as another round of sickness left his body. 

She didn't say anything back, knowing not only would it fall on deaf ears, but this wasn't the time to start pleading with him to let her stay. That wasn't up for debate as far as she was concerned; whether he liked it or not, she wasn't going to leave him to be sick all by himself in a hotel room in a country he didn't call home. Nothing sounded more dreadful than that. 

Instead, she only shushed him and lead a soothing hand down his spine with her other hand fixing his hair from his face. The strands had lost their curl after a few days without wash, matching the stale texture of his clothes that she was sure he hadn't changed out of in just as long. Having heard about how heavily he prioritized his self-care, especially when touring, she knew he really must feel terrible if he couldn't bring himself to do any of those basic things. 

Nonetheless, she stayed a constant, steady presence beside him on the bathroom floor. She tucked baby curls behind his ears, the strands too short to reach clip on the top of his head, and she shushed him with a gentle hand on his back as he emptied his system before being reduced down to dry heaves and gags resulting in nothing more than stolen breath and teary eyes. 

"It's okay, Mr. Styles, just breathe," she reminded him as he reached to flush the toilet, his breathing coming in rapid pants through his raw throat. 

"Don't call me that," he panted, sitting back on his heels though he still didn't care to turn to face her, "I don't like it when y'call me that." 

"Okay, okay," she soothed, the same word having fallen from her lips at least a hundred times at this point, "What do you want me to call you? What do you like better?"

"Jus' H, please. Want y'to talk to me like y'know me." 

Her heart just about broke at how pathetic he sounded in that moment, his request just short of a whine given his burned throat. "Okay, I can do that," she agreed with a gentle pat to his back. "I'm going to be right back, alright? I brought you some water for you to sip on." 

Before (Y/N) could even get to her feet, Mr. S—Harry—H twisted in his spot and raced to wrap his fingers around her wrists. He kept her from going any further with his manacle-like grip, bloodshot eyes glossy in the low light of the bathroom. "Wait, please. I-I don't want to be alone if I get sick again." 

As much as she knew it was against her better judgment to leave the liter of water out in the bedroom, there was no way she could argue against him when he looked at her like that. And, for the first time ever, he was pleading with her to stay with him, not fighting for a way out of her presence. How could she say no to that?

"Okay, I'll stay a few minutes longer, but I need to have you drinking something soon," she reasoned, settling back down onto the tile floor. She crossed her legs underneath her, opting for something more comfortable than the cuffs of her knees digging into the hard floor as she was prepared to sit there for as long as Harry needed her (or until she could convince him of the importance of water right now). 

Harry all but deflated with relief at her words, slumping into her arms in a way that had (Y/N) doubting he knew he was doing. Another sign of just how bad he was feeling then—he'd never seek comfort in her like this otherwise. Nonetheless, (Y/N) wrapped her arms around him without question, cushioning her back against the wall of the bathroom behind her while Harry's clumsy limbs found purchase around her. He shuffled up beside her with legs folded underneath him, his bottom on his heels. He was close enough to the toilet incase of an emergency, but his knees still knocked into hers with his arms around her waist, face tucking into the curve of her throat. 

"Thank you," he murmured into her neck once he burrowed himself against her skin, his forehead clammy. 

"Of course," she told him, her arms around his middle with her palms spanning the planes of his back. "Has it been like this all day?" 

"Mhm," he practically whined, his nose scrunching against her skin, "I hate it. I hate being sick. I jus' want to be better already." 

(Y/N) held him tighter the second she felt wetness slide over her skin, moreso than the sheen of sweat that covered his forehead. He was crying. That gloss that had lacquered his gaze had overflown, now leaking over her skin and pooling in the line of her collarbones. "I know, H, I know," she crooned to him, forcing herself to stay composed despite how much her heart ached for him then, "I brought stuff for you that's supposed to help you feel better. Do you want to try taking some medicine or drinking some water?" 

"I don't think I can keep it down," he told her, voice watery as he spoke, "'M sorry." 

"No, don't be sorry, okay?" she gently scolded him, shaking her head as she brought her hand up to card through the length of the curls on the back of his head. 

"I jus' want to be better, (Y/N)," he repeated earnestly, a sniffle following right after to match the wiggle of his nose she felt against her skin. She wanted to be endeared at the small touch but that was quickly outweighed by the concern she felt the second another wave of tears washed over her skin, Harry's breathing shifting until she feared he would start sobbing. 

"And you will be," she promised, hugging him tighter with her fingers lacing through his hair, "You need to give yourself a little more time, okay? Sleep a little more, and once you're up to it, we'll have you eating and drinking again and you'll be feeling so much better. I promise." 

"But—"

Harry tensed in her arms before could finish his thought. A scramble of limbs ensued then, leaving (Y/N) feeling the absence of his warmth while he hunched over the toilet and threw up the nonexistent contents of his stomach. (Y/N) was behind him in a rush, rubbing his back and cooing to him as he began to dry heave, only bile leaving his system now. 

It was (Y/N) this time that flushed the toilet down for him after a few minutes of nothing else triggering his gag reflex, proceeding to gather him back into her arms once he was settled enough to unlock his joints and allow his muscles to go malleable again. 

"It's alright, H—" 

"See?" he cut her off, voice particularly raw after his latest showing, "'M not getting better, (Y/N). I jus' want to be better and-and play a show and I do-don't want to let anyone down." 

"You're not letting anyone down," she cemented, relaxing into the stiff sidewall of the tub as he tucked himself into her warmth one more time with his face in her neck.

"I've heard Jeff talking about cancelling or rescheduling shows," he mumbled, a sniffle following after, "I don't want to do that. S-So many people travel jus' to see me, and 's be-been so long an—" 

Harry was cut off by his own crying, the stress of the situation along with the just how awful he felt in that moment catching up to him now that someone was there to listen. His grip on her tightened with his arms around her waist and his face buried in her neck, his chest stuttering with his uneven breaths and squeezes of his sobbing lungs. 

All she could do then was hold him against her, as if her hug could keep him from shaking so hard with his heady breaths. Her neck was slick with his tears, the tip of his nose wiggling with every sniffle he sucked in in hopes of regulating his breathing.

"Its okay, H, really," she cooed to him, drawing one of her hands up to the back of his head with her fingertips twirling through the curls, "You need to stop crying, okay? You're only making yourself more sick by crying, you know. Just breathe, alright? It's going to be okay, I promise." 

Though it took him a moment, she could feel the way he tried to heed her advice. He fought off the stutter of his sobs, his breathing coming out in shaky pulls with the exhales being long and drawn out over her skin. Her palms soothed down his spine, the length of her nails dragging over his shirt in what she hoped was calming runs. 

"Feel a little better now?" she asked once he curated a rhythm of deep breaths and sinking exhales. Though she could feel just the smallest remnants of his tears having seeped against her neck, she didn't feel that dampness growing as opposed to the way it was only a few moments earlier. 

"Y-yeah," he mumbled, nodding his head against her neck, "Sorry."

"Don't be sorry, okay?" she told him, parroting her earlier words, "There's nothing to be sorry for. No one likes being sick, and I know you're under a lot of pressure since we're also on the road. It's okay." 

A nasally little thank you sounded against her neck along with the brush of his lips being felt against her throat. A small smile touched at the corners of her lips as she felt him relax into her, exhaustion weighing him down now that he wasn't clinging to the edge of the toilet. (Y/N) tentatively laid her cheek on the top of his head, lending him more of her warmth in hopes of holding off another wave of his fever. 

Just when she figured he'd fallen asleep, his breathing even with puffs of air fanning over her skin, he pulled his face from her neck. Harry's cheeks were flushed as he looked to her, ruddy and glistening with a sheen of sweat. His eyes were puffy and red, the scleras bloodshot from his crying session. Even his lips were swollen, the same hue as his red-tipped nose. 

"Can I have some water?" he asked her pathetically, voice nasally given his clogged sinuses, "And a blanket. 'M really cold." 

(Y/N) nodded her head right away, feeling her eyes rounding out as she took him in with pity in her gaze. "I'll be right back, okay?" she told him, brushing stray curls behind his ears. 

Harry gave her another sad look, mimicking the nod of her head. "Thank you," he told her before tucking his swollen bottom lip between his teeth. 

She made quick work of collecting the liter of water she'd put off to the side along with the knitted blanket that was bundled over the hotel bed. She knew that was something he'd brought from home, an item she'd seem him cart around to every venue and every hotel room to help him feel more at home despite the miles between. Hopefully it would be just what he needed in that moment. 

Stepping into the bathroom, Harry was just where she had left him. He was bundled beside the bathtub, his legs now bent in front of him to make himself into a small ball with his arms around his shins. His glossy eyes seemed to widen at the sight of his blanket, completely glancing over the water in her opposing hand in favor of reaching for his token from home. 

"Thank you so much," he repeated, grabby hands taking the knitted blanket as soon as she offered it to him.

Despite his aching limbs, the blanket was wrapped around Harry's shoulders in quick succession, the fabric being pulled up to his face with a finger wrapped in the material from underneath absently rubbing against his cheek. He soothed himself enough to have his eyes flutter to a close as (Y/N) settled in beside him, taking her spot against the bathtub wall with her legs criss-crossed underneath her bottom. 

"Still want some water?" she asked in a crooned tone, hoping to keep from disturbing him too much from the sweetened state he was falling into.

"Yes, please," he murmured, eyes still closed. 

Twisting off the cap of his water, (Y/N) offered it to him with a nudge against his shoulder. Harry begrudgingly untangled his hand from the knit of his blanket, taking the bottle with his eyes opened to only a slit. 

"Only take sips, H," she told him as he raised the bottle to his lips, "Any more and it might make you sick again." 

"But 'm so thirsty," he whined, brows pinching together in the middle. 

"I know, but if you drink too fast it'll make you sick again," she reasoned with him, scooting in closer to him with her arm pressing against his own, "Just sip it for now and if you can keep it all down tonight, you can drink all the water you want." 

Heaving a sigh, he gave a nod of his head as he heeded her advice and took small sips from his bottle. (Y/N) kept an eye on him as he drank, watching for any turn of the tide that would garner her helping him back to the toilet bowl. By the time he finally seemed satiated, handing her the bottle in search of the cap to be fixed back on top, he sunk down and lent his cheek against her shoulder. His eyes were shuttered closed once more, his hand working its way back under the knit of his blanket to press the material against his cheek again. 

"Tired?" (Y/N) murmured, maneuvering to wrap her arm around his shoulders and cuddle him close. 

"Yeah," he said, voice cracking some under the pressure of his raw throat. 

"Here," she said, shuffling in her spot to move just far enough away from him to get a whine filtering through his throat. Uncrossing her legs, she unfurled them in front of her with her ankles folding over one another, "Lay down, H, its okay. You can put your head in my lap." 

He seemed calmed at the prospect of her only moving so he could more comfortably. With his legs curled against his tummy into a ball, Harry laid his head in her lap, her plush thighs acting as his pillow. "Thank you," he sighed, nasally voice quietly bouncing off the tiles. 

"When you wake up we'll take some medicine, okay?" she told him, placing her hands in his hair as she unclipped the sprout she'd made with the strands to card through his curls. 

All she earned in response was a quiet okay, leaving him to fall asleep only moments later. 

Sinking against the sidewall of the bathtub, (Y/N) let her own eyes close. Cuddling with Mr. Styles was definitely not how she saw this morning going. She was going to have to text Mr. Azoff to let him know not to expect her for the rest of the day. 

—————

"(Y/N)?" 

Humming to acknowledge the call of her name, (Y/N) continued to clean up the little medication station she made up on his bedside table now that each of the pills were in his system. She was going to have to call up for another large water bottle for him now that there was less than a fourth of the liter left. And, probably another serving of hot soup since that had been forgotten hours earlier, going cold. 

"'M sorry," Harry said behind her, the warmth of his glossy gaze being pinned on her back. 

"You don't need to be sorry, remember?" she said to him, constituting all of his orange and white bottles back into the small pack the medical team had prepared as she gave him a small glance over her shoulder. "No one is upset with you; it's not your fault you're sick, we all know that." 

"No," he croaked, shaking his head against the fluffed pillow, "That's not what 'm talking about." 

"Oh?" she asked, settling into the nest of bedding she'd made her own since they carted him back to bed after his nap. He hadn't been sick for hours at this point, the main concern shifting to fend off the fever that was sapping his energy and drawing a fog over his brain. 

As soon as he saw her close once more, Harry made a move to lay his head in her lap again. It was instinctive at this point to have her hands carding through his hair, pulling the strands from his flushed skin. This time though, Harry looked up at her with his slightly hooded gaze, a touch unfocused despite the fact he'd been awake for the better part of the last hour. 

"'M sorry 'm so mean to you," he breathed, a sheen collecting over his eyes as he took her in, "You're taking care of me, and I don't deserve it." 

(Y/N) felt like a deer in headlights with his tired gaze on her. This was definitely not how she ever saw this conversation going—if this conversation ever happened, anyway. She floundered for words as she shook her head, distracting him with a particularly drawn out run of her fingers through his curls. 

"Don't say that, okay? What you don't deserve, is staying alone in a hotel room while you're sick," she murmured, "But, you don't need to worry about that right now, okay? You don't need to apologize for anything." 

To be fair, she never really considered his behavior mean. He avoided her, sure, but he was never blatantly rude to her. 

"No, no," he shook his head in her lap, "'M so mean to you 's not fair. I-I barely even talk to you, and you're still taking care of me. 'M sorry, (Y/N)." 

"Harry, really, I don't think you're mean, ok—" 

"I jus' don't know how to talk to you, (Y/N)," he continued as if he hadn't heard a single word she said, "'S so hard to talk to you, and-and m'brain hurts when I try to think about it." 

Canting her head as she gazed down at him, she dropped one of her hands from his hair only to skate over the planes of his face. She traced over the height of his cheekbone, and brushed the length of his lashes before she grazed the bridge of his nose. "It's okay, Harry," she soothed him, watching as his eyes fell closed, "It's okay to be shy. I know Mr. Azoff's last assistant was really close to you, it's fine if we're not there yet. We'll get there someday, right?"

"No," he whined, drawing out the syllable as he peeked his eyes open, "'S not like that—not like with Mallory, (Y/N). I like y'so much that m'brain doesn't work around you. It wasn't like that at all with Mallory—I didn't have a crush on her." 

(Y/N) was thankful for the cover of his illness to keep him from fully noticing her reaction to his confession. While it was sweet the way he described his feelings—a crush, he'd said—that had to have been at the very bottom of the list of reasons she would have thought up as to why he behaved the way he did around her. What was she supposed to say to something like that? How was she supposed to take it given the fact that this could be nothing more than one of his delirious ramblings given the state of his fever? 

"I can't believe 'm telling you like this," he muttered, eyes fluttered closed in a tight pinch as he turned in her lap. He faced the soft of her tummy, his arms wrapping around her middle as he nosed at the fabric of her top. "I smell like vomit and I haven't washed m'hair for four days, 'm sorry." 

A quiet sigh left her lips as she carded her fingers through his hair, the unwashed curls slipping between her fingers. "It's okay, Harry. Don't worry about any of that right now, okay? We can talk about that later, but you need to focus on getting better right?" 

"Right," he peeped, voice slowing and dredging deeper into sleep, "And you'll stay with me?"

Her answer was automatic, "Of course. I'll be here to take care of you, I promise." 

It was only moments later he was asleep again, face tucked against her tummy while (Y/N) was wide awake. 

—————

(YN) woke with a stiff neck to the sound of the shower running, still wrapped up in Harry's bedding though now she had his knitted blanket draped over her form. The side of the bed she had slipped him into once she was too tired to stay awake was now cold, only the impression of his body on the sheets giving away his presence. 

Blinking her dry eyes, she tried to get her bearings after the long night she'd had tending to her boss's favorite client, along with every rambling confession he woke up in the middle of the night to share. 

He apparently thought her hair was very pretty, wanted to share clothes with her, and thought she had a cute laugh. Though, those were only the confessions she could decipher in his sleepy, nasally voice. 

She was still clothed in the outfit she'd donned the morning before, her phone waiting with a handful of texts from Mr. Azoff asking about Mr. Styles' state and if there was anything the pair of them needed now that (Y/N) had taken on the role of nursing him back to health for the time being. She pushed those messages off to the side at the moment, instead trying to untwirl her brain now that she had a moment alone without Mr. Styles' health at the front of her mind. 

He liked her, he'd said—he had a crush on her even. That was why he didn't have it in himself to hold a conversation with her, too shy to speak to her without making an ass of himself. The thought made her heart flutter, a fact she couldn't deny especially after she realized the smile on her face when she recalled his exact words. 

Despite the fact his kindness didn't always extend to her in the obvious ways, thinking back, she realized the signs were there. He remembered her birthday and put together an impromptu party that he couldn't even properly attend. He remembered her Halloween costume even though he was running around all day, preparing for one of the biggest shows of the year. He paid attention to her; he listened for her favorite foods, favorite colors, favorite books. While he was too shy to talk to her about those things directly, he still went out of his way to find them out and keep them to himself. 

It was easier for her since she knew she got this job to send her own feelings packing, out of her head and her heart before she could find herself in trouble with an infatuation with her boss's favorite client and best friend. That fact grew even more important as soon as Harry started behaving the way he did around her, but now that she had that glimmering confession, the tender explanation, it was hard to keep those feelings from marching right back in. All those months that she had to school herself into knocking away the melancholy at the fact that one of her inspirations didn't seem to like her now were turned in a new light, trying to see those same moments from Harry's point of view. 

How many times had she thought she felt his eyes on her, only to turn and find him looking the other direction? Had she really been only a second too late to catch his gaze? Every time she had chattered away with a member of the crew or Mr. Azoff himself, with Harry scrolling through his phone distractedly had he really been listening in and collecting information he was too scared to ask for? Or even the times he had dropped his gaze when she met his, the blushing hue to his skin now could be out of sheepish affection and not the need to get away from her as soon as possible. 

She hadn't been invisible to him, or even a negative presence in his day-to-day, she was piecing together. He thought of her the same way she thought of him. What a heart-stopping thought. 

"Morning." 

(Y/N) jumped in her spot, the bedsheets rustling around her denim-clad legs at the sound of Harry's rumbling voice. Dropping back into the moment, she saw him standing just outside the bathroom door, luggage at his feet as he packed away the clothing he would need sent off to be washed before they were on their way to the next destination. A quiet smile was on his lips, a shy shifting to his gaze that kept him from meeting hers. His socked feet dug into the plush carpet on the floor, legs folded over in a pair of heavy black sweats along with a crewneck from his brand that hadn't been released to the public just yet. His hair was damp and dark, finally washed after the few days she was sure it had been bothering him.

