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kyracooneyx23 · 9 days

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Leah williamson pleaseeee🙏🙏🙏

Enchanted - Leah Williamson

Leah Williamson x singer!reader

summary - You write a song about England's captain after meeting her briefly at an event not expecting her to share your feelings

Last night had gone by in a blur, you hardly remembered anything that happened. Everything except the short conversation you had shared with a certain blonde. You had accidentally bumped into whilst walking around causing her to spill her drink.

After the first glance, you were captivated by her. She was literally the girl you spent your spare time dreaming about after your last relationships had failed drastically. For the last 24 hours she was all you could think about your thoughts consumed by the short conversation you had shared.

Lights, camera, smile. You were walking around the large area, sipping from your third glass of champagne already and you weren't even half way through the event. You were exhausted from your recent concerts at Wembley, you would've much preferred to be at your apartment watching movies and eating junk. But instead you were being forced to smile for too many cameras.

You were contemplating pulling a sickie and getting an uber home but your mindset switched when you felt yourself collide with another body. 'Shit, I'm sorry.' You look up at the girl in front of you who's previously full glass was now all over the ground and their shoes. You were lost for words, she was hands down the most gorgeous girl you had ever laid eyes on. 'I can get you a new pair, if you'd like.' You offer but your voice is hardly a whisper, your hearts heavy beats probably more audible as nerves take over.

'It's fine, I'll probably never wear them again.' She laughs, the blondes laugh is the greatest laugh you've ever heard, you make it your goal for the night to hear it again. 'Have we met before?' She asks, a quizzical look meeting your gaze.

'I think I'd remember meeting someone as pretty as you.' You blurt out, eyes widening and hand slapping over your mouth once you realise what you just said.

She chuckled at your flustering. 'You think I'm pretty?' She teased a small smirk painting her face.

'No! Yes! I mean, please just forget I said anything.' you say shyly looking down at your feet as you went bright red. The cute blonde let out a laugh. Little did she know how cute you really thought she was.

'I'm Leah by the way.' The unfamiliar girl introduced holding her had for you to shake.

'I'm Y/N L/N.' You say back shaking the girls hand watching as her jaw drops.

'No way am I shaking the Y/N L/N's hand.' She said her voice a pitch higher from excitement. 'I feel like the worst person on earth for not recognising you sooner.' you laughed lightly before you were taken out of the moment by another voice calling Leah's name.

'Leah, I've been looking everywhere for you, let's go you have training early tomorrow.' He says drawing Leah's attention away from the you, you looked to the new man who hadn't even acknowledged your presence, but that didn't matter all that mattered was that Leah was leaving and you had no clue how you were going to find her again.

Leah began following the new man but turned around to face you again. 'It was enchanting to meet you, y/n.' Leah smiled before walking off. Yes it was very enchanting.

Her last words she spoke to you had left you in shock, almost as much shock as when you realized that Leah was in fact the Leah Williamson, you felt like an idiot for not recognizing the English footballer sooner.

But still you couldn't stop thinking about the six words that had such an affect on you that you decided to write a whole song based off them, hence why you spent 5 hours last night writing and rewriting the lyrics to your newest song. One you knew would make the fans go crazy over, but you hoped Leah wouldn't find it to weird.

yourinstagram just posted

liked by oliviarodrigo, hallebailey and 1,930,546 others

yourinstagram last night was sparkling✨

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sadiesink prettiest girl evaaa

yourinstagram says you

madisonbeer miss you y/n/n

yourinstagram come to london mads 🙏

username the things I would let her do to me

user73 the bi panic is real

maddieziegler ugly

yourinstagram 🪞🪞🪞 username02 i want a relationship with my best friend like the one they have yourinstagram trust me you don't user23 help she's so unserious

wosofan77 did anyone else see the pictures of her and leah together

LW6 yes! leah looked like the biggest fangirl

y/n'sbiggestfan is it just me or does the caption sound like a new song lyric????

yourinstagram 😏

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During a meeting with your publisher a few days after you'd finalised your new song and recorded it so it was ready to be released, you were sitting around doing nothing when a loud ping interrupted your daydreaming.

Your jaw dropped.

leahwilliamsonn started following you!

A loud scream left your mouth and you instantly rung your best friend Maddie, who you'd already told everything to involving the Leah situation.

'What do you want now?' Maddie's grumpy voice asked but you didn't care about how pissed she sounded.

'Leah followed me!' You squealed into the phone earning a groan from your best friend.

'Woo.' The american said in the most unenthusiastic, most sarcastic tone you've ever heard.

'You should be happy for your best friend.' You say childishly pouting.

'I would be if you hadn't called me at 5:50 on a Saturday morning, you know this is the day when I have a lie in.' She complains causing you to make an 'o' shape wit your mouth, you'd forgotten about the time difference between London and America.

'Sorry!' You apologise but only momentarily sympathising with the girl before returning to, in your opinion, more important matters. 'Well now you're awake, will you atleast give me advice on what to do. I don't want to embarrass myself.'

'I couldn't care less what you do, just follow her back or something. It's not that deep.' She tells you and you can tell by the way she yawns she just wants to be back in bed.

'Ok, sorry for waking you up. I'll let you get back to your beauty sleep now.' You say waiting for her to say goodbye but instead she just hands up. You roll your eyes, before opening instagram on your phone and hovering your finger over the follow back button next to Leah's profile which you had already spent hours stalking on a fake account. You repeat the words Maddie had told you in your mind a couple of times before manning up and pressing the button. After a while when nothing explodes you let out a breath you didn't realise you'd been holding.

Your publisher then returns to the room holding a couple of papers which she hands to you. 'You know the drill Miss L/N, I love the song and can't wait for you release it. It's going to be a hit.' She smiles and you grin back.

'Thank you so much for all your help, it doesn't go unnoticed.' You tell her. You both say goodbye before you head home.

For the first time in your career, you were releasing a single that you hadn't told the fans about. You didn't really care what they thought, you just prayed that a certain blonde footballer would like the song and not find it creepy.

yourinstagram just posted

liked by sadiesink, leahwilliamson and 3,476,891 others

yourinstagram E N C H A N T E D

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maddieziegler proud of you

yourinstagram 🫶🏽

y/n'sbiggestfan I was right!!!

liawaelti love the song!

katie_mccabe11 so does another Leah... victoriapelova she is going to kill you katie user27 help what are they on about

user43 does anyone know who this is about??

maddiezeigler 🙋

taylorswift 💜

yourinstagram no way your freaking kidding me

oliviarodrigo 🐐🐐🐐

leawilliamsonn 💙💙

upthegunners LEAH?!

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Your song was going viral, fans were going crazy over who you had written it about. But you didn't care, you were still obsessing over the fact that Leah hadn't just liked but also commented on your post. Maybe that meant she didn't find it weird, or maybe she hadn't put the pieces together it was about her.

Surely she had though.

You had made sure to let all your friends know how Leah had interacted with your post, but much to your dismay, most of them hung up mid call. So now you were left alone with a bottle of prosseco, celebrating your latest hit.

You were still wondering what Leah was thinking about the song. You were kind of stressed whether the Arsenal star was finding it creepy how you'd written a whole song about a girl you'd spoken to for the best part of ten minutes. But those worries were put to rest when you checked your instagram.

leahwilliamsonn just posted

liked by bethmead_, stephcatley and 92,370 others

leahwilliamsonn I was enchanted to meet you too

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katiemccabe_11 Leah the simp

leahwilliamsonn piss of McCabe

keirawalsh Leah's in loveeee

leahwilliamsonn i regret posting this now

leahfanpage the way I screamed

user65 bro same, this was not what i was expecting

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leahwilliamsonn sent yourinstagram a message...

Part 2? (also sorry this is terrible)

#leah williamson #leah williamson x reader #lionesses #woso #arsenal #woso x reader #woso community #engwnt #engwnt x reader #woso fanfics #woso soccer #katie mccabe #caitlin foord #steph catley #beth mead #arsenal wfc #this is woso #lionesses x reader

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harryslittlefreakk · 6 months

Text

late night talking

summary: a chance meeting with harry before his wembley dates leads you into a bizarre friendship

wordcount: 1.7k

a/n: i HATE writing meetings. this part is so slow but the next part is linked underneath, which is much nicer ;)

my masterlist can be found here!

“Just a caramel macchiato please”, you said, rubbing at your eyes as you spoke. You always had a hard time sleeping in hotels and tonight was no different. You’d travelled to London to attend some concerts with your best friend, and although she’d invited you to stay with her, you didn’t want to infiltrate her newlywed bubble. So now you were standing in a quiet Starbucks, in your pyjamas, at almost midnight.

You chose one of the comfy tables at the back, hoping not to be noticed by any of the other crazies out at this hour. But not long after you sat down, someone decided to sit in the seat immediately behind yours. You sighed and kept your eyes on your phone, knowing only too well what kind of person chooses a seat next to a woman in a deserted space.

“Sorry, do you have a napkin?” A man’s spoke came from behind you, interrupting your quiet solace. You grabbed one off your table and turned around to pass it over, not looking too closely at the man who asked. His gold rings caught your attention, an obnoxious H S that sent your wide eyes darting up to meet his. The brown curls peeking out from under his hood, the dimpled grin sitting on his chiselled face. It really was Harry. Your heart rate quickened, inches away from the face of the man you were here to see. His laugh broke your spell, and you realised you’d never even let go of the napkin. “Sorry, sorr-“, you spluttered, suddenly unable to think, let alone speak. Harry watched your brain reboot, his smile never faltering, before asking what you were drinking.

He looked over at you from the counter, taking you in. Your messy brown hair, your black vest top paired with pale pink pyjama pants. Your zip-up hoodie had slipped off your shoulders, allowing him to see some patchwork tattoos poking out.

