#italyrry
Text
welcome to the final show | H.S oneshot
my masterlist!
summary: you take a beautiful sign to the final show and have the sweetest interaction with harry. then somehow bump into him in italy 2 days later.
warnings: nothing but fluff, and a few little mentions of how he saved your life!
a/n: i am so fucking proud of h. i want to give him a hug more than anything. this is for all my lovelies who love hslot so fckn much it makes them ill.
also this is such an unrealistic oneshot but like that’s just the way for it ig
———
There’s a certain type of atmosphere that comes around once and a while. It’s rare.
It’s one that no matter how many photos or videos you take, you can’t capture it. One that no word has enough emotional range behind it to convey the feeling it opens up in you.
That is the only way to get close to even describe standing where you are.
You can’t lie, you had waited hours upon hours in the Italian sun just to feel the warm metal of the barricade underneath your palms.
You’d waited years just to get here in general.
When you turn your head to look behind you, you see tens of thousands of people there. Going from visible, overwhelmingly happy faces to a sea of tiny dots.
But you’re here. At the front.
You smile because you made it. This has, albeit dramatic, been a home to you over the past 2 years.
A creature comfort. One you followed every step of the way. And somehow you can’t believe you made it here, and neither would the girl back 18 months ago watching a pixelated Instagram livestream.
Standing in your outift, which took more rhinestones and glitter than you could ever have kept track of.
But you shined under the sun like a mirrorball, so it all felt worth it. Even though you swear there’s still glue stuck under your nails.
Your friends around you shared water, staying hydrated as the show starting neared. Wetleg had already preformed their final set. And tears had been randomly springing on you all day.
You heard the power in the crowd as they sung the prelude songs, goosebumps dotting over your body as you realise he’s probably able to hear it now.
Soon enough he’ll be looking at it. In all of its 100,000 people glory.
“You okay lovely?” Sofia, an Italian girl you’d met in the line checked in on you.
You nodded with a heartfelt smile. The whole experience was so bittersweet. Full of lasts.
“I’m okay. Just so so proud.” You nodded and she softly chuckles.
Her outfit was an electric blue that contrasted her tan skin, “I have some granola bars in my bag if you’re hungry? You should eat, we’ve been standing in the heat all day.”
Your best friend from your other side peered over, drawn back into conversation after being lost in the magic of the crowd surrounding her.
“On cry number— let me guess— 24 of the day?” She said it teasingly.
“Saying that as if you don’t already have mascara stains half down your face.” You grumble back jokingly, leaning your head back to look at the pastel blue sky.
You turned back to Sofia, “We’ll save them for after, maybe lay down on the ground and eat them or something.”
You only said no because you felt like you could probably be sick right now.
“Amore sciocco, troppo testardo il tuo bene, mio dio.” She mutters under her breath with a laugh, shaking her head at you disapprovingly.
“Trash talking her again in Spanish. God I wish I knew how to speak it.” You elbow your best friend at her quip.
You could stay in this moment forever.
As Bohemian Rhapsody begins playing you watch the sun go down, and in this very moment, It is your forever.
You live and breathe every second of it. All the way into peace piece, and as you’re gripping the girls around you for dear life as the lights start to dim along with the setting sun.
Harry coming has the arena screaming so loud it would have been heard for miles. He looks beautiful.
Like a shiny star up on stage. Blowing kisses and sending thank you’s to as many areas of the crowd be possibly could.
Mouthing words in Italian, causing Sofia to almost pass out beside you she screeched that hard the first time he did it.
And him counting in Golden with their language, speaking proudly into the mic— “Uno, due— uno, due, tres!”
“HES— WHAT THE FUCK!!” You’re laughing, holding her hand as she shouts frantically.
Songs bleed into one after another, going on your part from embarrassing screaming and dancing onto equally embarrassing crying.
The overwhelming feeling of seeing him so close— so damn close you can see each individual sequin on his silver outfit when his on the main stage at his mic stand in the centre.
You don’t even realise he’s doing a sign reading interlude until Sofia hands you yours from where it leant on the bottom of the barricade at your feet.
You were enamoured by him.
Taking the sign, your hands shook a little as he was on the main stage. Right in front of you.
His eyes are scanning the crowd, glancing over some signs and smiling.
“We have a choice tonight,” he begins, voice echoing through the speakers.
“we can either move quickly through signs, in which case, we’ll be able to give you some more songs!” An array of screams come from everyone, and you feel sick just at the prospect he was suggesting. The fact he could pull out any song.
He chuckles, walking further towards the area of the pit where you are, “Just an idea, just an idea!”
You’re pretty sure the girls are yelling something about him walking over, but you’re stunned at what’s happening overall, and you can’t even process what they’re saying.
But contradictory to what he’d just said. He stops a moment.
From his perspective, he saw a handful of very bright colours in the front of the crowd. One holding up an equally eye catching sign.
But he takes a moment to blink, focus in on the person holding it.
This girl has her eyes locked dead onto him, like as if he moves an inch— something could implode at any moment. Yet it somehow comes across in a flattering way.
And then he reads the sign.
‘you saved me. i cant thank you enough for that. BTW…’
His heart immediately pangs. Already too emotional at this whole event to be reading a sign like that.
You are in shock. Because he certainly just made eye contact with you and he’s been staring at your sign for a few good seconds.
“Can— wait can you turn that for me, love?” His voice falters a little.
As if Harry Styles just asked you to do something, you move with a haste you never had.
However you misinterpreted his question, turning the sign clockwise like as if it was upside down. Feeling a little embarrassed in yourself that it was around the wrong way.
He chuckles into the mic, causing a small uproar at the softness of it.
“Wrong way, it has B-T-W on it so I’m assuming there’s more on the back.”
“Oh, god— sorry!” You shout out to him, it sounding a little shaky, and you can’t lie that tears were threatening to spill from your eyes.
You had waited so fucking long to have a chance to tell him that he genuinely saved your life. And you’re finally doing it.
Also spinning the sign so the back of it is facing him, and his eyes flit gently over it too.
‘you have by far the prettiest smile ever.’ It reads, with a few large red hearts around it, decorated with glitter and rhinestones.
A dimple pops out on his cheek and he covers his mouth with a hand, flattered as ever.
“Why thank you.” He does a little bow as well, and you’re laughing out of shock. You’re interacting with him right now.
He straightens up, “I’m flattered as ever.” Prodding one of his dimples as he shows off just how pretty his smile is.
“And thank you for coming, it means everything to me.” He flushes a little, laughing at himself and your still starstruck reaction.
“You are stronger than you probably think. What’s your name?”
A tear breaks past your waterline, and you call out, “Y/N!”
Both girls at your side are clutching you like no tomorrow, and Harry takes his in-ear out to hear you better.
You call it out again, he makes only one off guess before he gets it. And your name rolling off his accent tongue makes your stomach flip.
“Y/N? That’s right— well that was a pretty good record for name guessing—“ he laughs, walking over as close as he can to the edge of the stage.
He holds the mic up to his mouth, “make some noise for Y/N everyone!”
You are in complete shock as you hear the whole arena cheer and holler for you, and Harry has this wholesome feeling of adoration wash over him as he sees your reaction.
The tears slipping down your pink cheeks. If he could, he honestly would go down there and wipe them off.
Not something he often find himself thinking. Yet here he is.
“Thank you for coming Y/N. What do you say we do some more songs?” He asks, smiling at the shocked raise of your brows.
“Yes, please.” You enthusiastically reply.
“Alright, you heard her. More songs it is!”
And so the show continues on. The second he breaks eye contact and moves away, a sob tears out of you.
You can’t believe that just happened. And the fact the rest of the show— unless you’re delusional, and making this up in your head— he lingers anytime he’s going past where you are. Catching your eyes, and smiling a little wider.
And you’re absolutely a wreck at the speech he makes, even though Sofia has to translate every word that leaves his mouth.
But if that nearly killed you, the piano ballad was honestly your final straw.
You cried so hard you couldn’t see the fucking stage at one point. And you wish you could say you were embarrassed for him to see you as he did one last round of goodbyes. But you couldn’t.
It was all your love and appreciation for him, poured out of you through the tears streaming down your face.
To your disbelief, he stops in front of you again, blowing a kiss to your friends and then one to you.
Bending down a little further to look at you, lips starting to move— from what your could hardly hear, and mostly got from reading his lips, he said ‘thank you, I love you.”
You blow a kiss back.
And before you know it, the show has ended. And there’s this full, yet hollow feeling inside of you.
Like you’re not sure how to feel. You miss him already, but that was by far the most amazing experience of your life.
You’re overwhelmed, with love and gratitude. And you, Sofia and your best friend end up doing what you’d proposed earlier before the show.
Eating chocolate granola bars with your back up against the barricade, tears still falling from your eyes.
———
Post love on tour depression is a real thing.
There is no normal explanation for having to force yourself to get up to have an amazing brunch in Italy of all places.
But 2 days after the show day, you’re doing just that. Dressing in a nice summer outfit at the very least, and taking your LOT bag with you.
The streets aren’t too busy considering it’s midday, and you make your way through them peacefully. Stoping to peak into stores, or take photos of little things you like every now and again.
And all your adventuring leads you to a beautiful little corner-cafe. One that the second you step foot into, you are comforted by its cozy feel & strong aroma of coffee.
The building itself had all its historic bones, but had been modernised. Fitted with sleek wooden floors and new furniture. Walls painted a crisp white to brighten up the already light filled room.
You find the menu hanging above where the counter is, on large pretty chalkboards.
You’re mulling over what to get when you hear a voice from beside you.
It causes you to jump a little at it’s unexpectedness, “I like your bag.”
It’s said with the tone that you can tell someone is smiling. And you turn to greet the person who had just spoken to you.
That’s when you’re met with a sight that knocks the wind from you.
Beside you— standing tall, with his tousled brown curls and rolled up linen long-sleeve is quite literally the man you saw on stage 2 nights ago.
“Oh my god—“ you jump a little at the realisation, it hitting you like a train within seconds. But you’re trying to keep you voice down, as to not cause some kind of scene.
He laughs at your stunned reaction, the way your ringed hand goes over your mouth. It’s a reaction he’s accustomed to. But the way your pretty features portray the expression has him all the more intrigued.
He does his classic introduction, “Hi, love. I’m harry.” Sticking his hand out, smiling. Like as if you didn’t know.
“I— well I did notice that.” You rush out in a nervous laugh. Glancing around looking for some kind of film camera, gauging if this is a set up and not a coincidence.
You’re left realising it’s just the two of you, and some older guy with a newspaper a few metres away at a window seat.
But no one with a camera or phone out filming this interaction.
You shake his hand after a moment of hesitation, telling yourself mentally you’re not going to cry as your relish the feeling of his calloused fingertips against the base of your wrist.
“Hi…” You flush profusely.