"Morning," she chirped back, finding her voice, "How are you feeling?"

"Better," he mused, running a hand through his damp hair, "Finally getting to actually sleep last night helped a lot, I think. I took the medicine y'left on the table, and took a shower and I'm really feeling a lot better."

"Good, that makes me happy. Now, you can sleep all day and actually eat something instead of laying on the bathroom floor." (Y/N) felt proud of herself when she caught sight of the dimples denting his cheeks as he huffed out a quiet laugh.

A beat of silence passed between them as Harry finally dropped the guise of rifling through his bag to face her. Stuffing his hands into the pockets of his sweats, he toed at the ground as he looked at her through the fan of his lashes. 

"Um, thanks for taking care of me and everything yesterday, (Y/N)," he drawled, a pinch touching between his brows, "I really, really appreciate it. 'M sure it wasn't easy. My mum says I always get whiny when 'm sick, so..." 

"You weren't that bad," she told him with a gentle smile, crossing her legs underneath herself from where she sat on the bed, "I used to babysit when I was in college, and you are definitely not as bad as some of the kids I used to help."

"Great," he laughed with a playful roll of his eyes, "'m not as bad as a child. I'll have to tell my mum, that'll show her." 

After the short peals of laughter died down, silence filled in for their voices. Was she supposed to say something? Did he want her to say something? Or was what was said last night meant to stay right there—in the evening hours, in the brain fog that came along with his fever?

"Listen," he said, swallowing hard as he finally met her gaze head on, "'M really sorry about yesterday. I know I said a lot of things, and 'm really sorry if I made y'uncomfortable or anything. I-I don't know why I said any of that, honestly." 

Fighting the urge to drop her own gaze as she'd seen him do so many times before, (Y/N) kept herself focused on him, following the small droplets of water that clung to his forehead from his damp curls. "You didn't make me uncomfortable," she said, "But—um—di-did you mean it? What you said? About being shy and everything because of... me?"

Another harsh swallow had his throat bobbing, the green of his eyes disappearing for just a moment as he blinked towards the ceiling before returning. "I mean, yeah. I did mean it. I never wanted to tell y'like that, though, that's for sure. I know y'were being nice, but I definitely did smell like vomit and you're a saint for sitting there and letting me talk like a crazy person all night. I don't even know how you found time to sleep with me constantly bothering you."

"You weren't bothering me," she said, a smile cracking her features now that she realized there was no catch to his confession. There was no reason to quash the happiness filling her chest. "I thought it was really sweet what you were saying to me. It was nice to hear all of that stuff, especially since I was pretty sure you didn't like me just two days ago."

He clenched his eyes shut at her finishing words. "I really am sorry about that, I hope you know," he said with a heady sigh, "I wish I had a better explanation, but really, you jus' make me nervous." 

"It's okay," she waved off, shuffling towards the edge of the bed closest to him without much thought, "You make me nervous, too—I get it." 

"I do?" he asked, a boyish smile touching at his features while his eyes seemingly sparkled in the low light. 

"I mean, yeah," she revealed, a duh tone to her words, "Why do you think it's always so hard for me to talk to you?" 

Harry took slow steps towards the edge of the bed, his socked feet dragging through the plush carpet. "But you're always so—," he trailed off, flicking his hands out in front of him with a flourish, "Everywhere, I guess. Talking to everyone and laughing. I don't think I've ever seen y'nervous." 

"Well, I don't like everyone else the way I like you, so I don't get nervous like that. It's harder to talk to you when all I want is to say the right thing." 

Before she even realized it, Harry was stood right in front of where she was sat on the edge of the bed. He towered over her with warmth radiating from his chest, the heat much more pleasant than the fever he was running the night before, especially when he looked at her so sweetly with his big eyes. It was in slow movements that he brought his hands out and settled them on her wrists, only to trail down to lace his fingers between hers. When she didn't pull away or make any sound of protest, she felt him squeeze her hands. 

"I like hearing y'talk. Y'have a pretty voice," he murmured, his voice just a touch deeper than normal given the last week of his life. 

"I like your voice too," she beamed up at him, "Why do you think I'm always out there during the shows?" 

"Because, Jeff makes you?" he teased, shyly dropping her gaze to where their hands were bundled between them. 

(Y/N) shook her head, adjusting her position on the bed to sit with her bottom on her heels and her legs folded underneath her. "I like listening to you sing and talk to everyone. You're amazing on stage. It's my favorite part of being on the road with everyone—getting to see you every night like that." 

He keened under her praise, canting his head as he squeezed her hands. Dimples dented his cheeks as he looked to her. "Thank you," he murmured, the blunt ends of his front teeth sinking into his bottom lip once he got his gratitude out. 

Looking at him like this, feeling the strength of his hands and the heat of his skin all the while he looked at her so tenderly had (Y/N)'s heart racing. How was this real?" 

"Harry?" 

"Hm?" 

Dropping her eyes to his lips, the raspberry color just a bit drained from his illness though he wasn't any less appealing. She spoke without thought as her stayed stuck on his mouth, "Can I kiss you?" 

She watched as a smile grew on his lips at her words. "I—uh—'M sick, remember?" he protested less than half-heartedly. 

"I got my flu shot, remember?" 

That was all the convincing it took to have Harry dropping her hands from his, only to then cradle the soft of her cheeks in his hands. His lips slotted against hers in a tender press, allowing her to taste the clean mint of his toothpaste and whatever scented chapstick he'd swiped over his pout. She didn't even have time to think about the fact she was still wearing her clothes from the day before with unbrushed hair and unwashed skin, not with the way he was holding her and pressing into her mouth for more. It was as unhurried of a kiss as it was wanting, making up for the lost time that had been wasted over the past few months. 

The contact remained innocent, only sweet presses of their lips growing more and more delicate until Harry pulled away just to press a smattering of kisses against her pout. His actions drew a laugh from her chest, her hands reaching for his shirt as he kissed her smiling mouth. 

"We don't have to leave for the venue until tonight, right?" he asked, slightly breathless though he matched her smile tenfold. (Y/N) nodded her head still in his delicate grip, the pad of his thumb sweeping under her eye. "We should probably leave for a little and let housekeeping clean up a little, but 'm still really tired," his gaze flickered over hers, his smile growing that much more at whatever he found in there, "Could we go back to your room? We don't have to do anything"—that had his cheeks blushing—", but I don't want to sleep alone again after this."

That was all (Y/N) needed before she was dragging him down the hall to her hotel room, following right after him into her unused, plush bed. It was instinct at this point the way he cuddled up to her, face in her neck with his nose pressed to her pulse. All she felt was a press of his lips to the curve of her throat before he was asleep again, leaving (Y/N) the time to send Mr. Azoff a message. 

Harry was fine, she told him, but he'd probably need another day of rest and looking after. A job she was more than willing to continue to take on. She'd tell him the full story later, she decided, especially after he saw the room service charges for double meals to her room.

—————

I got a request for something like this a super long time ago so thank you to whoever requested for being so patient! thank you so much for reading and sorry for any mistakes! if anyone has any ideas or requests of your own pls pls send them in !

Requests List

All requested writing (mostly blurb length) listed here! Also found under the “request: filled” tag. * demarcates smut.

001. Camping

002. Listen to Me

005. Love Him More

007. Promise Forever

009. Camping in the Rain*

010. Not Today

011. Too Much*

012. Silence*

013. Missing Kisses

015. Hot and Cold*

016. KISS for Styles*

017. The Last One

018. Reward

019. Not Fake*

020. You Wanker

022. Public (and Private) Displays of Affection

023. Time and Pride

024.Do You One Better

025. The Interview

026. Bottled Dressing

027. Call or….

028. Work Life and Home Life

029. Protect

030. Worth It

031. Kicks

032. Fight Me*

033. Under Their Noses

034. Mumma

035. Camping Indoors*

036. Hair or No Hair

037. Help*

038. Mother’s Day

039. Mrs. Styles*

040. A Harry Girl

041. Man in Uniform*

042. You’re Pregnant, Love*

043. He’s a Dead Man*

044. Tell Me, Darling*

045. Make You Feel Better*

046. Important or Summat*

047. A Few Extras

049. Morning Sickness

050. My Girl, My Boy 

051. Safety in His Embrace

052.Soft Kisses

053. Know You*

054. Or Summat*

056. Primal*

057. Safe Word

058. Proud or Summat*

059. Middle of the Night

060. Lions and Vikings and Bears – Oh My!

063. Please Don’t Cry

064. Jet Plane*

065. The Only One

066. Be Right Here

It’s About Balance Sequence Requests

003. More About Jealousy*

004. More About Waiting*

006. More About Trouble

008. More About Mouths*

014. More About Timing*

021. More About Saying Hello*

More About Anniversaries - It’s About Balance One Shot*

061. More About Balance*

062. More About Boyfriends

Requests that spun into a lot more…. Oops.

Thirty Minutes and a Lemon Curd*

Three Days and a Lemon Curd* - Thirty Minutes and a Lemon Curd Part 002

Lemon Curds Anytime - Thirty Minutes and a Lemon Curd Part 003*

048. Just Between Us

055. Leather and Cars*

Half request, half me being a weak ass

Still Not Fake*

What’s sex

model!y/n has a new nightgown that ceo!Harry really likes

____

“I know, baby,” Y/N cooed as she carried a whiny three year old Riley on her hip. He wore pajamas and was crying for milk. She got the gallon out of the fridge and poured some into a pot.

She had walked passed Harry in the hallway and immediately caught his attention.

“Daddy, come on,” Mila whined, tugging at his hand. They were on their way to the laundry room to look for Mila’s new favorite socks (they were pink, soft, and sparkly), a gift from her Uncle Ian.

“I’m coming,” he hummed, allowing her to pull him away.

They found the socks in the dryer, and Harry sat her on the machine to help her into the socks (she’s perfectly capable but he loves to baby her). “Sit for a moment, let’s take these clothes out of the dryer,” Harry grabbed the hamper and started to put the clothes inside. “Alright, on daddy’s back,” Harry turned around and crouched a bit. She jumped onto his back. “Hold on tight,” he told her, since he was carrying a full hamper.

After Harry and Mila folded all of the laundry together (she didn’t want him to leave just yet so they made a deal), Mila was asleep and Harry went on to find his wife. He couldn’t get the image of her body in that long, silk, lilac nightgown out of his head. It was clear she didn’t have anything on underneath, and the picture of her breasts in the silk alone was enough to make him needy. He had never seen that nightgown before, and was wondering when she bought it and from where, so he can purchase more).

When he got to their bedroom however, she was laying on her side, arm perching her head up as she watched Riley drinking his milk from his sippy cup. Harry’s entrance caught Riley’s attention, but he soon turned back to Y/N while drinking his milk.

“Jake’s still asleep?” Harry asked.

Y/N nodded.

“I’m gonna shower real quick,” Harry said.

“Okay.”

Y/N was rubbing lotion over her neck and arms when Harry got back, and Riley was no longer in their bed.

“Put him in his crib?”

“Finally got him to sleep, yeah,” she hummed.

Harry climbed into bed completely naked, fluffing his pillow before laying down with a quiet groan. “Cuddle?” He held his arm out and looked up at her (she sat up against the headboard while he layed down).

She nodded and finished moisturizing her arms before she gladly cuddled into her husbands body. He kissed her head.

“How was your day, baby?” He hummed.

“It was good. Work went by fast. You?”

“Good. Same; think the day went by fast in general.”

“Yeah,” Y/N agreed.

“Mila helped me fold the clothes, so if some look a bit wonky it wasn’t me,” Harry chuckled, his hand slowly traveling down to Y/N’s ass where he proceeded to squeeze and massage.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Y/N smirked as she moved a bit closer to him, resting her hand over his chest. She moaned quietly at one particular squeeze.

“When did you get this nightgown?”

“Julissa bought it for me last week.”

“That was nice of her.”

“Yeah,” Y/N was now clenching part of Harry’s shirt in her fist.

“I really like it. Feels soft too.”

She hummed in response.

“It’s quite long, but...”

She laughed. “I know, right? But it’s comfortable.”

“Well that’s all that matters...can I see the rest of it? Didn’t get a good look when you were carrying Riley.”

“Mhm,” Y/N pulled away, 99% sure the only reason he wanted her to pull away and show him the front of the nightgown was so that he could have access to her breasts.

“It’s nice,” he hummed and nodded before ducking down and placing his parted lips right around her covered nipple.

“H!” She laughed, but he only hummed and sucked again.

His other hand came up, wrapping around the curve of her other breast and giving it a gentle squeeze. He moaned when he did, just at the feeling of it in his hand; of course he had to squeeze again, much harder this time. It made her moan.

Harry moved his mouth from one breast to the other, rubbing the tip of his tongue up and down her covered nipple while his hand squeezed her other breast. Another moan espcaed his lips; he just couldn’t help it.

“You should not get so turned on by this,” Y/N stated despite the warmth she now felt between her thighs.

“I agree, can’t help myself,” he finally pulled away, cheeks pink from how hot he now was. “Let’s see here how we can...” he trailed off, gently grabbing the strap on her shoulder with his index finger and thumb, pulling it down her shoulder.

She bit her lip and instinctively reached out for his head as he moved closer to her bare chest now. Her hand gently guided him by the back of his head, fingers gently scratching at the soft hair at the back of his neck.

Harry’s eyes closed at the same time that he opened his mouth to wrap his soft, pink lips around her nipple. He hummed as he sucked and moved his head from side to side slowly, slowly pulling off and then pressing the flat of his tongue against it, wanting to taste her breast in his mouth in any and every way that he could.

Then Y/N did something that he loved, and that never failed to turn him on. Only she’s ever done it, which excited him even more. Her nails dug into his neck a little, just below his hair. It made him try to fit more of her breast in his mouth, humming a bit while he sucked, because he knows she likes the way that feels. “Like that, baby?” He asked when he pulled away, licking her other nipple before beginning to nibble. “Hm?” His eyes rolled up to see her face as he did.

A shaky moan left her lips, which made him smirk.

“Gonna take that as a yes, beautiful.” He pressed his lips right to her nipple. “Can I make you feel good?”

“Why are you even asking?”

He laughed before he kissed her, and began to push her dress up until it was bunched up around her waist. “You’re right, dunno. I forgot that you’re my property,” he said, waitin for the funny response that he knew was coming.

Y/N snorted. “Mhm, you keep believing that.”

Harry laughed again before he hummed, beginning to press kisses to her neck as his thumb found her clit. “You drive me crazy,” he nosed at her neck a little before biting gently. “Smell so good too.”

“Told you to use my lavendar body wash, but no, apparently, you-“

“Shhhh,” he laughed. “Fuck, you love to argue. Stop that...It’s hot.”

Before she could respond with something snarky, Harry’s sure of it, he pushed both his middle and index finger inside of her at the same time. Therefore, rather than attitude, Harry got a whimper.

“That’s what I thought,” he hummed. “So fucking wet, both of my fingers slipped right in. Greedy little thing, you are,” he groaned as he curled his fingers inside of her before giving her a hickey just on the side of her neck.

She was out of breath and lost in pleasure, but still managed to pat on Harry’s cheek. “Not too much, babe,” she whined breathlessly. “Seeing your mom tomorrow-“ her hips snapped up and she moaned loudly, her hand flying down to Harry’s wrist. He started to thrust his fingers harder and faster, the only sound now being his fingers dipping in and out of her wet pussy.

“You can’t tell me what to do,” he hummed, biting his bottom lip as he watched her. Her eyes were squeezed shut, her lips were parted a little, her chest was rising and falling quickly, her legs were wide open for him (as he liked them to be), and her hand was squeezing his wrist while he finger fucked her. “Like getting your little cunt fucked with my fingers, huh? So fuckin’ wet, babe, hear that? Hm?”

“Harry,” she moaned. “Just like that, babe, please. I’m so close.”

“Cum on my hand, cum all over my hand, darling. Go ahead, whenever you’re ready,” he leaned down to kiss her lips for a second before pulling away to watch the show.

She gasped when he pushed his fingers as deep as they could go then curled them upward. It’s one of her favorite things for him to do. She grabbed into his bicep with her hand that wasn’t on his wrist, and squeezed. “I’m gonna—H, I’m so close-“

“Yeah?” He cooed. “Can feel your wet little cunt squeezing my fingers, barely lettin’ me move them, baby,” he chuckled.

With a loud “fuck”, Y/N was cumming, riding his fingers as she came.

“Oh my gosh,” she breathed, her eyes falling shut as she gave herself over to the exhaustion.

“Yeah?” Harry was smiling cheekily as he watched. “Good?”

She nodded and reached her arms out for him.

“Aw, I’m here, baby,” he cooed, hugging her close (partly to comfort her, partly because her breasts were still on display and he did want to feel them on his chest). He kissed her head and pulled her tighter.

She held onto him tightly, and moaned quietly when he kissed her. He skillfully licked into her mouth, initiating what turned out to be a very sloppy make out session while he squeezed handfuls of her breasts.

“Are we going to do anything else or not? Because I have to get myself together before one of the kids wake up, you know the boys don’t sleep through the night every night.”

“Do you want to do anything else?” He asked.

“Wanted to return the favor.”

“Well you know you don’t have to,” he pecked her lips. “But it will never be rejected either,” he smirked cheekily.

She laughed quietly, reaching up to pull his face closer so that she could kiss him. “Sit down, stupid.”

Harry gladly sat on his side of the bed. “It’s all yours,” he gestured to his lap.

Y/N decided to keep her dress bunched up at her waist as she crawled towards him, placing her hand on his thigh to balance herself as she kissed him. He moaned at the feeling of pressure on his thigh and leaned his head further down to deepen the kiss. Her free hand wrapped around his length which stood tall and proud, and slowly began to move up and down. She knew Harry loved it when she got to it quickly—he’s eager and hates waiting. Especially for her mouth.

First Y/N smudged a kiss onto the side of his warm, throbbing tip, then another before her lips wrapped around it and sucked. Harry’s entire body twitched when she did so, even though she only sucked for a moment before pulling off with a quiet pop. His hand had flew to her head when she did, so it was still there when she pulled away, gently caressing her hair now.

Y/N hummed as she sucked on his tip again, this time beginning to bob her head; first she only did it on his tip, then she slowly started to get lower and lower each time she went down.

“Oh fuck,” he moaned. He loves when she starts off with just the tip then gets deeper and deeper. She knows how much he loves that. “That feels so good. Fuck,” he groaned when she moved her head faster. Then she pulled her mouth off of him to catch her breath and began to pump him with her hand again.

She moaned gently, “fingering my pussy made you this hard, baby?”

