#jealous harry styles

[cloudyluun]

Soft Spot

Summary: Harry Styles is the world’s most effortlessly cocky bastard in public. But behind closed doors? He’s soft for one person, her. Their love is private, sacred, the only thing that’s ever truly been his. But the internet is relentless, the rumors won’t stop, and she starts to wonder if she’ll ever fit into his world. Just when she’s about to pull away, Harry makes sure she never doubts it again. AKA: Soft (but also possessive) boyfriend Harry? Check. Jealous, protective, doesn’t-take-shit Harry? Also check. A public declaration, viral paparazzi moments, and one very necessary smut scene? You already know.

A/N: This fic is based on two requests (this one and this one from @dipmeinhoneyh) that fit so perfectly together I had no choice but to make it a full story. I hope you love it, I hope it makes you feral, and I hope you leave this feeling at least 10% more in love with Harry Styles than you already were. Also, if you ever see a man carrying all your bags through an airport while wearing your shirt?? Marry him immediately.

Word Count: 6k

Warnings: 

Smut (obviously)—possessive, praise-heavy, SOFT but also FILTHY

Harry being the most protective, doting, airport-sherpa boyfriend alive

Jealousy and minor confrontation (because someone was dumb enough to question her worth)

Public scrutiny and social media toxicity (but don’t worry, he shuts that shit down)

Excessive amounts of boyfriend fluff (back rubs, forehead kisses, and “mine” moments galore)

Did I mention the smut? Because THE SMUT.

☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆

Harry Styles was a menace.

Everyone knew it—especially the media. He wasn’t just the biggest name in music, he was also a nightmare to interview. He had little patience for industry bullshit, answered questions with nothing but a smirk or a sip of his drink, and rarely—if ever—gave the press what they wanted.

At this point, journalists had learned to come prepared when sitting across from him. They needed strategy, a solid game plan, and maybe even a shot of whiskey beforehand. Because Harry? Harry made it difficult.

And God, did he enjoy it.

The first clip that went viral was from a BBC interview.

The journalist was older, seasoned. She’d been in the game for decades and knew how to handle difficult personalities. Or at least, she thought she did.

The interview had been going fine—as fine as an interview with Harry Styles could be. He’d leaned back in his chair, one arm draped over the backrest, looking like he owned the place. Dressed in a half-unbuttoned silk shirt and tailored trousers, he was a picture of effortless arrogance.

Then she asked, “Do you think you’re difficult?”

Harry blinked. Didn’t move for a second. Then—slowly, deliberately—he picked up his drink, took a long sip, and held eye contact the entire time.

The silence stretched.

And stretched.

The journalist swallowed.

Finally, Harry licked his lips, tilted his head, and asked, “D’you think I care?”

The second clip was worse.

A different interview, a different day, same energy.

Harry was sitting in front of a panel of radio hosts, arms crossed, tattoos peeking out from under the loose sleeves of his sweater. The conversation had been moving along at a leisurely pace, touching on his tour, his latest album, the usual surface-level stuff.

Then one of the hosts leaned forward, smug, thinking he had the upper hand.

“So, tell us, Harry. What’s the song ‘Soft Spot’ about?”

Harry, who had been absentmindedly fiddling with one of his rings, paused. He exhaled through his nose, the barest hint of amusement curling at the corners of his mouth.

Then—without hesitation—he shrugged. “Dunno. Just a song.”

The hosts groaned in frustration.

The internet? Ate it up.

Edits of him smirking, of him dodging questions with effortless ease, flooded Twitter and TikTok. People captioned them with things like “This man is impossible” and “Certified menace behavior”.

The general consensus?

Harry Styles didn’t answer questions unless he wanted to.

Until someone asked about her.

It happened during a late-night talk show appearance.

The studio was dimly lit, the crowd buzzing with anticipation. Harry was perched on the couch, one leg crossed over the other, fingers playing absentmindedly with the chain around his neck. He was half-paying attention, answering questions with his usual brand of casual indifference.

Then the host, a sharp-eyed comedian known for catching celebrities off guard, grinned. “Alright, Harry. I have a question I think the people really want to know.”

Harry didn’t react much. Just arched a slow, lazy brow. “Yeah?”

“You’ve been seen with the same girl a lot lately…”

For the first time all night, something shifted.

Subtly. Almost imperceptibly.

But it was there, the way his fingers paused against the metal of his chain, the way his shoulders tensed, just slightly, the way his mouth twitched, like he was already biting back a smirk.

The audience leaned forward.

The internet, watching from their screens, held their breath.

Harry tilted his head, slowly. His lips parted, there it was. That signature smirk, the one that sent fans into a frenzy.

“Yeah?”

The host grinned, seeing the shift. “Care to comment?”

There was a beat of silence.

Then—Harry grinned. Not his usual mocking, I’m-so-over-this smirk. A real grin. The kind that made his dimples crease, the kind that softened his otherwise sharp edges.

His fingers tapped once, twice against his thigh.

Then, he looked directly into the camera, his voice dropping just a fraction.

“She’s great.”

The studio lost it.

The audience roared—cheers, gasps, the works. Twitter exploded before the show even finished airing. Within minutes, #ShesGreat was trending worldwide.

Fans analyzed the clip from every angle:

The way his face softened.

The way his body language changed.

The fact that he—HARRY STYLES, NOTORIOUS MENACE—HAD ACTUALLY ANSWERED.

He didn’t say her name. Didn’t confirm anything outright. But the shift in him? The softness in his voice?

That was all people needed.

It was real.

And the world wasn’t ready.

Y/N wasn’t famous.

She wasn’t an actress, a model, a singer, or an influencer. There was no glamorous past, no viral moment that put her on the map. No high-profile connections, no childhood dream of Hollywood stardom.

She was just a girl with a normal life—one that, up until a year ago, had been blissfully simple.

Her days had always followed a rhythm.

Morning coffee at her favorite little café, tucked into a corner booth with a book. Work, which she genuinely enjoyed—something steady, something real, something that felt like hers. Drinks with friends on Fridays, lazy Sundays spent in oversized sweaters, grocery shopping in peace without having to worry about cameras or strangers whispering her name.

She had a routine. A quiet, predictable world.

Then Harry Styles had walked into it.

And ruined everything.

She still didn’t know how it had happened.

It was easy to pinpoint the beginning—the first time their paths had crossed, the first time she’d realized that Harry fucking Styles wasn’t just a name on a magazine cover, but a person with thoughts and moods and an irritatingly sharp wit.

But she never expected it to go anywhere.

At first, he was just a guy who flirted too much.

Then he was a guy who made her laugh.

Then he was the guy she couldn’t stop thinking about.

And somehow—without her even noticing—he became hers.

It had been over a year now. Twelve whole months of him.

Twelve months of stolen moments, whispered conversations in the dark, secret rendezvous that always ended with his lips on her skin and his voice murmuring, “Just us, love. That’s all that matters.”

Twelve months of hiding.

Because Harry? Harry was obsessed with keeping her safe.

"It’s our life, not theirs," he told her once. "You don’t owe them shit."

She’d been curled up in his lap when he said it, her fingers tracing lazy patterns over the tattoos on his arm.

She had been scared that night—really, truly scared.

Her phone had blown up with messages from friends, all linking her to articles and Twitter threads dissecting her existence. Speculation had spread like wildfire after one blurry photo of them together made it online. Nothing too obvious—just a candid shot of her walking ahead of him, their fingers barely brushing.

But it was enough.

Enough for people to start digging.

Within hours, her social media had been flooded. Comments, theories, strangers demanding to know who the hell she was and why she thought she deserved him.

She had wanted to throw her phone into the ocean.

Instead, she had buried her face into the curve of Harry’s neck, inhaling the scent of him—warm skin and expensive cologne and something inherently his. Something safe.

“I don’t think I can do this,” she had admitted, voice barely above a whisper.

Harry’s grip on her had tightened immediately. Protective. Possessive.

“You don’t have to,” he’d murmured. “Not like that. Not the way they want.”

And that was how they lived. No red carpets. No public declarations. No letting the world in. Just them, in their little bubble—hidden away in hotel rooms and dimly lit apartments, in long drives with the windows down, in whispered confessions at three in the morning.

It was beautiful. It was safe.

But Y/N knew—deep down, in the quiet moments when she was alone with her thoughts—that the world wouldn’t stop trying to tear it apart.

Because it wasn’t just them anymore. It hadn’t been for a while.

And no matter how fiercely Harry tried to protect her from it, the outside world was still watching.

Still waiting.

Still hungry for cracks in the foundation.

They didn’t understand him.

The world saw one version of Harry Styles.

The public version. The one who didn’t give a single shit what anyone thought of him. The one who strolled into interviews with that lazy, half-lidded smirk, sprawled out in his chair like he had all the time in the world, deliberately giving them nothing just to piss them off.

“Harry, is it true you walked out of your last meeting with the label?”

He barely blinked. “Wouldn’t you?”

“Is it also true that you—”

A slow sip of his drink. A deliberate pause.

Then, just for fun, a cocked eyebrow. “Dunno. You tell me.”

Click. Click. Click. Cameras flashing. Headlines already writing themselves.

Harry Styles: Rock’s Most Arrogant Asshole.

Harry Styles—Too Famous To Care?

Harry Styles Gives Zero Fucks About Literally Everything.

It was a game. One he didn’t mind playing.

Because the more they focused on the persona, the less they looked too closely at what really mattered.

The less they dug into his real life.

The less they found her.

Because private Harry?

A completely different person.

Private Harry sent texts like, “be home in 5”, because he knew she worried. Because he knew she’d never say it out loud, but if he was running late, she’d start pacing the kitchen, chewing at her bottom lip, imagining the worst.

Private Harry stole her hand cream and chapstick just to smell like her when she wasn’t around.

Private Harry carried her bags through airports like they weighed nothing, insisting every time, “Not letting you lift a damn thing, love.”

Private Harry curled around her in his sleep, face buried against the curve of her neck, his fingers tracing absentminded patterns along her spine until he drifted off—breathing easier when she was there.

No one saw that Harry.

And he preferred it that way.

But every once in a while, the world got a glimpse.

And when they did, it fucking broke the internet.