When he returned, Harry sat down across from you and placed the drinks down gently. Holding out a hand for you to shake, he told you his name, which of course you already knew. “Y/N,” you replied, meeting his green eyes. “Well, Y/N, what are you doing in a Starbucks at this time?” Harry asked, taking a sip of his coffee. You mirrored him, bringing your cup to your lips before explaining how you couldn’t sleep in hotels and were in town for a show. He smirked, eyes glimmering knowingly. “I’m here for a show too. And I like being out at this time. It always feels more anonymous.”

~~~

The girl behind the counter called out to you, letting you know the cafe was closing. You hadn’t even noticed the tables being wiped down or the whirring of the coffee machines on their cleaning cycle. Harry slipped a 20 onto the counter as you stumbled out together, mumbling a quick apology. The air was cold after a warm day, and only then you realised how late it must be. “My hotels this way,” you pointed, not wanting to take any more of Harry’s time. His strong hand reached out and grabbed yours, tugging you behind him as he stepped in the opposite direction. “Come on,” he grinned. “I know somewhere we can get more coffee.”

You walked through an eerily deserted London, laughing alongside Harry but wondering now what on God’s green earth you were doing. If Harry was anyone else, you’d be running a mile. You glanced down at your feet, unsure why they weren’t taking you home. Your heart-print pyjama pants were just another reminder of where you should be going. But as you doubted yourself, Harry ground to a halt, sending you flying into the back of him. “What are you doing?” You asked, staring up at the skyscraper hotel in front of you. This was definitely nicer than your choice of digs. Harry only smirked in response, walking towards the doors. You followed him blindly, trailing through the entrance and into the lift behind him. He pulled down his hood and ran a hand through his hair, watching himself in the mirror before his eyes flicked to you. Finally, he spoke, “hotels will give you coffee at any hour on any day, I’ve noticed.”

“Are you staying here?,” you questioned, stepping out of the lift straight into what must have been the penthouse suite. Your eyes were wide in awe, you’d never seen a hotel room like this before. A small kitchen sat on one wall, with a living area big enough to seat an entire family. A king size bed peeked out from behind a glass room divider, everything accented with black and gold glossy metals. You ran your fingers across the back of one of the blue sofas, twirling round to take in your surroundings before your eyes rested on Harry’s. He nodded, amused by your wonder. “You’re welcome,” you scoffed, setting your jacket down on the table. Harry’s eyebrows furrowed, opening his mouth to question you. Swatting at his chest, you replied, “I paid good money for your shows. You’d be in a travelodge if it wasn’t for me.”

“You and thousands of others!” He interjected, swatting right back at your hand. You giggled, holding your hands up in surrender. “Okay, big man.”

Harry slipped off his hoodie, leaving him in only a sweatshirt and running shorts. You studied him properly for the first time, your eyes running from his tousled hair, to the way his sweatshirt was the perfect amount of baggy, to his toned, tanned thighs. If you weren’t careful you might have dribbled. He’d been the celebrity you’d pined over for years, and now you were standing in his hotel room. “You like what you see?,” he said, snapping you out of your daydream as he padded over to the coffee machine. “You got me here under false pretences, you know that?,” you grinned, plopping down on one of the armchairs. Harry’s head whipped around, mouth wide open in a half smirk. “I promised you coffee,” he gestured to the coffee machine, “here’s coffee.”

“You didn’t tell me the coffee was in your hotel room,” you smirked, before mouthing ‘weirdo’. Harry wagged a pointed finger at you, “ah ah ah. Only nice manners get you caffeine in my cafe.”

Your conversation continued well into the early hours. Tattoos, music, work, life, pets - you had everything and more to talk about. And you seemed to feel bizarrely comfortable around each other. It was almost 4am before you checked the time, and you stood up almost immediately to grab your jacket and leave. “My God, Harry, I should really-“ you tilted your head towards the door, your voice groggy now from talking and laughing for so long. “Stay here tonight,” Harry’s words came out quiet and almost shy. “It’s too late to go back to where you’re staying, I wouldn’t feel comfortable with you out alone at this hour.” He stood up as he spoke, yawning and stretching his arms. “Come on, I’ll show you where the bathroom is.”

As he led you towards the bathroom, you realised just how exhausted you were. And his enormous bed did look comfier than anywhere you’d slept in your life. “Harry, I’m really sorry, but do you have a t-shirt or something I can borrow?,” you asked, leaning on the doorframe. He looked you up and down, laughing. “You’re wearing pyjamas already pet.”

“I know! I know. But I went outside in these. Plus my legs get hot when I sleep.” This was true. You loved fluffy pyjama pants as loungewear but you only ever slept in a top and pants, and you couldn’t exactly wear your skimpy vest on its own tonight. Harry shook his head as he chuckled, his unkempt curls bobbing as he did. He yanked a shirt out of his wardrobe and chucked it at you. “Yeah yeah. You just want to tell the world you wore Harry Styles’ shirt.”

“Oh yes,” you rebutted. “Because ‘I slept in Harry Styles’ hotel’ wouldn’t make a good enough story.”

As you came out the bathroom, you resumed your post leaning against the doorframe, watching Harry throw a blanket on the sofa before trying and failing, several times, to stuff his long body on the loveseat. Stifling a laugh, you called out, “Harry, seriously. Not a chance you’re fitting on that sofa. Come to bed.”

As much as he tried to ignore it, you telling Harry to come to bed was far more inviting than he wanted it to be. He felt nuts. After all, you were a fan - a big enough fan that you’d go to all 4 of his Wembley dates. If word ever got out, he’d have hoards of fans outside every hotel waiting to be the next lucky girl. He just couldn’t explain why he was so drawn to you.

“Thank god for that,” Harry sighed, throwing his head back. “I have places to be tomorrow, I need a good sleep.” He whipped the covers bad and climbed in next to you, rubbing his hands over his face. You were thrashing around, trying to find a comfy position. Settling on your side, you tried to scoot as close to the edge as possible to make this slightly less awkward. Neither of you were used to sharing a bed without the promise of ending up tangled around one another.

“Hey,” he spoke quietly now. “What are you wearing tomorrow love?” Pulling you head up to look at him, you giggled sweetly. That pet name could be dangerous for you. “Why do you want to know?,” you questioned. Suddenly, you felt shy about your outfit choice. You were saving your best outfit for the final date, and now you wished you had something flashier to tell him - although, he’d seen you in your cutesiest pyjamas so the damage may have already been done.

“Want to see if I can spot you in the crowd,” he replied, shrugging his bare shoulders under the duvet. You tapped on your nose as you replied, “baby, you don’t need to worry about spotting me. Anyway, what are you wearing?”

Harry copied you and tapped on his nose, before switching off the bedside lamp and calling out a soft ‘goodnight’. You were pinching yourself up and down your arms to make sure you weren’t already dreaming. You couldn’t believe an insomnia stroll turned into Harry Styles’ bed. The Harry Styles’ bed. If only you knew what the rest of the week would hold.

part two

#harry styles #harry smut #harry x y/n #harry x reader #harry x fan #harry fic #Harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fluff

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s6lars · 6 months

Text

⋆ ˚｡⋆ 📂 pedri crashes an interview…

slightly suggestive, a little pedri x reporter!reader moment. inspired by this moment between iker casillas and his then gf after spain won the world cup. let's pretend barca wins the cl. enjoy!

"Can we get one more player to interview?"

Your producer's voice rings through the earpiece, prompting you to push it deeper to hear better.

The thunderous roars from the humongous crowd bleeds through the tunnels of Wembley Stadium, still persisting hours after the full-time whistle blew the moment Barcelona became champions of Europe.

"Come again?" you reply.

"One more player. Get them in front of the mic."

Jules Koundé and Fermin Lopéz had stopped by for an interview earlier, but clearly that wasn't enough for your producer or the show. Standing on your tiptoes, you scan the busy yet lively atmosphere of the tunnels — crowded, upbeat, slightly cramped, and filled with a persistent tone of chatter from the tens of reporters present.

It doesn’t look like any new players would emerge from the dressing rooms, at least not for a while. You were just about to inform your producer about it when you see your boyfriend walking into the room, nudging his way through the crowd.

Pedri González in all his glory, sporting the signature blue and red kit, beads of sweat in his hair and the rosey blush splayed across his face. The calls of reporters grew as they tried to get his attention, but once his honey brown eyes met yours, it was only you who he was drawn to.

He makes the proud walk to your booth, the shiny Champions League medal dangling on his neck, gleaming under the lights. Pedri's smile grows with every step, happily ignoring the twenty or so other reporters calling his name.

"Hey baby," Pedri coos, hands naturally wrapping around your figure. Your body tenses for a moment at the PDA — it doesn't go unnoticed by him, swiftly releasing you from his embrace.

Although your relationship had been long public by now, this the first time your worlds have crossed professionally (ironic, given that you were a sports reporter, and Pedri was an athlete). There were several conversations about this and it usually ended the same way — as long as there was a camera pointed in your direction, there could be no signs that you were a couple.

"You're working right now?" Pedri asks. You nod in response.

"I need you for an interview. It won't be long, I promise." You signal at your cameraman to prepare the interview, turning back to Pedri.

"I wouldn't mind either way." There's that smile again, the smile that only draws one out of you as well. "Hey, I didn't see you during the celebrations earlier.”

“I know, I’m sorry. I had to get ready for this,” you recall, taking off as soon as the Blaugranas lifted the trophy. It pained your heart to not run up to Pedri and jump into his arms, instead, you ran the other way to touch up your makeup underground.

“But hey, we can take pictures later. When it’s less crowded. And a lot quieter.”

“I can think of several things we can do where it’s less crowded. Dunno about quiet, though,” Pedri teases, low enough so only you could hear.

No amount of Patrick Ta blush could replicate the growing heat painted on your cheeks. You shove him playfully, watching as he bites the inside of his cheek to stifle a laugh.

Pedri looks devilishly handsome tonight — he always does, but something about his boosted confidence from the win only amplified it. His tongue darts out to lave over his bottom lip, taking it between his teeth as he drinks in your figure.

Were the tunnels always this hot?

“Guys,” your cameraman calls, signaling for you to get ready. You shake off all the unholy thoughts in your mind reserved for the comfort of Pedri’s hotel room later that night, fix your hair, and bring the mic up to your chest.

One, two, three, your cameraman mouths, and you’re live on air to millions.

“Welcome back to Wembley! Most of the players are still celebrating by now, but I’m joined by Pedri here.” The camera pans, now fitting you both into the frame.

“Is there anything you’d like to say?” You hope the sound system doesn’t catch the unusual giddiness in your voice as you address him.

“What is there to say? What should I tell you that you already don’t know?” Pedri’s eyes don’t leave yours for a second, completely disregarding the lens, speaking like you’re the only person in the room.

“Well, tell us how you feel,” you respond through giggles, instinctively taking a step closer to him.

“You’ve caught me in a true moment of happiness, not just from me, but from the rest of the club. It’s been a season full of ups and downs and we truly feel like we’ve deserved for it to end this way,” Pedri explains.

“… and I just want to thank all the people that have supported me throughout all this. My parents, my brother…”

Pedri’s voice breaks as he reaches the end of his sentence, his finger reaching up to swipe any stray tears spilling onto his cheeks. You wanted nothing more than to drop the microphone and pull his head into the crook of your neck, but you stood your ground.

Watching the love of your life speak so highly of his loved ones, pouring his heart out with the world watching, it’s why you fell in love with him in the first place. And you feel like it’s happening all over again.

“It’s fine, we can just talk about other things for now…” You try to diffuse the situation, watching as Pedri regains composure in front of you.

“No,” he suddenly blurts, waving his finger.

“No?” you barely manage to squeak out before Pedri leans in — and he’s kissing you.

One arm around your shoulders and his free hand gripping your chin, Pedri moulds his lips against yours. All sense of professionalism had evaporated from your body, drunk on the way he tasted.

He pulls away before you could kiss back, landing one last sneaky peck on your forehead before making a run for it. “I’m leaving! See you later!” he says in between giggles.

You watch him disappear into the stairwell when the sound of applause fills your ears, and you only then realize what position you’re in — putting on a show for the crowd of reports.