“What are you ordering?” He smiles at you, and your eyes are so obviously darting over his every feature.
Which you feel like you couldn’t stop from happening when he’s this close, and you’re able to fully see the plains of his beautiful face.
The structure of his jawline— that’s dotted with a light stubble—his cupids bow lips, the definition in his cheekbones. And fuck his eyes.
That are very intensely locked onto yours…
“Oh. I’m sorry. I…” you fumble for words a little, “probably like a tea. That’s usually my go to.”
He nods, “let me get it for you, please. How do you have it?”
“No, no. It’s okay, you don’t need to do that.” You insist immediately, because even though the gestures small, it feels like too much.
“Y/N.” He tuts gently.
“Weird that you remember that.” You think aloud, unable to filter the shock at the fact he just said your name. Even though the show was only 2 days ago, when he learnt it.
“Of course I do. You had quite the sign. I won’t lie, it made me tear up a bit.” He laughs, pushing a stray lock of hair out of his eyes.
“Well, It was true. Not to be cheesy or anything, but your music genuinely means everything to me.” You say carefully. Not wanting to come across as weird.
“And love on tour was one of the best experiences of my life. So… thank you for that.”
“Thank you.” He smiled at your shyness. And you recall the fact you told him he had a pretty smile.
Prettiest smile. The fact he knows you think that?
You wonder if he’s thought the same thing at all in the last 5 minutes.
“Your support means as much to me. Wouldn’t be able t’do what I do if it weren’t for people like you.”
“Now, how you have your tea?” He reiterates, asking for an answer, not for another polite declination.
“I— okay. Since it’s clear you’re not going to take no for an answer.” You sigh. Corners of your mouth upturning anyway at his stubborn ways.
You rattle off how you have it, and he nods, mentally noting it down like this is going to be a regular occurrence.
He walks over to the counter and you shuffle over to the side that you’ll pick up the order from. Watching carefully as he goes up, you take in his much more causal appearance to the usual extravagance of the outfits he adorns on stage.
Hes got a pair of denim shorts on—strong legs on display— paired with a white longsleeve that’s rolled up his fore arms.
You avert your gaze to the older Italian man at the register, clueless to who he is serving.
Until a younger girl, say 15, walks from the back room and does the biggest double take youve ever witnessed.
Harry has to be used to it, because there was no way anyone could miss that.
You’re feeling like you’re in a parallel universe. Because Harry is just casually strolling back over to you, like you’ve known each other for more than a total of two, 5 minute interactions.
You take a breath, reminding yourself simply that he is a human. Just like you are. He wakes up in the morning, has bad days and good days, has habits and routines he follows— just like anyone else.
You keep this in consideration as you open your mouth to speak, “Thank you for doing that. How have you been?”
He smiles at your shy tone, a tiny wholesome feeling bubbling up at your question.
“I’m good, honestly. It’s been a big start to the year. I’m excited to take some time off even though wrapping it up the other night was really hard.” He nods, eyes casually trailing the man who was making the drinks.
“If it makes any difference, I was sobbing like a baby at pretty much every point of the show.” You laughed.
“I did see your very tear stained cheeks.” He shocks himself little with his continuation,
“Would’ve jumped down and given you a hug if I had the bloody time.” And he smiles with gratification as you mask your shocked reaction as much as possible. However, tiny little micro-movements in your face were still popping through. “I went a little overtime with the speech.”
Just human to human. You drew a tiny breath through your nose, “Which was great by the way. I mean my friend had to translate the whole thing, but was also another tear jerker.”
He goes to say something else, interrupted by the call of his name from the counter.
In which he collects the drinks from the lovely man, smiling at him with a warm thank you before turning to come back to you.
“Here you go, darling.” He hands over yours, and his green eyes look bright as ever.
The darling makes your stomach flip. He’s British, they use pet names like this in passing conversation often. But fuck if you didn’t know any better you’d think there was a chance he was flirting with you.
“Thank you. You really didn’t have to, but I appreciate it.” You repeat.
“You have a different accent, you’re not from Italy no?” He interjects and you’re a little confused at the sudden change of topic.
“No I’m not from here…?” you laugh.
“So you’ve travelled all this way to come see me I’m assuming, the least I can do is buy you a tea. Think of it as a thank you.”
He tests the waters a little further, “i don’t usually stay in cafes for overly long but, if you have time to sit for a bit…”
“You continue to amaze me.” You chuckle, slowly following behind him as he pulls up a chair, back to the window.
“You also made me a very flattering sign. So im just being courteous, as a way to return the favour.” He smirks almost. And you’re honestly not strong enough to endure this.
“And that little piano thing you did? Is this compensation for my mental health?” You hold the cup up and he lets out a surprised laugh at your gentle quip.
“Yes, I’ve heard word that it came across as emotional as I’d intended.”
“You could hear a pin drop in the whole arena.” You nodded, taking a sip of the tea he’d bought you.
“I was so worried I was gonna fuck it up somehow.” He shakes his head, hand running through his hair as though he was anxious just at the thought.
“It sounded amazing, Harry. Made me feel a lot how fine line did when I first listened to it.”
He looks sincere with gratitude as you talk. And it stays that way as he continues on conversation with you.
You know heaps about him— you’re a fangirl that’s practically your job— yet he doesn’t know anything about you. Leaving him curious about many aspects of your life, and also with plenty of questions. Ones he really can’t believe he is even asking given you’re a fan, and he’s never actually done this before.
Whatever this is, because it felt a lot like a first date. With the way he asked where you were from, who you came to Italy with, where you grew up.
The whole lot. Your drinks both long since finished, but the questions still flowing between you two. Like there was never enough information to be learned.
He was interrupted by a call, and it almost popped this little bubble you’d made around yourselves.
Which possibly wasn’t a bad thing for him. But it served as a reality check for you.
You’re still just a fan at the end of the day. Even though your not sure how that term stands after he knows about your favourite foods, or childhood stories from your younger years. Because you feel like now that he knows that, the dynamic feels different to you.
But most of all you dreaded the fact you had to say goodbye again. But now you have to say it knowing that he walks away from this knowing things personal to you.
You realise he’s on the phone to his mum as he talks, “Yea, tell Gem to grab them anyway… I’ll be back soonish.”
He glances up at your after a moment of brief silence, “I’m just out with a friend of mine I… bumped into. So I’ll see you soon, okay?”
A friend of his?
“Alright, bye, I love you.”
And just like that the phone hung up.
“I’m feeling very special at my label. A friend of yours.” You laugh, but not lying whatsoever.
“Was m’mum. We’re having a late lunch at her BNB.” He explained, and the fact he didn’t object his choice of wording meant even more to you than anything.
You stare at him a moment, both mutually realising that this moment was seemingly going to have to end at some point.
“I don’t often do things like this.” He shrugs, watching your eyes train on random objects around the room as you get lost in thought.
“What do you mean?” You ask.
“Never sat down with a fan and just had a drink. It was lovely, thank you for being so polite.” He smiles again at you.
It surprised him just how far he went with it. But you had this gentle aura about you. He knew of all people, you were safe to share this private slice of himself with.
“Thank you for buying my drink… to have spent this time talking, it— well it meant a lot to me.”
“I would give you my number if my manager wouldn’t kill me.”
As stated, he continues to surprise himself just how far he’s going.
Your brain stalls at his comment.
“You could just have mine? Buy a burner phone and text me off it.” You make the first suggestion that comes to mind and he barks out a laugh.
“Could just reaffirm that you weren’t going to sell my number off to fans on Twitter?”
“Ah, that could also work too.” You nod, raising your brows.
He pulls his phone from his pocket, and your heart genuinely palpitates. Because how the fuck had you managed this.
“Gimmie yours, if you’d like?” He slides it over, and you feel like you’re picking up something with more value than just a phone. I mean it’s Harry Styles’ phone of all things.
You begin to type it in, glancing up as his gaze is trained on you, “how many numbers of fans do you have banked up in here?”
He rolls his eyes at your tease, still smiling, “I’ll have you know you’ll be the first. If my mums counts though, then only two.”
“I just…” he pauses, pursing his lips as he looks for the right words, “knew I’d regret it if I didn’t have a way to get in touch with you. I’d say we’ve got a lot in common and it’s always nice to meet new people. And I don’t want to be thinking later ‘wow, she was lovely, wish I could have kept in touch’. Y’know?”
You send yourself a text, just a simple ‘:)’ so it saves in his recent messages. “Well, I suppose I’d be a little sad too. Probably start sending emails to your manager trying to find a way to get in touch again.”
He laughs at this, standing up from his chair and pocketing his phone in his shorts once you hand it back to him.
You also rise from the table, watching his movements keenly.
“Makes this part less sad.” He says, in reference to the impending goodbye, “I’m not leaving Italy for a little bit though, and if you’re sticking around as well, maybe I can buy your more cups of tea— to make you feel even more guilty about it, of course.”
You let out a soft chuckle, “Yea, I’m not leaving for a little while…”
He walks to your side of the table, not hesitating to pull you into a hug that leaves you winded.
You freeze a millisecond before jumping to embrace it. Enjoying the gentle yet strong feeling of his body holding yours. And the way his hands are ever-so-slightly caressing your lower back.
“Thanks for hanging out, alright? Don’t be shy to message me.” He murmurs into your hair.
“I— okay. I won’t. Thank you, Harry.” You smile into the crook of his neck.
He gives a final squeeze before pulling back. Fighting the internal urge to press a little kiss to your temple.
“I’ll see you around, hopefully. Bye Y/N.” He gives you a final smile before waving goodbye, and heading out the cafe.
Your head is reeling as he exits. Unsure if you just imagined that whole thing. You needed someone to pinch you, because as far as your concerned that whole interaction was something you dreamed up.
You check your phone to see the time.
1:53pm
1 new notification
Unknown Number | :)
So that actually did just happen.
———
To reaffirm that you weren’t the only person in the world to witness what happened today, you see a tweet reposted on an update account that reads,
so, i just saw harry styles in the cafe i work at, and he sat down and drank a tea with someone he talked to at a show. not naming the interaction for privacy but like… what the fuck?
And secretly you smile. Maybe this is something you’ll keep to yourself for a bit. Like he’s a new secret friend of yours.
———
part two!!
#harry styles#harry styles imagine#harry styles fluff#fanfiction#harry styles fanfiction#harry styles oneshot#harry styles x reader#harry styles x you#harry styles x y/n#harry styles writing#fanfic#harry styles smut#famous harry#fan! y/n#fangirl! y/n#italyrry#he’s so cute
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
Italian Tub*
Summary: Harry takes Y/N on a surprise trip to Italy for their 5th wedding anniversary. Everything goes smoothly until they find themselves alone in the hot tub in the backyard of their Airbnb.
Pairing: Husband!Harry x Wife!Y/N
Word count: 4.2K
Warnings: Unprotected sex, p in v, public sex, female masturbation, light spanking.