One moment in particular had gone insanely viral.

It had been a bad day—one of those relentless, aggressive paparazzi swarms outside a studio in L.A.

Harry had already been in a foul mood—late for a meeting, running on three hours of sleep, coming off a night of back-to-back phone calls that had left him rubbing his temples in frustration.

The cameras had been waiting for him the second he stepped out the door.

“Harry! Over here!”

“Harry, how’s the new album?”

“Harry, what’s the deal with the tour delay?”

He ignored them. Didn’t even look up.

Then someone got too close—flashed a camera right in his face, nearly knocking into him.

And that was it.

He snapped.

“Fuck off, yeah?” Sharp, cutting, the words slicing through the air like a whip. His jaw locked, his body tense.

Paparazzi shuffled back, startled.

They knew his reputation.

They’d seen him do this before.

They thought that was the whole show.

Until Y/N appeared.

She had been standing a few feet behind him, waiting.

The second he turned and saw her, everything about him changed.

His scowl softened. His hands, which had been clenched into fists? Relaxed.

And in front of dozens of cameras, in front of the very people he’d just been spitting fire at, Harry immediately reached for her—a steadying touch to her back, a soft tilt of his head. “Y’alright, love?”

Quiet. Gentle. Intimate.

As if nothing else existed in that moment but her.

The paparazzi?

Fucking shook.

The clip blew up online within hours.

Side-by-side comparisons flooded Twitter:

🚨 Harry Styles telling the press to fuck off vs. Harry Styles turning into the softest human alive the second his girlfriend walks into frame. 🚨

Memes. Reactions. Fans dissecting the exact millisecond his demeanor changed.

WHO IS SHE?!

HOW DOES SHE HAVE HIM WRAPPED AROUND HER FINGER LIKE THAT?!

The discourse was endless.

And Harry?

Didn’t say a damn word about it.

Because as long as they were talking about that, they weren’t looking for more.

They weren’t digging deeper.

And that meant she was still safe.

For now.

But the internet was relentless.

Because the thing about secrets—especially ones that belong to someone as famous as Harry Styles—is that they don’t stay secrets for long.

And when people suspect even the smallest sliver of something?

They become obsessed.

It started with something small.

Something that, to anyone else, would have seemed like nothing at all.

Harry had been spotted leaving a café in London, his sleeves rolled up, sunglasses perched lazily on his nose, a coffee cup in one hand.

But that wasn’t what fans noticed.

No.

What they noticed was the bracelet on his wrist.

A thin, woven band. Nothing fancy, nothing designer.

And—most importantly—not his.

The theories exploded.

GUYS. HARRY’S WEARING A FRIENDSHIP BRACELET. HAS HE EVER WORN ONE BEFORE? NO. WHO MADE IT?!

Look at the colors. Do we think there’s a meaning?

I AM SO SERIOUS THIS IS A HANDMADE BRACELET SOMEONE IS IN LOVE WITH HIM AND IT IS NOT ME

WHO THE FUCK IS SHEEEE?

There was no confirmation.

No proof.

But that didn’t stop people from digging.

Because once the internet smelled a mystery, they wouldn’t let it go.

Then came the coffee shop photo.

Blurry. Grainy. Taken at just the right angle to be nearly useless—but not quite.

Because despite the bad quality, despite the distance, despite everything, one thing was clear.

He wasn’t alone.

There was a girl across from him.

A girl who wasn’t famous.

A girl who was sitting comfortably in his presence, laughing at something he said, one hand wrapped around her mug, the other resting—casually, easily—on the table between them.

Too close.

Too familiar.

Too real.

The internet lost its collective mind.

HARRY STYLES SPOTTED WITH THE MYSTERY GIRL IN LONDON—NEW GIRLFRIEND?!

HARRY DATING SOMEONE? WHO IS SHE?!

WHO IS SHE. WHO IS SHE. WHO IS SHE. WHO IS SHE. WHO IS SHE.

I KNOW WHO SHE IS @yourusername!!

The photo was picked apart frame by frame.

Theories flooded TikTok and Twitter.

Some people were excited—because Harry in love?! Soft domestic boyfriend Harry?! They’d been dreaming of this for years.

But not everyone was happy.

Because some people… some people wanted access.

Some people wanted control.

Some people wanted to destroy anything that felt too real.

It started small.

A few comments.

A few tweets.

A few people saying she wasn’t good enough.

That she was using him.

That she was just another clout chaser who would milk this for all it was worth.

Then the DMs started.

Vicious. Personal. Cruel.

You’ll never be good enough for him.

You’re ruining his career.

No one wants you here.

He’ll leave you just like he’s left all the others.

And she told herself that she wouldn’t let it get to her.

That it didn’t matter.

That these people didn’t know her.

That as long as Harry was with her—really with her—nothing else mattered.

But it wasn’t just online anymore.

Because now, when she stepped outside, she swore she could feel the eyes on her.

Now, when she walked into her favorite coffee shop, she hesitated—half-expecting someone to recognize her.

Now, when she reached for her phone, her hands shook.

She started pulling away. Just a little.

Stopped texting first.

Stopped answering right away.

Stopped leaning into his touch as freely as she had before.

And Harry—because of course Harry noticed—tilted his head at her one night when she turned away from his kiss, his brow furrowing, his thumb tracing soft circles against her wrist.

“Alright, love?”

Her chest ached.

Because he was looking at her like that.

Like he knew.

Like he could see right through her.

Like he was already worried.

She forced a smile. Pressed a quick, barely-there kiss to the corner of his mouth.

“Yeah,” she whispered.

And lied.

The industry party was a mistake.

Y/N had known it the second they walked in.

The air inside the private venue was thick with expensive perfume, whiskey, and the kind of arrogance that could only come from people who knew they were untouchable.

The laughter was too loud. The conversations too sharp, dripping with faux warmth and hidden daggers.

She felt out of place immediately.

It wasn’t her world.

It never had been.

And standing next to Harry—Harry, who fit into this world so effortlessly, who could command attention just by existing, who seemed to belong in a way she never could—only made it worse.

He hadn’t let go of her hand since they arrived.

Had kept her close, thumb brushing over the back of her knuckles, squeezing her fingers in silent reassurance every few minutes, as if he could feel the tension in her shoulders, sense the way she was holding her breath.

But no amount of grounding touches could change the fact that she didn’t belong here.

That much became even more obvious when the wrong person decided to open their mouth.

He was a producer.

Smarmy. Arrogant. The kind of man who loved the sound of his own voice and had been in the industry long enough to think he could get away with saying anything.

And for some reason—maybe it was the champagne, maybe it was just sheer audacity—he chose her as his next target.

“Didn’t think this was your type, Harry.”

Y/N froze.

Harry stiffened next to her.

The producer took a slow sip of his drink, eyes flickering over her like she was something to be inspected.

“Quiet little thing, huh? Thought rockstars liked more excitement.”

Her stomach dropped.

It wasn’t just the words.

It was the way he said them.

The smirk. The condescension. The absolute certainty that he was untouchable, that he could say whatever the fuck he wanted without consequence.

Y/N shrank back before she could stop herself.

And that was when Harry snapped.

He didn’t move right away.

Didn’t react instantly.

Just went completely, unnervingly still.

A muscle jumped in his jaw.

His fingers—still tangled with hers—tightened.

And then—slowly, deliberately—he turned.

And stepped right into the guy’s space.

Harry Styles didn’t have to raise his voice to be intimidating.

Didn’t have to yell, didn’t have to make a scene.

All he had to do was look at someone the right way.

And the producer? He knew.

He fucking knew.

Because suddenly, the confidence wavered.

The smirk faded.

The hand holding his drink trembled just slightly.

“She’s worth more than you ever will be,” Harry said, voice low, icy, laced with so much venom that Y/N shivered.

And then—as if to drive the point home—his hand found her waist, pulled her against him, shielded her from the world with nothing but the sheer force of his presence.

It was a warning.

A claim.

And everyone in the room fucking knew it.

He didn’t let go of her for the rest of the night.

Didn’t stop touching her.

Didn’t stop checking on her.

And when they finally left—when they were finally alone—he held her even closer.

She should have felt safe.

Should have felt protected.

But instead, something heavy settled in her chest.

Because the truth was, this wasn’t just about one asshole at a party.

It was about all of it.

The industry. The fans. The internet. The constant feeling of not being enough.

And maybe… maybe they were right.

Maybe she really wasn’t enough for him.

She wasn’t going to say it.

She wasn’t.

But then Harry—still holding her, still watching her like she was the only thing in the world that mattered—brushed his lips against her forehead, whispered, “You alright, love?”

And it just—it broke her.

Her breath hitched.

And suddenly, she was blurting it out before she could stop herself.

“Maybe they’re right,” she whispered, voice barely above a breath.

Harry froze.

“Maybe I’m not enough for you.”

His entire body tensed.

Like she had just physically hit him.

Like the words had physically hurt him.

“Don’t you ever say that again.”

It wasn’t a plea.

It wasn’t a request.

It was a command.

His hands framed her face, tilting her chin up, forcing her to meet his gaze.

And when she did—when she really looked at him—she almost couldn’t handle what she saw.

Because he was devastated.

Shattered.

“Don’t you ever—” His breath shuddered, his forehead pressing against hers. “—say that again.”

She swallowed. “Harry—”

“No.” His grip tightened, like he was afraid she’d slip away if he let go. “You belong with me. Here. Always.” His lips brushed hers, desperate, aching. “And I don’t care what anyone else says.”

She closed her eyes.

Breathed him in.

Let him hold her together, piece by piece.

Because if Harry Styles believed she belonged—

Maybe—just maybe—she could believe it, too.

The storm hadn’t passed.

Not really.

The world still had its claws in them, still watched their every move, still dissected every glance, every touch, every fleeting moment caught on camera.

But Harry… Harry never wavered.

Not once.

Not even when the headlines got uglier.

Not even when the whispers turned into full-blown speculation.

Not even when she started pulling back again, flinching at every flash of a camera, hesitating before reaching for his hand in public, terrified of giving them more fuel.

He noticed.

Of course he noticed.

But he didn’t push.

Didn’t force her to talk about it.

Didn’t tell her that she was still enough, still his, still the only thing in his life that mattered more than anything.