“My my, Pedri. What a man he is.”

A voice rings through your earpiece. You also put on a show for the crowd of millions at home.

Your face is heated once more, your words tripping over themselves as you try to think of a closing statement. Part of you wants to scold Pedri and teach him a lesson for messing with you at work — the other wants him to kiss you senseless again, letting the world know you belong to each other.

“When Pedri comes back to Spain, tell him I want to give him a kiss as well!”

#@s6lars #@s6lars: pg8 #football x reader #football x y/n #football x you #football imagines #pedri x reader #pedri fluff #pedri imagines #pedri headcanons #pedri scenarios #pedri x y/n #pedri drabbles #pedri one shots

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moonflowerdamie · 10 months

Text

everyone thinks that they know us (but they know nothing)

Word Count: 2.7k

Title from 'Dress' by Taylor Swift.

Based on a request from @idkwhatnameuselol :)

*****

3:28 blinks back at you from the clock on your bedside table as you turn to check it for what must be the hundredth time. The numbers, red and unassuming, may as well be laser beams with how they send a pang of anxious pain through your head. You’ve got to be up in less than 5 hours. Brilliant.

You are, typically, an overthinker. So this, the situation you find yourself in now—mind whirring, brain unable to shut down—is not uncharacteristic in the slightest. It’s almost laughable that you thought you’d be getting a full 8 hours tonight, what with the stunt you’re planning to pull tomorrow—well, today, actually. The correction makes you wince.

Rolling onto your back, you stare up at the ceiling in the dark. By this point, you’ve practically given up on getting any sleep; a stupid move, given the very important game you’re to be a part of in less than 10 hours. But sleep seems a distant dream, and you’re not going to frustrate yourself with another futile attempt. Better to be calm and awake, rather than irritated and grumpy.

You’re pretty set on just waiting the night out when you feel her turn over beside you, an arm slung over your waist, her fingers curling protectively over your hip.

“Why are you still awake?”

Alessia’s voice is hoarse from sleep, her eyes bleary and hair a mess, and you can’t help but fall a little bit more in love with her at the sight.

“Just thinking.” You whisper back, hoping you sound reassuring and not like you’ve just spent the last 4 hours tossing and turning, mulling over the next day. You can tell you’ve failed when her brows furrow and she shuffles closer.

“About tomorrow?” You nod, and lift your hand to card your fingers through her hair. Alessia sighs happily and leans into your touch, but concern remains written in her features.

“It’s going to be a tough game, we know that; I mean it’s a semi-final so of course—”

“Not that,” you cut her off gently, “not the game itself.”

Realisation darkens Alessia’s eyes and her face softens even more. Wordlessly, she extends her arms to you. You smile tiredly, nudging your way into her grasp until your face is buried in her neck, arms wound around her waist, her hands rubbing soothing patterns into your back. You breathe in deep, and the familiar scent of her calms you somewhat. Her pulse flutters against your lips, brushing against her throat, and you kiss the spot tenderly.

The two of you lie in silence for a moment, enjoying the peace you always find in each other’s embrace. Alessia presses kisses soft as raindrops to your head, and you feel drowsiness start to seep into your bones.

She speaks after a while, moving one hand up to scratch gently at your scalp, knowing it always helps you drift off.

“It’s going to be ok, you know. It’s scary now, and it’ll be scary tomorrow, but we’re doing it together.” She presses another kiss to your head. “And once it’s done, it’s done. No more hiding.”

You know she’s right; she always is (though you’ll never tell her that), so you nod against her and snuggle in even closer. Before you know it, your eyes are closing, your body going slack.

The last thing you hear before you succumb to sleep is Alessia’s voice, honey-sweet and quiet, telling you she loves you. You smile faintly, and drift away.

*****

The morning comes, and with it your anxiety.

You’re a ball of nervous energy through your morning routine, through breakfast, all the way to the stadium. The other girls sense it and leave you to it—they probably think you’re stressed about the game—something you’re very thankful for as you bite at your nails entering the changing room at Wembley.

You take your sweet time getting ready, pulling your kit on and fixing your hair slowly and methodically. One by one, the other Lionesses leave the room and head out to warm up, until it’s just you and Alessia left.

Pulling the shirt out of your kit bag feels monumental, and as you stare at the name printed on the back, you feel the strangest mixture of exhilaration, nerves, nausea and pride.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Alessia checks one final time, placing a hand on your knee. Her eyes are searching, and you know that if you were to back out now, there would be no judgement from her. The thought comforts you, steels you. You look back at the name above your number and smile. This is it.

You nod, grinning at her. A matching smile spills across her beautiful face as she leans in and kisses your temple.

“Let’s do this then.”

*****

Your teammates don’t notice right away, most of them too focussed on readying themselves for the match ahead, too lost in their own preparations to register the changed name on your back.

It’s something of a relief, as it allows you to get into the headspace you need to be in for the semi-final—Sweden aren’t going to be an easily beaten opponent, so you need to be at your best.

Keira is the first to clock: you see confusion spread across her face as you turn away from her to grab some cones for a passing drill, and your heart leaps into your throat. She says nothing though, merely shakes her head a little and gets on with passing, but the seed is sown.

As kick-off approaches, you see more and more of your teammates starting to notice. Leah, stoic as ever, stares blankly at the back of your shirt for a good few seconds before turning away to stretch. Rachel, hardly as subtle, spots the name and nudges Millie, the both of them looking on with scrunched up expressions, like they can’t quite figure it out.

It’s Georgia who finally speaks up, pointing it out as the two of you practise one-two’s.

“Why are you wearing Alessia’s shirt?” She asks, loud enough for said woman to hear. Alessia turns to face you guys from where she was shooting against Mary. You smile, hoping your fear doesn’t show in your face, heart racing.

“I’m not.”

“Then why does it have ‘Russo’ on the back?” Georgia questions, utterly baffled.

Because, here’s the thing: you’re not wearing Alessia’s shirt. It’s yours. As is the name on the back of it—your name, and your wife’s.

Your wife. You still can’t quite believe it.

The two of you have been together for almost 4 years now, and you got married last October. In secret. Nobody except your families know about the wedding. Nobody, not even your teammates, even knew you were dating. You’d hidden the relationship all this time.

There are a plethora of reasons why you and Alessia kept the relationship a secret. First of all, neither of you are publicly out as queer, and way back when the two of you started out, neither of you were ready. Coming out to family and friends is hard enough, but to the whole world? It had seemed impossible.

A million other worries and concerns and preferences had helped you make the decision to keep quiet about your love to the general public, but also to your teams, both club-level and internationally. It’s not that you don’t trust the girls you work and play with—that’s not it at all—but a secret relationship is a private relationship, and god knows the two of you needed that.

You’re surrounded by these girls almost every day, and it’s almost impossible to keep things to yourself. This is your first major tournament with the Lionesses, but already you know almost too much about your teammates, and vice versa.

What you have with Alessia, you felt was nobody’s business. It’s quiet and peaceful, and more than anything, it’s yours and yours alone. So you kept it that way.

But now, married and settled, you both decided it was time to let the team, and the world, know: Alessia is yours and you are hers, happily and forever.

Georgia is still waiting on an answer as you reflect on all of this, and so Alessia steps in.

“It has Russo on the back because that’s her name.” She says cheerily, before skipping off to grab some water.

Georgia looks puzzled as you suck in a breath and wait for the penny to drop.

It doesn’t.

“Weird.” She scoffs, and carries on with the drill, saying nothing more on the subject.

You can’t tell if you’re relieved or not.

*****

The game goes well, with you beating Sweden and gaining a spot in the Euro’s final. It’s exhilarating and joyful and when your wife jumps into your arms after the final whistle blows, you think that you could die happy after today.

As the roar of victory dies down and fans begin to exit the stadium, you and Alessia head over to her family, standing by the railing. Yours couldn’t attend the match, but Alessia’s parents and siblings feel like home all the same.

“Oh, ragazze, well done! I’m so proud of you both!” Alessia’s mother says, clutching both you and your wife to her in a tight hug. You grin, still high on the emotions of the game, and squeeze her back before you pull away. Alessia’s arm winds around your waist as you stand there and chat to her family, and from the corner of your eye you can see Keira and Lucy watching the two of you.

After the game, Alessia’s family take you both out to dinner to celebrate. It’s a great night, it always is with the Russo’s, and you’re so happy that you don’t notice half the team’s stares when you walk back into the hotel later that evening, Alessia’s hand in yours.

*****

The confrontation comes the next day after breakfast.

It’s rest day, but Sarina had asked the team to stay together, playing games and watching movies as a way to bond a little more before the final, so all of you file into the games room after you eat.

You manage to get through Twister, Jenga and half of a Star Wars movie before it finally happens.

“Right.” The movie is paused, Lucy holding the remote and turning to fix you and Alessia with a firm stare. You swallow hard, eyes darting about the room.

“Luce, put the film back on, we—” Millie whines, but Lucy cuts her off.

“I will. After those two tell us what the hell is going on.”

Every eye in the room turns to you and Alessia, following Lucy’s accusing gaze. It’s dark in the games room, all the lights off and curtains drawn for the film, but you can still see the faces of your teammates, the way their eyes shine with curiosity.

“What do you—” You start, innocence coating your tone, but Lucy stops you.

“You know exactly what I mean. Wearing a shirt with Alessia’s name on, the both of you going for dinner with her family last night. And don’t think I can’t see that hickey Less, you’re not subtle.”

A blush heats your face as your wife shifts next to you, her hand coming up to rub at the mark you’d left just above her collarbone—perhaps you got a little carried away last night.

(Alessia wasn’t complaining when you’d given her it but that’s not the point.)

“So come on, out with it.”

Lucy’s questioning seems to start the others off as well, and soon the room is a cacophony of voices asking you what was happening and what yesterday was all about. And you wanted this, you know you did; wanted the girls to know about you and Alessia, but here, now, with everyone looking at you and asking all the big questions, you’re starting to panic a little.

Your mouth goes dry, hands turning clammy as you struggle to stay calm. Anxiety is clutching at your heart and your blood rushes in your ears.

Alessia clocks, seeing the panic so clearly displayed in your body language, and, in what was a noble attempt to help you out, shuts the whole room up.

“Guys, would you please leave my wife alone.”

Silence. Complete silence follows Alessia’s words. Every mouth in the room hangs open as the girls process what she’s just said.

And then—

“Wife?!”

“Wait, you and Y/N are together?”

“You’re married?! Since when?”

“What the absolute fuck?!”

The room explodes with noise, questions and incredulity spilling out and filling the air. You’re not sure who’s asking what, shaky and somewhat nauseous. Beside you, Alessia slides her fingers between yours and squeezes three times. I love you.

It takes a while for the girls to calm down, but when they do, your wife takes the lead, answering all their questions patiently whilst you bite your lip and watch the room for reactions.

After the shock of it, everybody seems happy for you. There are a few congratulatory remarks made, and a couple of teasing comments, mostly from Millie and Mary.

(“Oh, so that’s why they always room together at camp!”

“Shut up, Mearps.”)

In fact, the only person who doesn’t seem delighted for the two of you is Ella. She sits there, brows drawn together, jaw clenched. It makes your stomach turn over with nerves—she’s Alessia’s best friend, and you desperately want her approval. You don’t know why she seems so upset, but it’s starting to make bile rise in your throat.

She explains her dismay before too long.

“Less, you didn’t tell me?”

And her voice is hurt, small. Alessia turns to her. You see her smile drop when she meets Ella’s eyes.

“El, we didn’t tell anyone, only our families.” She speaks softly, and you can tell she feels guilty. You do too. Ella and Alessia are like sisters, and it must hurt to realise Alessia kept such a big secret from her, even if it was for a good reason.

“But I’m your best mate.” There’s a hint of betrayal in her tone, and you see pain flash over Alessia’s face.

The rest of the room has gone silent as the two speak, watching with bated breath. You squeeze Alessia’s hand in a show of silent support.