Harry could barely keep his eyes open.

Sure, he’s gotten head from many other women, and he’s gotten it from Y/N too many times to count. But she drives him crazy. Just her hand on his crotch, even over clothes, makes him rock hard. Therefore, when she has her gorgeous, full lips on his bare, hard dick—he’s a lost cause. Not to mention when she licks up his length like she’s trying to catch dripping ice cream off an ice cream cone. As she started to do while Harry was laying there panting.

He moaned, his toes curling and his poor bottom lip being bitten harshly. He reached forward and snuck his hand underneath her, his fingers gently brushing over her nipples.

“Oh, I should have known,” the sound of her voice made him look at her; she was licking her lips. “Those are what made you this hard.”

All he could do was nod.

Y/N’s hand was moving quickly, up and down his length as she left soft kisses on his balls, eventually sucking them one by one.

“Yes,” he moaned, slowly sucking in a deep breath. “Just like that, baby, right in your mouth, tha’s right,” he held her hair tightly now, but didn’t guide her head any which way because she was already doing everything he wanted her to do.

“Can’t believe I can fit all of this down my throat; you’re so big, H,” she moaned.

“Show me how you do that.”

She smirked at his word and desperation, trying not to laugh at his slick way of asking her to take him back into her mouth. She gladly did so, lowering her head until she had his full length in her mouth. She choked a bit but quickly began to suck and bob her head. A raspy moan sounded from Harry; those were her favorite kinds of moans of his. Aside from when he flat out groans loudly without a care in the world. That really turns her on.

“Youre so fucking good,” she heard as she was bobbing her head. She moaned in response, and the vibrations of her moan made him moan, and made his hand in her hair tighten. “So fucking good, babe, you’re so good at that.”

Finally, Y/N pulled up, panting but never leaving him unattended. Her hand was hard at work, trying to make him cum. Before she even fully caught her breath she was licking and sucking the side of his cock. She moaned as she did so, glancing up at him just because she knows it drives him crazy when she makes eye contact while giving him head.

His wife was correct; he was already looking down at her but when she looked at him his eyes rolled to the back of his head and he fell back into his pillow (he was sitting up so he could see everything she did). “Shit,” he sighed loudly, his hips rolling up into the air involuntarily. “Swear my dick must taste like ice cream to you, the way you suck on it like that.”

Y/N giggled lightly, removing her mouth from where she was sucking the side of him while moving her hand on him to his tip. She took him into her mouth and started to bob her head again, half way down then back up, over and over again.

“I’m going to cum,” he moaned softly, completely out of breath, his cheeks burning red and his mind and senses overwhelmed with her mouth. “Don’t fucking stop,” he gasped, grasping her hair tightly where his hand rested on her head and pushing her head down. He held onto her hair as she moved her lips up and down his cock, sucking as she did so. Suddenly, he held her head in place so he could continue to move and started thrust into her mouth, moaning wildly with every thrust. “Gonna cum, gonna cum in your mouth, Y/N, take it for me, yeah?”

All it took was a moan in response for him to let himself cum in her mouth, making sure to pull out enough so that only his tip was in her mouth and his cum would cover her tongue. Some of it spurted onto her lips as his dick slipped out for a second, but most of it got in her mouth and she gladly gulped it all down. She hummed as she licked her lips then wiped whatever she couldn’t get (just a drop) with the back of her hand.

Harry had his forearm on his forehead as he layed on his back, panting loudly.

Y/N laughed as she climbed over him, straddling his lower stomach. “Was it good?”

He didn’t respond for a few seconds, but finally, with one deep breath that was louder than the rest, he raised his hand and held it in front of her. “‘m fucking shaking,” he laughed breathlessly. “You drive me fucking insane, Y/N, I’m telling you,” he’s said it many times before. “Getting head from you is dangerous for my health,” he was still breathing raggedly, and tried to take another deep breath before groaning. “Fuck, give me my bloody inhaler, I literally cant handle you,” he glanced at his nightstand and reached for it weakly.

Y/N laughed as she opened it and grabbed the inhaler for him, even removing the cap before handing it to him.

“H, I swear you act like you’ve never experienced any sort of sexual relations before me,” she laughed as he started to take his second pump. “We have a bunch of kids, you would think I wouldn’t have such an affect on you anymore.”

As he held his breath he raised his middle finger at her.

“Yeah, one would think that. Anyway, This is your fault,” he handed her the inhaler so she could put the cap back on and put it away. “It’s not like I’ve never gotten head before. But never fucking had to use my inhaler. Sometimes, using it after sex is normal for me. Especially when it’s cold out, you know that. But babe, seriously, I don’t know. I just don’t know. Yes, I’ve had my dick sucked before you but it’s just something about you. You literally make me lose my breath. Too fucking sexy, is what you are, that’s the problem.”

She giggled as she kissed his lips. “Are you complaining? ‘Cause I can stop giving you head, just say the words-“

“Not complaining. If getting head from you is the cause of my death then I’ll be happy to go.”

“Oh my gosh,” she laughed. “You’re stupid.”

“Seriously though, is my dick flavored? Swear no ones ever sucked it the way you do, you love my dick. You’re all over it-“

“Yeah, it is, tastes like strawberry ice cream, you dickhead.”

“Oo,” he hummed, as if he were pleasantly surprised. “I would have hoped for something like choco-mint, you know that’s my favorite. But strawberry is good too, I guess-“

“Please, shut, up,” Y/N groaned although she was laughing. “Your dick isn’t flavored, Harry! I’m just amazing at what I do. I can’t help it.”

“Only for me though, right? Didnt suck anyone else’s dick like that?”

“Oh my gosh, do you hear that? I think Riley is crying-“

“Oh fuck off, y/n!” Harry laughed loudly as he covered his face with his hands for a second before looking at her and laughing again, shaking his head. “Can’t fucking stand you.”

She giggled as she cuddled up to his side and pecked his cheek. “I didn’t love any of them like I love you though, does that make it better?”

“Sure, we can say that makes it better,” he wrapped his arm around her and pulled her closer. He glanced down at her and they shared a smile before he leaned down to give her a slow, wet kiss that had both of them moaning before it was over. She hummed when he pulled away, then reached for her straps to fix her dress and cover herself up again.

“No, I like seeing them,” he whined. “And feeling them on me,” his index finger reached to gently rub her nipple. “So cute and soft. ‘n warm, helps me fall asleep.”

“Helps you wake up hard, is what it does,” she commented although she was laying back down. “I hope you didn’t rip a strap or something, babe, if my dress is messed up, you’re buying me a new one because-“

“I will gladly buy you as many of these things as you want. We have to check if there’s different colors, I think this is my new obsession on you.”

“I mean I know it looks good but what’s so different about this compared to my other night gowns?”

“Don’t know, this one shows off your body more. Not as loose...and it’s so fucking soft, like your skin. You may as well be naked.”

His big hand was busy massaging and squeezing handfuls of her ass that was still exposed due to the dress being bunched up at her stomach.

“Pull it down, I’m getting cold,” she complained.

He pulled their comforter over their bodies with his free hand, while his other hand gently cupped the curve of her ass. “That good?”

“Yeah, thanks,” she hummed. “Even though you did that just so you can keep touching my ass.”

“Hey, it’s a win win. You’re warm, I get to touch your ass, why ruin it?” He joked, patting her skin gently before squeezing it once more.

“Then you wonder why I’m always wet. You are literally always touching me sexually or saying something ridiculously sexual; like, what the hell do you expect from me?”

“What?” He asked, digging his fingers into her ass in a way that delivered a nice massage. “You mean this makes you wet?” He asked innocently as his hand opened and closed around another handful.

“Yes,” she whined. “And we’re not doing anything else. I’m tired. I’m going to sleep.”

“That’s fine with me. Goodnight, sweetheart,” he kissed her head. “I love you, ‘n I promise I’ll let you have some more ice cream in the morning, okay?”

His words made her laugh, and she pinched his bicep. “Goodnight, idiot. I love you too.”

“Hang on,” she said a few minutes later, and she reached for her phone that was charging on Harry’s nightstand (she lost her charger and ended up taking his without asking. His phone is dead.).

“Let me charge mine while you-“

“No, I’m just going to use it for a second, Harry.”

“It’s my charger-“

“Okay, and? I lost mine. You know that.”

“Yeah, I do and it’s not my problem.”

“We’re married, so I hate to break it to ya, but it kinda is,” she said before laughing at a text that came in (Harry heard the loud ding).

“Youre spoiled, you realize that, right?” Harry asked.

“Mhm,” she hummed slowly as she typed with a smirk. When she looked up at him she stopped smirking and rolled her eyes, then leaned over him to plug her phone back in. “My dad has spoiled me since the moment I was born. Did you think I would expect less from my husband?” She cuddled back into his side. He gladly welcomed her with open arms.

“No, I knew you were a little brat before I married you. Guess I’m just an idiot.”

“You would be correct in that assumption.”

Harry laughed. “Who did you text anyway? We were enjoying our post-orgasm state.”

“Julissa. Told her thanks for the nightgown and that’s it’s your new obsession.”

“Tell her I would personally,” he placed his big hand on his chest. “Like to thank her for thinking of you when she made that purchase.”

Y/N giggled. “Hand me my phone.”

Harry grabbed her phone, before gasping. “Y/N, what the fuck did you do to my charger?!”

“Huh?” She asked as she typed, not even looking up at him.

“You’ve had it not even a full day and you’ve ruined the fucking thing, how did this happen?” He held up the charger. It was bent and wrinkled at the end.

“Harry, don’t worry about it.”

“Babe, no, I’m genuinely curious. How did you fuck this up so quickly?”

“Okay, literally, I do not know, so leave me alone. I ordered myself another one, so you can have your little charger back in no time-“

“My little charger?!” He laughed. “Hell no, uh uh, Mrs.Styles, I’m keeping the new one you ordered. Why would I stay with this one when you’re the one who messed it up?”

She couldn’t help her laugh. “Because that’s not fair, why do I get the ugly one?”

“You did this,” he shrieked as he held up the charger.

Y/N giggled and covered her mouth as she did. “Okay, for real, I didn’t realize how bad it was but I’m still not keeping that one. I’ll order you another one too.”

“As you should.”

“Juliaaa said youre welcome, Harry, but take caution. I don’t want to see my best friend on sex sent me to the ER,” Y/N laughed through her words as she read the text.

Harry laughed as well. “If we ever were on that show it would be because of you. You’d probably break my dick or something.”

“Excuse you?”

“I mean, you love the way it tastes so maybe you’ll try to eat it one day-“

“Youre so weird, Harry, why would-“

“Or your pussy will get too tight one day when you cum and maybe it’ll just snap my dick right in-“

“Harry!”

“Or you’d suffocate me with your thighs-that,” he pointed his index finger at nothing, “would be enjoyable though, I’m not even gonna lie-“

Y/N held her phone to her mouth. “Thank you, now Harry is sitting here telling me every scenario he thinks could happen to us to get us on sex sent me to the ER.”

“Are you on the phone?

“Audio message.”

“Oh,” he hummed. “Honestly, I could also see you breaking my nose from squeezing my head between your thighs? Or just when you ride my tongue, that could also happen. Or when you ride my face, I mean you’re pretty careful but your clit does always end up touching my nose and I swear-“

“I’m going to sleep, this whole cute, romantic, sexy night has been ruined by all of your weird ass scenarios, Harry, I’m not gonna break your fucking nose and my pussy isn’t tight enough to snap your dick-“

“Have you felt that thing?” He raised his eyebrows. “I swear you’ve never fingered yourself then because-“

“Please make it stop,” Y/N covered her ears, making him laugh.

“I’m just kidding, baby, come here,” he kissed her lips and pulled her into his side.

“Stop already,” she complained even though she let him hug her.

“Okay, okay. I’ll stop. Come, want me to massage your ass again?”

“Obviously,” she rolled her eyes and whined. “Nobody told you to stop.”

“You’re right, dunno what I was thinking,” Harry cooed as he reached down and gave her a nice squeeze, then rubbed down, almost reaching her pussy before rubbing back up and and giving her another squeeze. “This what you want?” He started to massage deeply with the tips of his fingers.

“Mhm,” Y/N hummed.

Then she felt a kiss on her head. “Love you, baby.”

“I love you too,” she smiled.

MANCHESTER NIGHT TWO

prompt: Harry is having his ‘adjustment day’ and everyone has to suffer with him

word count: 7k+

warnings: smut, blood, minors dni 18+

i write for FREE - I am also trying to steer away from paetron so everyone can have access my stories - so if you would like to support my work, you can donate here.

*thanks to @ladylazarus98 and @fallon-carrington123 for inspo 😙

if you liked please reblog, recommended, like, and come talk to me about it! (this is what motivates me to continue writing)!

*** <- click for visuals throughout the story

As stated before, like clockwork, a couple dates into tour - Harry gets crabby beyond belief.

It’s been happening since the Up All Night Tour.

Give it just a few shows until his body starts to catch up and then he has to get back into the routine which takes some adjustment.

He’s also hasn’t had a stage this big for his tour since One Direction days and now he has a whole stadium to prance around in.

Tour means drastically less sleep, a thousand more pounds of pressure on his shoulders each day, extreme amounts of exhaustion from his actual show, and less time for anything but performing.

Harry has always managed to juggle all these things pretty well except for his sporadic bouts of crabbiness and just overall poor mood.

YN had been used to those for every tour, just waiting for the day to hit, sometimes it was the second tour day and then other times it was the seventh.

It turns out to be his fourth, if you’re including his set at the summer ball in wembley stadium.

Last night, Harry had been so utterly drained from his performance in his hometown that they hadn’t done anything but go to sleep after the show with very little spoken because he was still so overstimulated from everything that day.

YN is up earlier than him which is unusual, he definitely wasn’t fancying a workout after that show last night, he deserved a lay in.

They were staying with Anne, not the same home Harry grew up in but still warm and cozy - with many touches of mum that she knew he missed.

Anne is out to breakfast with a group of her friends, the house is quiet as YN fixes herself a cup of chai tea and sits on a chaise that over looks the well maintained garden.

Nearly an hour later, YN hears slow, heavy footsteps from behind her then a graveling grumbling, “Morning.”

YN already knew, just by the greeting that today was the day but she always had hope that she was wrong though she rarely ever is.

When she turns to look over her shoulder, she sees her husband in just his briefs, hair going every which way, and his face is still puffy from sleep - he looked adorable.

“Come have a cuddle,” YN offers, patting the spot next to her, normally, he would have curled right in next to her and they would have stayed there for a long while.

Harry’s face twists up before he’s shaking his head, “Don’t want a cuddle, I want a coffee. My mum doesn’t have the bloody oat creamer I need. Now I’m shit out of luck, I guess.”

YN wants to roll her eyes at him because the pout on his face is absolutely ridiculous and the way his shoulders are tensed up is dramatic.

“Well, we can go to the market and get some,” YN suggests the obvious option even though she really didn’t want to go through Harry being noticed out in public.

There wasn’t much time before Harry would have to be at the stadium which is still about forty-five minutes away from his mum’s house.

“Fine,” Harry huffs out before turning on his heel to go get dressed, feet still heavy and irritated as they drag against the hardwood floors.

YN knew by now not to personalize it, not to get her feelings hurt because that only made it worse - she tried to avoid any type of confrontation on these days because feeding into the negativity is what he wants - wants others to be in a foul mood like he is.

He returns back downstairs in a low-key outfit of a hoodie, running shorts, and tennis shoes with a beanie and sunglasses - people knew he was in the area, they were going to be on the lookout for him.

YN was already dressed in a pleasing hoodie and leggings, pulling her own hood up and slipping on a pair of sunglasses as well.

Harry’s quiet during the ride into town, his hand on her thigh but he doesn’t say anything and she doesn’t push him - he can get so overwhelmed and overstimulated that it can take a whole day for him to reset.

They’re in the small market, in the dairy aisle, and find a similar enough container of oat creamer that he can use for his coffee.

“Do you think I have enough time for a nap-“ Harry begins to ask quietly as they walk out of the shop after checking out but is cut off by screams.

“Fuckin’ hell,” Harry mutters under his breath as he noticed a large flock of fans that had formed outside while they were shopping.

Harry doesn’t stop for any pictures, tries his best to acknowledge the fans without stopping to greet them because he just doesn’t have the energy for it.

Despite his grumpiness, he’s always a good husband, pulling YN close to his side as he begins to try to nicely push his way through the group of screaming fans.

“Bloody eight in the morning,” Harry hisses in irritation as they get jostled around by the mass of pushing bodies.

YN feels a sharp pain shoot through her Achilles when someone accidentally steps on the back of her heel with their heavy combat boot.

“Ow! Harry,” YN gasps in surprise as she pauses where she’s standing and squeezing her eyes shut as she tries not to panic - it can get overwhelming so fast.

“What is it? What’s wrong?” Harry asks urgently in concern, eyes hardening when he sees the back of her foot bleeding from a scrape - it wasn’t serious but it was preventable and looked like it hurt like hell.

Harry manages to keep a level head but his voice is loud and booming, “Everyone needs to step back. You just made my wife bleed. Give her space for Christ’s sake!”

He’s not yelling but it’s firm enough that everyone takes a step back with surprised eyes at his tone that he rarely ever used with the public.

Harry wraps his arm tightly around YN’s shoulder as he hustles them towards the car, quick as he whips open her door and helps her in - blood pooling in her sandal as it drips.

When he revs up the engine of his Range Rover, the crowd steps back a bit to give him space to peel out of the car park, he’s shaking his head angrily as he goes well over double the speed limit.

He’s quiet again, getting a good bit of distance between them and the market before he’s pulling over at a small empty playground and shoving it into park before he’s out of the car once again.

Harry is opening her door and gently reaching for her ankle, brows furrowed and an angry grimace on his face that highlight the dark circles under his eyes.

“What happened?” He asks as he examines the cut with careful movements, thumb caressing her ankle bone.

“Someone was too close behind me, stepped on my heel with their boot,” YN yelps when he prods at the sensitive skin around the wound and tries to yank her foot away but he grips it firmly.

“Sorry,” Harry apologizes roughly as he steps away to open to boot of the car - scrounging around until he comes back with a water bottle and one of his clean tee shirts from the cleaners which he picked up yesterday, “This might sting a bit.”

YN’s hand grips the handle on the door and squeezing when he begins to pour water over the cut and wipe the dirt from the shoe away with his shirt.

It wasn’t the end of the world but it sure as hurt.

Harry then rips the shirt, without a care that it was an expensive cotton tee from Alessandro himself, and wraps it around her ankle in a makeshift wrap.