No.

Harry Styles didn’t waste his breath on words.

He showed her.

And the whole damn world saw it.

Madison Square Garden.

A sold-out crowd.

Phones up. Lights blinding.

It was a big night—bigger than most.

The kind of night that would be talked about for years, the kind of performance that would live forever in grainy fan videos, breathless social media posts, and blurry concert footage.

And she wasn’t supposed to be there.

Hadn’t planned on coming.

Had told Harry she’d stay home—avoid the cameras, avoid the crowd, avoid the possibility of being dragged into something she never wanted to be a part of.

But somehow—somehow—she found herself standing in the wings, heart in her throat, hands curled into fists at her sides as she watched him command the stage.

It was impossible not to be captivated.

Impossible not to watch the way he moved, the way he laughed into the mic between songs, the way he glowed under the stage lights.

He was in his element.

He belonged here.

And she—

Well.

She was just trying to stay invisible.

But then—

He turned.

Looked right at her.

And everything stopped.

Because suddenly—mid-show, mid-crowd, mid-fucking-Madison-Square-Garden—Harry Styles did something he never did.

He talked about her.

On stage.

For the world to hear.

“This one’s for someone who thinks she doesn’t belong in my world,” he said, voice steady, eyes never leaving hers.

The crowd screamed.

A roar—loud and deafening and completely unaware of what was actually happening.

“But she is my world.”

Her breath caught.

And then—before she could process what was happening—

He started playing.

A new song.

Unreleased.

Just for her.

And the lyrics—oh, the fucking lyrics.

They were filled with pieces of them.

Little inside jokes woven into verses, fragments of whispered late-night confessions hidden in melodies, the kind of details that only she would understand.

A love letter.

A declaration.

A warning to the world that she was his and he was hers, and that nothing—not the industry, not the headlines, not the relentless scrutiny of millions—could change that.

The internet lost its mind.

Clips went viral within minutes.

Fan theories exploded.

But none of it mattered.

Not really.

Because in that moment—in the middle of everything, in front of everyone, under the brightest damn spotlight possible—

It was just them.

And she belonged.

She didn’t hear the rest of the set.

Not really.

Not past the pounding of her heart, not past the static in her brain, not past the overwhelming realization that he had just done that.

For her.

For everyone to hear.

The screaming of the crowd blurred into white noise. The energy in the arena buzzed around her, the walls seeming to pulse with the sound of thousands of people still losing their minds.

But she couldn’t move.

Couldn’t think.

Couldn’t do anything except stare at the stage where he still stood, grinning like he hadn’t just shattered her entire world in the best possible way.

Because Harry Styles didn’t do things like this.

He dodged questions in interviews.

Shrugged off rumors.

Gave the media nothing to work with.

And yet, tonight—tonight, he had given them everything.

And she had no idea how to breathe through it.

Somewhere along the way, her fingers had curled into the fabric of her sweater, clutching at herself like it might help her stay grounded. Like she wasn’t seconds away from dissolving into nothing but feelings.

Because she knew what this meant.

Knew what it would cause.

Knew that by morning, headlines would be flooded with theories, and her name—or at least her existence—would be dragged into the light again.

But she couldn’t bring herself to care.

Because he’d said she was his world.

He’d said she belonged.

And maybe—just maybe—she believed him.

She was still in a daze when the show ended.

Still stuck in her own head when the lights in the arena dimmed, when the roaring of the crowd turned to scattered cheers and fading echoes of his name.

She barely noticed the way people moved around her.

Security, crew members, the distant hum of conversation—it all faded into the background.

Until—

“There you are.”

Her breath caught.

And then he was there.

Harry.

Still sweaty, still breathless from the high of performing, still looking at her like she was the only thing in the entire fucking world.

He didn’t say anything at first.

Didn’t ask if she’d liked the song.

Didn’t joke about how she’d better have been paying attention.

Didn’t do anything except close the space between them, hands gripping her face, lips pressing against her forehead, breath warm and shaky against her skin.

And she—

God.

She melted.

Because she could feel it—everything he wasn’t saying, everything he had already said on that stage.

The weight of it settled in her chest, so thick she thought she might break apart.

And then—so quietly she almost missed it—

“Tell me you’re staying.”

Her heart slammed against her ribs.

Because he knew.

Of course he fucking knew.

Knew how much she had struggled with this.

Knew how many times she had almost walked away.

Knew how much she loved him, but how terrified she was of all of this.

And yet—

His voice was steady.

Not desperate.

Not pleading.

Just… certain.

Like he already knew the answer.

Like he already knew her.

And maybe he did.

Because before she could second-guess herself—before she could let doubt creep in, before she could convince herself she wasn’t strong enough for this—

She nodded.

Just once.

And Harry fucking collapsed against her.

Exhaling like he’d been holding his breath for months.

Arms wrapping around her like he was afraid she might disappear.

Lips crashing against hers in a kiss that was anything but careful.

Because it wasn’t a question anymore.

Wasn’t a hesitation or a what if or an I don’t know.

It was real.

It was them.

And she was staying.

His hotel room was dark, save for the soft glow from the city outside.

But she barely noticed.

Because the only thing that mattered—the only thing that existed in this moment—was him.

Harry.

Pressed against her, warm and solid, breath still uneven from everything that had led to this.

His hands were everywhere.

Not rushed. Not desperate. Just certain.

Slow, teasing touches down her spine.

Fingertips tracing the dip of her waist.

Lips skimming along her throat, up to the shell of her ear, where his voice was low, husky, full of intent.

"Gonna remind you who you belong to, yeah?"

Her breath hitched.

Because fuck.

She’d heard that voice before—cocky, teasing, full of mischief when he was playing up his charm.

But this?

This was different.

This was a promise.

Her fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, gripping, needing—but he wasn’t in any rush.

Because Harry didn’t just take.

He worshipped.

And she felt it.

In the way his hands moved over her skin—slow, deliberate.

In the way he kissed her—deep, devastating.

Like he had all the time in the world.

Like she was the only thing in it.

His mouth found the curve of her shoulder.

The dip between her ribs.

The inside of her wrist, where her pulse thrummed beneath his lips.

Every inch of her.

And with every kiss, every touch, came a whisper.

"You're everything, love."

"Perfect for me."

"Mine."

Her face burned, but he wouldn’t let her look away.

Wouldn’t let her shrink away from the way he saw her.

Because when she got shy—when she tried to hide—

He caught her chin, thumb tracing her jaw, forcing her to meet his gaze.

And fuck, that look.

Like she was something sacred.

Like she was something he could never get enough of.

"Look at you, taking me so well."

Her breath shuddered out of her.

And God, he knew what he was doing.

The filthy praise, the way he held her like she was precious, the possessiveness in his voice—

It was too much and not enough, all at once.

And he didn’t stop.

Didn’t stop until she was falling apart beneath him, gasping his name, hands tangled in his hair, nails raking down his back.

Didn’t stop until she was completely his.

And then—when the world had settled again, when their breathing was slow and tangled together, when she was half-asleep in his arms

Harry took care of her.

Of course he did.

Because he always did.

Pressed a kiss to her temple.

Murmured soft things against her skin as he cleaned her up, as he wrapped her up in him.

Strong arms pulling her close, keeping her warm, keeping her safe.

Only ever his.

And just before sleep pulled her under—

Just before her body fully relaxed against his—

She heard it.

Soft.

Low.

Meant just for her.

"Love you, you know that?"

And she did.

God, she did.

But what really got her—what really made her heart ache in the best, most devastating way—was that he never said it like he needed her to say it back.

Never said it like he was waiting for some kind of validation.

He said it like a fact.

Like the sun would rise tomorrow.

Like the sky was blue.

Like her being his was something permanent.

And maybe it was.

The airport was a nightmare.

The second they stepped inside, cameras started flashing, voices shouting—Harry! Over here! Is that your girlfriend?! Harry, can you confirm—

He ignored them.

Of course he did.

Didn’t even flinch.

Just kept walking, kept his hand firmly on the small of her back, kept her close.

And he was carrying everything.

Her suitcase.

Her tote bag.

Her carry-on.

Even the stupid travel pillow she’d nearly forgotten in the car.

Meanwhile, she was strolling beside him, completely unbothered, sipping her coffee like she didn’t have a single care in the world.

The contrast? Insane.

And the internet lost its mind.

The tweets came fast.

@stylesupdates: HARRY CARRYING EVERY SINGLE ONE OF HER BAGS WHILE SHE JUST DRINKS HER COFFEE??? SIR. YOU ARE WHIPPED.

@hslotlover: HE'S WEARING HER SHIRT (it’s posted on her Instagram @yourusername) AGAIN I CAN’T DO THIS TODAY.

Because, yeah.

He was.

It was an old, slightly oversized tee—hers.

The one she always stole from his drawer. The one she wore to bed whenever he wasn’t around.

And now?

Now he was wearing it in public.

On purpose.

Like some kind of quiet, undeniable statement.

Like a middle finger to the world.

But the real moment—the one that cemented it all—was the photo.

A blurry, candid shot someone snapped from across the terminal.

Harry, walking ahead, death glaring at the paparazzi.

Her, right behind him, looking effortlessly soft, untouchable.

And the caption?

"He’s still an asshole, and she’s still his soft spot."

And fuck.

If that wasn’t the truest thing anyone had ever said.

Because the world still didn’t get it.

But he didn’t care.

Because she was his.

And that was enough.

That had always been enough.

☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆

Thank you so much for reading, you’re a total angel! Don’t forget to like, comment, and reblog if you enjoyed! It means everything to me! 💖

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[jezebelblues]

𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐑𝐘 | 𝐇.𝐒 ₊˚⊹ᰔ

ᝰ.ᐟ 𝐚 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐭𝐡 𝐬𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐲, 𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐞𝐥𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐟𝐥𝐨𝐚𝐭—𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐭𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞 𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧.

loosely based off this request.

𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐞𝐭 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐮𝐥𝐥 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐚 𝐰𝐚𝐯𝐞, 𝐭𝐨 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐨𝐫. 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐤𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐢𝐭.

𝐂𝐖: smut18+ fingering, slight exhibitionism, jealousrry, alcohol usage, fratrry, fem!reader

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: approx 3.4k

masterlist

YN tasted like cherries.