“I’m sorry, El, I really am. We wanted to keep it private. It was nothing you guys did or didn’t do, we just—we just wanted to be us, just us, for a little while.”

Ella is silent for a moment, gears evidently turning. You bite your lip even harder, nearly drawing blood as you wait for either a shouting match or forgiveness.

“So, nobody knew except your families? Nobody?”

“Nobody.” Alessia confirms. “And if we had decided to tell people back when we started dating, you’d have been the first to know, I promise.”

This seems to soften her, and Ella chuckles quietly. Hope blooms in your chest.

“I s’pose being a secret made sneaking around under Sarina’s nose a lot easier.”

The whole room laughs at that, and the tension that had been building unravels. Something tight loosens in your body and you slump backwards a little bit as Alessia and Ella begin bantering like they usually do.

As the room settles once more, and Lucy reaches for the remote to resume the film, Alessia leans into your side. Her head comes to rest on your shoulder, hand winding around your arm. You smile, heart jumping. The noise from the TV filters back into the room, providing enough cover for you to press a kiss to Alessia’s hair and whisper a soft ‘I love you’.

“I love you too, Mrs Russo.” She murmurs back, and you chuckle.

The film continues with Alessia snuggled into you. You look around at your friends, see them smiling and happy, see that the world hasn’t ended like you used to think it would if you stopped hiding, and you think, this. This is it. This is right.

You don’t stop smiling for the rest of the day.

*****

A/N: Ok so my first x reader fic is done! I hope you guys liked it, it was fun to write and I love me some Lessi so I'm glad to be putting more works out there for her!

#alessia russo x reader #alessia russo #x reader #woso one shot #woso x reader #woso imagine #fluff #lionesses #engwnt

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alonetimelover · 11 months

Note

Iga just lost 🥲 😭can you write something about that with harry? Xx

pairing: Harry Styles x tennis player!reader (she, her)

summary: YN lost at Wimbledon but Harry is still proud of her.

word count: 0,9k

a/n: had a few heart attacks while watching the match, not gonna lie. here is something that i wished i got after losing a match. i hope you like it, and thank you for requesting!

masterlist (with more of the tennis player!reader) ask, request

“So how does it feel to defeat the No. 1 player at the moment?”

Even though YN was already on her way to the changing room, she could still hear the interviewer. Defeat. Losing. Bad match. Problems. Mental blockade. Those were the sentences she heard during the past two minutes. Her face was stoic, as always. No one could know what was happening under the mask she had put on during the match. No emotions showing (which of course bothered some of the tennis enthusiasts). But just a few more steps and she would be able to let it all out, alone.

After closing the door and settling down her equipment, YN sat down on one of the benches and cried. It had been a long time since she felt this beaten and powerless. Nothing worked. And the more she tried to repair it, just like she had practiced, the more mistakes appeared.

“Get it together,” she sobbed under her breath, wiping off the tears. But they didn’t stop coming. Her face was once again covered in salty rivers.

In all her sobbing and sniffing, she didn’t hear the knocks and then opening of the doors. Only when someone sat down next to her and began embracing her, she was like back to reality. It didn’t take much to recognise the person disrupting her. His smell and the way he wanted to hold her was self explanatory.

“Hi, gorgeous,” he welcomed her, squeezing her tightly to his chest.

YN didn’t trust her voice, in the answer she hugged Harry’s waist and put her head over his heart. The beating of it, usually able to calm her down.

“Shhh.” He tried. “It’s all right. You’re not alone.”

“I’m sorry.” Her usually delicate voice, now even more quiet and fragile.

“What are you sorry for, my love, hmm?”

She took a deep, shaky breath in. “Losing. I know it’s one of the few times you see my play live. And- and we’re also in London, which you love. And-”

“Hey, hey, hey. Stop it. Stop.” Harry interrupted her immediately with a very serious tone. “None of it. Can you please look at me?”

“I don’t think I want to. I’m ashamed.”

Harry’s heart was breaking. Watching the whole match he saw how she was struggling with even her best moves. He watched her come back from losing in the second set and prolonging her time on the Wembley court. He couldn’t have been more proud. She overcame so much during this match. Yet, the outcome, he knew, wasn’t what she wanted to achieve.

“Please, YN.”

Reluctantly, YN looked up. Her puffy, shiny eyes staring right back at his loving ones.

“I am so proud of you.” Harry’s hand was stroking her cheek, drying it from tears. “Everything you’ve accomplished this year is extraordinary. The person and player you’ve become is worth hours of anybody's free time to listen to and appreciate. The path you are on, all the obstacles you’ve left behind, conquered. What happened today is a part of that path. Losing is a human thing, It's part of your career. The greatest tennis players lost some tournaments. Yeah?”

YN nodded her head, now seemingly less shaken up.

“I am proud of you. What you did today was extraordinary. No, don’t look at me like that. I’m telling the truth,” he scolded her, making her look at him by putting two fingers under her chin and directing her face towards his. “You’ve reached the quarterfinals at one of the most respected tournaments in the World. It’s huge. You're a three time Roland Garros champion, an US Open champion as well. You are the No. 1 tennis player in the world. But you know who you also are?”

YN, now looking at Harry with a hopeful and much less disappointed look, shook her head. His pep-talks would always help her. It was different from the one’s she had with her psychologist. But both were effective in their own way. Harry’s let her believe in herself, knowing no matter what there was that one person proud of her, cheering her up. Psychologist’s, on the other hand, helped her work on the emotions she had before, during and after matches, and acknowledged them at the end.

“A human. You’re the most gentle and loving human I’ve ever met. You feel your ups and downs ten times stronger than anyone else. And you care for others, sometimes more than you care for yourself. I am proud of you and nothing will change that. No match, no trophy, no point. No matter what, I am proud and I love you.”

The way those tears were falling down her cheeks and onto Harry’s lap, was not ideal but preferred to the ones from half an hour ago.

“I love you, Harry. I don’t know what I would do without your support. I really don’t.”

“Oh, you would’ve a queue of guys waiting for your attention,” he joked, finally earning a laugh from YN. Sound, he could never get tired of.

“Stop it!”

“Just telling the truth.”

Harry pecked her lips, and once more hugged her body to his. Her heartbeat finally steadied just like the breath. The warmth of her skin, even though not ideal, brought her comfort. Oh, how she wished they were just laying down in their bed.

“I really am proud of you, YN.”

“I love you.”

She wasn’t cured of the disappointment she had felt since getting off court. But she was assured that there really was someone for her, against the world, against her own judgmental mind.

Harry was there.

#harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles imagine #harry styles fluff #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles blurb #harry styles #tennis player!reader

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thetarttfuldickhead · 1 year

Text

He hasn’t heard much from his dad in the past year, but two goals for England and the texts start coming again.

---

He blocks his dad’s number, once, twice, another fucking time, but his father keeps getting new numbers or borrowing his mates’ phones or something and the messages keep coming.

He gives up on blocking them. What’s the fucking point?

He tries not to read the texts. He doesn’t always succeed, and he knows what they say anyway.

---

As the second game against City gets nearer the texts get longer and more frequent and nastier. Insistent. Calls too now, at all hours.

For a while, he can ignore it. Things are good. Called up for England, did well, Richmond is playing better than ever, he’s playing better than ever, there’s Roy and Keeley and the team, and Jamie’s feeling good.

But that’s the thing, isn’t it? Life can’t get too good, because when it does his dad will always come sniffing around, mean old stray looking for juiciest pieces of meat to sink his teeth into, always snapping, snapping, growling, biting, and this ain’t the sort of dog you can jut put down, is it?

Only way to keep it at bay is to never have anything it wants.

But fuck that, because Jamie’s worked fucking hard for this, his life, he’s fought for everything he has and he’s not going to let some nasty old sod ruin it for him or take it away.

So he ignores it, texts and calls and everything, and for a while he can.

---

In the end, it’s not even something in particular that gets to him. No escalation, no sudden appearance of James Tartt in the flesh, no broken beer bottles conspiciously dropped outside his door. In the end, it’s just coming back from his early morning session with Roy to another four missed calls and three drunken voice messages, and just like that, he’s done.

He comes to practice wrapped in barbed wire, donning the old attitude like armour, and if asked he couldn’t even tell you why. Just seems easier, somehow.

---

They all see right through him, and he doesn’t know how to feel about that. Terrified. Stupid. Grateful. Known.

Cared for.

Roy still makes him run an extra ten laps after practice for being an arsehole to everyone instead of telling someone what was going on like you fucking should have, but then he squeezes his shoulder and brings him home to Keeley and makes them dinner while she helps him change his number and make sure everyone who needs to has the new one.

---

“We’ve spoken to City,” Ms. Welton – Rebecca – tells him. “They’ve agreed to ban Mr. Tartt from the premises for our upcoming game.”

The relief is a surprise; the intensity of it. He hadn’t realized until now how much the notion of his father being there had messed with him; his father, watching him, screaming, the sound of his name in that hateful mouth. Only now, when the threat is gone, does he recognize the severity of it.

---

When they news break they’re already on the way to Manchester. Colin is the first to notice and he curses softly and calls for Jamie and tells Isaac and then the whole coach knows.

The Sun: “Star Striker’s Dad Banned from City Game.”

And that’s his dad feigning a look of gentle devastation and it’s all about how Jamie’s money and fame has gone to his head, how he can’t even let his dad watch the game because he’s embarrassed of his humble beginnings, right shame, isn’t it, when people forget where they came from as soon as they make it big? Walked out on City after everything they put into him, didn’t he, and now he’s cutting ties with his family too just ‘cause they’re poor and not educated like, what sort of dickhead does that? “Kid’s turned his back on his roots, thinks he’s too good for us now.”

Manchester City declines to comment, other than to confirm that yes, at the request of AFC Richmond Mr. James Tartt will be prevented from attending the match. Nothing else they can say, really, not without revealing things that aren’t theirs to reveal.

The coach goes quiet, the way the dressing room had done at Wembley last year. Then they rally, anger and encouragements and just ignore it, man and it feels good and it makes him want to hide. He has no fucking idea what to say to them, except yeah, no, it’s some bullshit, yeah.

Ted and Beard huddle together, whispering furiously. Roy’s typing away at his phone, looking especially like he wants to murder someone.

Sam, next to him, doesn’t say anything at all at first, just gives him a small nod. A few minutes later he offers, “My dad says to tell you good luck with the game, you’ll do great.”

And he should feel pathetic for finding comfort in that, maybe, but he doesn’t, much.

The game starts in a few hours. Long enough for everyone to have seen it by then, not long enough to put together a coherent response.

---

The boos and angry noise of the crowd is a furious buzzing in his ears and he squares his shoulders and eyes on the ball and the match is what fucking matters, everything else is just poopy, stupid fucking shit, doesn’t matter—

He plays like he means to outplay the devil himself. Plays like it would have been easy, had old Nick cared to show up.

The booing never stops, not even when Pep makes a point of coming over to him for a quick cuddle and few encouraging words after the final whistle.

---

And they’re back in the dressing room after and the press is clamouring for a conference just a few doors down and Keeley’s driven all the way up from London and they’re all talking strategies and damage control and spinning the narrative and it’s doing his head in. All of them blabbering on and on and on and—

“Can we just tell them the fucking truth?”

That shuts them up. They all stare at him. Higgins is the first to speak. “Do you – do you want to do that?”

No, he doesn’t say. Of course I don’t wanna fucking do that.

But the thing is, everyone that matters already knows, don’t they? So what’s the difference, really, with telling the whole fucking world?

It’s a huge fucking difference, something in him whispers.

He closes his eyes for a moment. Opens them again. All right. “Just think it’s the best thing to do, yeah?”

And there’s murmurs of agreement and Keeley’s looking at him like maybe she wants to cry and he can’t look at her looking like that so he looks away.

Roy catches his eyes. “You want me there with you?”

And yeah, he does want that and he’s too exhausted to pretend otherwise. “Yeah,” he says. “Thanks.”