YN leans forward after he’s done, wrapping her arms around his neck, and kissing him softly despite how stiff he is, he kisses back.

“Thank you, best husband,” She murmurs against his lips but he actually scoffs and takes a step back, a stormy expression still on his face.

“Yeah, really the best husband,” He frowns, pouring the water over his dirty hands before drying them with a scrap of the shirt, “If I was a good husband, you wouldn’t have gotten hurt or put in the position in the first place.”

His words were sharp, disappointed in himself as he shuts her door and gets back in the driver’s seat, grip on the wheel so tight his knuckles are white.

By the time they get home, YN is frustrated that Harry doesn’t have enough time to lay back down for a nap because sleep exhaustion was not fun.

She really really didn’t want him going out on stage when he was this tired, he always felt frustrated with his performance afterwards which just made everything spiral.

Harry isn’t under the same impression because when they get home, YN is busy cleaning up her foot and telling Anne what happened.

He disappears upstairs, YN assumes to get his items together to take to the stadium but she gets distracted with Anne and the cats.

It isn’t until the shiny black SUV pulls in to chauffeur them that YN realizes that she hasn’t seen Harry in about half an hour.

When she trails up to the bedroom they’re staying in, she sees him fast asleep ontop of the covers, he hadn’t even taken his tennis shoes off he was that deprived of sleep.

YN felt awful when she had to sit next to him on the bed and gently rub her hand over his chest, whispering, “H, need you to get up.”

It reminded her of his One Direction days.

-

They were so overworked.

All the boys ran in less than five hours of sleep and were expected to work every moment they were awake.

From recording to interviews to having cameras for documentaries shoved in their faces every other minute - they were constantly spread thin.

They were tucked away in a tiny tour bunk on top, the curtains drawn and they were both fast asleep with Harry’s nose buried in her neck.

After concerts lately, the team had been making the boys stay up even later to record for their next album - no care for how much they just wanted to go to sleep.

When Harry would finally crawl into the bunk, after a concert and then two hours of studio time, it would be two in the morning.

He would be asleep in a minute flat, YN could barely get a goodnight or I love you in before he was nuzzling into her and snoring.

It was like that tonight, they had just performed in Paris and it was an unusually hot night on stage - the heat had Harry’s hair matted to his neck where it fell out of his bun.

The heat always made it harder on their bodies to perform, running around that massive stage, and on a running timer of little sleep.

When Harry had ran off stage after the finale of Best Song Ever, he’s grabbing YN’s hand and rasping, “Just want to shower with you and sleep for days. C’mon before they try to grab me to record.”

They find him, however, before he can get onto the tour bus, and demand that he come record the chorus for Fireproof.

“Just want a shower and to sleep. Is it that much to ask for?” Harry grumbles unhappily before giving YN a kiss and pat to her bum, “I’ll miss you. I’ll try not to wake you when I get in.”

He always did. But it was okay.

It was nearly three hours later when Harry is crawling up the ladder and pushing the curtain back so he can slide into the bunk next to her before pulling the fabric back in place.

He smelled good of his normal eucalyptus body wash and mint shampoo, he was still a little damp like he didn’t want to towel off, and he was just in his briefs as he nestled in next to her.

“Mmm,” YN hums drowsily, acknowledging him as she wiggles back into him and sighing happily when he wraps his arm around her and kisses the nape of her neck.

“Sorry for waking you,” Harry whispers sleepily, planting a few more kisses along her neck and shoulders.

“What time is it?” She mumbles half- asleep still as she helps him pull the blankets over his body too.

“About four in the morning,” He tells her before being interrupted with a yawn as he begins it’s his head on the same pillow as her.

YN vaguely remembers huffing out that it was too late and that he needed sleep but by the time those syrupy words rolled off her tongue, Harry was already dead to the world.

Not much time could have passed before fluorescent light is infiltrating their little nest and a deep voice is announcing, “Time to get up.”

YN squints the light away, grabbing blindly at her phone to check the time.

“It’s six on the morning, Paul. Harry just got into bed at four,” She tells him through a groan, her boyfriend hadn’t even stirred yet.

“Don’t know what to tell you. They have a jammed packed day, no wiggle room. Harry, wake up,” Paul’s voice is louder this time before he’s pulling open the curtains to everyone else’s bunks.

YN knows Harry’s awake when he inhales sharply before taking a lazy, long breath out - lips smacking together against the skin of her neck.

She brings her hand to card through his long lock, nearly to his shoulders. They’re fluffy and soft from his shower the night before.

“I’m so tired,” Harry mumbles sleepily, eyes still shut as he nuzzles further into her body, “I feel like m’gonna die if I keep running on two hours of sleep every night.”

“I hate seeing you this exhausted,” YN replies sadly, massaging his scalp for a moment longer before Paul’s making his rounds to make sure they’re out of bed.

-

Harry still looked like that same sleepy boy right now as he sniffles and digs his face further into the pillow in resistance.

“H, the car’s here already,” YN tells him, letting her hand drift down the warm muscle of his tattooed bicep and forearm.

His eyes blink open harshly, pausing to process for a moment before he’s grunting, “Why didn’t you wake me up sooner? Only been asleep for a minute and now we have to go. Bloody ridiculous.”

YN rolls her eyes as he pushes himself off the bed with a irate grumble, he begins shoving stuff in his tote bag, and cursing to himself.

She knows by now not to take it personal, to not argue because it only makes things worse. Sometimes that’s easier said than done but not when it comes to little things like this.

When YN goes to hike her own duffle over her shoulder, Harry hip bumps her, and lugs it over his own - like she said, even when he’s grumpy he’s an amazing husband.

“See you at the stadium in a few hours,” YN tells Anne, giving her a kiss on the cheek and allowing her to wrap her in a motherly hug

“Bye mum,” Harry says bluntly, giving her a wave before he’s stepping up into the car and shutting the door.

Anne looks at YN with a confused expression, taken aback by the curt behavior of her son.

YN waves her hand dismissively, “It’s not you. I think today’s his adjustment day.”

That’s what they all referred to it as.

-

“Well, it’s definitely his adjustment day,” YN scoffs in agitation as she slams shut the dressing room door and heads out to where the rest of the band is hanging out, “Date six this time.”

The boys chuckle because they know exactly what she’s talking about by their third tour, he’s just like clockwork.

A few minutes later, Harry admerges in his tight black skinny jeans, loose button-up, and a headscarf holding his curls back.

“Where’s YN?” He demands when he doesn’t see her anywhere in the vicinity.

“Maybe you shouldn’t have been a douche at soundcheck and we’d tell you,” Louis shrugs, not bothering to look up from the video game he's playing with Zayn.

“You can go fuck yourself,” Harry snaps instantly, jaw clenching as he storms past his bandmates who just ignore him anyways.

He was normally the kindest, least problematic out of all of them so they’d let his bad days slide more easily than with each other.

YN is currently pouring herself a glass of fresh squeezed mango juice from the Kraft service table when Harry finds her.

“You know I love you,” Harry murmurs quietly as he steps behind her, she can feel him pressing up against her.

“I would hope so,” She replies with a chuckle, taking a sip before saying, “If not, we just wasted quite a few years.”

“Are you mad at me?” He pushes, ignoring the dirty look she gives him when he takes the cup out of her hand and swigs down the juice she’d just poured - he reaches around her to refill it.

“No,” YN sighs as she takes the glass back, leaning back into him, “Just hated days when you’re like this. It’s hard for me to watch. You just get worn so thin and get so mentally tired that it makes me sad to see you get pushed so much.”

“It’ll get better, in a few years, when I’m on my own,” Harry promises as he leans in to kiss her temple, hands squeezing her hips, “If I ever get the chance to do a solo tour.”

-

Oh, would he.

A sold out stadium tour to be exact.

And he wasn’t lying, when he went solo things did get a lot better.

He wasn’t spread as thin as ice constantly, everyday of the year but maybe now half the year - only when he’s touring or promoting but he definitely had a bit more down time for self-care.

It was the back-to-back concerts, like Glasgow, Capital Ball, Manchester night one, and now night two before Wembley, she was so proud she could burst at the seams.

Harry had been just a moody during soundcheck, a frown etching his lips downward as he kept an annoyed expression on his face.

“S’too loud.”

“I say it’s too loud so you turn the volume up?”

“Okay. Why is it suddenly becoming difficult to get this right? We’ve done it a million times before.”

Fans idealized who Harry is as a person.

That’s not saying that he isn’t wonderful and kind but he is human, this is the side YN gets too which is part of being in a marriage - the good and the bad.

People blog about how perfect their relationship must be, how Harry must bring her flowers in bed everyday, and never get cross with her.

Harry Styles the brand isn’t the same as Harry Styles the person.

Most people get the brand, very few get the person.

YN feels bad as she watches the audio techs scramble to make it right, bickering between each other as they fumble with the buttons and switches.

The soundcheck was already running too close to showtime which YN knows has Harry on edge, the fans will be let in almost as soon as they’re done - he’ll have to start getting ready.

—

“Hey!” YN squeaks, giggling quietly as she looks around the hallway, “Harry, you don’t have much time before you have to go on stage!”

“Shush up and let me kiss you before the boys find us,” Harry leans in, connecting their lips as he’s pushing her back against the wall.

“Oi! Styles, get your arse to the stage! What did I tell you about distracting him?” Preston barks at them as he’s trying to taper down a smile by putting his hands on hips like he means business.

Harry grumbles as he gives her one more kiss before bumping their noses together, “Want to go get pizza after the show?”

“Isn’t as easy as before. Now you need security and approval,” YN murmurs but there’s no heat behind the words, “I’d love to get pizza later.”

She reaches up to adjust his bandana, he looks like a frat boy with his golden dark tan, black cut-off tank, and ripped skinny jeans.

“Styles! I mean it! Now!”

“Bloody hell! M’coming!” Harry shouts back before flipping him the bird.

-

Harry picks a fight with Harry Lambert about his outfit, complaining about nothing and refusing any replacement item.

Everyone already knows he’s going to wear what was originally planned but he has to complain that the zipper was too flimsy or the shirt didn’t mesh with the shoes.

He didn’t want the three other shirt options and so he goes back to the original but debates over his shoes for nearly twenty minutes.

Lambert looks like he wants to strangle him by the time it’s over.

Usually, Harry would slip into his clothes with any issue as they planned these outfits in advance and Harry had specifically approved every single one.

YN isn’t in the room when Jeff chews Harry out about how he acted today at the grocery store, how he should have stopped and taken pictures, and signed autographs.

She misses that Harry had just told his best friend and manager to fuck off and leave him alone, to not come near him at all, and mind his own business.

YN had been sat with Anthony Pham as he clicked through pictures from the night before on his laptop, he landed on an action shot of Harry jumping up the few stairs when he was going crazy during ‘Satellite’.

She had meant to warn Harry to be careful about doing that and he had just happened to be storming out of his dressing room when she looks up.

“H, baby,” YN calls, unsure of where he was heading but he stops in his tracks and meets her gaze with a tight jaw.

“What?” Flat. Blunt.

“Anthony was just showing me some pictures from last night. Please be careful when you jump those stairs. It might drizzle and if you slip, you’re really going to get hurt,” YN tells him softly, it wasn’t pestering or nagging - it was because she cared and thought she’d remind him.

His face pinches up even more as he listens before he’s booming out, “I’m not a fucking baby. I don’t need to be told that. S’my show and I’ll do what I want.”

YN takes a deep breath, steadying herself so that she doesn’t match his negative energy but inside, she’s absolutely livid with him.

“You’re right, Harry. It is all your show, popstar. You do what you want,” YN scoffs as the angry rising up in her chest before she’s giving Anthony a pat on the shoulder before she’s walking away the from the situation.

Popstar.

When YN used it, it was an insult. It was to highlight how spoiled or egocentric he was being. Every time she says it in that context, it triggers him.

-

“I don’t want to go out tonight. I’m saying no and it’s final,” Harry huffs firmly, sitting on the couch in their first London flat.

“You promised me last week that you would come with us, H. Everyone’s expecting you and I want you to come as well,” YN bites back as she stands at their kitchen counter.

“No. It was leaked that I was back in London. Everyone knows I’m here. I’m not going out to just be bombarded with fans and paparazzi tonight. I’m not doing it after a three week long press tour for This Is Us.”

“Fine,” YN mutters, slamming her cup down a little harsher than necessary, “It’s much more important than what I want. Right, popstar?”

“That’s not what I said! You bloody know that I hate when you call me that!” Harry raises his voice, running a hand through his curls.

“Then stop acting like a spoiled little popstar!” YN retorts hotly, she logically knew she was the one being a little over dramatic - she just had not liked his tone.

-

His face instantly turns into a deeper scowl when he hears it, his teeth gritting together as he stares intently at her back before following after her.

“Don’t walk away from me,” Harry demands lowly as he takes strides behind her, “M’not being a popstar, I just don’t need mothered.”

YN spins on her heel, crossing her arms, “I’ve been plenty plenty patient with you today. My patience has run out. You need to adjust your attitude or you can sleep on the couch tonight.”

“Rather that anyways,” Harry hisses brattily, kissing the back of his teeth - YN can see straight through the rough guy act.

Anyone else would be intimidated by his broad shoulders, stoney glare, and clenched jaw but not her, not one bit, she doesn’t back down.

“Don’t come crying to me when you hurt yourself on stage,” She shrugs casually before shaking her head in disbelief at his overall attitude today.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Harry rumbles back before he’s storming off, back towards his dressing room before he’s swinging open the door and slamming it shut.

YN has to chuckle because even on his worst days, like today, he’s just a little brat but never gets to the point where YN feels anything but a mixture of annoyance and fondness.

YN inhales deeply to let the annoyance flow out of her body as she walks towards Harry Lambert to get her outfit for the show.

It was a simple light washed gucci jumpsuit, the denim was the same color as the denim that made up Harry’s overalls. ***

(imagine them in the same color denim as Harry’s)

YN was planning on a cute pair of mule heels but with the cut on the back of her ankle, she figured she better go for something more comfortable.

She decided to just keep on her slides, she was going to stay off to the side of the stage tonight - about halfway through the show Anne and everyone else would join her.

It’s nearing showtime when YN realizes she hasn’t seen Harry in a hot minute as she sees Jeff storming down the hallway - near red in the face.

“What’s going on?” YN questions with concern as she sees Harry jogging down the long corridor towards the stage.

“He fell asleep and now he’s pissed that he only has five minutes until showtime,” His manager huffs before he’s mumbling an update on his walkie.

“Maybe if somebody fuckin’ woke me up!” Harry complains boisterously as he’s tucking his ear pieces into and hustling towards the stage where he now has less than a minute until showtime.

He’s too distracted by being rushed to the stage by the crew for YN to wish him luck or anything like that but YN finds a storage box to sit on - on side stage.

She can feel the camera flashes not only on Harry but on her as well, it was always awkward to remember that people would film her watching Harry and post it as well.

The show is going fine, Harry seems to be a little more subdued than the night before but overall he always manages to put on a great performance and his fans won’t be able to tell.

Towards the end of the show, a light drizzle begins to fall and coat the stage - making it slippery and what YN had warned against.

As Harry is going crazy during Satellite, he starts jogging backwards down the long catwalk before turning quickly to jump up onto the platform - skipping the three steps.

YN’s heart drops when she sees his face twist into grimace before he’s covering his expression with a forced smile again.

He hadn’t tripped or tumbled over but he most definitely had landed funny on his ankle, just like YN had ‘mothered’ him about.

It must be bothering him because he does not jump around nor does he run for the rest of the show, babying that foot.

YN’s first reaction is to be furious with him, she told him this would happen and he was in such a poor mood that he got angry instead and ended up hurting himself.

She wants to scream ‘I told you so’ as soon as he steps off the stage but she not going to make the situation even worse than it already was.

After the show, all of their friends and family who attended were supposed to go out to eat at a restaurant Jeff had paid out to have for the night.

However when Harry jogs off stage gingerly before slowing to a slow walk as soon as he’s out of the eye line of fans.

YN is waiting for him like always, feels a bit of warmness when he comes to her, dipping down to kiss her before pulling back and murmuring, “You look gorgeous.”

“Thanks,” YN murmurs, thumbing a stray curl off his damp forehead, “You going to go shower before we head out to The River’ Edge?”

Harry’s face turns stormy for the hundredth time of the day, he shakes his head adamantly as he straightens back up, “No, m’not going. I just want to go back home.”

YN already knows why but still prompts, “Why?”

“Why? Because I just bloody did a show for nearly eighty thousand people and I want to relax, not entertain fifty more,” Harry huffs like it’s obvious, crossing his arms and pouting out his bottom lip.

She’s actually relieved that he doesn’t want to go because she know his attitude wouldn’t have been any better there and this miserable day would have just dragged on.

YN’s heel was still hurting, the skin tender and sore, and she didn’t feel like walking anymore tonight either but the only thing she was worried about was Jeff.

He wasn’t going to be happy that Harry wasn’t attending his own party.

“Go get out of your stage clothes and I’ll go tell Jeff that we’re going to head home,” YN reaches up and rubs at his shoulder before turning to find his manager.

“Okay,” Harry grumbles before stalking off towards his dressing room, it was amazing what a mask he could put on when he has to for his job.

When YN finds Jeff and pulls him aside, he’s just as livid as expected and his patience is minimal based on his argument with Harry earlier.

“Why can’t anyone fucking listen to me?” Jeff shouts in frustration, he seems to have already had a few drinks in his system.

“Can you not control your husband for a fucking minute?”

“We’ve had this planned for months! There’s no reason to cancel.”

As Jeff continues to rant, YN is speechless as she’s being screamed at for something she didn’t even do but she was guilty by association because Harry was her husband.

However, Jeff becomes eerily silent suddenly as YN feels familiar hands grip her hips and pull her back into the strong, muscular chest of her husband.

“I know for a fact, you weren’t just raising your voice at my wife,” Harry states in an unsettlingly calm tone as he moves to step in front of her.

Jeff looks guilty as he glances between the couple.

Then Harry’s voice raises in volume, startling YN with the deep bravado that rumbles from deep within his chest, “I said I know you’re not raising your voice at my wife. Who the fuck do you think you are?”

“I’m sorry,” Jeff relents with a sigh, raising his hands in surrender, “I just am frustrated that the party -“

“I don’t need to hear your excuses,” Harry cuts in, moving his hand to intertwine with YN’s as he begins to pull her away, “Don’t let me catch you talking to her like that ever again or there will be major, major problems. Understand?”

Jeff nods, embarrassed by everyone around them staring at the spectacle as Harry directs YN down the hall towards the exit of the stadium where there’s a car waiting.