A cherry vodka sour, sweet with a hint of something sharper underneath—a taste that lingered, his very own narcotic, drawing him in sip by sip like a whispered invitation. The scent clung to her, rolling from her lips in quiet, careless breaths that brushed his cheek whenever she leaned too close. By the end of the night, he was close enough to catch the faintest trace of cherry chapstick, a soft tease of sweetness he was certain she left there just for him.

She stood in the neon glow at the edge of the room, light bleeding over her skin, casting her in shades that looked as alive as they did unreal. The dim purple and blue fractured over her collarbone, slipped across her cheekbones, hiding as much as it revealed. He watched her, and she knew it. Her gaze drifted past him, lingering just long enough for him to wonder if she'd felt his stare prickling across her skin. And when she smiled, he swore there was something in it meant just for him—a fleeting thing, a glimmer of knowledge that she understood exactly what she was doing to him.

Harry could feel the weight of it, her laughter bubbling like carbonation, fizzy and sharp as it hit his ears and curled around him, intoxicating as any drink in his hand. She was just out of reach, always a breath away, with eyes that seemed to say she knew every game he was trying to play, and she’d play them better.

He couldn’t remember the taste of his own drink anymore, something else sat on his tongue–bubbling from the top of his throat, igniting his chest. 

Her bottom lip pulled between her teeth as she smiled, her solo cup discarded from her hands and onto the broad shoulders of the man standing in front of her. She’d glance Harry’s way every few minutes, eye locking with his before turning back to the man, laughing at something she definitely didn’t find funny.

Yeah, she knew exactly what she was doing.

His fingers gripped his drink, watching as she tilted her head to the side, her tapping against his shoulders like a spell. And then–there it was. Her eyes flickered to Harry, a spark of something familiar dancing on the edge of her pupils, flashing just long enough to say, are you watching?

He was.

The man leaned in closer, his large hand resting against her hip while the other gripped the edge of the table behind her—caged in. Harry wanted to almost laugh. She wasn’t blocked in, no, the exact opposite. Men melted like ice in her palms, she was the ringmaster here. She played it perfectly, the tilt of her head, trailing her fingers up his neck as if she was spinning a web.

“Your cans getting crushed.” Came Mitch’s voice, low and amused as he nodded toward the aluminum Harry white knuckled. 

He exhaled, easing his fingers around the drink as he took a shallow sip, a wry smile slipping onto his lips. “She’ll be the death of me.” 

Mitch laughed, eyeing Harry over the brim of his beer bottle touching his lips. “Only ‘cause you let her.”

He let himself lean into the wall behind him, the cool surface doing nothing to temper the heat curling beneath his skin. Mitch was right. He let her—let her pull him under like a wave, let her play the part of his tormentor. His eyes held onto her, his cherry, wrapped in a game she orchestrated with the precision of a maestro. The room spun around her, and he was caught into her gravity, helpless to orbit at a distance.

Their gaze held each other every time she would flicker her eyes over. It was filthy, as if they were fucking, front and center of everyone. She pinned him in place with only a glance, that sly, knowing look. She lifted herself onto the table behind her, her laughter like a melody meant only for him. The music thumped against the walls, drowning out everything else, but it didn’t matter—he’d hear YN over it all, every soft breath, every little sound. She was everywhere in his senses, threading through his veins.

The man stood between her legs, saying something in her ear that Harry couldn’t make out, but it was enough to make her lips quirk into a smile—one he knew wasn’t for him. His hand tightened around his drink again, crushed aluminum forgotten, cold liquid seeping through his fingers. It was her doing; she knew exactly how to turn him into this, into a version of himself that held back only because the tension was a part of the thrill.

Another laugh escaped her lips, and he saw her bite down on it, that little nibble on her bottom lip that drove him mad. YN threw her head back, letting her hair fall around her shoulders like a heavy curtain, exposing the curve of her neck. A pulse beat just under her skin, one he knew he could feel if he got close enough.

And for a second, he thought he saw her crack.

The man’s hand slid further up her thigh, threatening to slip underneath the fabric of her small skirt. But her gaze drifted, almost instinctively, back to Harry. It was quick, so quick he almost convinced himself he imagined it, but Harry knew better. There was a question in that flicker, a question he knew was coming since the beginning of the night, are you going to let him keep touching me?

It wasn’t fair, none of it was, the way she played him like this, weaving in and out of his focus until he couldn’t remember the start of his own intentions. Every step he took toward her, its like she took one back, luring him deeper. He hated that she knew he’d follow, hated how she left him chasing shadows.

A hand landed on his shoulder, snapping him back, Mitch—although he was unsure if he wanted to be pulled back into reality or not. He watched him with a look that was half-amused, half-concerned. “You keep staring, mate, you’re gonna turn to stone.” He teased, though his eyes lingered on Harry’s hand, still clenched white around his drink.

He forced a laugh, hollow, strained. “Maybe I already have.”

The words barely left his mouth before he saw her slip off the table, her admirer’s hand slipping from her waist and interlacing his fingers with hers—as if they were heading out.

Something in him snapped. Before he knew what he was doing, he was pushing off the wall, letting his half-emptied can of beer clammer onto the wooden floor beneath him. He weaved through the crowd with a single minded purpose, ignoring the curious glances sent his way. Mitch muttered something behind him, but it didn’t register—couldn’t register. 

The guy with her hadn’t noticed him yet, too absorbed in whatever he muttered against her cheek. Harry saw her roll her eyes in amusement, stroking whatever ego the man had. Her gaze then slid sideways, catching sight of Harry. Her expression didn’t falter—if anything, her smile grew, just the tiniest bit, a flash of triumph dancing in her gaze as she held his.

The man finally noticed, his grin faltering as he slipped his hand from hers, turning to face Harry who was close enough to see uncertainty flicker over his face, a split second before he masked it with bravado. 

“H,” she mumbled, her voice warm, as if she were greeting just an old friend. She didn’t step away from the two, only allowing herself to lean against the table once again with her arms crossed over her chest.

He took another step forward, a smile curving his lips, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “Enjoying yourself?”

YN arched a brow, her gaze playful, almost defiant. “I was. Are you?”

The guy shifted awkwardly beside them, looking at them with a growing wariness, as if he wasn’t entirely sure what he put himself into. Harry spared him a glance, a cool, knowing look that revealed something simmering underneath. It was answer enough. 

His patience was fraying, thinning out thread by thread that she unraveled.

He placed his hand on the table she leaned onto, the tip of his thumb brushing against the fabric of her skirt. He was close enough for her to feel his cool breath, close enough for him to smell the faint hint of cherry lingering on her lips. His eyes burrowed into the man that still stood there as he whispered, low enough for only her to hear, “why are y’playing games with me?” 

Her smile sharpened, and there was something dark, something electric, sparking in her irises as she looked toward him. She shifted her weight, turning her shoulders into him. His eyes still bore into the man’s, his jaw clenched. 

He seemed nice enough, sure, but he didn’t fucking care when it came to her.

God, she ruined him. And Harry took it gladly, falling to his knees and worshiping her.

“Who says I’m playing?” She barely blinked, her words a challenge, a dare he couldn’t ignore. And then she reached out, brushing a single finger along the ink on his forearm, trailing it down with a touch that was featherlight, maddeningly subtle. “Or maybe,” she breathed, her lips a head-turn away, “you just don’t like that we’re not playing by your rules.”

His eyes finally flickered to hers, it was all he could do to hold himself steady. The guy beside them cleared his throat awkwardly, muttering something about getting another drink and slipping away into the crowd, clearly catching the drift.

Harry didn’t care, no. He’d claim her right now, in front of everyone, if she let him.

They ignored him, nothing more than a forgotten piece of her performance—a discarded prop, now that Harry was here, close enough to feel the heat of her skin and that slow, steady rise and fall of her breath.

“You don’t have to keep doing this.” He said lowly, laced with an edge he couldn’t quite hide. “Pretending you don’t want it.” 

Her smile was slow, spreading across her face with a satisfaction that bordered on wicked. She pushed up onto her toes, lips brushing his ear as she whispered, “Maybe I like seeing what it does to you.”

Her words wrapped around him, drawing him in, filling him with a reckless sort of need, one he’d tried to bury, tried to ignore. But she’d brought it to the surface, peeling him apart layer by layer until he was bare before her, all pretense stripped away,

“Careful.” He warned, his voice a rumble, shifting on his weight to place his free hand on the other side of the table, caging her in. His hand slipped up her thigh, past her skirt, his fingertips slipping underneath the fabric of her panties and gripping the bare skin of her hip. “Or I’ll show you exactly what it does, right in front of everyone.” 

Her gaze flickered down, lingering on the sharp line of his jaw, her own pulse quickening beneath his touch. She looked up at him through her eyelashes, a smirk tugging at her lips. “His name is Mateo.” She murmured, her lips brushing against his chin, just beneath his bottom lip. “He was gonna take me upstairs.” 

He didn’t say anything, he only tightened his jaw, slipping his fingers inward just barely, tracing the lace of her panties. 

She let out a breathy giggle, “seem a little tense.” She mumbled against his skin, her voice teasing, silk-wrapped around a blade. Her smile was innocent, close-lipped and coy as she leaned her head away from his mouth, but her eyes betrayed her, dark and hungry. “Something on your mind?”

“I think you like it.” His voice was rough, sharpened. The tip of his index finger slipped underneath the gusset of her panties, tracing down her folds that were already slick with arousal. “Seeing me like this.”

Her breath hitched, her eyes finally averting from his to the crowd over his shoulder. Everyone was enveloped in their own words, nursing solo cups of vodka or pupils wide with some sort of substance. She could feel his finger, the way it sat right at her entrance. He was teasing her, she knew it. She looked at him again, only seeing a man completely unraveled before her. 

Just like she wanted. 

“Said he wanted to hear me scream his name.” 

He eased his finger into her, knuckle deep. He watched through half-lidded eyes the way her forehead creased in pleasure, the way cherry fell from her breath. He curled his finger upward before slowly pulling out, a sigh escaping her lips. “What was his name?” Harry breathed, his lips against her temple.