---

“Are you ashamed of your father, Jamie?”

A moment, then, when it’s still not too late. He can still change his mind. He can still lie. No one has to know: he can still be the untouchable Jamie Tartt, confident and arrogant and never ever a victim.

Fuck that.

“Yeah. I am.”

---

There’s no avoiding the snippets afterwards because they are fucking everywhere but he never watches the whole thing and so he’s not entirely clear on what he really says. Bits and pieces stay with him, though:

“If I’d told ‘em here at City, my coaches and stuff, they’d have helped. I know they would have. But I was too fucking ashamed, yeah, so I never told anyone and I went off to do this stupid reality show instead and I did a whole bunch of stupid shit just ‘cause I was scared about people finding out about me and my dad. Never wanted anyone to know any of that shit.”

And:

“And I know, right, that there are people who’ll say I shouldn’t be in football if I can’t take a hit, like what the fuck am I gonna do when I’m tackled on the pitch and stuff. But that’s different, yeah? I fucking signed up for that. Didn’t sign up for my dad being a huge fucking dickhead, did I?”

And:

“I’m done being ashamed.”

---

There’s Roy too, near the end, and something about making it seem like aggression and violence is a normal thing and how that is part of the problem and how he’s going to do better from now on, and Jamie wants to tell him that, no, Roy has never been the problem, Jamie ain’t ever been scared of him, that’s really not it at all, but Roy does have a point too, doesn’t he, so Jamie keeps quiet.

---

“Was it all right?” he asks, afterwards, when the door’s closed to the press room and it’s just him and Roy and Keeley in the corridor.

“It was great,” Keeley tells him, stepping close to wrap her arms around him. “It was perfect.” Leaning back a little, she runs a hand over his cheek, “I’m really proud of you, Jamie.”

“Yeah, me too,” Roy says and his hug is just half a thing, one arm wrapped around Jamie’s shoulders and pulling him close, but it’s enough to relax into, to rest in.

Keeley’s looking at both of them like they hung the fucking stars.

“How about dinner?” she asks. “Don’t wanna drive all the way back tonight, think I’ll just get a hotel.”

“Yeah, I’m fucking starving,” Roy says.

And okay. He can’t be disappointed about that. Of course they’d want some time together. “Yeah, okay, yeah. Should be heading for the coach anyway. You have fun, yeah?”

The look they exchange is dismayed.

“No,” Roy says, sounding like he’s trying very hard not to sound angry. “You’re coming to dinner with us. Keeley will drive us back in the morning.”

“Unless you’d rather go back now with the rest of the team,” Keeley quickly adds, shooting Roy a pointed glare.

And oh. Okay. “No, yeah, dinner sounds good.”

---

They make him go say goodbye to the lads first, let them know you’re all right, and it’s still with him when they head out into the Manchester night, Colin’s arms around him and Sam’s quiet smile and Dani’s hands on his shoulders and Isaac’s muttered you’re gonna be okay, bruv.

He carries all of it with him, and it makes him feel light.

---

Coda:

“So, Roy,” Ted asks, leaning back into his office chair. ”Got any big plans for the break?”

“Keeley and I are trying for Marbella again. Only two weeks, she can’t be away from the firm any longer. Jamie’s joining us after he’s done with that football camp thing for disadvantaged kids.”

#jamie tartt #roy/keeley/jamie #pre-relationship #james tartt #fic #post 3x10 #ted lasso #so what if i just poured all the self-indulgent fantasies my musings on the next ep has inspired into one fic hmmm #my stuff

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fuckinthewholetown · 2 months

Text

Fallingforyou - Matty Healy Chapter One

I’m kind of shitting myself posting this but, it is what it is. If you think it’s shit, feel free to tell me, but please be nice or I will cry. I’ve also only skimmed over this so if there’s any typos, please tell me so I can fix this.

Tags: Slight angst, swearing, mentions of religion, gay, probably bad writing

Word Count: 2309

As much as you love touring, you’re the first person to admit it can get repetitive. Wake up in a random hotel room, get to the venue, sound check, perform, and repeat.

However, today is different. Today you’re performing a sold out show at Wembley Stadium to 90,000 people. This is the day you’ve dreamt about since you were five, giving one woman performances to your parents in your living room. And the cherry on top is you get to do it with four of your best mates.

Your day starts off as normal, doing your skincare routine in a hotel bathroom in the heart of London. You’re living the dream. That is until you hear a knock at your door. As you’re walking over to answer it, you pull your hair out of the makeshift pony tail it was in previously. Before you could fully open the door, it barges open and your guitarist and best friend Maddie O’Connell storms into the room.

“We need to talk.” She says, pacing back and forth.

“Ok, calm down. There’s absolutely no reason to be this stressed. Take a crystal.” You say, pulling some green agate out of your bra. You’re met with no response, just a deadpan stare. “Noted, not in a crystals mood. What’s up, this is the best day of our careers, it must be something big to get you this stressed.”

“You have to look me in the eye and promise that you’re not going to freak out” She says, sitting down on a seat in the corner of the room.

“I promise. Unless you’re shagging Matty Healy or Harry Styles, then I revoke that promise”

“Not exactly… It’s Ross” She says, refusing to look you in the eye. You stay silent, internally freaking out but refusing to break the promise you made to her. She takes this as you not understanding what she’s on about “Ross Macdonald… The bassist of the”

“Yes, I know who you’re on about!” You say, cutting her off before she can say anything else and send you into even more of a mental breakdown. You stand up, now it’s your turn to pace the room. “You’re fucking the bassist of my favourite band and you just conveniently don’t tell me until 5 hours before the biggest show of our careers? I love you to death, but you need to get better timing babes”

“I know,” she says, still refusing to make eye contact with you, “and we’re not fucking. Well, we are but it’s more than that. I like him, and I think he likes me.”

“How long?”

“Six months…”

“Six months!” This information is enough to stop you in your tracks, “you’ve been shagging the human equivalent of Jesus for 6 months and you forgot to mention it!”

“I’m sorry! I knew you’d freak out because you’re a big fan and I wanted to make sure it was serious before I got your hopes up. However, I’ve kinda been forced into telling you.”

You sit back down, confused over her last statement. “What do you mean forced into telling me? If one of the girls is secretly a bitch and forcing you into this, we can become a group of four. I’m a big boy, I can sing and play an instrument at the same time.” That half joke is enough to make her finally make eye contact with you.

“It’s nothing like that, the girls don’t know yet you’re the first person I told. I’ve been forced into telling you because they’re coming tonight, all four of them are watching the show.” And that statement is the straw that broke the camels back, you’re officially freaking out.

“What? They’re watching us tonight? All four of them are watching us? Oh god, I have to look Matty Healy in the eyes knowing I’ve read the dirtiest tumblr fanfiction about him. I read one of him as a priest, oh god I’m going to hell!” You say, putting your head into your hands. Maddie on the other hand does not see the seriousness of this situation and bursts out laughing.

“Him as a priest? Didn’t strike you as the religious type.” A chuckle escapes your lips as you finally return the eye contact.

“I went to an all girls catholic school actually, I love Jesus.”

“You came out of that school with minor alcoholism and even more gay than you were when you went in, I think Jesus would be disappointed.” She quips back. You laugh, standing back up from your slight mental breakdown.

“I’m happy for you, I really am. When are they getting here?”

“Just before sound check.”

“Before sound check?” You respond, falling back into your mental breakdown. “That’s in less than an hour. I’m meeting my celebrity crush and your new fuck buddy in less than an hour? Get the fuck out, I need to do a full face in 20 minutes!”

You all but push her out the hotel room, scrambling to get ready for the biggest moment of your life.

After somehow managing to do your hair, makeup, and put on a hot ass outfit in under an hour, you walked into the green room at Wembley Stadium. What met your eyes was what could best be described as a sight out of 16 year olds you’s wet dream. All four members of The 1975 sat around the table, gossiping about who knows what. As you walk in, the room goes silent. Luckily, your bandmates are there to quell the awkwardness. The pianist of your band, Sienna Turner is the first to speak.

“Boys,” She says, standing up and dragging you by the forearm into the circle, “this is Y/N!” You were expecting to be met with blank stares, but instead the boys jump up to greet you, tackling you into bear hugs. It’s a warm welcome off everyone. Well, mostly everyone. The man you’ve loved since you were a teenager stays sat in the corner of the room, closed off and refusing to even acknowledge your existence. You figure it’s probably just him being an introvert, so you go over to introduce yourself personally.

“Hey.” You say, hoping for any kind of response. You don’t get one. No acknowledgement, no hey back, not even a snarky comment, he just ignores you. This is not how you imagined this day would go.

“Damn,” you follow up, “I knew you’re an Aries, but I didn’t think you’d act so much like one.” You let out a slight chuckle. He, on the other hand, does not find this so funny.

“Good God.” He responds, rolling his eyes and taking another sip of his drink.

He hates you. The man you’ve been enamored by for almost 10 years despises you. The only possible explanation is he’s seen your private TikTok reposts of endless thirst traps of himself. Nevertheless, you had a show to do. And if there’s on thing you can do despite external feelings, it’s fucking shit up on stage. You nail sound check, sounding better than you ever have. Probably a mix of adrenaline and frustration over the fact that your childhood crush seemingly hates you for absolutely no reason.

You exit stage after sound check, immediately going back to the green room to get ready for the actual show. As you’re getting your makeup and hair done, conversation flows. You and your friends are talking to the boys as if you’ve been friends for years and you didn’t just meet them an hour ago.

“So, Y/N. You’re into like crystals and shit aren’t you? What’s that like, I don’t really get it.” George says, turning all eyes on you.

“It’s not for everyone, but I find comfort in manifestation and things like that. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t think incense will cure cancer but keeping rose quartz in my bra definitely isn’t going to hinder my love life.” You laugh, trying to keep your response brief.

“Bullshit.” Comes from the corner of the room. The first words you’ve heard from Matty since your brief conversation earlier in the day. The room falls silent and you feel a red hue cover your face. The longer the silence, the thicker the tension in the air. You clear your throat, trying to restrain yourself from going over to him and giving him a black eye.

“Like I said, it isn’t for everyone. I was cleansing my room once and my mum thought I was smoking weed. When I told her what I was doing, I think she’d have preferred if I was doing drugs.” Everyone starts laughing and the room erupts into conversation again as if nothing happened. Every so often, you catch a glimpse of Matty in the corner of your eye. He never seems to move, his phone in one hand and a beer in the other. As you zone out of the conversation, your mind moves to deciphering why on Earth he could hate you so much. Nothing comes to mind, you’ve never met him before and you’ve definitely said nothing bad about him publically. Quite the opposite in fact, as last year a drunk video of you singing Robbers went viral on TikTok.

You zoned out for so long, before you knew it it was time to go on stage and perform the biggest show of your life.

“Ok girlies!” Ava Fletcher, the drummer in your band and also the member you’ve known the longest, speaks up. “This is it. No pressure but there’s 90 thousand people out there who’ve come specifically to watch us, so if we put on a shit performance our careers are probably over. But absolutely no pressure, just have a good show.” You laugh, leaning into the group hug you do before every show however this one felt different. The sense of adrenaline and fear within the group was unlike anything before. There was a lot riding on this show, and if you fucked it up a lot of people would be disappointed. However, all of these feelings are washed away when you’re wrapped into a hug by George.

“Blow their fucking minds out their.” He whispers into your ear. All feelings of nervousness are washed away when you realise you’re being hugged by the drummer of your favourite band. You go around, being given motivational speeches by every member of the band. Well, almost every member other than, you guessed it, Matty. He encouraged every member of your band except you, walking off before you could get to him.

The beginning of every show is always the worst. Hearing the roaring crowds increases your heart rate tenfold, but the stakes are even higher for this show. With one last group hug, you put your in ears in and run on stage, ready to start the show. As the show goes on, you occasionally glance side of stage to where the boys are standing. Everytime you make eye contact with them, they give you an encouraging smile or thumbs up. Matty on the other hand continues to evade eye contact, choosing to watch a different member of the band. However that didn’t stop you from putting on one hell of a show, and that’s what you did. You blew the metaphorical roof of that stadium, it was arguably the best show you ever did. The adrenaline high you had once you ran off stage couldn’t be ruined, even by a moody former celebrity crush.