They don’t speak during the walk, Harry stills spun tight and his shoulders are tensed up as he ignores all the crew ogling him with excitement and amazement.

In the SUV, Harry kicks off his sneakers which he typically doesn’t do so YN takes that as another sign that his ankle is bothering him.

Harry is the biggest baby when he’s hurt usually.

He wants to be cuddled, soothed, and wants YN’s full attention at all times (which isn’t very different from everyday for them).

But he’s stubborn and grumpy as all get out.

He goes easily when YN wraps her hand gently around his neck and directs him until he’s laying across the backseat with her nails scratching at his scalp as he blinks heavily, trying to stay awake.

The ride’s not even an hour but Harry drifts off after only a few minutes after the car pulls out of the stadium lot.

He’s groggy as YN unlocks the front door to Anne’s house and leads him up the stairs where he disappears into the bathroom to shower.

YN disappears downstairs to scrounge through the freezer until she’s grabbing a solid bag of frozen peas and pouring herself a glass of water, as well as one for him with a few pain reliever pills.

When she enters back into their room, she changes out of her denim outfit and into a cute pajama set because she didn’t want to sleep in her underwear at her mother-in-law's house. ***

Harry comes out soon after, not one for long showers when he’s sleepy and has just a tight pair of briefs on as he rubs his eyes. ***

“C’mere,” YN pats the space next to her on the bed then grabs the cold bag of vegetables.

“What are those for?” Harry grumps as he subtly limps to the bed and plops down heavily right up against her.

“For the ankle you hurt on stage,” YN raises her eyebrow at him before nodding down to where it’s swollen and bruising.

“I didn’t,” He argues instantly, defensive with his hackles up and knitted brows, “Don’t know what you’re talking about. You’re imagining shit.”

“Mmm, must be,” YN replies nonchalantly, tossing the bag back onto the bedside table and acting like she’s wriggling down to get ready for bed - refusing to give into his antics.

Harry grunts and grumbles for a few minutes, turning and squirming because he does want YN to baby him and he’s fighting against himself.

YN is faced away from him, trying to taper down her smile when he finally relents after a painful day of attitude, “Want you to ice my ankle, baby.”

She flips to her other side before sitting back up, biting the inside of her cheek and shaking her head fondly, she loved her overly worked, exhausted husband so fucking much.

“Yeah?” YN hums softly, welcoming Harry when he leans over and nuzzles into her throat, “Ready to let me take care of you?”

“M’sorry,” Harry whispers against her skin, lips brushing against her pulse point, “I never get better at dealing with my adjustments to tour.”

“Been like this since you’ve been sixteen,” YN tells him as she directs Harry to move until his foot is in her lap and she’s wrapping a dish towel around the bag and pressing it to his ankle.

“Think I just landed funny, hopefully it will feel better in the morning,” Harry frowns, hissing at the cold touch before relaxing against it.

“Hopefully,” YN repeats as she keeps it pressed there, her thumb rubbing at his skin in soothing circles to calm him.

Harry pauses for a moment before acknowledging, “You were right, shouldn’t have been jumping ‘round like that when it was wet. Will you forgive me for acting like a prat today?”

“I forgive you every time,” YN giggles with a shake of her head, “If I didn’t, I wouldn’t have let you put a ring on it.”

“We’re twenty eight now. Don’t regret letting me wife you up at nineteen?” Harry’s voice has taken a deeper rasp, he’s totally using his sex voice right now because despite how tired or injured he is - he will still try to get it in.

“Never for a moment. Got to marry the famous Harry Styles, breaking new records with every album, fat bank account. It’s working out alright,” YN teases coyly, goosebumps decorating her skin as Harry’s gaze gets more directed and intense.

“Yeah? Just married me for my money and fame?” Harry rumbles, leaning down to toss the bag of peas on the floor.

“And your big cock,” She smirks as her eyes drop to where he’s noticeably hardening and filling out the thin fabric, pushing against it to make more room.

“Always been a fan of that, hm? Never complain, exact opposite actually. Constantly begging for, for me to fill you up just right,” Harry’s fully turning himself on at this point as he grips the bottom of her sleep shirt.

She smacks his hands off, “Think you can act like an utter brat all day and still get the goods?”

“Said M’sorry,” Harry bites back, persistent as he reaches out again and YN lets him pull it over her head, her bare chest revealed, “Plus, s’your wifely duty. Be a nice little thing and let me ‘ave you.”

Those words shouldn’t make her as wet as they do.

“Should make you just make me come and not let you,” YN gasps as he ducks down, puffy lips wrapping around her nipple and pulling it into his mouth.

He pulls back for a moment, a cocky smirk on his face as he says, “We both know m’coming tonight. Let it drip out of you.”

“H,” YN whines at his filthy words as he bits at her nipples as he’s shimmying her shorts and panties off her hips in one fluid motion.

It’s not how she saw their night ending but she definitely wasn’t complaining.

There’s not any preamble because even though he’s horny, he’s tired, and doesn’t have the energy to go at it for hours.

He slips in with no resistance, moaning loudly into her mouth as he begins a steady, harsh rhythm that hits her spot every odd stroke and his thumb is tight on her clit to make sure she falls off the edge with him.

It’s only mere minutes after they finish that Harry is snoring softly into her neck, while body wrapped around hers - thigh swung over her legs, arm across her tummy.

It’s something that never gets old to her.

There’s millions and millions of people who adore Harry, they want in every way imagineable, they make it known by coming to his concerts in swarms.

People have been obsessed with him since he was sixteen.

But despite all that, Harry never changes.

He craves attention but he needs it the most from his wife. He lives for being able to snuggle and hang all over her at all times. He needs her to be there to take care of him and tell him he’s doing a good job

He’ll always just be Harry to her.

TikTok Series | Anyway, so.

Word Count: 1.2k

Category: Fluff

Warning: Idk, language? Idk anymore but no heavy stuff it’s literally just TikTok content

Request: for your tik tok series i can imagine y/n and harry trending and harry would be like “what did you post now?” and it would actually be the fans this time. the “i’ve never seen two pretty best friends” with videos of them being like they are both pretty so that’s a lie. loving that series

** THIS IS SO CUTE I LOVE IT! i hope you like it, and let me know what you think 🤍

// masterlist //

..

The numbers only went up with your TikTok; the views, the likes, the comments, and the followers.

What started as just you having fun during quarantine, ended with a verified account and demanding fans of your boyfriend asking you to take part in many challenges and pranks.

“y/n’s tiktok is basically just her cooking or pranking harry or dueting stans’ videos with a hood on and i love every second of it”

“tiktokers: doing stupid shit to gain money

y/n: anyway dudes, here’s how to make grilled cheese with no cheese for if you’re too broke to get any”

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Harry’s a dick, and Y/N hates him for it.

WARNINGS: small dick energy from Harry until all of a sudden it’s big dick energy, if anyone treats you like this at work, please for the love of god go to HR, switch Harry and Y/N, degrading sex, PIV sex, oral (fem and male receiving,) rimming, spit kink, idk man lots of different sex things in this, lots o’ swearing bc it wouldn’t be a fic by me without it and lots of plot where they just hate each other so much lol.

(A/N Here it is; love you all. Pls let me know your thoughts!)

-masterlist-

Y/N hated Harry. 

She hated his perfectly coiffed hair and his smooth, glowy skin. She hated his award-winning smile, which drew people in like a siren or summat, his melodic laugh and the swoon of his voice, which could charm even the grumpiest of coworkers. She hated his leather jackets and his heeled boots, his vanilla and tobacco scent and his tattoos.

And she especially hated the way he teased her. 

Y/N would consider herself a strong and willful woman; she was intelligent and knowledgeable about her work. She cared about her clients and the colleagues around her, even if they were more often laughing at her than actually talking to her. She was well-spoken and confident, but something about Harry riddled her into a bumbling fool for some reason. She could hardly form a sentence around him. And if, by some miracle, she did, it was primitive and nonsensical, often made more embarrassing by the fact that she was usually trying to defend herself against his incessant taunting. 

It was infuriating. Each time she saw him leaving one of the elevators across from her desk, she would internally groan, duck her head and try and focus on whatever was on her computer screen. Anything to avoid capturing his attention, and no doubt his mockery straight after. Why did he need to come down here so often? It felt like he was doing it on purpose. None of the other members on the associate’s team would bother to come down to the analyst floor (too busy dealing with actual clients and pretending they were much better than any analyst still wading through spreadsheets and numbers), but each day he would arrive, waltzing down and gliding across the shitty commercial carpet as if he owned the place, and Y/N fucking hated it. 

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can you please do a harry imagine where he's constantly touching your bum in public and stuff? that would be nice, thankyou :)

I….haven’t proofread this cause it’s really late and I have to be up in like 3 hours, oops. So pardon any mistakes <3 Oh and if you missed my previous post about this, this is heavily influenced by Nicki Minaj’s ‘Anaconda’ so if you haven’t heard the song you should at least go read the lyrics so things make more sense :)

OKAY ENJOY MY THIRSTY BIG BOOTY FRIENDS

“By the way, what he say? He could tell I ain’t missin’ no meals…”  You continue to sing along and dance in the passenger seat of Harry’s very nice car as he drives through sunny LA, the addictive song making you feel particularly naughty. You had jumped at the chance to accompany him on a few errands, excited to be doing even the most mundane things with him now that he had a break from constant touring. It was also an opportunity to showcase your full, round ass in front of him in your new short shorts.

Harry loved every inch of you, a fact that he made a point to convince you of and made you giddy just to think about, but it was very early in your relationship with him that you found that he had a small obsession with your ass. After going through years of doing squats and leg lifts to try to minimize the size of your bum with little to no success, it was very nice and empowering to be with someone who couldn’t keep his hands off of it. He had already manhandled you as much as he could once you pulled the shorts on fresh out of the shower, and you were determined to milk it for all it’s worth.

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Hey Anna!! A girl with a big booty do you think harry would love it? Like when she walks, certain clothes she wear, during sex like how do you think Harry you act? Would’ve be obsessed wit it? I HAVE TO KNOWWWWWWWWWW late night though *hehe*

Hi babes! I would HOPE he would be into it lol.  The fantasy part of me likes to completely ignore the track record he’s had with stick thin models in the past.  

I personally think he would look so hot with someone curvy on his arm. Always having a hand in her back pocket or an arm wrapped around her holding to the very top of her hip, right above the curve of her behind so he can feel the lift and fall of her hips as she walks. 

I love the idea of her walking around his house in a big t shirt and a pair of his boxers and the underwear not being baggy on her? H has really narrow hips so I imagine he wears pretty small boxers and her filling them out, I think, is really fucking sexy. 

Him sitting at the counter in the kitchen watching her reach for something on the top shelf, exposing the tops of her thighs and the curve of her ass in the tight boxers. Seeing how the shirt rests on the curve of her ass and hips when she brings her arms back down, making his dick twitch with a need to press himself against her. Maybe coming up behind her and doing exactly that, gripping her hips tightly in his fingers as he presses his body against her back with his lips on her neck, whispering something filthy into her ear.  

Alright, I had this full blown image in my head earlier today of him having the front of her pressed up against the wall, standing behind her and lifting her hands up above her head. 

“Keep ‘em there,” whispering his request with his lips brushing against the skin behind her ear before he plants a wet kiss to the top of her shoulder. Pushing his hips against hers more when she arches her back to press her behind to his cock more.  Leaving one more kiss to the back of her shoulder before he’s kneeling behind her. 

He’s watching how her skin indents around his fingers as he squeezes her full cheeks in his hands. Pulling her hips towards him so that her back is arched and her ass is perched up for him. Spreading her cheeks as he leans in to lick her lips fully before slipping his tongue between her folds.  

Moaning into her when she gasps from the smack he leaves against her cheek, gripping it harshly as he holds her ass cheeks open for him to bury his face into her more.  Gripping and kneading and massaging her ass as he licks her cunt until she’s a moaning mess and begging him not to stop.  

Fuck, what a dream.  

Ok now you need to write something about anal cockwarming. You brought this upon yourself

I did… didn’t I?

It’s an unusual position…

… really unusual.

She’s sprawled out on her front upon the mattress of the hotel bed, with her arms folded and acting as a pillow for her pillowy cheek to rest upon, dressed in nothing but a loose shirt that she’d taken from his tour merchandise the previous night. Her knickers having been long forgotten after he’d ripped them from her hips in a haste to have his face between her thighs so he could sleep and dream of how she tasted. And, instead of being sprawled out beside her and occupying the rest of the mattress and using up his own space, he’s sprawled out on top of her. Naked and completely exposed. Cheek pressed against her shoulder, arms wrapped around her middle, his thighs resting upon the backs of hers with his toes nudged into the soles of her bare feet. His nails scratching up the soft flesh she walked upon.

She’s already awake when he rouses from his deep slumber; having been rudely poked awake from the heated and hardening shaft of his cock that had laid perfectly where the backs of her thighs met. A soft giggle escaping his throat, muffled by the t-shirt on her back, when he felt her squirm beneath him. 

“You’re a lump,” she grumbles against her forearm, ignoring the feeling of his nose pushing her hair from her neck, “you’re heavy. Wouldn’t be surprised if you squish the baby, as well as me, under all this hefty weight.”

“Shu’up,” he hums in amusement, moving his legs and resting his knees against the soft sheet of the mattress, “m’not that heavy, love. I probably would’ve suffocated you by now.”

She rolls her eyes as he begins peppering kisses to the nape of her neck.

“We need to get up soon, you know? Or else we’ll have Jeffrey banging on our door, using the spare key from the reception, demanding we get up. He’ll get a nice view of your bare, peachy bum if he pulls away the duvet,” she giggles, scoffing at the raspberry that he blew against her neck, “you’re a child. How on earth are you going to be a daddy at the end of this year?”

“I’m already a daddy,” he whispers deeply into the back of her ear, nibbling on her earlobe as she groans and turns away from him, “you call me daddy, baby girl.”

“That was once,” she cries out in annoyance, “I don’t call you daddy. I call you a fucking idiot.”

He cackles loudly before he falls silent again. Seeing the corner of her lips quirk as she tried to hide the smile that fought to be visible. He lifted his head and switched sides, his face being a few short centimetres away from hers as he began peppering kisses against her cheek.

“’member when-”

“I remember calling you daddy, yes.”

“That wasn’t what I was going to say,” he snorts against her cheek. His morning breath flushing over her lips, wafting through her nose, and for the first time, her stomach stayed away from churning. Because she rather enjoying the position they were in and she didn’t want to ruin it. “I was going to say, do you remember when we tried cockwarming?”

She clenches at the thought; how could she forget?

Having his cock thrusting into her was one thing… but having him resting into her, with no sexual advance to it, was another. 

“Of course. Are you too lazy to sort this boner out?”

He hums in confirmation and nods against her cheek.

“Can we try it up the rear end?”

She chokes on her laugh as he pulls away, leaning all of his weight on one leg, on one side of his body, as he slipped a hand between their bodies. Fingers brushing over her backside as he wrapped his hand around his shaft and gave himself a few jerks. 

“S’gon’a hurt though. Didn’t bring any lube.”

“Why do we need lube when I’m leaking pre-cum like the broken shower faucet in out Switzerland hotel?” He smirks, nudging his thumb over his tip and collecting the dribbles of pre-ejaculate, clear and sticky, that dribbled from the pulsating and throbbing tip. “Surprised you can’t feel the puddle sitting on your bum.”

She snorts into the pillow before she mumbled a gentle ‘okay’ to him. His bottom lip situating between his teeth as he chewed on his flesh, squeezing his cock and jerking himself before he lined himself up with the puckered hole between her pillowy cheeks. Pushing slowly into her, hearing her whimper and cling to her pillow, hearing her toes crack from curling up.

“No sex or anythin’, okay? M’too tired fo’ that. Just absolutely love warmin’ my cock up in yeh.” xx

Ok now you need to write something about anal cockwarming. You brought this upon yourself

I did… didn’t I?

It’s an unusual position…

… really unusual.

She’s sprawled out on her front upon the mattress of the hotel bed, with her arms folded and acting as a pillow for her pillowy cheek to rest upon, dressed in nothing but a loose shirt that she’d taken from his tour merchandise the previous night. Her knickers having been long forgotten after he’d ripped them from her hips in a haste to have his face between her thighs so he could sleep and dream of how she tasted. And, instead of being sprawled out beside her and occupying the rest of the mattress and using up his own space, he’s sprawled out on top of her. Naked and completely exposed. Cheek pressed against her shoulder, arms wrapped around her middle, his thighs resting upon the backs of hers with his toes nudged into the soles of her bare feet. His nails scratching up the soft flesh she walked upon.

She’s already awake when he rouses from his deep slumber; having been rudely poked awake from the heated and hardening shaft of his cock that had laid perfectly where the backs of her thighs met. A soft giggle escaping his throat, muffled by the t-shirt on her back, when he felt her squirm beneath him. 

“You’re a lump,” she grumbles against her forearm, ignoring the feeling of his nose pushing her hair from her neck, “you’re heavy. Wouldn’t be surprised if you squish the baby, as well as me, under all this hefty weight.”

“Shu’up,” he hums in amusement, moving his legs and resting his knees against the soft sheet of the mattress, “m’not that heavy, love. I probably would’ve suffocated you by now.”

She rolls her eyes as he begins peppering kisses to the nape of her neck.

“We need to get up soon, you know? Or else we’ll have Jeffrey banging on our door, using the spare key from the reception, demanding we get up. He’ll get a nice view of your bare, peachy bum if he pulls away the duvet,” she giggles, scoffing at the raspberry that he blew against her neck, “you’re a child. How on earth are you going to be a daddy at the end of this year?”

“I’m already a daddy,” he whispers deeply into the back of her ear, nibbling on her earlobe as she groans and turns away from him, “you call me daddy, baby girl.”

“That was once,” she cries out in annoyance, “I don’t call you daddy. I call you a fucking idiot.”

He cackles loudly before he falls silent again. Seeing the corner of her lips quirk as she tried to hide the smile that fought to be visible. He lifted his head and switched sides, his face being a few short centimetres away from hers as he began peppering kisses against her cheek.

“’member when-”

“I remember calling you daddy, yes.”

“That wasn’t what I was going to say,” he snorts against her cheek. His morning breath flushing over her lips, wafting through her nose, and for the first time, her stomach stayed away from churning. Because she rather enjoying the position they were in and she didn’t want to ruin it. “I was going to say, do you remember when we tried cockwarming?”

She clenches at the thought; how could she forget?

Having his cock thrusting into her was one thing… but having him resting into her, with no sexual advance to it, was another. 

“Of course. Are you too lazy to sort this boner out?”

He hums in confirmation and nods against her cheek.