Taglist: @justmystyles @bitchybabyharry @harrysslut7 @swiftmendeshoran @lucasandharold @harrysbabycherry @htaylor18 @rose-garden-dreamz @myalovesharry @mellamolayla @hsonlyangelxo @yousunshineyoutempter @heartateasee @blueheisenbergtragedy @bikestyles @bohemianrhapsody86 @cherrylovers-world @harrys-littlefreak
Let me know if you want to be added to my taglist! 🤗
Support my work by joining my Patreon!
Now that Harry is on a break from touring the world, he is able to spend all his time with his wife. After being married for a few years, they are still as in love as ever, if not more so. Harry loves being a husband to Y/N, and Y/N loves being a wife to Harry. They enjoy every minute of their free time together and cherish the alone time they have.
With their anniversary coming up, Harry knows he needs to get his wife something extra special this year. It was their fifth anniversary, after all. As Harry and Y/N lay together in bed, the anniversary still two weeks away, Harry began to ponder about what to get his girl.
Harry wants something special and intimate. Something that his wife can't just buy for herself. A trip perhaps? As Harry was lying on his side, looking at his beautiful wife sleeping soundly beside him, an idea popped into his head. It was perfect, and she would never expect it.
The next day, after Y/N goes out to go shopping, Harry sits down with his laptop and searches for the perfect getaway. Y/N always wanted to go to Apulia, Italy. So this was the perfect opportunity.
Once Harry opened the Airbnb website and filled in the needed information, he started scrolling through all the homes that were available for rent. As he was scrolling, one particular house caught his eye. It was gorgeous, and Harry knew Y/N would love it. It's a lovely house in the countryside, not too far from the beach. It's also secluded and private, and the best part is there the large pool and hot tub with a view of the village down the hill.
Harry books the Airbnb with no hesitation. He is thrilled to surprise his wife, and he is even more thrilled to see the look on her face when she realises where they are going. Harry knows his girl has been dying to go to Italy. So it's a win-win.
As the weeks go by, Y/N notices Harry is acting differently. It is almost as if he is hiding something from her. But she can't think of what it could be. She decides not to push the issue, but she still keeps an eye on him, hoping that he will soon tell her what is going on.
A few days before their anniversary, Harry decides to break the news to his wife. They are both at home watching television, cuddling up to each other on the couch. As Y/N looks over at her husband, she can't help but feel like something is going on.
“Is everything alright?” Y/N asks curiously.
“Yes, love, why do you ask?” Harry replies.
“It's just... I feel like you've been hiding something from me these last few weeks. Is there something going on?” Y/N questions.
“Yes, actually there is.” Harry begins. “I've been planning a surprise for you.”
Y/N sits up and looks at Harry with an excited expression on her face. “Oh, a surprise? What is it?” She asks with enthusiasm.
“That's for me to know, and for you to find out. But we're going to be leaving the day after tomorrow.” Harry states.
“What? Are you serious?” Y/N practically yells. “We're going on a trip? Where are we going? Tell me, please!”
“Patience, love. You will find out everything once we're at the airport.” Harry chuckles causing Y/N to pout and she crosses her arms over her chest. “Awe, don't be like that.”
“I can't believe you're doing this to me, Harry.” Y/N huffs.
“It's our fifth anniversary, and I wanted to do something special.” Harry explains. “And besides, you'll love your surprise. You have no idea.”
“What do I need to be packing? Summer clothes? Sweaters? What should I bring?” Y/N asks, suddenly excited.
“Pack light. It's not really cold where we're going. So pack some shorts and tank tops, along with some dresses and nice shoes. Oh, and your bikini, of course.” Harry answers.
“Wait, are we going to the beach? Tell me, please!” Y/N pleads.
“I already said too much, so I'm not saying anything else.” Harry states.
“Harry! Come on!” Y/N groans.
“You'll know everything once we arrive.” Harry smiles. “Now, come here and cuddle with me.”
Y/N smiles as she lays back down next to her husband and wraps her arm around his torso. They turn their attention back to the television and finish watching their show together.
***
Two days later, it is finally time for Harry and Y/N to leave. As the two of them stand outside of their house waiting for their car to pick them up, Y/N is practically jumping with excitement. She has no idea where they are going, but she can't wait.
“Are you excited, love?” Harry asks, looking over at his wife.
“Hell yes! I can't wait! This is going to be amazing, I know it!” Y/N smiles.
As soon as the car pulls up in front of the house, Harry takes their suitcases and puts them into the trunk. Then he and Y/N climb into the car. As the driver takes off towards the airport, Harry and Y/N sit together holding hands. They can't stop smiling at each other.
When the car arrives at the airport, Harry helps his wife out of the car. Once the driver brings their luggage to them on a trolley, they walk hand in hand towards the terminal with Harry pushing the cart forward. When they get to the check-in counter, Harry checks in their luggage and they proceed towards the security line.
Somehow Harry manages to get all of that done without spoiling their destination to Y/N. He doesn't even slip up and tell her the airline or the gate number. He is a man on a mission, and he won't be letting anything distract him.
After a quick walk through security, Harry and Y/N make their way over to their gate. When they arrive, Y/N's eyes grow wide and her mouth falls open. “What? Wait, are we going to...”
“Apulia, Italy.” Harry states, a smirk on his lips.
“Oh my god, Harry, this is amazing!” Y/N practically screams. “Thank you, baby, thank you, thank you, thank you!” She then wraps her arms around his neck and gives him a long passionate kiss.
“Mmm, you're welcome, love.” Harry smiles.
As Harry and Y/N wait for their flight to begin boarding, they chat away about what they're going to do once they land. Harry already has a few things planned, but he isn't going to spoil anything. He wants his wife to be completely surprised.
When it is time for the couple to board, they are seated in first class. Y/N loves first class, it's the only way Harry can travel somewhat privately, without people noticing him. Plus, it's a lot more comfortable, and he and his wife are able to relax.
As soon as the plane takes off, the couple snuggle together and enjoy the ride. After only a few hours of flying, they are finally in Italy. They land at Bari Karalis International Airport. When the couple exit the plane and make their way through the terminal, Y/N is in awe of the surroundings. She has always dreamed of coming here, and now she is here.
The warm Italian air is a welcomed sensation, and the sun is shining brightly. The sky is a beautiful shade of blue, with a few wispy clouds here and there. Y/N is over the moon, and Harry is loving every minute of it.
Once the couple has picked up their luggage and left the airport, they are greeted by their driver. They put their luggage into the boot of the car and then climb into the back seat. The driver turns and asks the couple. “Where would you like to go?”
“I have the address right here.” Harry says as he hands the driver a piece of paper.
“Very well, sir. Let's go.” The driver states, the Italian accent thick.
As the driver pulls away from the airport and starts driving down the road, Harry looks over at his wife and says. “I have a little surprise for you.”
“Oh? And what's that?” Y/N questions.
“We're staying at a beautiful little house in the countryside, not far from the beach. It has a hot tub, a pool, a beautiful garden, and a great view.” Harry states.
“Seriously?” Y/N questions. “Oh, Harry, this is the best!” She then leans over and plants a kiss on his cheek.
As the drive continues, Harry and Y/N enjoy the scenery as they pass by quaint towns, picturesque fields, and beautiful villas. After about an hour of driving, the couple are taken aback by the beauty of the countryside. They can see the house in the distance, and it looks amazing.
When the driver pulls up to the front of the house, Harry and Y/N are awestruck by its beauty. As the couple step out of the car and start taking in their surroundings, they are immediately overwhelmed by how beautiful the house is.
“Harry, this is breathtaking.” Y/N states, as she turns to face her husband.
“Isn't it?” Harry smiles.
The couple walks over to the front door of the house and Harry unlocks the door with the key that's hidden in a savebox near the entry. Harry was sent a code earlier in the day so they could have a contactless check-in. As they walk inside, they are greeted by a small hallway with stairs to their right. As they continue walking forward, they come to a living room area with a couch, two chairs, and a large flat-screen television above a fireplace.
“Wow, this is really beautiful.” Y/N remarks, looking around.
“I know, right?” Harry replies. “Come, let's check out the kitchen.”
As the couple makes their way into the kitchen, they notice a large island in the middle with an extended dining table. To the left is a large glass door that leads to a backyard patio with a grill and a large dining area.
“This is perfect.” Y/N smiles, wrapping her arms around her husband's neck.
“I knew you'd like it.” Harry smiles, planting a kiss on her forehead. He turns around to slide open the glass door and walk out onto the patio.
“Wow, this is so lovely. Look at the view.” Y/N sighs, admiring the view. “Oh, and a pool! That's awesome.”
“Yes, and look at the hot tub over there. I think we're going to be spending a lot of time in that.” Harry smirks.
“Oh yeah?” Y/N giggles.
“Definitely.” Harry winks.
The backyard is big but private and located on the top of a hill with a view of the town down below. The street on which the Airbnb is located has a lot of big houses, but they are spread out with enough privacy in between. The garden is nicely landscaped and has flowers everywhere.
As Harry and Y/N make their way back into the house, they head upstairs. The master bedroom is at the top of the stairs, and it is just as beautiful as the rest of the house. There's a large king-sized bed, a TV mounted to the wall, and a beautiful view of the mountains in the distance.
“Harry, this is stunning.” Y/N gasps, as she walks around the room.
“I know, I'm glad you like it, babe.” Harry smiles, wrapping his arms around her waist from behind.
“Like it? I love it. This is a dream.” Y/N states.
“Well, we're going to have a lot of fun while we're here.” Harry whispers, planting a kiss on the crook of her neck.
“Oh, really?” Y/N giggles.
“Oh, yes.” Harry chuckles, nipping at her neck.
“Harry, behave.” Y/N laughs, swatting him away playfully.
“I don't want to.” Harry pouts as he begins nibbling on her earlobe. His strong arms hold her tightly against him, not letting her go.
“Baby, come on.” Y/N tries, but her husband is relentless.
“Come on, let's break in the bed.” Harry growls, letting one of his hands slide up her torso and grab her breast, kneading the flesh.
“Harry!” Y/N cries, focussing on keeping a moan from slipping out.
“What?” Harry asks, feigning innocence. “Don't act like you don't want me.”
“I can't deny that I want you, but we're not breaking in the bed right now. I'm hungry, I need food.” Y/N states, pulling his hand off her chest.
“I could eat you.” Harry winks, earning a smack on the chest from his wife. “Hey, I was only kidding.” He chuckles.
“Yeah, sure.” Y/N rolls her eyes. “Come on, let's go.”
“Fine.” Harry sighs.
The couple makes their way downstairs, Harry close behind his wife, his arms around her waist. Ever since stepping foot on the Italian soil, he is feeling like a horny teenager, dying to get the girl in bed.