The moment you exit stage, you’re immediately crushed by a massive group hug involving your band and the boys. Despite all of this, the only thing you can focus on is the hand around your waist. It’s Matty. You don’t think he meant it, instinctively putting it there when he was dragged into the hug. Nonetheless the area he was holding felt like it was burning under his touch, his calloused hands leaving marks on the skin underneath them. The group hug is cut short when he pulls away, clearing his throat slightly and going back to cradling his drink.

You do the rounds, talking to everyone backstage and discussing the nuances of the show and how amazing the audience were. This repetitive conversation continues until you get back around to him. You expect to be met with no eye contact, maybe an eye roll if you were lucky, but what happens next surprises you.

“You did alright out there, Princess.” The confusion on your face is palpable, at both the nickname and his sudden talkative nature. “Princess, like Princess Kida from The Lost City of Atlantis. It’s funny because,” you cut him off.

“Our band name is Lost Atlantis, yeah I get it. It’s funny.” You respond, a dead pan expression on your face. The tension was obvious, you could cut it with a knife. That is until Moon Dixon, your bassist, comes up behind you and wraps you in a hug.

“We’re all going back to Maddie's place to have a few drinks, you joining us?” She says, mostly to you but including Matty in the conversation as well.

“Yeah, let me get into something less sweaty and gross first though.” You laugh, trying to hide your disappointment as he walks off to join the rest of his band.

Get over yourself, you thought to yourself as you walked back up to your dressing room. Just because Mattys a dick doesn’t take away from the fact that this is the best day of your life. You just performed your biggest show ever, and three out of the four members are lovely. But despite this, you can’t get the curly haired man out of your mind. You see him every time you blink. How have you gone from badass pop girlie to pathetic simp in the space of three hours?

Chapter Two

#matty healy #ross macdonald #george daniel #adam hann #matty healy fic #matty healy fanfiction #Matty Healy fanfic #matty healy x reader

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hotgirlgraps · 10 months

Text

The Wembley Aftermath | Part Two

Synopsis: He won the ftw back and just like when he lost it, all he wants is you

Warnings: smut, but the loving kind. just a lot of sweetness all around

A/N: if you haven’t yet, you can read part one here. Still channeling the inner softer lovergirl in me so that’s exactly what this revolves around. Enjoy babesss!

They just didn’t make planes fast enough for him. He had an anxious knee bouncing the second he boarded and sat down in his seat.

It took him longer than he expected to catch a last minute flight. He should’ve been looking out the window onto the horizon but instead he just took his last steps on European soil.

He got situated and pulled out his phone, ignoring the numerous notifications filling his screen as he gave you a call.

You answered within seconds, appearing on his screen with that giddy smile he’s sure never left your face since he told you he was on his way to you.

“Hey angel ” He grinned as he adjusted the singular airpod in his ear. He tried to keep his voice to a minimum since the plane was so quiet. “I just got to my seat. Running a little late, but I’m finally on my way.”

You stopped the dishes you were doing and leaned against the counter, unable to contain that full fledged smile.

“Do you know what time you’ll be getting here?” You asked.

“Looks like I’ve got nine hours.” He sighs, “So what time is it right now?”

“Two-thirty” you nearly whine. Nine hours was far too long for you to anticipate.

“Damn that’s a big difference” he says as he glances at the screen in front of him. “It’s already night time over here.”

“I’d rather you not remind me how far away you are right now.” You tell him with a slight pout of your lower lip.

“Not for long though.” He beams back at you. “I’ll be there before you know it, little mama. Keep the door unlocked for me and try to get some sleep before I land.”

“I don’t know how you expect me to get any sleep knowing you’re gonna be here tonight” you chuckle as you lean your phone against the wall and start drying off plates.

“You’re right. Guess I’ll just have to tire you out instead.” He smirks before realizing, thanks to two people across from him shooting him a look, that he said that a little too loud.

You picked up on the crimson tinge across his cheeks and the way he immediately lowered his voice to a barely there whisper.

“People across from me just heard that. I feel weird as fuck now.” He tried to stifle the laugh he wanted to burst out by sliding his hood over his head and pulling the sides to cover his face.

You couldn’t help but laugh at his expense, especially with the way he sunk down in his seat.

“Maybe you should think twice before trying to talk dirty to me while you’re on a plane.” You tease.

“Maybe they should think twice before eavesdropping.” He counters with that infamous, knee weakening smirk he perfected.

“Is it really eavesdropping if you basically announced your plans to fuck me when you get here though?” You bantered back, playing back a little smirk of your own. “You’re never good at lowering your voice, baby. Probably the worst whisperer I’ve ever met in my life, actually.”

“Nah, you’re the one who has trouble with all that. Even burying your face in a pillow doesn’t stop the neighbors from hearing you.”

You felt your cheeks immediately burn, freezing for a second with a bashful smile.

“Well you’re right there with me.” You quirked a brow. “You don’t remember when your friend told you he heard you groaning all the way down the hall a couple days ago? His room was four doors down. No telling who heard what that night.”

He dropped his head for a split second trying to hide the smile.

“We don’t talk about that.” He tries to put on a stern face but fails. He catches the glances from the same people across from him and rolls his eyes behind the hood.

Just then, the plane finally started to take off. He was so caught up in your conversation he missed the announcement.

“Alright little mama, im officially on my way. I’m exhausted so I’m gonna try to get some sleep before I get there. You should really do the same.”

“Don’t know how that’s even possible for me but I’ll do my best.” You chuckle before grabbing the phone and holding it up.

“I’ll help you out with that if not. I’ll see you soon, gorgeous.”

“See you soon, champ.”

You got one last smile from him before he hung up, and over the course of those agonizing nine hours, you did any and everything you could to keep yourself occupied, all while he was fast asleep on the plane.

Eventually, somehow, around eight-thirty, you ended up laying down for a quick little nap. Your alarm was set for ten so you would be up when he walks through the door, but you slept right through it.

You were awoken by Tyler’s strong arms wrapping around your waist, his lips peppering gentle kisses to your neck.

“I’m back, mamas.”

His voice was groggy but he wasn’t willing to sleep. He only had one day to spend with you before he has to go home, then straight to Chicago right after and he wasn’t planning on wasting a single second.

You rolled over, your arms instinctively wrapping around him and he pulled you into his chest, holding you tightly, refusing to let go.

“Missed you so much” you muttered against his shirt, feeling his arms squeeze around you tighter.

“I missed you more” you feel his arms loosen a bit and pull back to look at him. Tired, low eyes and a relaxed smile plays on his face as he stares back at you.

You push some of the hair back out of his face and run your thumb over his cheek before leaning in and finally placing a delicate kiss to his plump lips like you’ve been wishing you could’ve done since he left for London.

That kiss that was previously so featherlight escalated into a passionate, rhythmic and breathy collision that lead to him hovering over you, his calloused yet gentle hand caressing your skin from your side to your thigh and back again.

Before he left for London the two of you had a long, wild night. One that left you with a sore throat from the high pitched moans, aching thighs and his fingerprints tatted on your skin.

He still had a few red lines patterned out on his back from your nails scratching all down it but it just served as a reminder of the memory every time he felt the sting.

Tonight, however, he wanted things to be different. He wanted to slow it down and take his time. There was no way to adequately compensate for the time you’d be apart again but he was going to do his best to try.

He may have had the most anticipation built up than he’s ever had but he didn’t want to take it all out at once. He wanted to make this moment last as long as humanly possible, which was why the kiss was so slow, the caresses were so tender.

He was savoring the flavor of you. The feeling of your smooth skin beneath his fingertips. He wanted to remember every last detail when he’s away from you again.

He could sense your pent up arousal and the eager anticipation running through you, but when you gave his hair an encouraging tug, he pulled back slightly to look down on you.

“Don’t worry, beautiful. We’ll get there. I just want to take my time with you. Show you how much I miss you every time I have to leave.”

He leaned back down and locked his hips with yours again. One hand cradled the side of your face while the other hand slowly made its way to your inner thigh, his fingertips hovering just over the trim of your panties without giving the full connection you couldn’t fight the urge for.

A soft sigh slipped past your lips, getting lost somewhere within his mouth and he had to try not to smirk at that.

You tangled your fingers up in his hair with one hand while the other one roamed all over every inch of his muscular back.

You could feel his hardness dying to be unrestricted from beneath his sweats and he was fighting for his life not to slide them off too soon.

“This is harder than I thought it would be” he manages to weakly chuckle, “guess I should’ve known by now that I can never control myself when I get you like this”

Your fluster only escalates when he rises up to his knees, his palms roaming up and down your spread thighs before his fingers hook underneath the thin strap of your panties and he slides them down your legs before tossing them elsewhere.

His licks his lips once, a gleam in his eye that you recognize all too well, but right before he goes to lower his head down, you reach out and intertwine your fingers through his hair to stop him.

“Save that for later, please baby, right now I just want you. Nothing else, just you.”

He felt his heart skip a beat but you didn’t know that. He nodded as he proceeded to slide his sweats down and found himself hovering back over you, the ends of his hair hovering against your forehead as his eyes dived deep into yours.

He held that contact as he pushed inside of you, even though his eyes threatened to roll back the second he was embraced by the tight warmth he’d been missing all too much.

You inhaled a deep breath and let out a relieved sigh as your hands instinctively reached up and your arms wrapped around the back of his neck, pulling him down to feel that intense closeness you’ve been needing.

He wrapped his arms underneath your back as he pushed in all of the way, holding still for a couple of seconds to really feel it all.

His thrusts were slow when he started moving, his lips peppering loose kisses to your shoulder as he buried his face there. He hugged you tight as he rocked into you, whispering a series of sweet nothings between every thrust.

“You feel amazing, mamas”

“Can’t believe you’re all mine”

“I don’t ever wanna go a day without doing this”

Though half of those soft spoken confessions were barely comprehensible to you with the way your heart was pounding in your ears.

He sped up slightly and leaned up, supporting his weight with his elbows digging into the mattress. He just wanted to take his time to look at you. Found himself adoring the way you moaned then smiled when he hit your sweet spot just right.

Your eyes locked with his when you were somehow able to peer them open, coming face to face with his heavy lids and furrowed brows. The puffy, parted lips tempted you and you gave in to those temptations within seconds, having no choice but to pull him down by the gold chain dangling to taste those lips again.

The second your lips connected, the thrusts slowed dramatically. He found himself so lost in the moment, as if a spell had been casted over him.

He felt your nails digging into the same places they did days ago, your thighs tightening around his waist and he knew that second what was next.

“Come on, mamas” he coaxed as his hips swirled with fluidity. “I want to feel you coming on me. You’re so fucking beautiful, feel so damn heavenly right now, you’re a goddamn goddess, and you deserve to be fucked like one every. single. night.”

He punctuated those praises with three snaps of his hips and you were absolutely done for. He wrapped his arms even tighter underneath you and buried his face back into your shoulder, keeping the thrusts strong and steady to prolong that high as much as he possibly could.

He felt it the second your orgasm powered through you. The way you throbbed around him, warmth spilling all over him. Your broken moans were the push over the edge for him when his name rolled off the tip of your tongue and by that point he couldn’t even hold back if his life depended on it.

