Cuore Mio

Secret Love Song

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

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

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

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

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

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kodachrome.

summary: you give harry a camera for his birthday and the two of you are more than excited to put it to good use.

warnings: smut, 18+

word count: 5k

song inspo.: kodachrome - paul simon

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

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

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

-masterlist-

Y/N hated Harry. 

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

And she especially hated the way he teased her. 

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

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

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VALERIE - Part I. (Harry Styles)

I am BEYOND excited to show you this story!! i was so keen on writing a good ol’ enemies to lovers story and then this idea came to me out of nowhere and got me chained to my laptop once again, lol. i really hope you’ll enjoy it as much as i loved writing it!! as always, feedback is very much appreciated!

word count: 4k

SERIES MASTERPOST

SERIES PLAYLIST

masterlist

The pink balloons keep bumping into everything on your way down the hallway, they even snake around some random dude’s neck and you almost choke the poor guy in your rush. You keep mumbling your sorry every time they hit someone in the head, but you’re not even paying that much attention. Your top priority now is to find the room you are looking for.

You almost miss it, so as you stop so suddenly you slide on the checkered floor before you step back and finally see your sister in the room, holding her little angel in her arms, Steven standing at the end of the bed, the proudest smile on his face you’ve ever seen.

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HOW CAN YOU NOT LOVE HIM!??!

just wanted these photos side by side

thinking about how priest!harry would fuck y/n in a church without hesitation.

she would be pressed against the stage, her head tilted back to stare at the cross above them. harry would be snug between her thighs, cock aching inside her as he thrusts in and out of her. her walls clenching around him, she would cry out from how good it feels.

he would be so sick. sick enough to drag a wooden cross down her chest, right between her breasts as he fucks into her. or use it to press against her throat to cut off her airflow.

"father harry, p-please, i can't--it feels so good," she would cry out, her toes curling as his hard cock rutted up into her dripping wet pussy. harry would smirk at the formal name, his fingers trailing down her stomach to watch her goosebumps raise.

"call out my name, darling, let the angels hear you," his hips would snap harder into her, his hands clasping around her thighs as he held her hips to his to bury his cock into her.

"g-god! oh my god!" she would cry out, grasping at the low carpeting on the stage as her back arched. she would feel herself nearly there, ready to release all over his cock.

"mmmm, wrong name, but i'll take it," he would chuckle out.

REVERIEHS RESTAURANT - THE FIC REC

The menus are simply the my Fic Rec lists. They are in random order but organized by author and with emojis categorizing the stories like a restaurant menu. Enjoy it and reblog to promote these amazing stories :)

NAVIGATION | THE CHEFS | THE CUISINE | THE MENUS | THE KITCHEN

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MANCHESTER NIGHT TWO

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

word count: 7k+

warnings: smut, blood, minors dni 18+

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

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

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

*** <- click for visuals throughout the story

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It reminded her of his One Direction days.

-

They were so overworked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He always did. But it was okay.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That’s what they all referred to it as.

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

Oh, would he.

A sold out stadium tour to be exact.

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

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

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

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

“S’too loud.”

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

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

Fans idealized who Harry is as a person.

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Styles! I mean it! Now!”

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?” Flat. Blunt.

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

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

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

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

Popstar.

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jeff looks guilty as he glances between the couple.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s something that never gets old to her.

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

People have been obsessed with him since he was sixteen.

But despite all that, Harry never changes.

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

He’ll always just be Harry to her.

Mr. Photographer

A/N: Pure Smut…Pure Smut

Inspo#1 Inspo#2 Inspo#3

Harry loved taking pictures of you. Whether you were simply running errands, or on your knees in front of him, Harry always took pictures of you. Like right now, the two of you decided on a movie night in and you were cuddling in bed when he decided on an impromptu ‘photo shoot’.

“Y’should let me take some pictures of yeh. Too pretty t’not” he says, playing with the drawstring of your joggers.

“Seriously Harry” you playfully quirk your eyebrow at his proposition. Harry seemingly always turns an innocent moment into a sexual one. You’re not saying it’s a bad thing, just an observation you made.

“Okay now you’re just begging for me to get some shots of yeh’. I mean look at this” he says dipping his fingers below your waistband and pulling your sweats off of you. “I mean, you were just wearin’ this little thing all day and you weren’t gonna share” he says in awe, gawking at your lacy white thong.