“Can we try it up the rear end?”

She chokes on her laugh as he pulls away, leaning all of his weight on one leg, on one side of his body, as he slipped a hand between their bodies. Fingers brushing over her backside as he wrapped his hand around his shaft and gave himself a few jerks. 

“S’gon’a hurt though. Didn’t bring any lube.”

“Why do we need lube when I’m leaking pre-cum like the broken shower faucet in out Switzerland hotel?” He smirks, nudging his thumb over his tip and collecting the dribbles of pre-ejaculate, clear and sticky, that dribbled from the pulsating and throbbing tip. “Surprised you can’t feel the puddle sitting on your bum.”

She snorts into the pillow before she mumbled a gentle ‘okay’ to him. His bottom lip situating between his teeth as he chewed on his flesh, squeezing his cock and jerking himself before he lined himself up with the puckered hole between her pillowy cheeks. Pushing slowly into her, hearing her whimper and cling to her pillow, hearing her toes crack from curling up.

“No sex or anythin’, okay? M’too tired fo’ that. Just absolutely love warmin’ my cock up in yeh.” xx

Drive Me Wild

- where Harry has a problem expressing emotions, and Y/n talks too much

Masterlist 

A/N: mentions of drug and alcohol abuse, indications of depression, and a very mild form of smut (if we can really call it that)

Song mentioned: Invisible String by Taylor Swift 

-

December 23, 2016

“Do you even have feelings for me?”

Celeste was sitting across the booth at their local diner, a half-empty mug of hot chocolate left stale at the table top, her eyes wet and cold just like the December she’d been trying so desperately to feel warm in.

Harry had his hands held together in front of him, his eyes void and stare blank as his mind played back to all the times he’d given his all to her. Sure, he didn’t always do it with a smile on his face or with lovestruck eyes, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t happy.

And how could she not see it? How could she not feel it? He didn’t even bother spending his time with anybody else because he didn’t like anybody else. She was his only company, his only kiss, his only friend.

How was that not enough?

“What would make you think that I don’t?”

She laughed, right in his face, like it wasn’t enough to tear him apart.

“You’re kidding me, right?” She looked serious then, her face fallen and lips frowned. He felt stupid because he must have done something he couldn’t remember, or something to blindly hurt her feelings, yet he had no idea what it was. They were doing so good. “Do you even know how you look at me? Like I’m not even here. Like I’m boring you half to death. I can’t even tell what you’re feeling right now.”

Broken, sad, confused. He wanted to tell her that — he really did — but what would it have mattered? He’d still have that same meaningless stare and that same emptiness that had brought them to that very moment. She wouldn’t believe him even if she wanted to.

And it shouldn’t have broken him as much as it did, considering they weren’t even dating — just testing the waters, feeling each other out, wondering if their dreams could ever belong in their reality — but it hurt him just the same. She was the closest thing to a girlfriend Harry ever had, after all.

“Talking to you is like — it’s like talking to a wall. You’re just… there.”

She stopped to look at him more intentionally then — maybe she had missed something all along. Maybe, there was something he did to show the smallest of his emotions, like a shift in his eye, a pitch in his breath, a quiver of his lip.

But just like every other time, there was nothing. He was incurably empty.

“I think you’ve laughed at something I’ve said maybe, five times?” She let out a breathy chuckle because the tension was so thick she could hardly keep herself together, and she was so nervous, and he was so unpredictable. “And then you have this way with your words where, like you say certain things to beat around the bush about how you truly feel about me, and then it makes me wonder if it’s because you don’t even feel that way at all.”

He wanted to argue with her so bad. He wanted so badly to prove to her how wrong she was but how could he have, when she was so right?

Nobody had ever taught him how to do that — the relationships, the emotions, the vulnerability that came with being human. He couldn’t even recall a single time his parents had laughed at something he had said — couldn’t recall his parents ever having friends over, having date nights, even smiling at one another.

And to make matters worse, he was an only child. He was constantly around the voidance of his parents, the empty conversations, the pit of silences — really, that was all he had ever known. And later, that was what he grew into.

And if he could have changed it, he would have. But how does one go from keeping it all inside, to letting it all out?

He’s tried it all — emptying bottles of wine, smoking down blunts, shoving pills down his throat — and still couldn’t he laugh alongside himself, smile at memories that haven’t let him go, pour his heart out to strangers.

That wasn’t him. That wasn’t who he was supposed to be, no matter how hard he tried to be that person for her.

But again, why wasn’t that enough?

“But I’m here, aren’t I?”

Celeste looked at him like it was the last time she was ever going to. And he knew.

“I don’t think you want to be.”

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Third Time’s A Charm

“What d’you think of this one?”

Holding an old ratty t-shirt he’s pulled from the bottom of the pile he’d been examining for the past twenty minutes, he looks absolutely triumphant - like he’s just found the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow - and it makes your heart skip a beat.

“That’s a good one,” You smile and he wiggles his brows teasingly before turning back towards the vintage jackets rack he’d been eying, walking towards it while he hung his new treasure on his shoulder.

He’s pretty.

He’s so so pretty.

And he’s sunny, too. Like the sun had a son and decided to send him down to earth to live amongst mere mortals like you. His smile lights up the room and sends flames up your heart, that aches with how much you feel for him. He’s the sun, the moon, the stars… he’s everything to you and you don’t even know how to tell him.

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Spoiled

It was fun and funny at first, a glimpse of the honeymoon phase you two never got to experience because he was a busy man and you had a career too. Whatever sweet as candy sex-fueled period your relationship should’ve gone through at the beginning was replaced by the deep, heartfelt longing you felt for each other for months on end while you were miles and miles away. It had made you stronger as a couple and you were thankful for it and when you did see each other the sex was… earth-shatteringly good. But even then, you had always wondered what it would’ve been like if you two had had the opportunity to crowd each other’s spaces and take advantage of the closeness normal couple’s get to experience.

You had seen this quarantine as an opportunity - a chance to recreate that and explore each other, in bed and out of it, so you did. 

Any moment both of you had to spare was a chance to get the other naked and by day ten you swore he’d had you on every available surface in the house - the bed, the bedroom floor, the bathroom counter, the kitchen island, the kitchen table, the couch… everywhere and anywhere.

And it never ever got boring - whether you were making love or getting in a proper fuck, it was always filled with laughter and sweat and moans and mind-blowing orgasms you knew he was the only one capable of giving you. Devoted and loving, since the moment you agreed to be his, Harry had made it his mission to know your body just as well as he knew your soul. Every touch and every kiss sent you in reeling and you loved being loved by him but…

But he is a pest. A bored, sex-crazed pest that hasn’t left you alone in however many days the two of you have been holed up in his house, hiding from the world.

Keep reading

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.

Harry suddenly pulls out and wipe y/n's pussy when he was fucking her then he plungs a finger or two to make sure its nice and dry for him before going back in dry. Im dead.

FJUCK

He’d be so huffy and concentrated because he keeps slipping out of you from how wet you are, letting out a small growl every time it’d happen going,

“Yeh too wet f’daddy, angel. Gotta start all ova’”

And he’d use the edge of the towel you’d brought out to the bed when he had given you the bedroom eyes earlier, this situation not being the first time it’s happened. Quickly swiping over your sensitive heat, he’d ease in his fingers to check if he got most of your slick out of the way.

Once he’s satisfied, he’d ease his way back in with a hiss of pleasure, nose scrunching up a bit at the warm and tight heat. The drag of him thrusting in you would be more noticeable, his relentless rhythm sending a current of electricity down your spine.

But as soon as you’d begin your spiral into your climax, Harry’d slip out again, rutting against your clit desperately.

“For fucks’ sake!”

Husband Harry? A concept: Harry fucking you quietly. You're on holiday with your children and he justs fucks you quietly at 4pm after lunch, trying not to wake your five and two year old kids. He's been so sexual lately wanting you to get pregnant again and he drives into you so painfully slow, the burning consuming you. "Daddy needed mummy"

Omg yes, I love this concept

You chuckle as Harry pulls you closer, clearly knowing what he’s up to as he’s been needy all day, always knowing when he is in a mood. “Harry.. The kids,” you warn, looking over at your two kids who’s both fast asleep on each their sunlounger, safely placed in the shadow. 

“They’re napping,” he smirks, tracing his lips over your neck before placing a soft kiss below your ear, slowly trying to convince you to an innocent afternoon fuck. “Come on babe,” he begs, his voice husky as he whispers in your ear.

“We had sex this morning, are you really that needy?” you giggle, but not pushing him off of you as he sucks on your skin, creating a small hickey. “Yes,” he admits with a chuckle, the fact about being away from home always making him hornier than usual. “Daddy needs mummy,” he whispers, his hands slowly undoing the strings of your bikini bottoms and just like that; you give in.

“Just a quickie, yeah?” you request, knowing the kids won’t be sleeping for much longer, getting an eager nod in return before he pulls your bikini bottoms off completely and tug his own swimming trunks down just enough to reveal his hard on that’s been bugging him since lunch. 

You giggle as he flips you over on the big round sunbed the two of you have been chilling on, so you’re spooning, knowing this way you will be more discreet if the kids wake up. Harry grabs a towel and drape it over your hips to cover the two of you. “Been wanting to fuck you all day,” he whispers as he pulls you closer to him, his hand that’s resting on your hip, slowly sneaking down between your legs.

“All nice and wet for me,” he smirks when he runs his fingers through your folds, coating them in your juices. “Mm,” you hum as you bite down on your bottom lip, knowing you can’t be too loud, his erection pressing up against your bum, “acting like you haven’t thought about my cock all day as well.” 

His words causes you to moan, knowing very well that you have indeed been thinking about when you’d be able to have sex again, it being a bit difficult with the kids around, but luckily they have been worn out after playing in the private pool. 

With his free hand he pumps himself a few time in his hand, a moan of relief escaping his lips, as the pressure has been building up for quite a while now. Slowly, he leads himself to your entrance, pressing the tip of his cock in which already makes your walls burn as you stretch around him.

“So fucking tight for me,” he whispers in your ear, his hot breath against your skin causing you to shiver despite the warmth from the sun. “You should’ve thought I would have stretched you out by now,” he chuckles, loving how you’re still not quite used to his size.

Teasingly slow he eases in the rest of his throbbing cock, giving you a moment to adjust as both your eyes falls shut, Harry moaning as he enjoy the feeling of your warm and tight walls wrapping around him. “Shit Harry,” you moan, earning a smug smirk to form across his face. 

His thrusts start off slow, but he’s quick to pick up the pace and the force, your eyes fluttering as he moves behind you, one of his hands still resting by your core, two of his fingers pressing down on your clit in quick movements. 

Attaching his lips to your neck again, Harry hope it will muffle his moans, the feeling of your snug pussy around him just feeling too good. His free hand sneaks into your bikini top to cup your breast, giving it a rough squeeze before flicking your nipple between his fingers. 

“Shh baby,” he whispers against your ear as you let out a loud moan from overwhelming pleasure, Harry’s eyes quickly falling back over to the kids, just wanting to make sure it hasn’t woken them up.

You try your best to suppress your moans, biting down harder on your bottom lip as Harry picks up the force of his thrusts, desperately needing a release. The towel muffling the sound of your hot skin slapping against each other, your skin feeling like it’s on fire from the sun shining down on you.

“Gonna cum love, just a minute more,” he murmurs, his voice huskier than before, both of your breathing quickening, the heat causing both of you to sweat. 

All you can do is whimper in response as your breath hitches in your throat, the familiar tinkling feeling building up the pit of your stomach as you’re getting closer to your own orgasm. His fingers presses harder against your clit, making your body jolt back against his as he squeeze your breast again. 

Just before a loud moan can escape your lips, Harry move his hand from your breast to cover your mouth, knowing you always have trouble staying quiet especially when you cum. And without another warning, you feel his cock twitch inside of you before his thick strings of cum fills you up, a groan leaving his lips as he continues to thrust, triggering your orgasm as well. 

It washes over you in waves of pleasure and just like predicted, your moans are loud, his hand muffling them as Harry feels your walls clenching around his sensitive cock.

A smirk is tugging on the corners of his mouth, it always being quite an ego boost whenever he needs to cover your mouth for you to stay quiet. Your breathing is quick, your bodies sweaty as the two of you calms down after your high, Harry placing a soft kiss to your shoulder.

“Can’t wait to eat that pretty pussy of yours for dessert.”

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. 

#HendallReunited

prompt: request was to write broad but to write something angsty

Word count: 5.2k

Warnings: language, sexual content, angst

Harry always had issues with saying ‘no’ to people. He never quite grew out of his manners even when he should have.

He said ‘yes’ to way too many things- signing autographs for rude fans and paparazzi, and agreed to way too many things Jeff suggested.

Saying yes to everything didn’t make his life any easier is the thing. Especially when it came to his wife. She was usually left with the aftermath of him being too nice.

The media painted Y/N in a negative light occasionally and so did the fans because she would stand up for Harry and not let him say ‘yes’ to every single request.

She would tell disrespectful fans he’s not signing autographs because of the way they were screaming and interrupting his work.

Harry wished he could do it himself - admired that his wife didn’t give a fuck what people thought about her. He cared entirely too much what the world would think.

The couple didn’t fight about much - no, not really. Normal couple stuff for the most part. But this was the exception, this is where Y/N found most of their turmoil.

Every few months it would rear it’s ugly head and they’d find themselves in the same position over and over again.

This time - it was really fucking bad.

Keep reading

:)

hi! can i request a blurb where harry’s gf is a surfer and gets attacked by a shark while he’s on tour? idk i’ve just been really into shark videos and harry is <3 so caring so kind

“Where is she? Where—well, which fucking room?”

The sound of the loud, angry, and incredibly British request trickling into the small hospital room brings a flush to your cheeks.

You had anticipated his outrage, but you can’t quite say you’re prepared to face the wrath of Scary Harry.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” is the first thing out of his mouth as his eyes land on where you’re tucked into bed. 

Offering a sheepish smile, you scoot further under the covers, calling a timid, “Don't be mad, okay?”

“Don’t be—” A scoff. Incredulous. He moves further into the room before flinging his incredibly sparkly jacket into one of the tiny chairs near the wall. “Are you fucking kidding me right now?”

“Well—" Your smile widens, which only aids in further exaggerating his fury. “Oh, relax. I’m fine—”

“I told you not fucking go,” he reminds you before running a hand through the once perfectly styled curls atop his head. Now, they’re disheveled and falling onto his forehead as he tugs. “I—shit.”

“Harry,” you repeat, straightening up once again as you bite back a laugh. “I am fine. He barely got my arm—”

“Oh, really?” A bitter snort, and soon, he’s reaching his fingers around your wrist to pry your arm from the bed and into the air between you.

Your eyes fall toward the bandage wrapped around your elbow as he thrusts his chin forward.

“They don’t just give out band-aids for no fucking reason unless it’s medically necessary.” He leans back. Point proven.

Your eyes narrow. “Okay, well, it’s not a band-aid. It’s gauze.” You tug your hand free. “And second…it’s a little scratch and it’s gonna leave a bitchin’ scar. So, I don’t really see—”

“Do you know how fucking scary it was to get told you had been taken to the hospital?” His words are sharp. Irate. And you can feel the guilt slowly creeping its way up your neck. “Just coming down for a pee and Jeff says, ‘Oh, hey, by the way. A shark tried to bite her fucking arm off and now she might be dead.’”

The urge to laugh becomes stronger, and as Harry watches you tug your lip between your teeth, his scowl deepens.

“This isn’t fucking funny.”

“I know, I’m sorry,” you exhale, reaching out to grab his fingers and encourage him to sit on the bed beside you. “But…Jeff is incredibly dramatic. It didn’t try to eat me, it just—”

“I told you not to go,” Harry is quick to remind you, and you reward him with an exasperated huff.

“Yes, I’m aware. But in my defense…you were supposed to be there with me. So I could teach you how to get better—”

“Right, and then I’d get eaten.” His tone is bitter, but his eyes are alive with relief. “I don’t need to get better at surfing. That’s your specialty. My specialty is—”

“Is peeing in buckets under the stage, yes, I know,” you can’t help but tease, mostly in an attempt to smooth out that frown.

However, the only thing you truly succeed in doing is forcing another scoff from his throat as he leans away from you.

Oops.

“Har,” you whine now, extending your hands once more to try and tug him back to your side. “Come on, don’t be such a baby. I’m sorry I scared you, but I’m fine. I promise.”

His eyes are focused on the wall adjacent to the bed. Brows pulled together. Jaw clenching as his arms cross in front of his chest.

Like a little child.

And the sight brings a warm feeling to your chest. You scoot a tad closer now, moving onto your knees until you can crawl to his side and wrap your arms around his neck.

He keeps his head turned away.

“Baby, I’m sorry,” you whisper, ghosting your lips over his cheek. His breath hitches. You feel his resolve slowly start to crumble beneath your touch. “I promise I’m all right. And I promise I won’t swim there ever again. Ever, ever.”

“And?” He expects more.

You pause, lashes fluttering as you attempt to recall his previous warnings. “Uh…and I promise to wear skimpier bathing suits?”

His eyes roll. “No. I mean…yeah, but no.”

You sink down further into the mattress as you think. “Um…promise let you be Ariel and wear the coconut bra?”

His head turns. “Seriously?”

You set the laugh free as you press a kiss to his tensed shoulder. “M’sorry, baby. Okay, what? What else am I missing?”

A beat. His muscles tighten as he glares at the dingy hospital floor beneath his glittery boots. 

And you wait, fingers rubbing soft circles into his skin until he sighs, and glances back over his shoulder. “Don’t fucking do dangerous shit when I can’t be there to help you.”

Oh.

Your eyes soften, now understanding his reaction. You’ve had this conversation many times. Perhaps too many, although clearly it didn’t stick very well.

It’s not that he’s upset with your surfing. In fact, he adores it. Every aspect of it. The way your face lights up when you catch the perfect wave. The way you call to him from your board as he waits on the shore. The way you reenact the Baywatch running scene whenever asked.

But there have been times, like tonight, when your tendency to go looking for trouble overlaps with his schedule.

And he’s never felt more helpless than knowing he’s trapped on a stage while you wait for him to save you.

Which, you had argued, wasn’t the case. Because you didn’t need him to save you, but you knew that wasn’t really the point, and had quickly agreed.

And then, apparently, immediately forgot.

“Right,” you murmur, reaching up to stroke your thumbs over his rigid jaw. 

“No more being stupid when I’m on stage,” he repeats. Firm. Yet laced with fear.

Your smirk rematerializes. You nod. “No more being stupid when you’re on stage.”