They decide to go into town and find a restaurant to eat at. The couple walks hand in hand through the streets, admiring the architecture and the quaintness of the town. As they stroll down the main street, they spot a small restaurant and decide to have dinner there.
After having a wonderful meal, the couple takes a stroll back to the house. When they arrive, the sun is beginning to set, bathing the world around them in a beautiful golden glow. As they step into the house, Y/N looks at Harry and says. “This is the perfect night.”
“Yes, it is.” Harry smiles. “And it's only just beginning.”
“Is that so?” Y/N smirks, her hand coming up to cup her husband's face.
“You have no idea.” Harry whispers, leaning in and pressing his lips to hers. “Go get your bikini, let's go for a swim.”
Y/N heads upstairs to the bedroom and opens her suitcase. She digs through her clothes until she finds her green string bikini. She strips down and puts it on, checking her reflection in the mirror. As she heads back downstairs, she notices her husband waiting for her by the back door, already dressed in his black swim trunks.
“God, you look good.” Harry growls, eyeing her up and down.
“Stop it, you're making me blush.” Y/N laughs, her cheeks flushing pink.
“No, seriously, you look incredible. Come here.” Harry states, reaching out for his wife.
Y/N steps into his embrace and kisses him deeply. As she pulls away, she notices the hungry look in his eyes. She knows exactly what he wants, but she's not giving in that easily.
“Come on, let's go.” Y/N states, slipping from her husband's embrace.
“Alright, fine.” Harry sighs, letting her go.
As the couple steps outside, the warm evening air hits their skin. They make their way over to the pool, and Harry steps in first. He slowly lowers himself down, the water coming up to his chest. He motions for Y/N to join him, and she does. She sits on the edge of the pool and slowly lowers herself into the water, her feet touching the bottom.
“This is nice.” Y/N smiles, looking at her husband.
“Yes, it is.” Harry nods, his eyes never leaving her.
They stay in the pool for a while, just enjoying the feeling of the water and the warmth of the night. As they swim around, Y/N's eyes wander over her husband's toned body, taking in the sight of him as he's floating on top of the water.
“Are you enjoying the view, love?” Harry asks, catching her gaze.
“Maybe.” Y/N smirks.
“Come on, let's go relax in the hot tub.” Harry states, his hand reaching out to take hers. Y/N follows him over to the hot tub and steps in. The hot water instantly relaxes her muscles, and she lets out a content sigh.
“This is heaven.” Y/N sighs, her head resting back against the edge of the tub.
“Mmm, it is.” Harry agrees, his eyes taking in the sight of her. Her hair is pulled up in a messy bun, her skin glistening from the moisture. The way her breasts are just peeking out of the water, he's getting hard just looking at her.
“Harry, stop staring at me like that.” Y/N states, opening one eye and peering at her husband.
“I can't help it, you're so beautiful.” Harry smiles, his eyes locked with hers.
“Charmer.” Y/N giggles, closing her eye.
As she relaxes in the hot tub, her mind starts wandering. She begins thinking about her husband, and all the things she wants to do to him. She knows he's watching her, and it's turning her on. She can feel the heat pooling between her legs, and she squirms slightly.
She looks over at Harry, who is now leaning back against the hot tub, his eyes closed. She bites her bottom lip as she watches him. She has a perfect view of his body and can't help but admire him.
As the hot water surrounds her, she lets her hands slide over her body. She trails her fingers across her skin, and the sensation sends shivers through her. She slowly dips her fingers into the waistband of her bikini bottoms, and she carefully pushes them down her legs, trying not to gain any attention from Harry.
She puts her bottoms on the edge of the tub and pulls the strings of her top loose. She gently peels the fabric off her body, setting the top with her bottoms. As she slides back into the water, her nipples harden from the cool air hitting her skin.
As the warm water surrounds her again, she looks at Harry. He's still sitting there, his eyes closed. She can tell that he's enjoying the moment, and it's turning her on even more. She can feel her arousal growing, and she can't wait to touch herself.
Her hands move down her body and slip under the water as she sets her feet on the seat next to her. Her fingers brush against her clit, sending a wave of pleasure through her. She slowly rubs herself, teasing her clit and feeling her pussy get wet.
She watches Harry, wanting to see his reaction when he sees her. She continues rubbing herself, her fingers now moving down to her entrance. She pushes one finger inside her, and then two. She can feel how wet she is, and she moans softly as she fucks herself with her fingers.
She can't help but wonder if Harry can hear her, or if he can tell what she's doing. She wants him to look at her, to see her pleasuring herself. She wants him to see how turned on she is, and she wants him to touch her.
Her fingers are still inside her pussy as she's fucking herself with them. Her other hand is on her clit, rubbing herself in circles. She can feel her orgasm building, and she's not going to last much longer.
She lets out a moan as her fingers pump in and out of her, the pleasure building. Harry's eyes finally fly open, and he looks over at her, his mouth dropping open as he sees her touching herself.
“Fuck, babe.” Harry whispers, his eyes locked on her.
“Harry...” Y/N moans, her fingers still buried deep inside her.
“You're so fucking hot.” Harry groans, his cock straining against his swim trunks. He's quick to pull the fabric down his legs, his erection springing free. He wraps his hand around his cock and begins stroking himself, his eyes never leaving her.
Y/N doesn't know how to reply, but she can feel her orgasm approaching, and her moans are becoming louder. She looks at her husband, his eyes dark with lust.
“Are you going to come for me, baby?” Harry asks, his voice husky.
“Yes...I'm going to come.” Y/N pants, her fingers working faster.
“Then come for me.” Harry growls, his gaze locked with hers.
“Oh, fuck...” Y/N cries, her fingers pumping in and out of her faster.
“That's it, baby, come for me.” Harry coaxes, his hand stroking his cock faster.
Y/N can feel her orgasm crashing over her, and her whole body shudders as the waves of pleasure wash over her. She moans loudly, her eyes locked with her husband's. She can see how turned on he is, and it's driving her crazy.
As she comes down from her orgasm, she pulls her fingers from her pussy and brings them to her mouth. She licks her fingers clean, her eyes still locked with Harry's. He lets out a low groan, his eyes filled with desire.
“Come here.” Harry growls, his hand never leaving his cock.
Y/N moves over to him, the water splashing around her. As she gets close to him, he grabs her and pulls her onto his lap, her legs straddling him. His hard cock is pressed against her, and she can feel his need.
“Fuck me.” Y/N breathes, her arms wrapping around his neck.
“I plan to.” Harry smirks, his hands gripping her hips tightly. He guides her onto his cock, his length sliding into her wet pussy.
“Oh, god.” Y/N gasps, her eyes closing as he fills her.
“That's it, baby.” Harry groans, his hands squeezing her hips as he begins thrusting into her. Y/N can't believe how good it feels, his cock stretching her and filling her completely. She rocks her hips, matching his thrusts and letting out soft moans. She's still sensitive from her orgasm, and the sensation is driving her crazy.
Harry is in ecstasy at how amazing it feels to be inside his wife, her tight pussy gripping his cock. He can feel her juices coating him, and it's making him even harder. He leans forward, his mouth capturing hers in a heated kiss.
“You feel so fucking good.” Harry growls against her lips, his hips picking up speed. Y/N can't help but cry out, the pleasure almost too much for her to handle.
“Oh, god...Harry...” Y/N pants, her eyes squeezing shut as his cock drives into her.
“I love hearing you say my name like that.” Harry groans, one of his hands cupping her breast while the other one remains on her hips, pushing her up and down his cock.
“Please...” Y/N moans, her voice breathy and needy.
“What do you want, baby?” Harry asks, his hand moving to pinch her nipple.
“Harder...faster.” Y/N pleads, her head falling back at the feeling of his fingers on her.
“As you wish.” Harry chuckles. He pulls her off his lap, and guides her to the side of the tub, placing her with both knees on the seat, her ass in the air. “Hold on, baby.” Harry groans, standing behind her. He grabs her hips and pushes his cock inside her once more.
“Fuck, yes.” Y/N moans as his cock fills her again. Her hands grip the edge of the tub for leverage, her back arching.
Harry's fingers dig into her hips as he pounds into her, his cock sliding in and out of her pussy. She can feel him hitting her G-spot, and it's driving her wild.
“That's it, baby. You feel so fucking good.” Harry growls. He slaps her ass hard, the sting making her moan. He does it again, and again, each time harder than the last until there is a visible red handprint on her skin.
“Harry, you're so fucking good for me.” Y/N whines, the pleasure building quickly.
“You like this, don't you? You like it when I fuck you like this.” Harry growls.
“Yes, yes, please.” Y/N begs, her orgasm approaching.
“I'm going to fuck you so hard.” Harry grunts, his thrusts becoming faster. “And then I'm going to spill my cum deep inside your tight little pussy.”
“Oh, god, yes!” Y/N moans, her walls contracting around him. “I'm going to come, Harry.”
“Yes, you are.” Harry says, his hands digging into her hips. “Now, come for me.”
With a loud moan, Y/N's orgasm washes over her, her pussy clenching around him.
“Fuck, that's it.” Harry groans. He pumps into her a few more times, and then his cock pulses, spurting his hot seed deep inside her just like he promised.
As her orgasm fades, Y/N falls against the edge of the tub, exhausted and satisfied. She can feel Harry's cum dripping down her thighs, and she loves it.
“You're such a minx.” Harry laughs, leaning over her and pressing a kiss to her shoulder.
“What can I say, you bring out the worst in me.” Y/N jokes.
“Mm, well I'm glad I can be of service.” Harry smirks, his hands running up and down her sides.
The couple stays like that for a while, basking in the afterglow of their lovemaking. It's a beautiful night, and they're glad to be here, enjoying each other's company.
#harry styles#allthelovehes#harry#styles#harry smut#fanfic#smut#imagine#one shot#fanfiction#harrystylesfanfiction#harryxreader#harry x reader#harry styles x reader#harry x you#harryxyou#harry x yn#harryxyn#writing#hot#husband!harry#husbandrry#wife!yn#wife!reader#italy#italyrry#hottub#hot tub#public
126 notes
·
View notes
Text
Blowjobs & Pussy Rubbing in the Sky (SMUT) (pt. 2)
The Late Night Flight (pt. 1)
AN: this is part 2 of the 3 part story i'm creating. the next part wiil be a mix between a sick fic and fluff. hope you enjoy and leave your feedback.
This story contains: consensual groping, blowjob on plane, mild dirty talk, rubbing of the clitoris, almost being caught in a sexual act
{ husband!harry - no kids - softrry - current harry era }
word count: 1,970
You give Harry a blowjob on the plane ride to Italy followed by him rubbing your pussy to get you off as well.
You and Harry have been in and out of sleep for the past few hours on the flight to Italy. Occasionally getting up to use the bathroom and to eat a bite of something the flight attendant gave out. But now you were waking up for what's probably gonna be the last time before you land.