Her eyebrows furrowed, scanning the people behind him again. In that moment, she was grateful the table was tucked into the corner of the room, an afterthought unless someone was looking for it. “Mat–”

He pumped into her again, this time adding his middle finger, her velvety walls fluttering around his digits. Her hands gripped the edge of the table, her spine straightening.

“Your cunt was soaked before I even touched you.” He spat, his voice low behind the music. His fingers were slow, teasing, teetering on the edge of her resolve. “Don’t think he did that for you.” 

Her chest rose as she drew a breath, deep, silencing. Her eyes found his ways back to his, so dark she could see herself in the reflection of them. A knot tightened in her belly, a pressure building between her thighs before his movements stilled.

His fingers remained, unmoving as he knit his eyebrows together, watching a silent desperation dance upon her features. “Who got you like this?” He murmured, pressing a kiss into her forehead. She clenched around him, drawing a chuckle that emitted from his chest. “Say it, YN.” 

“You.” She breathed. Of course he did, no one else could make her feel this way. 

Her effort to hold back her moans were poor, soft squeaks tumbling from her mouth as Harry pumped his fingers in and out—the wet sound of being finger-fucked only audible between the two of them.

“You seem tense, baby.” He echoed, pressing a kiss against her cheekbone, soft, barely there. “Something on your mind?”

She raised her hand toward his shoulder, balling the fabric in her hands as she struggled to stay quiet. His knuckles pounded against her pussy selfishly, a sick sense of pride spreading around his chest. “Fuck, H. Just like that.”

He could feel the way she fluttered around him, the way she was so close to coming just from his fingers.

But, he smirked, pulling his hand from her panties, her arousal glistening under the neon lights. A whimper fell from her lips, her shoulders falterning, a frustration bubbling over. His other hand sat on her bare knee as he took the smallest step backward, bringing those two fingers to his lips, licking the tip of them like he swiped them through a sweet dessert. 

His lips were slick as he leaned back in, kissing her. Her legs tightened around his own as she tasted herself on him, the heat between her thighs growing unbearable. 

And he smiled into it, biting her lip as he pulled away. A warmth settled in his tummy, he felt like he could float—

happy that he could taste cherries again.

[summer-lovin-09]

[harrywavycurly]

Sarah so not that SC needs drama BUTTTT Thomas Rhett has a new song called Country for California and it so could’ve been written by someone from SC girlie’s hometown and I’m just imagining her hearing it and wondering if she should tell Harry? And then him not knowing how to handle it and imagine him writing a response track?!? 👀😳💓💓

Hiiii lovey!! Okay so I do love drama but I feel like my little Southern Comfort babies just need to be protected from it (mainly Harry he is enough of a mess ya know?) BUT I did do this in a fun-ish kinda way that you still see Harry’s reaction to the song and it ends fluffy so I hope you enjoy it! 💖

Find all things Southern Comfort here✨

Disclaimer: In this I don’t mention Thomas Rhett being the singer nor the songwriter, all that’s mentioned is your ex has an album out and it’s about you and I use the song mentioned above as well as the album it’s on so I’m in NO way shape or form saying your ex bf is Thomas Rhett ✨

CW: Language

A/N: Harry calls for an emergency meeting at the studio where things get a little out of hand, enjoy jealous Harry and the very first look at how you interact with the one and only Mitch Rowland✨

“I'll be sittin' right here at this bar with a drink, waitin' on ya,” Harry clenches and unclenches his jaw as the words spill from the speakers in the studio, he closes his eyes and tries to calm himself a bit as the song comes to an end.

“Oh If you find out you're too country for California” Once the music begins to fade out Harry hits the stop button as he chews on his bottom lip, he looks up at Niall who is standing next to him with his arms crossed over his chest and Harry quirks a brow when he notices his head still bopping to the beat of the song that Harry just played for him.

“S’good.” Niall says with a shrug as one of his hands fall to his hip while the other reaches over to the bin of cookies that’s sitting on the edge of the control panel that Harry’s sitting in front of. “You covering it or s’mthing?” He asks as he grabs a chocolate chip cookie from the bin and Harry has to fight the urge to smack it out of his hand. “Or did you write it? Tryin to get into the country scene are ya?” He questions once he sees the glare Harry gave him at his first question but when Harry just stands up with a huff Niall knows the answer to his questions are clearly a no.

“Her fucking ex wrote it you knob.” Niall raises an eyebrow as he takes a bite of the cookie in his hand as he watches Harry begin pacing around the studio. “He wrote a song about how he’s going to be there waiting for her when she realizes moving to California was a mistake…that I’m a fucking mistake.” Niall lets out a scoff making Harry turn and glare at him but Niall just ignores it as he finishes off his cookie before he takes a step towards his bestfriend.

“Harry this song has literally nothing to do with you mate.” Harry rolls his eyes as he runs both hands through his hair tugging at his roots and letting out a frustrated sigh. “I’m serious this song is just his way of saying that if she decides that this wasn’t a good idea he’s there for her and I mean s’kinda romantic if-”

“Romantic? You think some twat writing a song about how he’s waiting for my girlfriend at a bar with a drink and a smile is romantic? Get fucking real Niall.” Niall places a hand on Harry’s shoulder trying to get him to relax but all Harry does is shrug it off as he heads for his phone that’s on the little table in front of the couch that’s on the back wall of the small space.

“I think you’re blowing this way out of proportion mate I mean when was this even wri-”

“This year.” Harry snaps as he grabs his phone off the table and when he turns around he sees Niall rubbing his lips together and rubbing the back of his neck with his hand that’s not resting on his hip he thinks maybe now Niall understands why he’s taking this so seriously.

“Oh okay I mean still it’s just a song.” Niall explains trying his hardest to reason with Harry who is opening up his notes app on his phone as he sits back down in the chair he was sitting in when Niall walked into the studio not even half an hour ago. “People are allowed to write songs about their ex girlfriends ya know? You’ve done it yourself so you can’t really be that-”

“It’s a whole fucking album Niall not just a song it’s an album. Want to know the name of the album?” Harry doesn’t wait for Niall to respond before he messes around on his phone and brings the album up and shoves the screen in his friend’s face. “Something About a Woman…the woman he’s referring to? Yeah that would be my fucking girlfriend so I don’t want to hear how people can write about their exes because no shit of course people can write about whatever or whoever the fuck they want but now…now Niall I have to respond.” Niall’s eyes go wide as he looks from the phone screen that’s been aggressively shoved in his face to Harry who’s cheeks are pink and nostrils are flared and if Niall were to look at his free hand that’s resting in his lap he’d see it was clenched into a fist, all clear signs that Harry is pissed off.

“You-what? Respond?”

“Yes I can’t have someone writing albums about my girlfriend and not say something.”

“You’ve gone full fucking looney mate this album has nothing to do with you.”

“It has to do with her therefore it has to do with me Niall don’t be a wanker.”

“Harry be so fucking for real right now…this isn’t some rap beef okay? He wrote about his feeling for his ex that’s all…it’s not like he insulted her or anything.”

“That’s not the fucking point!” Niall rolls his eyes as Harry tosses his phone to the side letting it land on the table with a loud thud. Harry takes a few deep breaths and lets them out through his nose doing his best to calm down because Niall isn’t the one he’s upset with so he doesn’t want to take his anger out on him.

“I’m not sure I see the point Harry.” Niall tells him as he reaches for another cookie but this time Harry can’t help himself and he snatches the bin away just before Niall’s hand can reach it. “The fuck is wrong with you?”

“I swear to god I will ban cookies from the studio if you don’t start actually helping me figure out what to do.” He knows this is a dramatic way to get what he wants but he also knows that if there’s one thing that can get people to do something it’s his girlfriend’s baking.

“That’s harsh man.” Both Niall and Harry turn their heads to look towards the couch and see Mitch sitting there with his hands resting in his lap as he just shakes his head at Harry.

“When the bloody hell did you get here?” Niall asks with a raised brow making Mitch just sigh as he stands up from the couch and walks over towards the two of them.

“Been here the whole time..H said something about an emergency so..I showed up.” He answers with a shrug as he places a hand on Harry’s shoulder making him look up at him. “You know that if you really do want to respond to the song or album…which is a really bad idea by the way…it has to be in the same genre as the original right?” Harry purses his lips for a moment as Mitch’s words hit him and Niall can’t help but let out a little chuckle at the idea of Harry trying to come out with a country record.

“The fuck you giggling at? I could make a country record you bad knee having twat.” Niall rolls his eyes as Harry glares at him while Mitch just gives Harry’s shoulder a pat before he reaches down and uses Harry staring at Niall as a distraction and takes a cookie from the bin he has clutched in his hands.

“You’re very British.” Mitch states before taking a bite of his cookie making Niall’s eyes go wide as he looks from the cookie to the bin in Harry’s hands. Harry looks down at the cookie bin and then back to Mitch with a raised brow because when did he even grab one? How did he not notice it?

“Post Malone just dropped a whole country album.” Harry states as if it’s a valid argument and Mitch just takes another bite of his cookie before responding.

“Yeah but he’s from Texas and he pretty much sounds the same singing as he does when he’s rapping.” Mitch explains before finishing off his cookie and brushing his hands off on his shirt all while Niall is just staring at him with a hint of jealousy in his eyes because he could really go for another cookie but no way in hell is he getting one while the bin is still in Harry’s hands.

“I’ve sang country songs before.” Harry is grasping at straws now and he knows it but he refuses to give up so Mitch just nods before turning and heading back for the couch.

“I mean yeah you’ve covered them so they sound like your style of singing and not their original traditional country sound.” Niall watches Harry’s face as Mitch speaks and it’s like watching a balloon deflate. Harry slowly starts to slump in his seat as his shoulders relax and the corners of his mouth are dipping downwards in a frown and normally Niall wouldn’t like seeing him look so upset but honestly anything is better than how angry he was a few minutes ago.

“So you’re saying…I shouldn’t do anything about it then?” Harry asks as Mitch takes his seat back on the couch while Niall slowly reaches towards the bin that Harry has loosened his grip on.

“Take it as a compliment man.” Mitch says with a shrug making Harry roll his eyes just as Niall’s hand touches a cookie. “We all know she’s song worthy and I know it sucks someone else is singing about her but just let it go.” Niall’s hand freezes when he looks up from the bin and sees Harry glaring at him.