“I ran out of underwear and these were the last pair I had left” you shrug your shoulders at him and he leans over to grab his phone off of the nightstand.

“You could’ve just not worn any. I wouldn’t be opposed to that at all.” He states, earning a quick jab to the thigh. “Y’cant beat up the photographer” he pushes your leg back where it was and he orders you to push your shirt up a bit. He continues to snap away, tweaking your position every time to get the perfect shot.

“Alrigh’ now let’s take the shirt off” he says, dropping his phone and helping you remove the clothing item. Harry instructs you to put your hands over your breasts, to as how he’d like to put it “leave something to the imagination”.

“Now gimme a little pout” he instructs taking the pictures of you. “Alright, I’m gonna take these off now” he drops his phone and he helps you take of the panties. He drops them next to you and he grabs his phone to snap away.

At first you weren’t into it, not because of leaks or fear of them getting out, you just honestly didn’t feel like it. But you were starting to see the tent forming on Harry‘s pants, so you decided to tease him a bit, since he wanted to play photographer. You knew how much Harry enjoyed your thighs, you knew how he liked to grab onto them any chance he got. It also didn’t help that he had an affinity with your ass either. He loved the fact that when he’d pull your ass cheeks apart to watch his cock disappear into you, he’d have so much of your soft skin to grab onto. It also didn’t help that whenever he thrusts into you from behind, your ass moved like no tomorrow. You decided to play into this little photo shoot. You knew Harry loved your curves and you made sure he captured every last bit of them.

You grab your panties and you move them up one of your thighs, you then close your thighs, keeping your leg up in the air. You place your hands back over your breasts.

“Gimme a pout baby, then I’ll have the money shot” he say staring intently at you through the screen. You give him what he wants and you hear a quiet string of fucks leaving his mouth. “Y’look so good baby” he mumbles moving towards you and leaning down to kiss your mouth.

“Let’s take some more” you say against his lips, giving him one last peck before moving into your next pose. Next thing Harry knew, you were on your hands and knees in front of him. Your back was turned to him, and you were resting on your shins, leaning slightly forward, allowing Harry to capture the curve of your backside and the shape of your body. You were playing into his weakness. And all Harry could do was snap the pictures and salivate.

“Bring your arms in just a little bit baby, don’ want t’see those pretty tits yet.” He says, focusing in on the shot. You lean forward slightly, giving Harry the photo he wanted and needed. “Perfect, look so good f’me” He was rock hard by now and he needed to fuck you. He knew the pictures would be good from the get go, but he wasn’t expecting this level of good. These pictures were so hot to him that he wanted to frame one of them and sit it right on his office desk.

“Y’wanna go for one more?” He asks, hoping you’d say yes, because he has the perfect pose in mind for you. You nod yes and you listen to his directions.

“Alrigh’, lay on yeh tummy and spread y’legs a bit.” He orders dropping his phone onto the bed to help position you. He then maneuvers you in a way that your legs a spread the perfect amount for him to get in between and push his cock into you, but the perfect amount for you to not see your pussy. You definitely had a kink for Harry taking explicit photos of you. You loved to think about Harry being away and opening up these pictures. You thought about how he’d wrap his large around his thick shaft and how he’d pump his hard cock. You loved watching Harry play with his cock, you especially loved the way he paid extra close attention to the head and his slit the way you would if you were taking care of him. You thought that was so hot, and it made you need Harry to do something to you right then and there.

You’re broken out of your thoughts when you feel Harry’s warm hand adjusting your breast.

“Want t’get a nice shot of everything” he cups your breast and moves it slightly outward, allowing him to see just how rounded they were without showing it all. He steps back and evaluates the view in front of him. Without any thought, his free hand has made its way down his body and straight to his cock. He begins to squeeze his cock at the sight out you sprawled out on the bed in front of him. You hear a groan from behind you and you knew exactly why.

“You okay baby” you say innocently turning your head towards him.

“Mhm, I’m okay baby. Caught a cramp that’s all.” He quickly moves his hand away from the area, brushing over the fact that his cock is about to explode. He picks up the camera and goes back to snapping away. “Turn your head this way f’me and look down.” He points, instructing you on where to turn. He bends your knee in slightly and he gets the shot that he would consider his absolute favorite.