Harry is still asleep, sprawled out in his reclined seat and he looks so peaceful in his sleeping state. As your head rests on his shoulder, the hand you've placed across his lap begins to feel a lump. You peak your head under the blanket that's over your bodies and you can clearly see your husband is rocking a boner in his sweatpants. What better way to pass the remainder of the flight then too help his little (big) problem out.
Knowing the boundaries in your marriage and what is and isn't okay when it comes to physical touch, you remain in your position that's cuddled into Harry's right side and began to subtly grope his cock over the fabric of his sweatpants. You tilt your head up slightly to look at his face and you can tell the wheels are turning in his brain, alerting him of being stimulated in some way. Then just seconds later his eyes rip open and he lets a small moan escape his mouth.
"Shhh," you coo quietly, "don't want the flight attendent or jet staff to hear you." Harry just nods his head and doesn't question your actions. That's what's great about your marriage. You both will randomly pleasure each other and there won't be a specific reason as to why. You just love the feeling of pleasuring one another.
Taking it a step further, you stop your hand from groping Harry over his pants and slowly slip your hand underneath the fabric of both his gray joggers and Calvin Klein's. Once inside, you carefully grab ahold of his hard cock and start to tug the shaft upwards. The only evidence of something naughty going on is something moving under the blanket that's still spread over your laps, but thankfully you still don't see the one flight attendant who was assigned to this private jet.
As Harry lays back in his reclined plane seat, he thinks he's just going to get a good handjob from his wife. But when he suddenly feels the blanket being lifted and your head being pushed under, the realization that he's getting more than that dawns on him.
You tug down his sweatpants and underwear just below his testicals and lean over his lap, wrapping your warm lips around the sensitive head of his dick. "Oh, fuckin' shit." Harry hisses out in a whispered tone. How did he get so lucky to marry a women who will give him blowjobs on a long flight, he didn't know but he wasn't complaining.
One of Harry's ringless hands slide under the blanket that's currently covering your doings and he gently places it on the back of your scalp. Not to force you down on him and cause you to choke, but to give you some guidance in your movements. You open your throat as much as you can and sink your mouth down further on his cock until you physically can't take anymore.
When the tip of Harry's dick nudges the back of your throat you force down a gag and focus on your task at hand. That task being to get your husband to orgasm with only your mouth. And from the looks of it, it's working because Harry can't seem to sit still in his seat any longer. His body is squirming about like there's bugs under his skin.
Wanting to egg you on, Harry whispers for only your ears to hear, "Thata' girl. Takin' me so well. Feels incredible, m'love. Fuck, bout' to come down that tight throat of yours." And in your ears you do hear his dirty words and it has your legs squeezing together to help calm the throbbing you're experiencing between them.
You began to bob your head a bit faster on his cock and if it weren't for the loud sound of the planes engine, you're sure everyone would hear the wet sounds your mouth is making while you suck him off. Harry throws his head back on the reclined seat and screws his eyes shut. He wishes more than anything he could let out some moans that are begging to be released but knows he can't right now.
Then suddenly you feel the sensation of Harry's dick twitch in your mouth and his body stiffen up, all signs of his orgasm approaching. Within seconds of the signs he was about to come, Harry comes. Hot spurts of his ejaculation shoot down your throat and coat your esophagus. You immediately swallow his cum like the good girl you are as you continue to suck him dry.
The hand he had on the back of your head frantically grabs a handful of your hair, pulling you up and off of him as he's became painfully sensitive. You remove your head out from under the blanket and when you get a view of Harry's face, your pussy starts to throb even more than it already was. He looks completely fucked out from the blowjob he just recieved; breathing still unsteady, eyes glazed over, cheeks a nice rosy color, and his bedhead more prominent.
You sit up all the way and reach in your bag that's down by your feet for some napkins to help dry his limp dick off. Harry just lays still and stares at your aftercare towards him. He's still in a bit of shock, having woke up to instant pleasure, but shock in the best way possible.
Once he's completely dry from your saliva that had dripped on his thighs and balls, Harry tucks himself back into his pants and boxers. You think he's gonna doze back off again, seeings as his face portrays tiredness even if he was asleep for hours prior. But Harry is a better man than that. He's not going to allow you to pleasure him and you not get anything in return. That's not how he was raised.
Harry may not be able to eat your pussy in the tight area of the private jets seats and he can't really fuck you because it'll be awhile before his cock can get hard again, but what he can do is a bit of hand action.
As you go to get settled back into your seat, you feel Harry's hand grab the inside of your left thigh, tugging your legs open a bit. You quickly turn your head to the left and mutter out a confused, "Wha...." before he interrupts you.
"Didn't think I'd let you give me a blowjob and you not get anythin' in return, did yah?" Harry whispers. Before any dispute can happen, he reaches under the blanket with his right arm and slides his hand into your thin yoga pants and then into your panties. He'd usually tease you a bit more rather than going right in for it but you were still on a plane and he knew he needed to get you off sort of quickly.
Then in an instant, Harry finds what he's looking for and starts to focus on that and that being your clit. At the sudden touch with Harry's fingers, you bite down on your bottom lip to conceal the moan that's wanting to come out. His fingers migrate down for a quick second to lubricate his fingers with your wetness that's been pouring out of you ever since you started giving him his blowjob.
"Poor thing," Harry retorts in a condescending tone, "got yourself all wet for me, huh? Want me to help your problem out too, like you helped me out?" He wasn't asking for you to actually respond with an answer because he was going to pleasure you regardless of your answer. You guess the teasing streak Harry usually partakes in is still lingering more than he meant it too.
You just sheepishly nod your head against the plane seat and jump when his fingers are back on your clit, but this time all wet and warm from your arousal. You sit back in your seat while you allow Harry to rub your clit from the inside of your clothes. You would ask him to finger you a bit as well but know you're not comfortable taking off your bottoms all the way to allow room for that, even if not visible from the blankets coverage.
You spread your legs wider so that Harry has as much access to your pussy as he can. His fingers are not letting up either, vigorously flicking over your sensitive nerve like he's strumming his guitar on stage. Just as you start to feel the pleasure in your tummy turn, a woman walks up to your seats and you jump at her appearance. You're so into the pleasures you're receiving that you hadn't seen her coming over.
Harry seen her alright but didn't stop his work between your legs. He knew you were covered up by the blankets and unless you made a sound, the flight attendant wouldn't even notice what's going on.
The well postured lady questions in a posh accent, "Would either of you like a bottle of water? Maybe a bag of crisps to hold you over until we land?" You look over at Harry, wanting him to speak for you but he gives you a knowing look. One that says he wants you to answer.
Taking a deep breath, you stutter out carefully, "N....no. We're jus....just fine." Fuck, you think to yourself. She must know something was off by the way your voice wavered. But she seems okay with your answer and starts to walk away. "She knows, she has to know what we're doing, Harry."
Giggling, Harry replies, "No she doesn't, babe. She has no clue that my hand is currently stuffed in your pants, rubbing your pussy." That last part he spoke was more of a whisper and it sent chills down your spine. Even though his wrist is getting sore from the curved angle its in, Harry pushes through to get you to your release.
After another minute or two passes, your clit becomes extra sensitive and that's a very clear sign you're about to have an orgasm. You latch your hands around Harry's tattooed arm that's stretched over your lap and clutch it for dear life as you get ready for the impact of your impending release.
Then with the next pressured rub on your clit by Harry's soft fingers, your muscles tense up and your body racks through the effects of your orgasm. Your eyes flutter in the back of your head, your toes curl on the floor of the plane, your breath gets stuck in your throat, and your pussy contracts around nothing in calculated intervals.
You have to turn your face to the left and press your mouth to Harry's clothed shoulder in order to hide the tiny moans coming out. He continues to rub your pussy, drawing out your orgasm for as long as possible, until you feel yourself getting overstimulated and push his hand away. You sit there breathless while Harry searches for some napkins to help clean you up as you did for him. But his wet fingers, yeah, he licked those clean.
-----------------------------
When you're all put back together and have cleaned up your mess, you both take out the books you brought to read and read for the remainder of the flight. Which wasn't too much longer. Maybe you had an hour and a half left. Then you'd be in Venice for Harry to attend the film festival.
————————————
(PLEASE REBLOG BECAUSE WRITING IS NOT EASY AND IT’S FREE SO JUST DO IT)
tag list: @one-sweet-gubler // @harryscherrysugar // @japanchrry // @harryhoney-bee // @lollypopsx // @harrycanyonmoonn // @itfeelslikemytherapisthatesme // @bohogothic // @damnasstyles // @mrsstylesharry // @softmullet // @meetmyblondemuffins // @thegirlnextdoorssister // @stanleystyle // @haarrry // @michellekstyles // @wherethehellhaveyoubeenharry // @stallrry // @skyangel57 // @the-gardener-31 // @lhharrylilpumpkin // @gublerscherry // @yousunshine-youtemptress
// @clairestylessss // @kissmyaxe140 // @goldenmelonsugar-hi // @kaitieskidmore1 // @florencepughily // @alienorknight //@dancearoundthelivingroom // @swiftmendeshoran // @luv-flor7777 // @alohastyles-x // @tenaciousperfectionunknown // @sleutherclaw // @siredtohybrid // @whoscamila // @a-strange-familiar // @golden-elodie // @mrspeacem1nusone // @goldenkhae // @lntwithharry // @mellowkingdombouquet // @manifestrry // @mendesblurb // @sunshinemoonsposts // @depersonalizationsucks // @academiaghost // @zendayassimp // @reveriehs // @vsnnstuff // @dancinsunflowerkiwi
let me know if you’d like to be added on my tag list in my next post by telling me HERE (let me know if i forgot to add you)
______________
My Masterlist Masterpost
#harry styles#harry styles smut#husbandrry#husband!harry#italyrry#harry styles fan fiction#harry x reader#softrry#soft!harry#harry styles plane smut#harry styles blowjobs#harry styles one shot
518 notes
·
View notes
Text
like or reblog if you save
#harry styles#harry styles headers#harry styles icons#harry styles layouts#harry styles packs#harry#harry styles moodboard#harry styles icon#harry styles header#harry styles wallpapers#harry styles lockscreens#harry styles messy layouts#messy headers harry styles#harry styles lyric headers#harry styles loockscreens#cameraman#camera#italyrry#harry styles frat boy icons#harry styles frat boy headers#fratrry icons#fetusrry icons#harry styles fetus#random icons#cute icons#movie icons#icons#icon#harry styles pack#harry styles layout
22 notes
·
View notes
Text
italian hearts <3
could italian!reader be a new concept?!!!?
“Babe, y’sure that’s how you say it?” Harry sighed, trying his very best to learn his lines before going on stage.
“Yes, amore mio. You are perfect.” You compliment him.