“Put the cookie down.” Niall lets out a loud groan as he drops the cookie back into the bin. “No more cookies for you since you didn’t help me at all.” With that he grabs the lid to the cookie bin but before he can close it Niall reaches over and grabs the bin from Harry’s hands and rushes over to the coffee table in front of Mitch and stands on it holding the bin just out of Harry’s reach. “Real fucking mature Niall.” He snaps as he stands up and places both hands on his hips as he glares at his bestfriend who just shoves a whole cookie into his mouth with a shrug.

“It’s a rational response.” Mitch defends making Niall turn his head and give Mitch an approving nod since his mouth is still full. “The cookies are the main reason half of us even enjoy coming to work.” Harry takes a step to the side so he can raise an eyebrow at his friend’s admission while Niall just takes a bite of another cookie before bending down and handing one to Mitch who takes it with a smile and a nod of appreciation.

“Oh and the muffins.” Niall adds looking at Mitch who nods in agreement because he does love when he walks in and there’s a basket of muffins on the coffee table.

“And the bread-“

“I get it okay? You lot only come for the damn snacks.” Harry says while throwing his hands up in the air out of frustration, not enjoying the two of them listing off the baked goods they enjoy coming to the studio for more than the idea of actually working on something with him.

“Don’t blame em you’re a right fuckin twat in the studio sometimes Harry and you-”

“Honey I’m sorry for-“ All three men turn to look at you as you walk through the door making you immediately stop talking when you see the scene in front of you. “Niall James Horan why the hell are you standing on the coffee table holding the cookie bin?” Niall’s cheeks go pink as you place a hand on your hip but then you take a step further into the room and see Harry who is doing everything in his power to avoid looking at you.

“Harry said I couldn’t have anymore cookies because I didn’t help him write a song.” Niall blabs as he remains standing on the table pointing at your boyfriend who is looking down at his feet. “Said he was gonna ban them from the studio.” He adds just to really make sure you understand the severity of the situation because in Niall’s mind this is a serious issue and this isn’t even his studio but he’s here enough that if there’s no more cookies he really just doesn’t see himself ever wanting to come back.

“Things have gotten a little out of hand.” You turn your attention away from the Irishman on the table and smile when you see Mitch sitting on the couch with his hands folded together in his lap.

“So I’ve gathered.” Mitch just gives you a small smile as you reach down and give his knee a gentle pat. “You mind giving us the room precious?” You ask and Mitch doesn’t hesitate to just stand up and head for the door giving you a little pat on your shoulder on his way past you. Niall follows him, quickly stepping off the table and heading for the door. “You leave that cookie bin on the table Niall James.” You hear a low sounding whine coming from behind you making you just roll your eyes at Niall’s dramatics.

“But I-”

“But nothin Niall you know you’ll eat yourself sick if I let you take the whole bin with you now be a good little puddin pop and close the door behind you please.” You don’t even look at him as you talk, too concerned with the way Harry is standing there with his arms crossed over his chest and looking down at his feet but you know Niall did what you asked when you hear the soft click of the door closing.

“I wasn’t really going to ban cookies from the studio.” Harry mumbles as you take a few steps towards him. “I know you enjoy baking them for everyone.” You smile at his words because of course he’d never ban your cookies or baked goods from the studio because Harry knows how happy baking them makes you.

“Sugar is this about the song?” Harry’s head snaps up and his eyes go wide as you reach out so you can try to grab his hands.

“You know about the song?” You give him a look and he just lets out a sigh and uncrosses his arms allowing you to grab his hands. “Of course you know about the song.” He half mumbles to himself as he feels you pull his arm around your waist, placing your hands over his so he keeps them there.

“It’s just a song honey.” Harry wants to believe you, he wants to just be able to brush it off as just some song but he can’t and he hates how it’s making him feel. “Harry.” His name sounding sweet and soft as it slips out of your mouth is what makes him finally give in, you smile when you feel him pull you into his chest making your cheek press against the soft material of his hoodie as your arms snake around his middle giving him a nice squeeze while his stay locked around your waist.

“I know you’re upset and that’s fine sugar because you’re allowed to be upset about this but please know it doesn’t meant anything to me okay?” You feel Harry place his lips on the top of your head as you begin rubbing his back trying to soothe him.

“I just hate knowing someone else is writing songs about you.” You can’t help but chuckle making Harry pull away from you a bit so he can look down at you and you just roll your eyes playfully when he raises an eyebrow at you.

“Oh come on honey you have a whole album written about you and you don’t see me all huffin and puffin.” You watch Harry’s face as he tries to think of an album that could possibly be written about him and you just laugh and go back to resting your head on his chest. “It’s a great album I’ll give you that much so maybe that’s why I don’t mind but also it’s Taylor Swift so what exactly am I supposed to do? Bake her an angry cake?” You feel Harry’s arms go stiff as it finally clicks which album you’re referring to so you just tilt your head so your chin is resting on his chest and you’re looking up at him. “You think she’d like a cake? Or maybe some cookies?” You ask in an attempt to lighten the mood and when Harry just looks down at you with a playful glare you know it’s worked.

“If you send her cookies I get to send him a strongly worded letter.” You bite back a laugh at his suggestion as you get up on your tiptoes making a small smile appear on Harry’s face when he leans down to meet your lips in a sweet little kiss. “Or maybe I’ll just let it go?” He asks as you try to pull away but he’s quick to bring one of his hands up to cup the side of your face keeping you from going too far even when you drop from being on your tiptoes. “Yeah I’ll just let it go.” He answers before he presses his lips against yours for another kiss.

“Smart thinkin sugar plum” Your voice is reassuring and Harry smiles as you turn your face and place a kiss to the palm of his hand that was cupping your cheek. “Have you written any songs about me?” You ask as Harry places a kiss to your forehead before standing up straight, he gives you a little smile as his thumb begins gently brushing against your cheek.

“Just a few hundred.” You want to roll your eyes and shove at his chest and tell him to be serious but something tells you he’s not joking or at least not totally. “But the fun is watching you try to figure out which ones they are.” He teases and you just stare at him for a moment and it’s as if all of a sudden it dawns on you that he actually has written songs about you and you can’t help but feel your eyes begin to get watery and your bottom lip starts to tremble.

“Oh my god.” Normally Harry would be panicked if he saw you on the verge of tears and heard your voice crack but he knows what’s happening and he understand it’s a lot to take in, the idea of someone caring enough about you to write a song about you is a lot. “You really like me huh?” Your voice is watery but it just makes Harry smile and chuckle a little as he brings his other hand up to hold the other side of your face.

“I do yeah.” He answers with zero hesitation as he leans down and kisses the tip of your nose. “I’m a bit obsessed with you baby.” He adds with a smile as you reach up and place your hands over his that are on your face just as he leans a bit further down and gives your lips a sweet kiss that leaves you with a grin when he pulls away.

[larriescompass]

my favorite thing about chop suey are his eyelashes - harry styles

[missmielyhoran]

STOP🫠🫠🫠

[Warning- Angst to Smut to Angst, Grumprry, Jealousrry, Insecure and jealous reader, foul language, unprotected sex (wear condom kids! real babies are not fun), Harry kind of confessing his feelings and him being an asshole as usual, shitty smut, maybe some grammatical mistakes]

Masterlist \\ Series Masterlist

*****

Harry wasn't a very cheerful person to begin with, and it wasn't like he had some childhood trauma that made me him this way no, he was born this way.

He was also the young CEO of his dad's reputable car company. He had to put on a serious face to make a bunch of old shits to take a 27 year old seriously.

Right now, though that wasn't the case for his grumpiness. It was you.

You were away on a stupid work trip to Manchester with Edwin, fucking Edwin! Why was his girl assistant on a work trip with someone else, you may ask? Cause of his stupid ass.

Harry, just a day before the trip, fired the person who was supposed to go with Edwin, and the next person who knew about the project was you and him. Now Harry couldn't go for obvious reason, so you had to go, and he has been chewing on concrete since then.

Adding to that, you haven't been replying to his messages, and when you did, it was a picture of you, in the shortest dress he had seen, and you were not wearing it for him but to go out with that chipmunk!

No messages followed after that, not even a reply to his message. He had to make a fake Instagram account (he hates Instagram) so he could see what you were up to.

He missed you, but he was too much of a grump and egotistical to admit that.

Harry knew he was fucked. Having sex with your assistant was bad enough. If he got into a relationship with you, his reputation would be tethered, and it would cost your job also. He couldn't ruin it for you. He knew how much you loved this job.

But hell he wanted to give in.

You will resume the office tomorrow, and he dreaded going into a meeting without you.

He sighed as people started to fill up the room. The new dealers and his employees who are working on this are also there. Alicia was the one who had to present today, and his temporary assistant was nowhere to be seen.

"Where is Casey?" He asked Alicia, who shrugged her shoulders. Harry was on the verge of losing his cool. He doesn't realize how he employed so many incompetent shits but he was about to fire some.

Alicia started her presentation but Harry couldn't focus on it. It was times like this he realizes he's nothing without you. His coffee is shit unless you make it. He hates everyone elses format unless you do it. He hates everyone else unless it's you.

Suddenly, the door to the room opened, and you were there breathless, in front of door heaving like you just ran marathon. The light coming from behind made you look like an angel. For him, you were.

You walked inside, apologizing to everyone, your heels clicking on the floor. You were in your formal outfit, a long black dress, stiletto, with your hair in a bun. You picked up his water bottle and drank the whole of it and then took a deep breath.

When you looked up properly, everyone's eyes were on you. You gave a sheepish smile and stood beside Harry, "Sorry, please continue."

Harry smiled to himself behind his hands. He looked up at you beside him, your focus on what Alicia was saying and taking notes. You were too sincere for this job. Sometimes Harry himself didn't care that much like you do.

And he doesn't want to fuck that up.

*****

Soon enough the meeting ended and Harry was back at his office waiting for you to come meet him. He couldn't talk or hold you anywhere else other than the comforts of his office cause of the obvious reasons so his office became your secret haven.