Another pause, his eyes flicking between yours before he sighs and reaches for your hip to tug you closer.

Teeth and tongues collide as he melts into your embrace, nearly forcing you onto his lap as you chuckle. 

“Don’t do that again,” he whispers after a moment, the request ushered into your bottom lip before he pulls back to bury his face in your neck. “Shit, please…please don’t do that again. Thought I was gonna fucking die.”

The mood has switched on a dime and your fingers fall to the hair at the nape of his neck as you run your palm down his skin. 

“Couldn’t…couldn’t get to you.” His voice is hoarse. Broken. Filled with the guilt of a man carrying the weight of your soul. “Fuck, never been so scared in my life. Thought I was gonna lose you.”

You can feel the burn in the back of your throat as the tears crawl their way up. “I know, Har. M’okay, I promise. Won’t do it again.”

“Good.” A soft kiss to the pulse point below your ear. “Cause I’ll feed you to the shark myself if you do.”

With that, you laugh again, slapping at his arm until he pulls back.

"Were you scared?" A hesitant question. One you're sure he's afraid to know the answer to.

You smile as you run your fingers down his cheek, shaking your head softly. "No. Not really. Maybe for a moment, but I knew I'd be okay. Knew you'd be there for me no matter what happened."

You notice the dark storm behind his eyes at this admission, anticipating the way he's already picturing the worst possible scenario.

"Harry," you warn, offering a stern look. "Don't do that. Fear is nothing more than a tool to help keep you alive. If I hadn't been at least a little afraid of losing you, then I wouldn't have found the strength to swim to shore."

"Shit." An angry hiss, his head attempting to turn away again, but you're quick to keep him focused on you. "Don't fucking tell me shit like that."

"I'm sorry." You lean down to press a gentle kiss to his lip, despite your smile. "But it's true. Nothing will ever keep me from you. Not even a big, stupid fish."

He grumbles his misgivings into the gentle kiss but does eventually melt into your touch.

And once he does, and the tense moment has subsided, you let your eyes trail down to his outfit. You’d previously seen photos from Lambert, but now…the real thing. Right in front of your eyes.

Sparkly, pink, and incredibly loud.

“Oh…my gosh.” Your palm flies to your mouth, the right words disappearing into thin air.

On stage, it looks incredible. Perfectly tailored for the show, for the atmosphere, for the crazy antics he and the crowd engage in.

But anywhere else…

“What?” His eyes move down to his chest. “Okay, well, you didn’t see it with the hat. The hat ties the whole thing together.”

Your lips roll into your mouth. “Mhm. Oh, I’m sure.”

“And the boa,” he continues, gesturing toward his neck. “Yeah. Adds some dimension.”

“Yeah.”

“Little spice.”

“Uh huh.”

“Yeah, you’ll see,” he tells you, and your brow quirks up. “Lambi let me borrow it so I could cheer you up while you’re stuck here.”

Well…shit.

“Oh, that’s…that’s so great,” you beam, teeth gritting together as Harry’s smug grin widens.

“Isn’t it? Nurse Harry, here to help.”

“Super.”

His hands move to the mattress, digging into the soft blanket beneath his palms as he leans forward, now incredibly close. 

Your breath hitches in your throat as you watch him eye your lips like candy. Nose brushing against your own as you breathe him in, desperate for what he might have in store.

“So…what do you say?” he murmurs, head tilting until you can nearly taste him. “Gonna let me take care of you?”

You smile. Maybe he’s not so bad after all.

“Sure thing, Ariel.”

“All right, you know what? I changed my fucking mind, the shark can have you.”

“Harry!”

Full Masterlist

“Love, please.”

“Harry! There is absolutely no way that I’m going to get caught by one of your family members having sex in the car.”

“Please darling, I need you.”

“Baby,” she turns towards him, stroking his cheek gently, “we can’t. Imagine your mum walks by, or ROBIN!” she says, shocking even herself with the mention of that possibility.

“We’ll be quiet, yeah? I promise.”

She sighs up at him, “Harry…”

“Y/N…” he looks over at her, eyes pleading.

She shuts her eyes, taking a deep breath.

“Okay, fine, hurry up and pull down your pants,” she exhales, climbing over the centre console separating the two.

His face lights up instantly, dimples digging into his cheeks as he quickly works on his zipper.

——

a/n: i didn’t have anything else to post so here’s a mini-blurb from my drafts :)

Whipped...friends??

Y/N would have never imagined the amount of attention being Harry’s best friend would bring. There’s also always speculations, suspicions that the two might be more than friends, given the fact that when they go out, it’s like they might as well be joined at the hip. Where Harry is on a day off, Y/N is sure to follow, and the paparazzi gets pictures of it all. But Y/N’s always been just a friend. It’s not like she trails behind him like a puppy, no. Harry just always loves having her around, finds comfort in the way she talks to him without a hint of glorification. Tracing back to the beginning of their friendship, Y/N didn’t tip toe around Harry, trying to make sure to not say the wrong thing, never really made impressing Harry a priority. And Harry really appreciated that.

And the relentless bother and questions of “are you two dating?” doesn’t end with the public, no, it continues, and probably gets more intense coming from their group of friends.

Whenever Y/N steps away from Harry’s side, there’s always one of the boys whispering to him about how they’re sure she’s got him wrapped around her pretty little finger. How at the call of his name, Harry never thinks twice about dropping everything and tending to her wants and needs. They make it sound awful in a way, as if Y/N is always needy of Harry and demanded his attention. But they don’t mean it like that really, just like bothering him about it, specially because he gets all worked up in trying to defend her.

They even comment about how they’ve taken notice to the fact Harry’s smile can stretch for miles at the mention of her name, which Harry has never denied. Only nods his head in amusement at the fact others notice.

And maybe their secret little escapes to what they refer to as “friend dates” are no help. They’ll be having a night in on the sofa, Harry sat at the edge of it, elbow propped on the arm rest, mindlessly scrolling through texts and thumbs swift on the screen, typing replies to friends. And obviously Y/N’s with him, lying down and feet resting on his lap, her head flat on the cushion, eyes shut because she quite enjoys just lying about in a silent room, knowing Harry’s there. And it’s not until he shuffles to stand up, pushing her legs off him in the process, that she opens her eyes and follows his body across the room where he doubles over to slip on his YSL boots before he goes for his coat. With a small whisper of “ye’ comin’?” Y/N is sure to follow his steps. Most nights like that they end up in some random bar or restaurant, sat on a stool or a booth, laughing and eating. Harry will often opt to sit next to her rather than in front, taking the chance to lay his head on her shoulder. Even kiss at her neck sometimes.

And when the boys catch a glimpse of the paparazzi photos taken of them all cuddly on a random Tuesday night at a local cafe, Harry’s phone just about overloads with texts from Niall going on about “I knew it!” And “just ask her, man!”

So no, it’s not out of the ordinary for Louis to make a ‘wuh-PSSSH’ sound followed by something snarky like “so whipped, mate. And she’s not even ye’ girlfriend,” when he notices Harry’s stare trailing to where Y/N goes as she makes breakfast for the lot. Harry tries to disregard the comment as Louis takes a seat next to him at the kitchen island.

“What’re you guys going on about over there?” Y/N asks, giggling to herself, “got Harry blushing and all.”

And of course with no chill what so ever, Liam pats Harry on the back, a devilish smile playing on his lips, “Harry here has found himself head over heels.”

Y/N can’t deny that her heart sinks a little at that, but she doesn’t let it faze her, or at least she doesn’t show it. “Really?? Oh who is she??”

“Yeah, Harry! Tell our lovely Y/N who’s the lucky woman!” Harry would hope Niall would be the one not to indulge in his current tormenting.

But Harry can only look at Y/N, her eyes locked on his from across the room. And Harry swears he’s never seen her look at him the way she is right now.

And the boys don’t mean to over tease him this time, just wish he’d finally let it out and tell her because they’re rather sure Y/N feels the same. It’s hard not to notice the way she looks at him, eyes full of adoration and dare they say, love.

When the air has fallen silent for far too long, Liam decides to change the subject for Harry’s sake and stands up to give Y/N a hand with the pouring of the beverages.

“You two have gotten to the point where you grocery shop together.” Liam starts again when Y/N steps away for more milk, “you cook together. You do laundry together. You’re always going on dates. You go with her for manis and pedis, and I’m sure you enjoy it, too.”

“So wha’?? I like spendin’ time with her.” Harry doesn’t really see why that’s so bad, being whipped and all.

“You sleep together,” Louis chimes in, “hell, wouldn’t be surprised if you showered together.”

Now that’s just nonsense.

“Sod off ye’ prick.”

***

It’s been a few weeks since the day Y/N found out Harry’s interested in someone. And she’d be lying if she said it doesn’t keep her awake at night. Awake while she’s lying next to Harry because of the fact that they’d much rather sleep together than alone. But when she looks over at him, she can’t help but smile.

She’s lying on her side, eyes tracing his, rid of any wrinkles they get when he smiles or frowns. They trace all of him. From his eyes to his eyebrows, then his cheeks and to his nose, where she kisses lightly, careful not to wake him. He only crinkles it for a short second, to which she only smiles. Her eyes linger down his neck, tracing every muscle and crevice until she’s looking at the tattoos on his chest, the steady rise and fall of it has her breathing adapting to his.

It’s when she looks at his parted bubble gum pink lips that she raises a hand, her index finger ghosting over his bottom lip. The touch has Harry stirring, eyes open for a moment before he puckers his lips to peck her finger, a smile on his face. He flutters his eyes shut for a second before resting his hand on her waist and rubbing his thumb gently on the exposed skin. He moans in content, pulls her body closer to his and rests his lips on her hair line.

“Go t'sleep, pet.”

And why oh why did she ever think some friendly flirting and bed sharing with her best friend could never lead to any emotional attachment.

***

The cuddles haven’t stopped. Harry’s lingering kisses and hugs haven’t stopped. The boys teasing on Harry behind Y/N’s back hasn’t stopped. Y/N sleeping in Harry’s bed hasn’t stopped. And Y/N’s constant self reminder that Harry might just be in love with someone else has not stopped.

If she’s being quite honest, she’s not liking the way the boys snicker and whisper to Harry when she walks off. And she really doesn’t like how whatever and whoever they’re whispering about is making Harry blush and smile sheepishly like crazy. Wishes she knew what they’re always being so secretive about. But giving it a second thought, maybe she doesn’t wanna know. It’s all the same to her now though.

The movie on the telly doesn’t seem to distract her anymore, not from her thoughts which are taking over her mind the more time she spends in Harry’s home. And to add to that, the second she steps back into the room with a bowl of popcorn the boys go silent. It makes her feel awful…left out, but she’s sure they don’t mean to do it. She should be thankful right? At least they’re nice enough not to talk about Harry’s girl in front of her, or maybe that’s just something she wants to believe.

“Oh popcorn.” Niall’s first to reach out and grab a handful before she’s even had the chance to get to her seat next to Harry.

“Thanks, love.” Harry whispers, kissing her cheek the second she sits down.

She notices out of the corner of her eye how Louis smirks and nods his head when Harry wraps his arm around her shoulder. What’s so funny??

The moment Harry presses another kiss to the top of her head is the moment she realizes she’s had enough. It’s the moment she realizes she can’t keep pretending and letting herself fall even more. Not after what Liam said.

“I have to go. It’s getting pretty late.” This catches everyone off guard, especially Harry.

When she stands up to leave, his fingers around her wrist are quick to make her stop and have her look down at him, still sat on the sofa. “Wha’ do ye’ mean? Ye’ always spend the night, poppet.”

His brows are furrowed now, grip tight on her wrist, fearing that if he loosens it she might just slip away.

Of course they can’t ignore the other people in the room though, so when Y/N’s eyes avert to the boys, Harry is quick to stand up and lead them away.

“Everythin’ a'right?” His eyes scan hers for answers, his hand now cupping her neck, thumb rubbing soothingly at her jaw.

The cool of his rings on her skin keep her at ease. But the uncertainty in her eyes has Harry feeling all types of useless.

“Tell me wha’s wrong, little one. Wha’ can I do to make ye’ feel better?”

And those words would have made no sense if it wasn’t for the sudden feeling of Harry wiping away a stray tear she didn’t notice she’d shed.

She can’t. She can’t break down. Not in front of him. What can she say for him to let her go??

“Nothing’s wrong, Harry.”

But she’s sure he doesn’t believe her, not one bit. He knows her too well.

And she can tell he’s about to say something else, and she knows if she lets him, she’s sure to fall back into whatever they have.

“I’ve really got to go. I’ve got a date in an hour and I have to go get ready.”

As much bullshit of an excuse as that is, Harry’s grip on her wrist loosens, and the hand on her neck falls.

And she takes the opportunity to slip out the door.

Whipped…friends?? Or.. (Part Two)

Boyfriend Harry - headcanons(smut edition)

Summary : just another piece of boyfriendrry headcanons. This time with smut.

Warnings : smut, dirty talk .

He always (mostly) wakes up with a boner.

He wakes you up with lot of kisses, and make sure that you know that his little guy is in pain by pushing his hips towards your back.

He will be soo gentle while having sleepy morning sex. The trusts will be sloppy and slow.

He has a very dirty mouth.

Dirty talk is one of his weapon to make you all blushy and giddy.

He is definitely a toe curler. When he is about to come he curls his toe.

He always gives first preference to your pleasure. He always make sure that you come before him and you feel good.

He will press his huge hand on your lower tummy where you can feel him inside you. He will say things like "do you feel good, baby ? Yeah ? I can feel my cock deep inside your tummy. I can actually can feel it" He will put a bit more pressure on your tummy.

He loves to come with you also . He will hold his orgasm so you both can come together. "Are you close ? I'm about to come. Please come with me baby. "

When you are giving him a blow job , his fingers will be tangled in your hair , and he will stroke your hair and will praise you a lot. "Doing so good , baby. "That's it , I'm about come , you make me feel soo good baby".

He will almost loose his mind when you are riding him. He loves to see you on top , using his cock. He will go feral when your tits stars to bounce. He will grab your tits and suck on them.

When he is fingering you or rubbing your clit he will put his other hand on stomach and make sure that you don't move a lot.

He will be a freaking tease. He will make you all worked up. He will kiss every inch of your body from the top. And when he reaches the spot he will purposely avoid it. And will not give you what you want until you beg him.

He loves to try different positions. You both tried almost every position that a human can have sex. He is so flexible. And you both will end up being in a laughing fit when the position failed.

He will curse while he is about to come. "fuck , fuck , fuck , fuck. I'm cuming"

He is always so horny while you both were in public. You both will be in a party, and you are wearing a sexy , short dress. He will be loosing his mind. He will drag you to the bathroom and he will bend to the sink top and fuck you infront of the mirror .

He will shove his fingers into your mouth to muffle your moans.

While you are having a slow and passionate sex, he will interwine your fingers. And he will be kissing you through out.

He will never neglect you after having sex. He will always make sure to take care of you after. After care is important to him. He will make sure that both of your cum is completely cleaned from your body.

He will make you take shower mostly. But If you are too tired to have a shower, he will carry you to the bathroom so that you can pee. And he will bring you back to bed and will dress you in one of his t-shirts.

He will make sure if you need anything before turning off the lights .

He will turn off the lights and get onto bed beside you and cuddle with you. He will place one last kiss on your lips and will say "I love you" and goes to sleep.

~~~

Thank you, hope you enjoyed.

Please like and reblog. And please give feed back. I'd love to hear your thoughts. <3

~~~

COVER UP

A/N: if my boss asks, i did not spend my afternoon at work writing this filthy smut... but anyway, enjoy!!😏

WORD COUNT: 3.5k

WARNING: sexual content

SUMMARY: Harry gets a little too possessive when he sees your nipples peeking through your shirt.

MASTERLIST | SUPPORT ME!

Harry is trying to focus on the conversation he is currently in, but he keeps finding himself eyeing you from across the bar. You’re perched up on a stool at the bar, talking to a friend from your group and Harry can’t take his eyes off of you. You’re glowing, a bright smile stretched across your face, your skin looks soft and he knows you smell amazing, because you had a shower before the two of you left the house a few hours ago and he could smell your favorite body wash lingering around you as you got dressed. 

 The skirt you’re wearing is daring some flesh, slipping up on your delicious looking thighs and his lips tingle from the urge to kiss them up until your pretty cunt that’s hidden from his sight right now.

He always finds himself so horny for you, no matter what you do. It doesn’t even have to be sexual, like when he got hard seeing you on the phone with your sister. He said it was because of how you were flipping your hair around, it looked hot so that’s why he demanded you to end the call and let him fuck you on the dining table. 

Tonight however he knows why he is so hot and bothered by you. Eyeing your chest he has noticed that your nipples are peeking through your shirt. He knows for a fact you’re wearing a cotton bra underneath, but it has no padding or wires, that’s why it’s your favorite.

“It’s comfortable, I barely even notice I’m wearing it,” you told him once when he watched you get dressed from the bed.

He understands how uncomfortable a regular bra could be, so he’s happy you found something you like, but now he is experiencing the downside of it. Without the padding your nipples are making an appearance and they are very much demanding attention.

At first he just had his regular dirty thoughts about them, fantasizing about sucking and biting them just the way you like it, but then it hit him in the head that if he is able to see them, so is everyone else. 

And he doesn’t like that thought at all. 

It’s Friday night, the bar is pretty packed and there are several males around to ogle at your breasts and see your hard nipples. He has spent the past thirty minutes trying to control his jealousy and possessiveness, but when he catches a guy actually staring at your body, he just snaps.

Excusing himself from the little group he heads over to you just when your conversation partner departs to the restroom. As he approaches you he places his hand to the counter next to you, his arm now just at the right level to cover your chest.

“Hey babe,” you smile up at him, oblivious to the fire that’s burning inside him.

“Can you cover up, please? Did you bring a jacket or something?” he clears his throat, looking around. 

“What? A jacket? I’m not cold,” you say, not quite sure why he is asking.

“I wouldn’t be that sure about that,” he grits through his teeth. “I’ll just get you a hoodie or something.”

“But I don’t need one, if anything, I feel hot,” you say, fanning yourself with your hands. The motion makes your breasts jiggle a tad bit and Harry is seeing red at this point. Grabbing your wrists he crosses your arms over your chest to cover you urgently. “Harry, what the–”

“Babe, just… don’t.”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“Your nipples are like bursting through your shirt,” he states and you look down, seeing them obviously making an appearance, but it doesn’t really phase you.

“And? Everyone has them.”

“But yours are like… way too obvious.”

“Too obvious?” you chuckle in disbelief. “No one said that about them, that’s for sure,” you huff, almost hurt at his comment. “I don’t think anyone cares about them, H.”