He’s standing backstage with nervous butterflies flying through his stomach over tonight’s show.
It was his first night performing in Italy since before the pandemic. Your home country. You two had only met during the pandemic, when Harry had been on a solo holiday here to escape reality for a little while. So, tonights show was something special for you both.
Whilst he was fiddling with his in-ears, you wrapped your arms around his waist at his front and looked up towards him. You kissed over his heart softly and stood on the tips of his shoes to get a better height for kissing his lips.
You puckered your lips asking for a kiss and he immediately leant down to kiss you, not happy with just the one kiss so had to leave you a few. His hands cradle your cheeks and keeps you close to his face so he can see the sparkle in your eyes closer up.
“Just don’t want to say this wrong for you.”
“Baby, you could never. It’s more than enough that you’re even practicing your Italian just at the thought of doing your introduction in my language. It makes me so proud of you.”
“Yeah?” His cheeks turned a pretty pink.
“Always, yes.”
He wrapped his arms around your neck then and rested his chin on top of your head, walking the both of you around in small circles as you were still stood on his feet. If this was anyone else, he’d be furious that someone was treading on his Gucci but not you.
“Nonna is here tonight too, you know?” You spoke against the warmth of his chest.
“I know, yeah. She texted me.”
Your heart warmed at the thought of Harry texting your Nonna. That was something very intimate and special. A relationship that more than a boyfriend would normally have.
“We’ll say hi afterwards.”
“That’s if she still loves me after I butcher her language on stage.” He chuckled to himself but you could tell he was still really nervous over this spiel.
“Baby. Don’t force yourself to do this if it’s too much. You don’t have to impress anyone amore. I’m definitely already in love with you.” You assured him, pushing your head up so you could tell him your words to his anxious eyes. You could see the ease lifting from them.
“I know,” he smiled softly, “I definitely am in love with you too.”
He kissed you some more, nothing too heavy other than a few stolen pecks and a cheek kiss to the neck too. He’d save his other kisses for later, away from prying eyes.
After saying you loved each other, Harry ran on stage and performed his first two songs. He was electric on stage and it never got old seeing him perform the songs that you’d actually seen him write. It was unreal to think that you were the only person who knew these songs existed and how they sounded, less than half a year ago, and now arenas full of people were singing along too.
It was magical.
Made even better by being in your home country.
“Hi! I’m Harry!” He spoke into his microphone, keeping his guitar around his shoulder and waving his free hand towards the audience.
“Now, I apologise to my Y/N and Nonna in advance…” He chuckled whilst shaking his head, before he started to speak in Italian. His first sentence was drowned out by the deafening screams of the audience realising he was speaking Italian.
He paused to speak English briefly, “Wait, I’ve got more. M’girlfriend taught me all this, so thank you Y/N.”
By the end his Italian speech the audience were alight with love and Harry was blushing over how proud he was of himself. He pronounced everything so well and clearly. He was a talent and credit to himself.
Nonna💖: Sposalo in fretta!
It made you laugh that your Nonna was telling you to marry him quick, but you were actually dreaming of nothing more.
#harry styles#harry styles x reader#harry styles fanfiction#harry styles x y/n#harry styles fanfic#ask finelinevogue#finelinevogue#harry blurb#harry styles concept#harry oneshot#harry styles blurbs#masterlist finelinevogue#fic rec finelinevogue#harry styles fluff#harry styles italy blurb#harry styles italy#italyrry
717 notes
·
View notes
Text
Get this man in a rom-com right now!!!!
33 notes
·
View notes
Text
Harry in golden mv 💛
#harry styles#one direction#harry's house#harries#harry styles imagine#harry styles hs1#live on tour#harry styles fluff#fine line album#hs lot#golden#as it was#italyrry
31 notes
·
View notes
Text
welcome to the final show | H.S, part 2
the girlies asked so I deliver!
read part one here, or check out my masterlist!
summary: after the accidental cafe run in, harry and y/n have wound up with each others numbers. and are quick to go from casual texting to organising another time to meet up. including a cafe trip and an unexpected ice creamery visit.
warnings: fluff, swearing, minor mentions of alcohol, nothing too heavy, just our lovely italyrry who is the sweetest ever.
a/n: thank you all so so much for the incredible amount of support on the first part of this official series. and also for your patience in waiting for me to hurry up and post an update. i know it’s been like 2 weeks since the first part, but I really wanted to give you something i took my time working on <3
———
There’s a certain type of disbelief that comes around once and a while. It’s rare.
It’s the kind that you feel straight to your core. That randomly dumps on you during the day like a bucket of water, and leaves your head spinning like that very bucket came crashing down with it.
It happens in a single moment, but lingers for a long time after the fact.
That’s exactly how you felt after harry texted you first. Because not even a few hours later after you’d exchanged numbers, he sent you through, not only a message, but a photo of all things.
One that made your heart swell with its endearing qualities.
A photo of a plate, filled with the food you’d told him earlier that day was one of your favourites.
Sent with a further little message below it,
Your favourite is currently up for grabs at the family gathering. H
The way he’d signed his intial off at the bottom had you nearly throw your phone across the room at how adorable it was.
Like as if you didn’t even know who you were texting.
Again it strewn your thought— is he aware the kind of mental effect this is having on you? Because you’re borderline going to need to phone for an ambulance.
You’re a simple person. A fangirl, to say the least. This shit, despite being able to say ‘I’ve met and talked with Harry Styles for more than 10 minutes’ does not just disappear.
And you had promised yourself not to tell anyone that this had happened— or was happening? Because there would be nothing worse than this somehow ending up online.
And not to treat him like a flighty deer instead of a grown man, but you would hate for that to place a kind of distrust in his hands.
However, all of that self-agreement doesn’t take away the nagging voice in your head that just wants to tell at the very least your immediate friends and family.
But you’re proud to say— after a long 2 minutes of pacing around your hotel room— you manage to craft a reply back.
Well, only after a few rough and undeniably embarrassing drafts that quickly get deleted out of the text bar.
You’re back to sitting on the floor against the bed frame, facing the window looking out on the gorgeous colours of the evening Italian sky.
Heart pounding, and you’re sure this scene from a third person perspective would look like it was pulled from a hallmark movie.
Girl fawning over man’s simple text. Kicking her feet in the glow of Italian sun, with a glass of wine on the floor next to her.
You stared at your finalised message and decided if you didn’t send it now, you would spiral into a never ending pit of doubt. And just end up overthinking the whole thing.
So you just did it. And now on the screen, under his blue message, was your own grey one.
there’s no way. it looks so good! im gonna see if it’s on my room service menu tbh. consider me inspired.
You bit your knuckles. Acting up like a fucking teenager. Waiting for the shock to subside before you actually get up to find the hotel menu.
After you replied back, you were sweating, honestly. Anxious at the fact you had just sent a text to Harry Styles. And unlike a conversation, that shit is permanent. So too bad if it comes off embarrassing.
Which of course, it didn’t on his end. Unbeknownst to you, he almost physically gleamed at sight of your name on his screen for the first time.
You’d nearly dropped your glass of wine when your phone vibrated up on the counter of the hotels kitchen where it was charging.
It’d been about half an hour from when you replied, you’d since ordered room service and sat in your bed to watch tv.
You made sure to place your glass elsewhere as you ran over to grab your phone.
If it wasn’t already all gone I’d save you some. Any luck with the room service?
You’d replied back swiftly, disregarding any kind of waiting to text back rule. You were all too eager to wait.
i managed to score some up from the room service. didn’t look as appetising as yours, but it was still enjoyed. x
And at this, he smiled, looking at the Italian sunset as he thought of you with a curiosity he recognised as all too unhealthy.
———
If you had told yourself two days ago in that cafe, that you have had several full conversations with harry after getting his number… you probably would have laughed.
Yet its not a joke of any kind. You can pinch yourself over and over again looking at those texts, but all you’ll end up with is a bruise and they will be just as real.
But as you read over the most recently received one, pinching would have not been enough of a reality check.
Maybe a frying pan? Probably would do the trick.
You scanned over his words, rubbing your eyes like you were tired and seeing shit— even though you’d been awake since 9am, which was 2 hours ago.
Unless you have plans, I’m going to try this cafe a friend recommended me a while back, if you wanted to tag along?
[ 1 attachment link]
And there’s simply no way that this is happening? But after 30 seconds without a follow up text telling you he’s accidentally sent this to the wrong person, you sit up straight.
Well, you’re not about to ask him if he’s serious right now, so you channel every fibre of casualness left within you and use it to construct a response.
id love to! I’ll get ready to go soon if you want to meet there before 12:30?
That works perfectly. did you need a lift, or are you in walking distance. I can pick you up if you need.
You almost keel over at his offer, and the absolute gentleman move he just made.
You also realise you didn’t even look where the cafe was. Because if Harry Styles asks you to go somewhere with him the answer should always be yes. Figure out the means of getting there and back later.
Either way you open the link and get taken to google maps, and the cafe in question is literally a 10 minute walk away from you.
im in walking distance, it’s about 10 minutes away. so I’ll just make my way there at about 12:15! thank you for the lovely offer though.
And you move as quickly as possible from your bed to your suitcase, ready to tear that thing apart for an outfit.
You don’t want to be over the top, but you have to go with something on the shorter side because it’s already in the high 20’s and it’s not even afternoon yet. So you lug out the many summer dresses you crammed in there, hoping that one of them will strike your interest.
Some get tossed back into your bag as you filter through them, not making the cut for a variety of reasons— like showing too much of your cleavage.
Yea, a good few of them get ruled out for that reason.
But eventually— and thank god, because you were starting to loose hope— you find one that is perfect for the occasion. It’s all types of flowy and comfortable, but still maintains the pretty connotation that summer dresses are known for.
Before putting it on, you go into the bathroom and do your morning routine— fixing your hair as a final step, but deciding to leave it out since there is hardly any wind outside to make it a mess. Plus it will suit the dress.
You somehow managed to take long enough that the next time you look at your phone you realise it’s nearing 12:15pm a lot faster than you expected. So you hustle to get the rest of your shit together, and make your way out the door.
The walk there is as peaceful as you could imagine, just the sounds of chatter from passer-by’s and birds lingering in trees dotting the sidewalk.
But on the inside you are still panicking. The last time you’d meet him in a cafe was a total surprise. This time it’s planned, and that leaves too much room for your brain to overthink it.
As you finally push through the doors of the cafe you had found your way to, a tiny bell above jingles. But you’re hardly focused on it as you look to the front counter.
Seeing the exact person you were here for already grabbing two drinks from a barista at what you can only assume is a pickup counter.
As he spins around, he catches your momentary surprise, complimented by flushed cheeks. To this he smiles and nods you over with his head.
He looked excited to see you. Like a longtime pair of friends meeting up again after a while apart.
Your feet kick back into gear at his nod, following him over to a table that’s tucked into the corner. He had his pleasing bag slung across the top of the chair.