His whole body stiffened, low groans and deep, raspy, breathy sighs filled up the room as he pushed his hips back in and out a few more times. You felt his entire body relax after that, as if he’d absolutely melted into you.

He slowly pulled out and used the very last bit of his mustered strength to hold himself up with those elbows, just to get the glimpse of afterglow on your face.

Your reddened cheeks and wildly sprawled hair was your dead giveaway. His droopy eyes and glistening skin was his.

The two of you looked at each other, both breaking out in smiles before he leaned down and placed a kiss to your lips.

He unwrapped one arm from underneath you and found your hand instead, intertwining your fingers as he slowly moved his lips with yours.

When the two of you broke apart, he rolled onto his side and pulled you into him. You traced the fresh tattoo on his chest as he absentmindedly ran his fingers through your hair, before you peeked up and caught the effortless, relaxed half smile on his face.

“Thank you” he hears you whisper, glancing down at you. “For making the time to come and see me. I know you’re so busy all the time, but the fact that you jumped on the first flight just to spend a little time with me, it means the world, Tyler.”

A softer smile replaced that previous one and he leaned down to place a gentle kiss to your forehead before he wrapped his arms tighter around you and pulled you as close as you could get.

“I’ll always make time for you, baby. You’re my number one priority no matter how busy I am with work or whatever else. If you need me, I’ll do anything I can to be right here. No matter what.”

#hook aew #aew hook #hook #hook x reader #hook imagine #tyler senerchia #hook nation rise #send hook

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allthelovehes · 3 months

Text

Lost and Found*

Summary: Harry and Y/N have been best friends since they were little kids but they lost track of each other over time. When Harry is in town for his tour they finally reunite and their meeting is sweeter than ever.

Pairing: Famous!Harry x Reader

Word count: 3.5K

Warnings: Smut, fluff, cute.

Taglist: @justmystyles @bitchybabyharry @harrysslut7 @swiftmendeshoran @lucasandharold @harrysbabycherry @htaylor18 @rose-garden-dreamz @myalovesharry @mellamolayla Let me know if you want to be added to my taglist! 🤗

A/N: I had this idea on my list for a while so I figured why not write it?

It's been a very long time since you last saw your best friend. It has been years, which is a shame, but there were reasons. The biggest reason was that he is one of the most famous pop stars in the world, and that causes his schedule to be incredibly full. There is also the fact that, because he is touring the world, you are not even living in the same country for the longest time.

Harry always tries to keep in touch, even with the crazy life he leads. But that can mean only brief texts and the occasional phone call. Sometimes not even those. The last time you heard from him was six months ago when he called to ask how your family was doing. He sounded so tired but excited. You talked for an hour, and it was almost like the last years hadn't happened.

With his latest album out and him being back on the road, you decided to buy yourself a ticket to his next Wembley show. This is an amazing opportunity for you to see your best friend and for him to hopefully spot you among the thousands of fans.

The excitement about this day has been building up inside of you ever since you decided to do this. You know you can't expect much attention from Harry after the concert, but you're looking forward to seeing him and getting to see him perform. You haven't seen him in person since his first headlining tour.

You are now on your way home from work and still have a few hours to go before you have to head out for the concert. You take a shower and then put on the T-shirt and jeans that you have planned to wear to the concert. When you get into the kitchen, you realize that you are too nervous and excited to eat, so you settle for a banana. You check the time and are happy to notice that you still have some time left to spare, so you go into the living room and switch on the television.

There are no good shows on, so you switch to the music channels and find one that is showing a rerun of a Harry Styles interview. You smile as you watch him talk. Even after all these years, it's still the same Harry. He's still your Harry. You feel a pang in your heart when he smiles his cheeky grin at the interviewer, and you realize just how much you miss him.

As if reading your mind, your phone vibrates on the coffee table. You reach for it and see Harry's caller ID on the screen. You pick up and bring the phone to your ear.

"Harry?"

"Hi, love!" He sounds excited. "Did I call at a good time? Are you busy?"

"No, I'm not. I was just watching TV." She decides to not tell him that she is going to see him in a couple of hours.

"Oh, what are you watching?"

"Um, an interview. It's not important. What are you doing? Shouldn't you be in rehearsals?"

"I have a free half hour, and I'm hiding in my dressing room, so nobody can find me. I really needed to talk to you, and I couldn't wait anymore."

"Why did you need to talk to me? Is something wrong?"

"No, it's nothing like that. You're going to my concert tonight, aren't you?"

Your eyes grow wide and your stomach somersaults. How did he know? Did you give something away?

"How...how did you know?" you finally manage to say.

"I'm not stupid, Y/N. I know how you talk when you're nervous and when you're not. When I told you about the Wembley shows, your voice didn't sound like usual. You sounded nervous, and it was pretty obvious that you were going." He laughs on the phone.

"Wow, I'm not very subtle, am I?" You feel stupid.

"You really aren't." His voice sounds warm and inviting, and you feel a shiver running down your spine.

"So, why did you want to call me, if it wasn't to tell me not to come?"

"Oh, I would never tell you not to come. I really want to see you tonight."

"But...aren't there a thousand people coming? You probably won't even see me."

"Don't worry, love. I will definitely see you. If I don't, you should find the stage door and knock. My security team knows about you. They'll let you in."

"Really? Harry, you're crazy. You have a concert to prepare for. You shouldn't let random fans into your dressing room."

"But you're not a random fan. You're Y/N."

"I'm glad that you still think of me like that, even though we haven't seen each other in a while."

"What do you mean?" Harry sounds confused. "Of course, I still think of you as my best friend. Nothing can change that."

You feel a lump forming in your throat. You don't want to cry, not now. Harry means the world to you, and he will never know. You are not the kind of girl who confesses her love to pop stars, not even when they are her best friends.

"Y/N, are you still there?"

"Yeah, I'm still here. I was just thinking about something."

"Well, stop thinking. We're going to see each other in a couple of hours." He is smiling; you can hear it in his voice.

***

When you enter the venue, the excitement inside of you is unbearable. The atmosphere is incredible, and the crowd is so full of life and happiness. Everyone is happy to be here, and so are you.

You find your seat, which is very close to the stage, and sit down. As you wait for the concert to start, you keep looking at the stage, wondering what Harry is doing right now.

Suddenly, the lights go down, and the crowd goes wild. You join in and clap your hands, your heart racing with anticipation. The stage is still dark when Harry walks onto it, and the screams get even louder.

The opening song sounds through the speakers, and the crowd sings along with Harry. You sing along, too, and the feeling is indescribable. To hear his music live and to see the passion in his face, while he performs his songs, makes your heart melt. You can't take your eyes off him.

The next couple of songs are even more amazing, and the atmosphere is incredible. Harry seems to enjoy himself and interacts with the crowd a lot. After the fifth song, he walks to the front of the stage, looks around, and scans the crowd.

"It's great to see all your beautiful faces." He smiles his crooked smile. "There are a lot of you tonight."

You feel his eyes on you, but it's dark and the crowd is dense, so you're not sure if he really saw you. You decide not to get your hopes up, but your heart is beating faster.

"Now, this is the part of the show where I tell you a story." Harry says into the microphone, and the crowd starts screaming again. You hear a few people chant "I love you" and others calling his name.

"So, let's see. This story is about a friend of mine. A friend I haven't seen in a long time." Harry pauses and looks around again. "She is somewhere here tonight."

The crowd is silent for a moment, but then everyone is talking and pointing at each other. You feel a blush creeping into your cheeks and your pulse quickens. You can't believe that he is doing this, but you're happy about it.

"So, this friend. She is the reason why I'm here, on this stage. She has always supported me, always believed in me. Even when I didn't believe in myself." He pauses and takes a sip of water. "We went to school together. She helped me through everything. But when I became famous, I started to neglect her." The crowd interrupts him with a loud booing. "Yeah, I know. That was stupid of me. But she never gave up on me, and she is still my best friend. In fact, she's my favourite friend. I'm sorry, everyone." The crowd laughs and cheers.

You are amazed and speechless. He really did this for you. And the fact that he still considers you his best friend is the best thing that has happened in a while. You can't help it, but tears are falling down your cheeks, and your hands are shaking. Harry walks back to the middle of the stage, and the show continues.

After the concert is over, you stay in your seat. There is still a lot of time until the arena will be empty, and you're not sure what to do. Suddenly, your phone rings, and it's a number you don't recognize.

"Hello?"

"Hi, love." He sounds a little out of breath, and your stomach does a flip.

"Hey, Harry. That was an amazing show. Thank you so much."

"You're welcome. So, did you enjoy it?"

"I loved it."

"I'm so happy. Listen, are you still at the arena?"

"Yes, I am. Why?"

"Okay, so I will come to you. Wait for me, okay?"

"What do you mean, you're coming to me? Are you going to walk out into the arena, looking for me?"

"Exactly. So, wait for me."

"Harry, that's not possible. The arena is full of people. I'm not going to sit here and let you lose your way."

"Trust me, Y/N. I'll be fine. Just wait for me."

And then, he is gone.

You put your phone back into your bag and look around. The crowd has already thinned out a bit, and there are a few people around you. You get up and stand at the end of the row. People are walking past you and talking to each other.

Suddenly, someone grabs your wrist, and you turn around. Your eyes grow wide and your mouth falls open.

"H-Harry..."

"Hi, love. Sorry it took so long. I got a little lost."

You can't believe that he is standing in front of you, looking like a god in his black outfit. He has a beanie on his head, and his eyes are sparkling. Without thinking, you wrap your arms around his neck and bury your face in his shoulder. He hugs you back, and you can't help but inhale his scent.

"I missed you," you say.

"I missed you, too. Now, how about we get out of here?"

"Good idea. Where are we going?"

"Somewhere private."

"Sounds good to me."

He lets go of you and takes your hand. Together, you leave the arena and head for the stage door. Outside, there is a huge crowd waiting, but his security team has already cleared the way, and the fans are standing behind the barriers. He smiles at them and waves. They are screaming, and the paparazzi are taking pictures.

He guides you through the crowd and towards the car park. A black car is waiting, and he opens the door for you. You get in, and he slides in after you. The driver starts the engine, and the car pulls away from the curb.

"Where are we going?" you ask.

"My hotel. We're staying in London for two more nights. I have a suite with a view of the city."

"That's nice. I hope the view is nice, too."

"You're going to like it." He looks at you, and your heart skips a beat.

You reach the hotel, and the driver stops the car. Harry gets out first and holds the door open for you. You step out and look up at the huge building. The entrance is illuminated, and there are a lot of people coming and going.

He takes your hand and leads you into the lobby. Nobody pays attention to you, and it's a relief. You don't want people staring at you. He guides you towards the elevators and presses the button. A moment later, the doors slide open, and you step into the elevator. He presses the button for the top floor and then looks at you.

"I'm sorry it has been such a long time."

"It's okay, Harry. I know that you have a busy life. And I'm really proud of you."

"Thank you. It means a lot to me." He steps closer to you, and your breath hitches. He lifts his hand and brushes a strand of hair from your face. His touch sends shivers down your spine, and you feel yourself blushing.

The elevator doors open, and he leads you to his suite. He opens the door and lets you inside. You are amazed by the beautiful room. There is a huge bed, a seating area with a fireplace, and a balcony with a spectacular view.

"Wow, this is amazing."

"I knew you'd like it." He grins and takes your hand again. "Come on, let's sit down."

He guides you to the seating area on the balcony and sits down. You sit down next to him and take a deep breath.

"How long have we known each other?"

"Since we were ten."

"It's been twenty years, and we're still friends."

"Best friends," you correct him.

"Yes, best friends."

"Even when I neglected you."

"Hey, don't do that. You didn't neglect me. You were just busy."

"Busy doesn't even cover it."

"Stop it. We're still friends. That's what matters."

"I know, but I was stupid. And I'm sorry."