“Y’look so fuckable right now” he says dropping his phone onto the bed. He comes closer to you, reaching over to the backs of your thighs. He begins to massage his hands up and down the expanse of your thighs, making sure to dig his thumbs into those areas he knows you like a bit more attention in.

“Why don’t you?” You moan, loving how his hands never failed to make you feel good. He pulls away from you, quickly shoving his boxers and sweats off. He crawls back over to you like an animal sneaking up on its prey and he yanks you to him. You gasp at the sudden movement. By the way he yanked your body to him, and by how he’s pushing your legs apart, you knew you were in for a really good fucking.

Without any warning Harry slams into you hard, causing you to grip anything on the bed you could. He doesn’t give you any time to adjust to his large size, he just goes straight to pounding you. He continuously snaps his hips into you, watching your ass and thighs shake from the force.

“Y’take m’cock so well f’me” he pants, gripping your ass. All you can do is whimper at how good he feels inside of you, how good it feels to have his cock pounding your walls.

“Y’ look so pretty. Spread out f’me, lettin’ me pound y’sweet cunt. Fuck” he moans out continuing to piston his hips into you. He loves watching you take his cock so well, feeling your walls swallow him whole.

“Harry” you whimper at the feeling of his cock pushing deep into you, he knows your orgasm is about to come. He then spreads your ass apart,he watches his cock disappear into your sopping pussy. He stays like this for a while until he flips you onto your back. He grips your thighs, pushing you legs further apart and he pushes his cock back into you. He enjoyed watching you fall apart on his cock, he loved watching your eyes close and you mouth open in pleasure. He then attaches his thumb to your clit, pushing you to an orgasm.

“Fuck” you moan loudly from his words and you cum hard around him. His hips begin to stagger as his own release bubbles deep in his stomach. He gives you one last thrust before he pulls out of you. He then jerks his cock above you, and before you knew it, Harry was shooting ropes of his cum onto your stomach.

“Fuck, Y’did so good baby.” He breathes out, leaning down to push back some of your hair. You give him a lazy smile and he presses a kiss to your lips.

“I want t’get few more shots of yeh” he says leaning back to get a better view of your figure. “Is tha’ okay baby?” He asks, massaging your hip, coaxing you onto saying yes. You lazily nod your head, grabbing one of the pillows and tucking it under your head. Harry grabs his phone from the other side of the bed and angles the camera above your stomach that was painted with his cum. He snaps a few photos and he scoops some onto his thumb.

“Open up baby” he coos. You stick your tongue out slightly, knowing exactly what Harry was doing. You feel his thumb press onto your tongue. “Lemme see those pretty eyes.” He whispers to you. You open your eyes for him and you smile for the camera. “Good girl” he mumbles to you snapping away at his phone. You wrap your lips around his thumb and he gets one of his final shots.

“Y’want some more sweet girl? He says scooping some more up onto his finger.

“Please” you respond, with your mouth open and waiting for his finger. He pushes into your mouth and you wrap your lips around him. You savor the taste of his cum, and you moan around his finger at the taste. You hear Harry whisper a barely audible ‘fuck’ and you smile at his reaction. He takes his final photo and throws his phone to the side.

“Such a tease f’me” he whispers, his breath fanning across your face. He removes his finger from your mouth and you lean in to him.

“Only for you” you whisper to him before attaching your lips to his.

“I’m gonna get a towel to clean yeh up” he says making his way into the bathroom. While he’s gone, you help your self to the rest of his cum that was on your stomach. When he comes back, he wasn’t at all surprised by the sight before him.

“I guess I don’t need this anymore.” He chuckles wiping over the area, even though it’s been cleaned by you.

“What can I say, it tastes so good” you shrug getting under the covers.

“It’s funny how sweet and innocent you look while saying such vulgar things sweetheart” he chuckles, tossing the towel in the hamper and moving back to the bed. He pulls the covers back and pulls you into his chest. He then opens photos and scrolls through the pictures he took.

“How many did you take?!” You say in awe, scrolling back through the photos.

“I was just clicking” he chuckles at your reaction. “It’s not like y’look bad or anything.”

“Whatever, just make sure y’dont post any by accident. I don’t need to see my ass all over the internet.” You say closing your eyes in an attempt to get some sleep.

“I’d be lucky to see an ass like that on my computer screen.” He says turning off his phone and the light. As soon as the words left his mouth, he earned a swift kick to his shin.

Maybe you should let Harry take more pictures of you.

Masterlist