“Hi lovely,” he says the minute you’re close enough to hear his deep voice.
“Hi Harry.” You smile, heart still beating too fast. The words feeling different as they get spoken from your mouth.
He walks the few steps around the table, closing the gap still between you— and he doesn’t wait for you to hug him, he just pulls you straight into the warmth of his arms.
Wrapping you up in a way that you can smell the cologne lingering on the dip of his neck into his shoulder.
His accent is muffled by your hair as he talks gently, “how’ve you been?”
The common question has your head reeling. In its simplicity is still sweetness.
You pull back, his eyes training on yours, looking keenly at you, awaiting an answer from your almost shy lips.
“I— yes, I’ve been really good thank you.” You nod, how could you not be? Look where your standing, who you’re standing with.
“What about you…?” You ask, watching as the corners of his pink mouth upturn.
He’s freshly shaven, you notice, and your fingers twitch with the need to glide over the smooth skin of his cheek.
You resist as he answers, still relatively closer than you should be out in a public place.
“I’m doing well, even better now.” He raises his eyebrows, a cheeky grin coming on his face.
He revels in blood that rushes into your cheeks, reddening them up like you’ve just run a mile.
“Oh, stop it. You’re a bloody flirt.” You roll your eyes in an attempt to play it off, and you also take a step back to seat yourself in the chair at the table he’d picked.
Maybe he was a flirt at most times. But from his perspective, with you in a dress like that? Not to sound like he’s drawing on the one direction lyrics, but as if you don’t know you’re beautiful.
I mean, sure, he thinks you’re aware that you’re pretty. But in the way it’s working him up, you seem to be clueless.
Because he’s almost stumbling on his words at the sight of you, soft fabric flowing seamlessly over your tan skin, cutting off above your knees leaving him with thoughts that he should not be having in a public space.
But at the same time, he tries to convince himself it’s nothing but a wholesome coincidental friendship. Even though if at any point tabloids get a hold of this, it will be very very far from that.
You’re watching as he looks a little caught up in thought, and you chuckle at it.
The sweet noise breaks him out of it, and he’s grateful for that. It was a rabbit hole he was happy to just not go down right now.
“Can’t help it,” he shrugs, going over to his own seat.
“Now, i need the full story of what happened with your friends luggage at the Singapore airport?”
You let out a laugh, a little surprised he even remembers to bring it up. You had been texting about travel, and told him the time your friend had her luggage lost in a layover between Singapore and London last month.
“I mean, where did it leave it off?” You had explained a partial amount of the story. But told him, if you’d planned another cafe trip it would be a lot easier to explain the ins and outs.
And he was overly excited to watch you tell the tale. Watch the way your hands moved as you animatedly told the story, and the way your eyes get a little lost in thought.
He caught tiny glimpses of it the first time you’d met, but he craved to watch it happen in full. Among other things.
You told him how you’d had 12 hour layover, but that you guys didn’t want to book a hotel since they were so expensive. But you were still meant to collect your luggage— and everyone else but your friend Bonnie got it back.
“She’s Scottish, crazy red hair and she is like a fire cracker. She was actually at the last show, in the front with us, but anyway— so she’s running around Singapore airport accosting all the staff with her stressed out and angry Scottish accent.”
You went back and forth with the many fuck arounds of that day, how you went from halfway across the airport to a misplaced baggage unit per a staffs advice, only for the lady at the front desk to say it wasn’t there— and to go back to the support centre.
“It was not funny at the time,” you said, “but fuck, looking back now it’s pretty good. And it makes a fun story to tell.”
“So where did she actually get her stuff back?” He asks, frowning with a curious smile.
“Oh, like 6 hours after we originally got off the plan. They’d told us to wait up at that little customer support place and after like another hour and a half, some really frazzled guy came running up with it.”
And you laughed at the image in your head, sweaty and looked terrified he’d gotten the wrong bag, “We asked where it had gotten lost, but he just asked if it was certainly ours, then when we said yes he nodded and practically ran the other way.”
Harry was smiling so hard his cheeks hurt.
“God, is that quite a story.”
“See why I said texting it would have been way too hard.” You amend, reaching for the deserted cup of tea you hadn’t even drank out of yet, taking a sip.
Exactly how you like it, and you smile. Watching him watch you drink it.
“Just how you like it, yea?” He asks to confirm. But also lost a little in the way the liquid seamlessly travels from the cup down your throat.
“Yea, perfect.” You nod, clutching the warm cup between your hands, tongue swiping out over your lips.
“Anyways, what about your own crazy travel stories. Since you’ve done plenty of it.” You prompt, unaware of his remaining gaze.
The afternoon went of just like that. Telling stories and sharing funny little anecdotes that had you laughing so hard that tears were about to spill from your waterline.
You slowly forget that it’s Harry Styles you’re sitting with. And of course that sounds weird. But it’s like there came a certain point in the afternoon where he just became simply Harry.
Nothing more, nothing less.
It had been a rather long time you sat in that same cafe with him. So much that the chairs, originally very comfortable, had started to become the opposite as time flew on.
“Are these chairs starting to hurt your ass too?” He asks, humour lacing his tone as he watches you adjust yourself in the chair for the third time in the last 10 minutes.
“Yea, the metal seats are lowkey not it.” At this he laughs, the way you word things somehow being more entertaining than most.
“Well, cmon, I already paid, we can go for a walk if you want?” He rises from his place, and you’ve never stood up quicker.
“Braving the Italian sun at its very brightest are we?” You joke, smiling as he grabs his bag and slings it over one of his broad shoulders.
“Could be a big regret, could also be very scenic.” He says as you grab both your empty cups.
“I forgot to put sunscreen on as well, so might have a different colour forehead to the rest of my body but… oh well.” he shurgs, following you over to the small bin by the cafe door.
You’re immediately thinking of the time he went to a show after going out golfing and he had a sunburnt head.
“Wouldn’t be the first time.” And it takes you by surprise that the teasing words made it out of your mouth.
Yet, he seems happily indifferent to it, like it’s of course something you’d know, “Whatever you.”
Your laughing at his response as you hold the door open for him, exiting the cafe into the heat.
A tortured sigh is let out of you both at the swelter of it. The concrete pavement doing nothing but intensify it.
“I underestimate the weather every day here, I’m wearing too many layers of clothing to be dealing with this.”
“Take your hoodie off you dolt.”
He usually keeps layers on so that his tattoos are less visible. Since they’re often a dead giveaway of who he is. So his hands hesitates as they slip to the hem of his jumper.
“Don’t tell me you went out with just a jumper on, no other layers. In Italy?” You shake your head, still smiling as you slowly walk into the shaded part of the sidewalk.
“No— I did.” He laughs, “just m’tattoos usually garner some attention.”
He clarifies, “that sounded really egotistical, not the tattoos themselves, I meant people recognise me easier when they’re out.”
“Oh!” You stumble a little in your thought process. Feeling a little silly for not realising.
“I kind of like… forgot?” You say, coming to a stop as he eventually succumbs to the heat and peels the jumper over his head. Folding it up and popping it into his bag, glancing at you with a tiny breathe of relief at his new found ventilation. Hands moving to tousle with his hair in attempt to flatten it after pulling the jumper over it.
“I mean, i did. too honestly.” He agrees, continuing to walk forward.
You read into that a million different ways. But he makes sure you don’t get confused, “Y/N, don’t look so worried. I just mean you’re a very easy person to get… i dunno, lost in.”
Oh okay? How does one just casually continue putting one foot in front of the other after someone says something like that?
“You flatter me too much.” You roll your eyes, still as awful as ever at masking your shock or adoration for something someone’s said.
“Cmon, you’re just too humble i think.” He bumps you with his shoulder.
You’re laughing at him. But stop dead in your tracks as you stop something across the road.
“H.” You say, and he also comes to a halt. Taking a moment to process your use of his nickname. Like the way it so gently came from you.
Yet you sound almost dire, so he’s looking over where you are, scanning the sunny street for something that could possibly concern you?
For a moment he thinks it may be paparazzi, but this side of town is usually much better in regards to that.
He feels protective of you, “What? Are you okay?”
“There’s ice cream over there.” You say, hand coming up to cover your mouth a little.
A breath of relief fills his lungs, “i— you made it out like this was a life or death situation about t’unfold.”
Your expression turns to a grin, “no, i just love Italian ice creameries!”
“Can we please go and get some?” You glance back to him, and his own smile widens at your face. Gleaming with this unfiltered excitement over something so simplistic.
“Of course we can.” And you’re immediately grabbing his wrist to tug him across the road towards the shop.
“As if I could say no to you, anyway.” He laughs as he keeps up with your quick pace, clearly on a mission.
Once inside the store, with its pink and mint coloured walls and decor, you move to look at the collection of flavours.
The staples such as vanilla and strawberry, but then a small selection of more slightly diverse ones, like peanut butter brownie or salted caramel.
Their cookie dough ice cream looks amazing though, filled with chocolatey chunks of cookie. So you decide relatively fast that’s what you want.
And then you turn to Harry, whose eyes are still darting between flavours indecisively.
“What one do you want?” You ask, and he adverts his eyes to you.
“No I’ll order.” He shakes his head.
“No-no. Let me get this for you, please.” He goes to protest and you nudge him with your elbow, “don’t be stubborn. I want to get you something.”
“I— fine. But know you’re just as pushy as i am.” He scoffs with a laugh.
“I’ll get… maybe chocolate?” He points to it, and you nod.
The older lady at the counter is overly lovely, and you’re rattling off your order to her with a beaming smile.
Harry watches your interaction with her, and how you take a moment to compliment the heart covered apron she was wearing.
His heart trips over it’s own rhythm at the sight.
You pays and he still feels a little guilty, but figures he can make it up to you next time they go out by getting you a cookie or two with your tea.
You come back to his side with the two cones, stacked two scoops tall, and hand one to him.
“Thank you, you didn’t have to though.”
“It’s fine, Harry. Do you wanna find somewhere outside to sit?” You ask, turning to wave at the lady who served you as your slowly exiting the shop.
“Sure, i saw that little bench under a tree a couple shops down near that park.” He nods, taking his turn to lead the way there.
You shortly find the way there, sitting yourselves down on it, looking out onto a small playground with some kids swinging on monkey bars and sliding down the slide.
“Italian ice cream will forever be the best kind of ice cream.” You sigh out with pleasure, licking over the cool scoop.
He unwittingly is blushing at the sight, suddenly batting away mental images at the sight of your pink tongue jutting out of your mouth.
Shaking his head, he pushes them aside. “Definitely. You can tell it’s handmade.”
He busies his own tongue on his own ice cream, only stealing occasional glances to you at his side.
But he can’t help but tilt his cone to you, “Wanna try the chocolate?”