When you didn't come in for the next fifteen minutes, he got up and decided to look for you. As soon as he stepped out of his office, he heard your laugh. He walked towards the sound and then saw you leaning on the wall, your hand holding Edwin's biceps, and a big smile strected on your face.

He clenched his fist beside him having all minds to break that bastard's face and then fuck you in front of him but he refrained himself.

He slid his hands in his suit pants pocket and stood up straight, channeling his inner grumpy CEO. "I didn't realize I paid you for laughing?"

Both immediately stopped and turned towards him. You looked at him through lashes a small mischievous smile on your lips.

"Oh, we were just making plans for arriving at dinner party tonight together sir nothing else," you said with a smile. Harry knew what game you were playing, and he would make sure you paid for it later, but right now, he had to make you not go with that douchebag.

"You're my assistant, I need you with me," He said and turned towards Edwin, "I hope the project file you went to Manchester for is complete?" He asked, knowing damn well he hasn't. Along with being an absolute moron and flirt, Edwin was also lazy. If he wasn't one of his friends' cousin's son, he would have kicked him out way before.

"N-no sir, I'm going to do it." He stumbled over his words, feeling scared under Harry's piercing mad glare. Harry hummed, "You better before the dinner, I will need it"

"No yo-" You go to speak, but one look shot by Harry, and you shut up.

"And Ms. Y/N I hope you also get on with your backlogs, I need to discuss something with you so we will travel together" He said holding eye contact with you, his eyes looking darker shade of green than his usual light. You clench, you thighs together, feeling yourself getting turned on by his authoritative voice.

"Yes, sir." You give him a nod, and with that, he starts to leave but then stops. "And make sure you also fill all the recent bank details also," He says, making your eyes widen.

"Sir, there are only three hours left in dinner. My backlog alone will take a lot of time-" You speak, but he cuts you off again.

"Then you better get started, Ms. Y/N" He shoots her a look over his shoulder and goes back into his office.

*****

Harry was being a prick, he knew, but if he had to make you work extra so you wouldn't get to talk to that guy or any guy in general except him, he would.

You like the exceptional woman you are did all that just in time. You were half an hour late, but you did five hours work in just three and half so, he let it slide.

Now he was in front of your house to pick you up. He he wondered sometimes what you would be like on a date. What you would wear, what you would order or how it would end. Of course, he knew your food order on the tip of his tongue, but a date was different.

He was taken out of his daydream by you opening the car door beside him. You sat down smoothing out your slik dress. It was the same color as his shirt, a bluish green shade, and theme of the new project. Your hair tied slicked back with side parting and a soft makeup.

"Your files, sir," you said, throwing all the files in his lap and then turning back around to look out of the window. He bit down on his lips, finding your grumpy attitude amusing.

"Sweetheart, that's no way to talk to your sir," He said darkly, his fingers inching towards the back of your dress. Your breath hitched when you felt his cold fingers on your open back but made no effort to look at him and swatted away his hand.

Harry smirked and pushed the button to roll up the partition, separate driver, and them.

"It's that how it's going to be hm? You know very well what happens to brats baby." Harry said, running his finger up and down your back. He sat more comfortably, spreading his legs.

You sideyed him, your lips in a subtle pout. "We still have to pay Mr. Wilson and make an order to manufacturing comapny"

Harry just hummed and kept moving his hands up and down on your exposed back, making you shiver every time. His cold fingers, in contrast to your hot skin, were excruciating.

"You're one brat, my love and if I wasn't so addicted to you, I would have thrown you out" He said right in your ears. One half of you was turned on, but the other half had one thing going round and round.

"I'm not just a pussy for you to fuck" You said through your teeth and slid a bit away from Harry.

Harry shocked stared at the side of your face. Where the fuck that came from? He was confused, irritated and turned on by your attitude.

He went back to say something, but then Harry's office phone rang, making both you and him groan. Harry picked it up, "What?" he asked.

"Great why don't you also fucking quit while you're at it" He said clenching your jaw, "Yeah then ask your uncle to give your incompetent ass job in his own company" With that he ended the phone call.

"Driver take us to office first then to the party" He said to the driver and then turned to look at you but you had your arms crossed over your chest and kept huffing and puffing like a mad toddler.

"If you don't quit it sweetheart...lord help me" he said, feeling angry at your attitude. He got to see you and have you after so long, and here you were acting like a damn brat. He would have no problem, but you won't even let him touch you!

Harry wasn't a man of words. He didn't know how to express himself. The only thing he knew was sex.

But you just gave him a side eye and went back to looking out of the window.

*****

Both you and Harry arrived at the office. You were still mad at him but also very turned on and frustrated. He was looking damn good in that suit, but you had to be mad and show him you knew your worth or it would all be down to shambles.

Right now, though you were searching for the file you needed for the project that Edwin lost after completion. How? God fucking knows.

"How I manage to have this big company and still hire this many incompetent idiots will be beyond me" Harry grumbled and slammed close drawer, making you flinch in surprise. "Not one task can be done properly"

"Why did Casey not suck your dick good enough? That you're so mad" you said before you could stop yourself.

"What did you say?" Harry asked, genuinely confused. He walked towards you, caging you between the wall and himself.

The cat was out of the box might as well...you thought.

You rolled your eyes and looked in eyes, "I said did Casey not suck your dick good enough that you're so mad" You said through gritted teeth.

"Casey? I haven't even seen that woman since I hired her" He said in confusion, not even bothering to think about the rest of the words.

"Don't lie to me. I heard her talking." You said and tried to push him off, but he took your wrists into his hands and brought them to his chest.

"Are you jealous sweetheart?" He asked with a smirk. "Fuck you Harry" you tried to hit him bit failed and stood back against wall huffing.

Harry just chuckled and kissed your cheeks. "How do I know you didn't take the opportunity and fuck that moron. Considering you didn't even bother with my texts" He asked, leaving small kisses all over your face. This is what confused you if he wanted other people. Why did he show you this affection?

"I was mad" you said, pouting.

"Oh sweetheart" He said with an airy laugh. His hands let go of your wrists and gripped your chin to bring his lips to his while the other one went down your body and gripped your thighs.

You hated how your body reacted to his touch. How you got wet instantly like a bitch in heat and Harry took full advantage of that.

He brought his fingers higher up and felt your dampen panties. He smirked against your lips, and you pinched him in annoyance when you felt it, but that only made him moan.

"Don't tease me" You said breathless, your eyes dark like his filled with lust and desires.

"What do you want?" He asked, kissing all over your body and controlling the urge to give you the darkest hickey ever.

"You. In me. Right now." You said with all the authority you had in you. Harry laughed again like he found all this amusing.

How people found this man who cracks dad jokes with you and laughs at everything grumpy and menacing?

He quickly pulled you up on the large table, laying you down. Not only did you have to be quick to be able to reach the party on time, but you also had weeks of pent up frustration.

You pulled up your dress while Harry freed his pants enough to pull his dick out. He slid aside your panties and slid in without any prep.

It was embarrassing.

"Fuck sweetheart you're so wet" he said groaning when he felt you clench around him.

"Missed this-fuck" he said as he started to move. "What fucking me? I don't fucking believe it. I can bet anything you fucked Casey as soon as I boarded that flight" You said whimpering.

He was an asshole but god did his cock feel wonderful. He felt wonderful. He was wonderful but you for him was just a quick fuck.

When you heard Casey talking about how she gave Harry a blowjob yesterday, your heart broke. You had no right to feel that way, he was your boss and you were his assistant and you were fucking him but somehow you tricked yourself into thinking you were something more for him.

"You think I fucked someone else?" he asked fucking you harder making you lose your ability to speak.

"I don't even cum fucking my own hand, you think I will fuck someone else?" He said bringing you up from table by the grip on your neck.

"I-I know it" You said, feeling your orgasm nearing, your eyes rolling back of your head.

"I don't care what you heard Masey talking about but the only pussy my dick has been in is yours" He said bringing you in a messy kiss.

"I was miserable cause you didn't reply to my texts you think I will fuck someone else?" he asked looking into your eyes with so much intensity you lost yourself into them.

"Fucking hell I even hate everyone else but y-" He stopped himself before he could complete his words. The reality slapping on his face hard. But you were too far gone in your ecstasy to care.

Harry also reached his high quickly after you. Your head was laying on his chest as you took long breaths to calm down your breaths. Your heart was beating so fast because of what he said and how hard he fucked you. Butterflies were dancing in your stomach.

It lasted while it could.

Suddenly, he did all 180 and pulled out of and tucked himself in. His demour cold and closed off like like he's with everyone else.

"Get cleaned up" He said and quickly walked out. While you moved towards the washroom to clean yourself up with tears brimming your eyes.

*****

Taglist- @tenaciousperfectionunknown @that-daydream-look @harryspirate @tiaamberxx @lomlhstyles @vmpellie @sunshinemoonsposts @jayde515 @yeehawbrothers @sleutherclaw @ikea2-0 @thechaoticjoy @astridcommings @grapejuicebluesrry @gxbiqs

He's a dick :(

Like, Comment and Reblog pretty please

If you liked it please tell me here♡

[louisplumpyass]

I WILL KMS STOPPPPP WHY IS HE SO FUCKING HANDSOME WHY GOD WHY!!!!!!!!!!!!

[swiftiesbuddie]

Inspired by this TikTok

Is this playlist

(Additional suggestions are welcome)

[zot3-flopped]

https://youtube.com/shorts/DiL7g9qobCk?si=n7pi46obMKZZnYiY

Moments like this make me feel like we live in different realities.

5k people watched this, liked it and agreed that this is proof Louis is in love with Harry and that the look on his face is love and jealousy. I don't get it. All I see is hate, disdain and annoyance. Like, oh here he goes again stealing the spotlight. He looks so bothered by Harry's existence.

How can anyone see the way Louis looks at Harry and think he loves him. Or the other way around. Either I'm crazy or they are cause I can't even remember the last time I saw any affection between them.

Louis is definitely fuming there! All the so called 'jealous Louis moments' are just Louis getting angry because people are paying more attention to Harry than they are to him.