“I do,” he snaps. “I fucking do and… Okay, I admit, it’s making me fucking horny. There, is that what you wanted to hear?”

He stares down at you with such intensity, it makes you clench your thighs, because you see the raw passion and lust in them and you’re never immune to this version of Harry. The one that’s so obsessed with you, so possessive and animalistic, that the rest of the world just stops existing and it’s just you and him. 

“My nipples are making you hard, H? Is that what’s happening?” you ask in a low tone and leaning closer you press a kiss underneath his jawline, feeling the vibrance of the grunt that bubbles from his throat at the touch of your lips.

“Yes. And I don’t want anyone else to have the same thoughts.”

“You can’t control thoughts, Harry. But you know you’re the only one who gets to actually touch them, play with them… suck on them…” You trail your hands up his hard chest until they reach the back of his neck and head, your fingers lacing through his chocolate curls.

“Another word, Y/N, and I’m gonna throw you over this bar and fuck your tits first, then your tight little cunt. Don’t play with me,” he warns, but it makes you anything but scared. Your underwear is already drenched, pussy throbbing at the thoughts he just planted into your head. 

Smiling to yourself you brush your lips against his and blink at him bashfully.

“I’m not opposed to leaving early,” you let him know. 

“Ten minutes. Make your rounds saying goodbye, I’m calling a car.”

It’s obvious for everyone why you’re leaving, mostly from the way Harry uses you to cover his bulge as he waves around the group in a rush, like his pants are on fire. The ride back home is like torture, especially because you’re teasing him, working him up even more, your hand moving further up his thigh as you get closer to your home and you even brush it over his bulge, to which he answers with a grunt, his own fingers digging into your hip as a warning, but you love playing with fire.

He is practically sprinting up to the front door, pulling you after him and once the door is shut closed, he pushes you against it, the bulge you’ve been eyeing now pressing into your thigh. 

“I can tell you really enjoyed teasing me tonight,” he growls into your ear, his hands making their way to your breasts quite fast. He kneads them, squeezes them hard and then takes your niples between his thumb and index finger. “I’ll tell you what I’m gonna do now, listen carefully,” he says, his fingers tugging on your nipples and you’re already whimpering like a baby from the stimulation. “I’m gonna suck on your nipples so hard, you’ll beg me to stop, and then I’m gonna fuck you and cover them in cum. And you’re gonna love every moment of it, do you understand?”

You hear his words, you understand them, but you can’t form an answer because he is still pinching your nipples and he is buckling his hips too, rubbing his clothed cock against you, burning every coherent thought you might have. 

“I asked you a question, Y/N. I’m expecting an answer,” he pushes his hips even tighter against you, his teeth grazing the line of your jaw. “Do you understand, Y/N?”

“I do! Yes! Please!” you gasp, wiggling underneath him, eager to take it further already.

“Good.”

He steps back, his pupils so dark, you can’t even see the sweet green of his irises. His gaze travels down and up your body with such hunger, you can feel it stroking your heated skin. 

“Now take your clothes off,” he orders and you obey without a second thought. 

You rip off your shirt and skirt, throwing them to the side before unhooking your bra, that was originally the source of this whole situation. It ends up on the floor too and then you slip out of your panties, leaving you fully naked.

“Look at you,” he hums, taking his sweet time eyeing you up now that nothing is covering the body he’s been fantasizing about all evening. “Are you wet already, baby? See it for me, swipe two fingers over yourself and let me see how wet you are.”

WIth a shaky breath you reach between your legs and gather your arousal with two of your fingers and then hold them up, showing him how they are covered in your juices. Harry steps closer and wraps his hand around your wrist, brings your hand closer to his face and you’re holding your breath, aching to feel the warmth of his mouth around your digits as he sucks them off, but just when he is about to wrap his lips around them, he changes his mind.

He guides your hand to your right breast and smears your wetness over your nipple before doing the same with the other one, then he quickly sucks your fingers clean and then he takes your nipple into his mouth, sucking on it so hard, you can’t hold your moans back. 

He pushes your breasts up to give himself better access, sucking and licking on it with no mercy and then you feel him bite onto the bud, a sharb, but exciting pain shooting through your chest and he looks at you as he tugs on it before letting it go, admiring how your skin is glistening with his saliva.

“You love that? Love the pain, baby?” he murmurs, brushing his nose against the side of your neck as you’re trying to catch your breath.

“Yeah,” you hum.

He kisses the soft skin under your jaw before he turns his attention to your other nipple, assaulting it the same way, biting, tugging and sucking relentlessly, his name falling from your lips over and over again, your back arching to push closer to him while you grab his hair and pull on the locks whenever the pain intensifies. 

You’re seeing stars and he hasn’t even touched your pussy yet.

He doesn’t stop, keeps switching between your nipples, pinching the one that’s not covered by his mouth with his fingers and he keeps his word. You can feel your nipples getting swollen, bruised and incredibly sensitive, but even when you start whining and pulling back out of instinct, he just wraps his arms around you and brings you back, locking you in his hold.

“Harry! Please!” you choke out, your eyes tearing up.

“Please what, baby?” he mumbles against your breast.

“No more!” you beg, your head falling back and bumping against the front door, since you still haven’t moved from the exact same spot. 

“You want me to stop, baby? Hmm?”

“Yes!” you nod, tears rolling down your cheeks. 

It’s not that it has reached a physical pain you can’t take, you’re not bleeding, he did no harm to you, but you just want him to fuck you at this point so badly, that everything feels a hundred times more intense and you can’t control your emotions.

“Okay baby,” he hums and kisses your tears off your cheeks before pressing his lips against yours. You can taste your tasty tears on his tongue and you gladly let it explore your mouth, your sensitive nipples pressing against his hard chest as he cradles you in his arms, grabbing the back of your thighs to lift you up and carry you into the living room. He is still dressed while you melt against him fully naked, the fabric of his clothes bothering you a lot more than usually.

“Off, please,” you tug on his shirt and after he carefully places you down to the couch, he undresses himself too. His shirt comes off first, then the pants and at last, his underwear, his cock finally springing free from the restraints of his boxer briefs.

“What did I say, what comes after I’ve sucked on these beautiful npples?” he asks, brushing his fingers gently over your buds, his touch registering more intensely from his assault on them earlier.

“You said you’d fuck me and cover my nipples in your cum,” you recall his words and he smirks at you, pleased that you rememberred.

“That’s right, baby. Though you were a tease tonight, you’ve been such a good girl for me since we got home, so you can decide how you want me to fuck you.”

Normally, you love a good doggy, or maybe being on top and in charge, but tonight you want him close and you want to be able to kiss him, so you open your legs and reaching up you pull him on top of you, finding his mouth in a passionate kiss.

He settles between your thighs, his hips pressing against yours and therefore his erection is squished against your lower tummy, smearing some of his precum over your skin. He kisses down your neck and collarbones until he reaches your breasts, a devious smirk on his lips as he returns to your nipples. You bite your tongue and let him suck on them, knowing well he is trying to push you to your limit again and you want to be strong and take what he gives you. But your already soft skin is now so sore from all the impact it has gotten, it doesn’t take long until you're whimpering again.

“Harry!” you pull him up and force him to kiss your lips instead. 

“You had enough? Can’t take any more?” he asks between kisses, grinding his hips against yours, his cock slipping and sliding between your wet folds.

“Can’t, please!”

“You asked so nicely,” he hums in appreciation. He captures your lips again and reaching down between your bodies his finger finds your throbbing, needy clit and he starts teasing you, working you up even more even though you’re more than ready to take him already.

He keeps drawing circles on your clit and then starts moving his hips, his cock slipping back and forth between your folds, growing you more and more impatient with each passing stroke. Right when you’re about to lose the last bit of your patience, he grabs the base of his cock and lines him up with your hole before slamming into you fast and hard, giving you no time to adjust. Not that you’d have needed much, you’ve gotten so wet, your walls welcome him warm and tight, just how he loves it.

“I love your tight pussy, Y/N. It’s so perfect for me,” he grunts as he fucks into you, his hips slamming against yours in a fast rhythm. “But I didn’t like that others might have thought about fucking you tonight.” Jealousy is dripping from his words and you know already he is going to punish you for dismissing his request to cover up.

With the rough start, your orgasm is already building up nicely, so you grunt in disappointment when he pushes himself up from missionary, he stops his thrusts and sits on his knees, his cock slipping out from you as you remain lying on the couch in front of him, legs wide open, your chest heaving wildly.

“Harry, please!” you whine, trying to wiggle closer so you could feel him between your legs again, but he has other plans.

“So needy, huh? You don’t like it when you don’t have your ways,” he observes, but you don’t miss the smirk that’s curling the corners of his mouth upwards. “Don’t you think that’s how I felt when you didn’t cover up after I asked you?”

“That’s different!” you protest, your core throbbing for him. 

“No, it’s not. I asked you to cover up, you didn’t do it. Now you’re begging me to fuck you, but I’m denying it from you. Seems pretty similar to me,” he shrugs, playing with your nerves at this point, but you try your best to control yourself. “Look at this pretty cunt,” he hums and he pushes one hand against your thigh to keep you wide open while he moves his other hand to your pussy and runs his fingers up and then down in a slow, lazy manner. He is testing how long you can take the teasing, the soft touches when you need him to just fuck you already.

“Harry,” you whine, when he gently pushes one digit inside you, but it’s nowhere near enough, not after you’ve had his cock inside you. 

“What? Is it not what you need? Mm?”

“No!” you cry out.

“Should I return to sucking your nipples?” he grins wider at you, enjoying having you at his mercy.

“Please fuck me already!”

“But I want to have your tits in my mouth. Suck them when you cum on my cock.”

“I’ll be on top, just please! I need you inside me!” you beg, giving up every ounce of self control you’ve had.

“That’s my girl, always giving me what I want,” he nods, squeezing your hips before sitting back on the couch.

You’re fast to get up from your lying position and straddle his hips, ready to do pretty much anything at this point just to have his cock inside you. That pleased smirk that adorns his face is almost too annoying as you grab the base of his cock and ease down on it, finally filling you up, but you couldn’t care less about letting him have his ways with you when you also get what you want. It’s a win-win.

You feel his hands on your back as he brings you closer to his face so his mouth can return to your nipples that are starting to get numb at this point, all while you ride him happily, squeezing your walls around his dick, making him growl against your chest from the sensation. You roll and grind and bounce, do everything you can just to keep building your orgasm that’s so close, you can feel it in your tummy, you just need to fall over the edge.

“Harry! Please, I need…” you gasp out, unable to use full sentences, but Harry knows you and he knows what you need.

“I’ve got you, baby,” he lifts his head from your chest and locks you in his embrace so he can easily turn you over and get on top of you, like you wanted it in the beginning. You hug his waist with your legs as he pounds into you, fast and hard, you keep moving up on the couch from the force of his thrusts and this is exactly what you needed to finally reach your climax.

You come hard and loud, your moans fill the living room, you claw at his back, leaving red marks from his broad shoulders down to his waist. Harry holds his own orgasm back, letting you ride out your high to the fullest, just so then he can keep the last thing he told you he would do to you.

“Stay like this, baby,” he tells you, pulling out of you, his knees on either side of you as he moves a bit further up on your body. He wraps his hand around his glistening cock that’s aching for the relief you just got to experience. Harry pumps himself for a few more seconds and you want him to come just as hard as you did, so you reach up and massage his balls, hoping it would give him that one last push.

“Fuck! Ah!” he growls, his hot cum squirting onto your breasts, covering your sensitive nipples just like he promised. You stare up at him, watch as his chest rises and falls in a rapid rhythm, his softening cock in his hand while he admires your chest covered with his semen.

To put the cherry on top, you reach up and smear his cum even more over your nipples, playing with how slippery and sticky it is at the same time. Harry moves back so he is not weighing onto your abdomen, but his eyes remain locked on your movements. 

“Is this what you imagined?” you coo, licking your fingers clean.

“Absolutely,” he nods before kissing your lips shortly. 

“So am I forgiven?” you smile at him bashfully. Harry chuckles, nodding.

“Sorry, I got a bit too possessive.”

“It’s alright, I like it when you’re like this.”

“Mm, I bet,” he smirks. “Let’s get you cleaned up, hm?”

You shower together and Harry gets every chance to take care of you, he keeps kissing you wherever he can, telling you how much he loves you every possible chance he has. When you’re in bed, he walks over your vanity and grabs your lotion before joining you on the mattress.

“Are they sore?” he softly asks, brushing his thumb over one of your nipples, the roughness is now gone, he is more like concerned now.

“Kind of. But it’s alright,” you smile at him lazily. He squirts some lotion onto his fingers and then gently rubs it into the sensitive skin. When he’s done, he puts the lotion to the night stand and leaning closer he presses a kiss to your sternum before making himself comfortable and pulling you into his embrace. 

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Harrys favourite sex positions.

request hc of harry’s favorite sex positions 🤲🏽

smut!! fluff!!! fuck, i love this request because i can experiment with so much stuff!!! anyways, i hope you enjoy. feedback is welcome as always <33

Missionary

This position is something harry is fond and familiar with. Missionary involves intimacy, and boy does harry styles love intimacy. He loves seeing your face as you cum, the way your eyebrows raise, your eyes squeeze shut and bite your lip. It’s a sight that could make him cum without any sex at all, it’s just a plus side.

He loves communicating with you during sex too. When he’s face to face with you, he can see all your body movements etc. Harry also loves eye contact, it’s a big thing for him with sex. It turns him on way more than it should.

“You gonna take all of me?” Harry asked as he thrusted into you, hands on either side of your head. You nodded closing your eyes. Harry brought one of his hands to your cheeks tapping it softly.

“Look at me when i’m talking to you” Harry said sternly, you opened your eyes as harry thrusted again. “Fuck” You moaned grabbing onto his hair.

Another reason why he likes missionary so much is you pulling at his hair, or caressing his cheeks. He just loves touching you and you touching him. Harry craves that sort of intimacy, it’s the main part of your relationship. Intimacy is so fucking important to harry. Whether it be sexual or just hugs. He needs it.

Harry's tip is teasing your bundle of nerves, you don’t understand why he always pulls out and puts you both through the torture of teasing. You think he finds some sort of pleasure in it - you do not. He likes to see your face, the way it contorts as he teases you, more like punishing to you though.

“Want to see your face again when I thrust into you” He said and you whimpered, Harry smirked at the sound. “You always sound and look so hot when i first slip in. So beautiful” he said teasing, your slit again. You can see how red and full of pre-cum his cock is. You just want him to pound into you, is that too much to ask for?

“I’ll give you what you want” Harry smirked, pounding into you with no mercy. You squeeze your eyes shut and let out a moan that he’s never heard from you.

That has him nearly cumming.

Doggy style

Doggy style is another one of harrys favourites for sure.

Although harry loves seeing your face, he also loves pulling at your hair and holding on to your hips. He loves to just pound into you relentlessly. Usually you guys do this after a dinner date or when you’ve been teasing eachother all night. As i said, harry loves and craves intimacy. But the minute you start teasing him, he’s got you turned around and your cheeks red from spanks.

Harry grabbed your neck, pushing your neck down so your head was against the pillow. your hair was in a ponytail so he had easy access to it all. He liked pulling at your hair, it also gave you a lot of pleasure. His hands slid their way down the front of your stomach and your back. You shivered at his touch.

Harrys hands grabbed onto your hips harshly, making you moan. You loved how rough he got. His nails dug into your skin, fuck that’s going to leave a mark but right now you really couldn’t care.

He then pulled your hips up his core so that you were in doggy style.

Harry was teasing you, like you were doing just hours ago. His cock was making its way up and down your slit, you just wanted him to thrust into you with no mercy at all. But you know Harry loves to play dirty.

After what seems like hours of harry teasing you and your soaking wet pussy, you felt his thick cock slide roughly into you. You screamed with pleasure, and Harry groaned, wrapping his hand around your ponytail.

“You feel so fucking good” Harry moaned, as began slipping deeper with every thrust.

“Fucking love you so much”

Cowboy

Harry loves this position, because you get the best from it. You cum so fucking hard each and everytime you ride him. And harry loves it too of course, seeing your face as you cum, your tits bouncing and the whole bed shaking.

You really go all out.

The way it stimulates you, in every single fucking place makes it yours and his favourite. So you try not to do it a lot, because you want to keep that pleasure. But you are sure as hell going to ride your boyfriend like no tomorrow on his birthday. This position gives you the control and him something nice to look at. Harry is let’s just say, obsessed with your tits. Even in a non sexual way he always has something nice to say about them. You’re in the shower, “Fuck, my girls look amazing with water on them”. You’re out on a trampoline, you can just feel his stare on your chest.

If either of you have been gone a little longer than usual he’ll come to bed and snuggle.... you and the girls. “Missed you” he’d mumble, and then a little quieter “and them”.

“Lay down, honey” You instructed, Harry smirked and happily complied with your instructions. He knew he was getting birthday treatment. He fucking loves birthday sex with you. You give it a whole new meaning, you go all out. You treat him with presents and stuff all day and then ride him like there’s no tomorrow? He's one lucky guy.

You take off your shirt, you’re not wearing a bra. But that much was obvious. Harry was drooling over your hard nipples during the drive home from his parents house. You know how to tease a man, he’ll give you that.

“Love my girls” Harry said as you sat on his lap, he’s fully naked mind you. You can feel his cock twitch as you sit on it, your panties the only thing in the way. Harry moans and takes one breast in his mouth, your head goes back in pleasure. Again, he’s obsessed with your tits. He gives the love they deserve.

After getting yourself comfortable, you move your panties over to the side and grab Harry's cock without any warning. You slammed yourself down on it, taking the entirety of his length all at once. Harry's eyes widened and his mouth opened, but no words came out. You’re a fucking goddess, he decided as you bounced up and down on his hard, cock.

“Holy shit” He moaned, his hands holding your hips and guiding you up and down. You bit to your lip, moving faster. Your breasts were moving up and down so quickly, and your hair was all over your face.

Harry moved your hair to the side and grabbed your face as you began to slow down your pace, that only made him want to cum even more. You were slow with your pace, Harry moving his hands from your face down to your ass grabbing them to push you down harder.

“Fucking love when you ride me” Harry whimpered and you nodded, moving faster because harry was guiding you to do so. “Love it so much. i feel so good, right?” you asked and Harry nodded, pecking your lips.

“So, so good”

Harry fucking loves all of those positions. But he loves them because it’s with you. He loves the cowboy, because it’s you riding him. He loves missionary because it’s you he gets to watch cum and scream. He loves doggy style because it’s you he gets to hold onto.

It’s always you.