His offer comes as the equivalent of a brick to the head, but you’re invested in making yourself not seem psychotic.
So you nod nonchalantly, “i will, but I have a feeling that’s just because you want some of mine.”
“Mm, maybe I do a little.” He agrees, but any other coherent thought dies where it was in his head at you leaning over to his own cone. Your tongue running over the ice cream, collecting up its sweet residue.
You nod, “That’s so good.” Acting like you’ve got a normal internal monologue right now. Even though she’s hurling things at you that you can’t all process in such a short flash of time.
You just put your mouth where his has been! He is about to do the same thing! His eyes look a little blown out! What the fuck!
Pretty much what it sounds like up there, along with some alarm bells and screaming.
However you just gesture your cone to him, taking mental images of him mirroring what you did just before.
He hums a sound of enjoyment as he pulls back, glancing up at you, pinning you with his green gaze. “Good choice.”
You agree with a slight mumble, shaking your head momentarily to clear your thoughts. Ready to change the subject so you can internally recollect yourself.
“I only regret sitting out here since it’s melting so fucking fast.”
“I know,” he also settles quickly back into the normality of the moment, “i cant eat it quicker than the rate it’s melting.”
“It’s cold though, which is at least a win.”
Conversation trails on as normal while you finish off the ice cream. Discussing if biting the bottom off an ice cream cone is normal or not.
And before you know it you check your phone when you get a text from your mum, asking what time you’re able to call tonight.
She misses you heaps, you can tell. But despite the timezone difference you are making it work.
You also glance up at the time and realise it’s nearing 4pm. And you have just spent majority of the afternoon with Harry.
You also realise you’d agreed to have dinner with all of your friends in one of their hotel rooms tonight.
“Seems like it’s my turn to have to be the one to bail.” You say, popping your phone in your back pocket and looking back at Harry.
“That’s okay, love, what’s the plans for the evening.”
You explain that you’ll go over the the girls hotel room and probably just eat pizza, and then go back to your own room and call your mum for a bit.
He feels a little sad you even have to leave, which is odd, but he nods anyway, “That sounds fun. Solid plan.”
You reluctantly rise from your seat next to him. “So…” you take a tiny breath in, “am I the one picking the next cafe we go to?”
He beams internally at the fact you’re also trying to plan the next time you’re able to meet up with each other.
“I reckon so, Angel.” He stands as well, “I’m good for any day.”
Any plans he has can be rearranged for you.
“Alright!” You feel better immediately knowing you can see him again soon.
“Thanks for the ice cream too, by the way.” He says, walking back over to the pathway with you.
“It’s okay.” You smile, nervously being the one to give him a goodbye hug. A small flutter erupts in your stomach as his hands pull you flush to him around your lower back.
“I’ll see you soon, mkay?”
“Yea. Ill talk to you later.” You remind yourself that he’s easily accessible to talk to. You literally have his number.
“Bye H.” You give him a squeeze, pulling away with a smile, “Bye Y/N.” And you wave as you start the walk back to your hotel. Plenty of things to think about.
———
“Did you guys see the supposed pics of harry today on harryflorals? He was hanging out with someone apparently!” Nina asks everyone.
Only two of you hadn’t, including yourself.
She passes the phone first to you, and you frown.
“I know, looks like it’s taken on a potato.” She says, assuming your furrowed brows are due to the fact the image is really hard to get anything from.
Unless you know that park bench he’s ‘allegedly’ sitting on. And that the blurry figure next to him is almost certainly you— but no one else can tell.
“Yea… shit that is…” You pause, brain freezing a little, “bad quality.”
You hand her phone back. But caption of the post still festering in your head long after the moment is over.
HARRY *SUPPOSEDLY* WITH A GIRL IN ITALY TODAY! but this is the only pic we got 💔
———
ahh and that’s part two! I hope you guys are enjoying this, and I’m so excited to write more about these two. cant wait for you to see what’s in store for them.
thank you again for your patience while waiting for this second part, and to all the lovely people who requested this oneshot to be made into something more.
taglist:
@harrystylesgirlie @purple9950 @teamspideyman @rociolunaa21 @spiritofbuddha @lemonhrry @deamus-liv @lquvlly @kuntxrgraudunkelbunt @hsfanficsrecss
+ all the anons who sent stuff to my submission box, thank you to you guys too, all my love
#harry styles#harry styles fanfiction#harry styles fluff#harry styles imagine#fanfiction#harry styles oneshot#harry styles x reader#harry styles smut#harry styles x you#harry styles x y/n#famous!harry#fangirl! y/n#welcome to the final show#series#harry styles series#strangers to friends to lovers#fluff#harry styles writing#hes so perfect#italyrry
805 notes
·
View notes
Text
Harry: Vorrei…. Che foste
Me from my couch at home seeing that my baby declines Italian verbs better than an average Italian:
32 notes
·
View notes
Text
The Late Night Flight (pt. 1) /blurb/
AN: this will be part 1 of a 3 part story. the 1st being fluff, the 2nd part being smut, and the 3rd will be a mix of fluff and sick fic. they won't come out that close together, maybe days apart. and forewarning, i don't know much about private jets and how they are set up so if i get some information wrong, ignore it. hope you enjoy. please leave feedback.
This story contains: pure pluff
{ husband!harry - no kids - current harry era }
word count: 658
Harry leaves MSG and gets on his private jet to join his wife on their overnight flight from New York to Italy where the film festive occurs.
As soon as Harry's show at Madison Square Garden night nine was over with, he ran off stage to get ready for the airport. You had left his show a bit earlier than you normally do so that you could be at the airport waiting on him. There was a private jet there awaiting you both that would take you from New York City all the way to Venice Italy for Harry to attend the film festival for his upcoming movie Don't Worry Darling.
By the time Harry made it to the airport, he was exhausted. Running around on stage for two hours and then rushing to get to the airport, it made his limbs feel weak and his head painfully sore. You weren't that much better either.
You'd been up since five this morning and now it was pushing midnight. You just wanted to crawl into your bed at home with your husband and go to sleep, which unfortunately couldn't happen. But you knew you'd both get some sleep on this plane ride to Italy. Typically when you fly on private jets they have reclining chairs that turn into somewhat of a comfy bed.
------------------------------
As soon as Harry gets to the airport, he does all the necessary things to do for traveling on a plane and than follows his security to the gate at which his plane awaits.
"Where's y/n?" Harry asks one of the security guards that's walking in front of him. He hasn't had time to message you to find out where you were.
Turning around, the beefy guy answers, "She's already on the plane waiting for you." Harry was satisfied with the man's answer and kept walking on nearly numb legs. He just wanted to finally be with you. Even if you saw each other minutes before his concert, back in his dressing room.
Harry walks up the few steps on the private jet and makes his way to go find you. It doesn't take long for him to spot where you are. You were already in your seat, getting yourself situated with blankets and pillows for the long night flight. When he sees you, Harry mutters tiredly, "Hi, m'love. Missed you." Then leans down to peck your lips in a quick kiss.
"Hello, babes. Sorry I didn't wait up for you in the airport. Was just too tired and I didn't want to be bombarded with paparazzi." you reply back. Harry instantly feels guilty by your words. He hates that you have to suffer long days when traveling with him or being harassed by paps but you always tell him time and time again that you wouldn't have it any other way. You love getting to travel with your husband.
Harry puts aways his carry on bag and gets situated beside you in his seat. He's wearing gray sweatpants and a hoodie and his hair is slightly damp from the shower he took back at the arena. He looks sexy in better terms, even with the heavy bags under his green eyes.
For the next few minutes you both sit upright in your seats as you go through the normal protocol for flying in private jets. Then once that was done and you've made it into the air safely, Harry begins to recline his seat and situates the blanket you'd brought for him over his long body.
"You're too far away." Harry whines, seeings as the armrest made a divide in your seats. You sit up a bit and push the armrest down so that there wasn't a gap. Then you slide your body over until you were cuddled into his side.
"Better?" you question.
"Mhm, much. Love you." he answers and kisses the top of your head that's laid on his right shoulder.
With your bodies close and the overhead lights dim, you and Harry fall into a cozy sleep as you make your way to the film festival in Italy.
————————————
(PLEASE REBLOG BECAUSE WRITING IS NOT EASY AND IT’S FREE SO JUST DO IT)
tag list: @one-sweet-gubler // @harryscherrysugar // @japanchrry // @harryhoney-bee // @lollypopsx // @harrycanyonmoonn // @itfeelslikemytherapisthatesme // @bohogothic // @damnasstyles // @mrsstylesharry // @softmullet // @meetmyblondemuffins // @thegirlnextdoorssister // @stanleystyle // @haarrry // @michellekstyles // @wherethehellhaveyoubeenharry // @stallrry // @skyangel57 // @the-gardener-31 // @lhharrylilpumpkin // @gublerscherry // @yousunshine-youtemptress
// @clairestylessss // @kissmyaxe140 // @goldenmelonsugar-hi // @kaitieskidmore1 // @florencepughily // @alienorknight //@dancearoundthelivingroom // @swiftmendeshoran // @luv-flor7777 // @alohastyles-x // @tenaciousperfectionunknown // @sleutherclaw // @siredtohybrid // @whoscamila // @a-strange-familiar // @golden-elodie // @mrspeacem1nusone // @goldenkhae // @lntwithharry // @mellowkingdombouquet // @manifestrry // @mendesblurb // @sunshinemoonsposts // @depersonalizationsucks // @academiaghost // @zendayassimp // @reveriehs
let me know if you’d like to be added on my tag list in my next post by telling me HERE (let me know if i forgot to add you)
______________
My Masterlist Masterpost
#harry styles#harry styles blurb#husbandrry#husband!harry#softrry#soft!harry#italyrry#harry styles fluff#harry styles fan fiction#harry x reader#harry styles x reader#harry styles on plane#harry styles msg night 9#part 1.
296 notes
·
View notes
Text
like or reblog if you save
don't repost pls
#harry styles#harry styles headers#harry#harry styles icons#harry styles layouts#harry styles packs#harry styles moodboard#harry styles icon#harry styles header#headers#icons harry styles#icon harry styles#italyrry#harry styles messy headers#random icons#cute icons#harry styles gif#harries#harry's house#harry unseen#icons#packs#layouts harry styles#twitter#glasses#cap#fans#art#italy#one direction
36 notes
·
View notes
Note
https://twopoppies.tumblr.com/post/684264309921021952/httpstwopoppiestumblrcompost6842577107090800
🤭
Help🤭😂
#fauxlivia#holivia is fake#holivia stunt#pr stunt#publicitystunt#holivia#pr relationships#olivia wilde#holivia pr stunt#publicity stunt#italyrry
12 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
joenole
Submissive Male Southern Maryland
cryptidcr3ature
That Bitch-20-she/her
surprendslejour
Surprends le jour
ashutoshbhatnagar
Untitled