[bogslob]

Sirius Black knits jumpers for Remus Lupin

[cloudyluun]

Private Show

Summary: Harry surprises you with VIP tickets to Sabrina Carpenter’s concert, making sure you have the time of your life, dancing, singing, and twirling you around like the perfect concert boyfriend. But when a fan starts filming, he blocks you from view, sending the broodiest glare at the camera to protect your moment together.

A/N: So, you know that viral video of Harry mean-mugging the camera at Sabrina Carpenter’s concert? Yeah. My brain immediately went “what if he was just protecting his girl?” And then this happened. Enjoy dancing, twirling, and protective boyfriend Harry in his full glory. 💖

Word Count: 1k

Warnings: 

Mild crowd anxiety (Harry blocks you from attention)

Fans screaming his name

Protective, broody Harry

Harry twirling you like a rom-com protagonist

Sabrina Carpenter slaying as usual

Pure concert fluff with the tiniest bit of angst

☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆

The night starts with screaming.

Not Harry’s, obviously—yours.

Because your boyfriend, the actual love of your life, just casually pulled two VIP passes out of his pocket like it’s no big deal.

“You’re joking.” Your eyes are so wide they might actually fall out of your skull.

Harry just smirks, swinging the lanyards in front of your face. “Do I look like I’m joking, love?”

“HARRY.” You grab his wrist, shaking him violently. “YOU GOT ME SABRINA CARPENTER TICKETS?!”

“Thought I’d surprise you,” he says, looking all smug and pleased with himself.

You launch yourself at him.

“I love you. I love you so much.” You press at least twenty rapid-fire kisses to his face, making him laugh as he tries (and fails) to dodge you.

“Alright, alright,” he chuckles, wrapping his arms around you. “You love me enough to forgive the fact that I’ll be working with her soon?”

Your brain short-circuits.

“You’re what?!”

He shrugs like it’s nothing. “We’ve got something in the works. Thought I’d get ahead of it and make sure my girl didn’t, y’know, leave me for her when it drops.”

Your scream could shatter glass.

And that’s how you end up in a private VIP booth, tucked away from the main crowd, watching Sabrina Carpenter take the stage with your ridiculously perfect boyfriend beside you.

Harry made sure you had the best view—not too close to the screaming fans who’d recognize him in seconds, but not too far that you couldn’t soak in every second of the performance.

From the very first note, you’re in heaven.

Harry is watching you more than the stage, his lips twitching in amusement as you scream along to every word, jump up and down, and nearly burst into flames from sheer excitement.

“I take it you’re enjoying yourself?” he teases, nudging your side.

“Shut up, I’m having a religious experience,” you say, barely able to breathe as you clutch his arm.

And then—because he’s the best boyfriend in existence—Harry joins in.

At first, he’s just swaying to the beat, his fingers absentmindedly tracing circles on your hip. But then Vicious starts playing, and suddenly, he’s fully dancing with you.

Spinning you around. Dipping you dramatically. Letting you sing the lyrics directly into his face.

At one point, he twirls you and pulls you back against his chest, grinning against your ear. “Knew I made the right choice bringing you here.”

Your heart melts.

For once, no one is bothering him. No one is shoving a phone in his face, no one is screaming his name. It’s just you and him and the music.

Everything is perfect.

Until he notices the camera.

You don’t see it at first—too busy losing your mind over Sabrina hitting a ridiculous note—but you feel when Harry’s body tenses. His arm tightens around your waist, his stance shifts, and suddenly, he’s blocking you from view.

“Harry?” you mumble, looking up at him.

His jaw is tight, his eyes locked onto something in the crowd. You follow his gaze and—there.

A fan, holding their phone way too high, the camera clearly zoomed in on your booth.

And worse?

Other fans have noticed him.

You hear it—the whispers, the murmurs, the first few shouts of his name.

You wilt.

You love Harry. You love being with him. But sometimes, the attention is suffocating.

Harry knows this.

Which is why, instead of acknowledging the cameras, he does something so very Harry.

He glares.

Not just any glare—the glare. The one that shuts down the paparazzi. The one that makes fans go feral on Twitter.

The one that dares someone to keep filming.

His body shifts slightly, fully shielding you from view. His arm locks around you like a protective cage, his eyes locked onto the camera like a silent warning.

You bite your lip. “You don’t have to—”

“Yes, I do,” he murmurs.

And just like that, the phone lowers.

Harry doesn’t relax until the attention moves on, the crowd shifting back to the stage. Then—only then—does he turn back to you.

“You okay, love?” he murmurs, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

You nod, exhaling a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. “I just… I hate when they do that. This is supposed to be our moment.”

Harry hums, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to your temple. “I know. That’s why I’m here.”

Your heart clenches.

And suddenly, nothing else matters.

The music swells, Sabrina launches into Nonsense, and Harry—your ridiculous, perfect, protective boyfriend—grins at you.

Then, without warning, he grabs your hands and starts twirling you again.

“Harry—”

“C’mon, love,” he teases, pulling you flush against him. “We’ve got a show to enjoy.”

And so you do.

Maybe the world will analyze the videos of Harry Styles looking all broody at a Sabrina Carpenter concert. Maybe fans will freak out over his intense glare.

But they won’t know the real reason behind it.

They won’t know he did it for you.

And that’s all that matters.

☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆

Thank you so much for reading! I appreciate any support so remember to comment, reblog, & like ❤️‍🔥

taglist: @oscahpastry @mema10 @angelbabyyy99 @iloveharrystyles04 @cinemharry @drwho06 @donutsandpalmtrees @panini @mads3502 @imgonnadreamaboutthewayyoutaaaa @one-sweet-gubler @rizosrizos26 @ciriceimpera @everyscarisahealingplace @hello-heyhi @sexymfharriet @lizsogolden @hannah9921 @chicabonitasblog @huhidontknowstuff @berrywoods1245 @jennovaaa @angeldavis777 @prettygurl-2009 @almostcontentcreator @run-for-the-hills @maudie-duan @dipmeinhoneyh @harrrrystylesslut @georgiarose94 @stylestarkey @watarmelon212 @hopefullimaginer123, @fangirl509east @bethiegurl19 @adoredeanna @secretisme4 @harry2121 @hopefullimaginer123 @fangirl509east @uncassettodiricordi @2601-london @zbaby

[harrystylesfan2686]

Jealous

Pairing: Singer!YN × Singer!Harry

Summary: YN has to perform a sensual dance for her song and Harry gets jealous.

●●●●●●●●●●●●

"How are we doing, LA?!"

I watch in awe as my fans scream on top of their lungs to answer my question. We are in LA currently for my last concert of the tour. I look at Harry standing back stage ready for his entry. I and Harry did a collab on my new album. A love song, and since Harry was busy with his tour, which is now completed, we decided to surprise our fans with his guest entry. The fans have no idea what is about to happen.

He smiles at me. I smile back.

''Alright, now I've got something to tell you all.'' I let the noise rest a bit. ''I've got a special someone come here for you tonight.'' I smile a little listening to the oos and ahs coming from the audience.

''I'm not gonna tell you who it is because it would ruin all of my fun.'' I raise my eyebrows as if it is a valid point.

''They will come out after this song to sing with me and entertain you guys as much as possible.'' I smile innocently at all the disappointment faces. ''For now please enjoy and sing with me. This is 'Look so good'!

The music starts the second I end my sentence. My next song is slow and sensual. This one is the one that contains a lot of slow dancing with really intimate steps.

I start singing while doing my steps. My back up dancers have a entire none stop choreography while I just have a few steps here and there. Most of them contain of me thrown and pulled between male dancers.

I continue my steps while singing. I come at a part where I have to grind and lean against the dancer behind me. Another guy comes up and pulls me against him almost chest to chest. I smile at him maintaining eye contact and singing. The crowd screams at the steps time to time while singing along.

For my next step I grind against the next guys thigh and run my hand down his naked chest. I end the song with my finale step, sitting on the ground with one leg on other and leaning back on my hands.

I smile at the cheering audience then look over at Harry's side. I see a frown on his cute face and laugh a little realizing he's jealous. I told him that my dance for this song is intimate and he said he was ok by it but now that he's finally seen it, I really don't think he's ok.

I sand up breathing heavy and move back stage to take 5 minutes. I drink water from my bottle and move towards Harry to talk to him but my assistant comes in between and tells me to go back up the stage and announce the next song.I go back at my place a bit sad that I didn't get to talk to him.

''Alright Guys! Finally the moment we've all been waiting for. This song is with our special guest. I really don't want to keep you waiting anymore so...'' I look at my assistant holding a thump up signaling me that Harry's ready. ''This is Harry Styles!''

Harry jumps up to the stage and the audience goes insane. Our song music starts in the background and we look at each other smiling. We sing our song with a big smile, jumping and walking around the stage and stealing small takes to each others bodies here and there. It feels amazing.

At the end of our song Harry is suppose to give me a forehead kiss and leave, keeping it PG but he seems to have other plans because the second our song finishes, he turns to me wraps his hand around my waist and slams his lips to mine.

Everyone screams on top of their lungs at this and even I am caught of guard but quickly recover and kiss him back. The kiss is full of passion and love, I can't keep up with his lips, so I just stand there and let him kiss me.

It's feels like forever when he finally pulls back. I just stare at him in surprise. He smirks down at my wide eyes and open mouth. "What was that for?"

"A reminder for those dancer that keep touching you like that." He looks me in the eye. "You're mine, yeah?" He whispers with a deep voice.

"Yeah." I look at him with a dumb smile and felt flutters deep in my stomach. I love when he gets all crazy and possessive like like.

"Have a good rest of the show, darling." He kisses me forehead and leaves after saying goodbye to the fans, as if that didn't just happen.

I am left alone with a crazy smile on my face and a hope to finish this show quickly and jump his bones the second we're alone.

●●●●●●●●●●●●●

[enchantedlandcoffee]

Feeling jealous of Harry for the amount of Louis selfies he must have on his phone

[whatharrysang]

Harry Styles & jealous

Harry Styles 

None

Fine Line

To be so lonely - Do you think it's easy being of the jealous kind?

Harry's House

None

Songs Harry wrote for other artists

None

One Direction Songs Harry wrote on

Taken - You think I'm doing this to make you jealous 

Unreleased Songs

None

[harrysdaydream1]

I have nothing appropriate to say.

[srldesigns6277]