"It's okay, Harry. Let's stop apologizing. I wanna enjoy being here with you." You say with a twinkle in your eyes. You lean back and look at the skyline. The city is lit up and looks beautiful. You can hear the traffic below, but it's a distant noise. The moment is magical, and you are enjoying every second of it. He puts his arm around you, and you lean against his shoulder. You sigh happily and close your eyes.

"Hey, are you tired?" he asks.

"No, just relaxed."

"Okay. Well, I have a question for you."

"Ask away."

"Why didn't you ever tell me?"

"Tell you what?"

"That you love me."

Your eyes fly open, and your heart stops. He is looking at you, and his expression is serious. You swallow hard and try to think of an answer. But your brain doesn't cooperate, and you can't speak.

"W-what are you talking about?" You stutter.

"I'm talking about the fact that you are in love with me."

"No, I'm not. Why would you think that?"

"Because it's obvious. I saw it tonight at the concert. When I talked about you."

"Oh."

"You looked shocked and then so happy. It's the same look I have when I'm thinking about you." You can't believe what he is saying. Does he really mean it? Or is he just playing with your emotions?

"Why didn't you ever tell me? Because of my job?"

"No, it's not that. I just...I didn't want to ruin our friendship. You're the most important person in my life, and I didn't want to lose you."

"Oh, love. You will never lose me."

"Promise?"

"Promise." He leans closer to you and places a soft kiss on your cheek. Your heart is racing, and the butterflies in your stomach are going crazy. He pulls away, and you can see the sparkle in his eyes. His gaze drops to your lips, and he smiles.

"Y/N, can I kiss you?"

"Yes," you whisper.

He cups your face with his hands and leans in. Your eyes flutter closed, and his lips touch yours. The kiss is slow and gentle. His lips are soft and taste like mint. You feel a tingle in your stomach, and you can't help but sigh. His tongue darts out and caresses your lips. You open your mouth, and he slips his tongue inside. Your tongues tangle together, and the kiss becomes more passionate. When you finally pull apart, you are breathing heavily. He smiles and strokes your cheek.

"That was amazing," you say.

"Yes, it was. And it's about time." He laughs.

"It's been a long time coming." You grin.

"Yes, it has."

He pulls you into his arms and kisses your temple. You lean against his chest and breathe in his scent. It feels so right to be here with him. After all these years, you finally feel like you belong.

"What are you thinking about?" he asks.

"About the fact that I don't wanna go home."

"Who said you have to?"

"What do you mean?"

"Stay with me tonight."

"Really?"

"Yes. Stay the night. I don't want you to leave."

"Okay."

"Great. Let's go inside."

He stands up and takes your hand. You follow him into the suite and sit down on the bed. He sits down next to you and strokes your cheek. You look into his eyes and see the same desire that you feel. You lean in and kiss him. His lips are warm and soft, and his tongue feels amazing. Your body is tingling, and you can't get enough. You wrap your arms around his neck and deepen the kiss. He pulls you closer and kisses you passionately. Your bodies are pressed together, and you can feel his arousal. You moan and rub your body against his. He breaks the kiss and looks at you. His eyes are dark with lust, and his pupils are dilated.

"Mhm, Y/N. You're driving me crazy." He pulls you into his lap and kisses you again. His hands roam your body, and you arch your back. He slips his hand under your shirt and cups your breast. You gasp and close your eyes. He squeezes your breast and rolls your nipple between his fingers.

"Oh God," you moan.

"Do you like that?"

"Yes. It feels so good."

He keeps massaging your breast while kissing your neck. You grind your hips against him, and he groans. You can feel his erection, and it turns you on even more. He moves his hand to your other breast and starts massaging it.

He pushes you onto the bed and gets on top of you. His hands move under your shirt, and he pulls it off. You arch your back and expose your breasts. He licks his lips and leans down to kiss your nipples. He sucks on one and flicks his tongue over the other. You moan and dig your nails into his back.

He moves his hand down to your pants and starts undoing the button. He pulls them down, along with your panties, and tosses them aside. He looks at your naked body and smiles.

"You're so beautiful."

He leans down and kisses you. His tongue darts out, and he runs it over your lips. You part your lips and let him inside. He explores your mouth and moans.

"Mhm, I want you."

"Then take me," you say.

He pulls his shirt off and throws it aside. He undoes his pants and pushes them down. He kneels between your legs and looks at you. You can see his erection through his boxers. You bite your lip and reach out. You run your hand over his bulge and feel the heat. He groans and closes his eyes.

"Y/N."

"Yes?"

"I want you so bad."

"Then take me."

He quickly pulls his boxers down before he grabs your hips and pushes you further onto the bed. He lies down on top of you and kisses you. His erection rubs against your core, making you gasp.

"God, you're so wet." He moves his hand between your legs and strokes your clit. You moan and buck your hips. He positions his cock at your entrance and pushes in. You gasp and close your eyes. His cock fills you up completely, and you feel complete.

He starts moving slowly, and you cling to him. He kisses you deeply and groans. He moves faster, and you cry out. You wrap your legs around his waist and arch your back.

"Yes, Harry. Right there. Please."

He pounds into you harder, and you feel yourself approaching the edge. Never had sex felt this right.

"I'm gonna come."

"Come for me, love."

You scream his name and climax. Your body trembles, and you shudder. He moans and buries his face in your neck. You feel his release, and he collapses on top of you.

"God, Y/N. That was amazing."

"It was."

He rolls off of you and pulls you into his arms. You snuggle against his chest, and he kisses your forehead.

"So, this is where we've been heading since day one, huh?" You chuckle.

"Well, yeah. I just didn't expect it to take twenty years."

"Yeah, me neither."

"And I also thought we'd be more cautious about it." Harry laughs realising he completely forgot to use a condom.

"I don't know, I just didn't care."

"Yeah, me neither."

You kiss his cheek and rest your head on his chest.

"Harry?"

"Hm?"

"Will we be able to make this work? I mean, with our lives and everything?"

"We'll figure it out. I'm not letting you go."

"Good."

You close your eyes and listen to his heartbeat. He is holding you tight, and you can't imagine being anywhere else. You kiss his chest and slowly drift off to sleep in his arms.

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chelseachilly · 4 months

Text

your love is tried and true blue

pairing: ben chilwell x reader warnings: none word count: 1.1k

this is just a little something i wrote to distract myself from the result yesterday after seeing @carlottawllms request a concept about comforting ben after the loss 🥺 not proofread so sorry for any mistakes!

You feel completely shattered when the final whistle blows, Liverpool emerging victorious with the deciding goal in extra time.

Chelsea fought long and hard, but the missed chances kept piling up and they just couldn’t put one in the back of the net. It was devastating to watch as a fan, so you can only imagine how your boyfriend is feeling right now after playing his heart out over 120 minutes with nothing to show for it.

Knowing Ben, he’ll spend the rest of the night - and a while afterward - kicking himself for not somehow getting the win, which means it’s your job to get him through it. It’s going to be a hard night, you can’t change that, but you can be there for him.

As you’re still sitting in the hospitality box chatting with his mum and sister, who you came with today, you get a text from Ben.

Ben ❤️ Don’t wait for me, Poch is having a chat with us and I still have to shower and change. I know I told mum we’d do dinner after, but I’m not really feeling up to it, can you tell her we’ll reschedule please?

Y/N Of course. I’ll see you at home. Love you 🤍

Ben ❤️ Thanks babe. Love you too

Your heart breaks for him, and you really wish he could just blow everything off and come home with you right now rather than face an undoubtably solemn team bus ride back to Cobham.

“Ben just texted, he said he’ll be a while so we shouldn’t wait,” you tell his family. “I don’t think he’s up for going out to eat, sorry Sally. He’s probably knackered.”

“Of course, dear, I’m sure he just wants to be home with you at the moment,” Sally says, squeezing your hand briefly. “It’ll be a tough one for him to take.”

You nod and sigh, thanking Sally for her understanding before giving her and Alex a hug goodbye and beginning to make your way home.

The second you arrive at the house you’ve shared with Ben for the past year or so, you set out to create the coziest and most stress-free environment possible. You tidy up a bit and order from his favourite takeaway spot, knowing he’ll be hungry when he gets home but that he won’t want to eat anything unless you force him.

An hour or so after you got there, you hear the sound of the front door opening again. You set down your phone and make your way to the foyer, the sight awaiting you making your heart splinter even more.

Ben looks completely drained of all energy, kicking off his shoes and dropping his bag to the floor. When he sees you, his shoulders slump, the defeat reflected in his sad eyes.

“Hi, baby,” you say softly, taking a step toward him but waiting for him to come to you.

You don’t bother asking him if he’s okay or what he needs - you already know the answer to both. You know him like the back of your hand, and in times like these, you know that he’ll talk about it when he’s ready.

For now, he just walks over to you, the long and gruelling game obvious in his slow and slightly laboured movements. He pulls you into his arms, his fists clenching around the fabric of the hoodie you’re wearing.

You hold him just as tightly, lightly scratching his back and whispering words of comfort to him.

“Thank you for coming,” he murmurs before he pulls back, his slightly red-rimmed eyes making your own begin to water.

“Of course,” you say quietly, cupping his face with one hand. “You were great, Ben. I know you don’t want to hear it right now, but I’m so proud of you. You captained Chelsea at Wembley. That’s something you only could’ve dreamt of as a kid, and you did it. You led your team to a cup final, and you never gave up.”

“I could’ve done more,” he sighs. “If I stayed on to the end, maybe I could have-"

“Ben, you played your heart out for two hours. Not to mention the fact that you’re still bouncing back from injury and, unlike most of the players out there today, you aren’t nineteen anymore,” you remind him gently. “You staying on probably wouldn’t have changed the result, and you could’ve gotten hurt again. It was the right call.”

He knows that you’re right, but that’s not going to stop him from trying to replay that deciding goal for Liverpool in his head over and over, wondering if he could’ve prevented it.

“Come on, let’s go lay down until dinner gets here,” you tell him, tugging at his hand. “I ordered from Positano.”’

“Thanks, babe,” Ben says, pressing a kiss to your forehead before following you into the living room.

You sit down on the couch, opening your arms for Ben to crawl into. He obliges, wincing a bit as he plops down next to you and props his legs up, tangling them with yours.

“Want me to get you some ice or something?” you offer as he relaxes into you. “I know it was a rough one.”

“Maybe later, it’s not too bad,” he shrugs, though the action causes him obvious discomfort and you begin to massage his shoulders to ease it. “Wish that kid hadn’t tackled me like an American football player though.”

“I wish you played American football, then maybe I would get to meet Taylor Swift,” you joke, successfully making Ben laugh for the first time all day.

You continue to joke around until he seems a bit lighter than when he first came through the door. After your dinner arrives and you’ve both eaten enough pasta to put you in a food coma, you suggest you both shut off your phones for the night and watch one of his favourite movies.

It won’t change what happened today, and you know the disappointment of this loss will linger in him for some time, but you’re going to be there to support him.

Win or lose, in good times and bad, Ben Chilwell is the most driven and persevering person you know, which means he’ll bounce back soon. Until then, you’ll be there to hold his hand and help him remember there’s more to life than football.

“Love you,” Ben mumbles into the crook of your neck as he’s starting to fall asleep, about halfway through the movie, and you just smile and kiss his messy hair.

“Love you too, Ben.”

#ben chilwell #ben chilwell x reader #ben chilwell imagine #ben chilwell x y/n #chelsea fc imagine

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erodasfishtacos · 2 years

Text

MANCHESTER NIGHT TWO

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

word count: 7k+

warnings: smut, blood, minors dni 18+

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

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

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

*** <- click for visuals throughout the story

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It reminded her of his One Direction days.

They were so overworked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He always did. But it was okay.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That’s what they all referred to it as.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh, would he.

A sold out stadium tour to be exact.

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

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

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

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

“S’too loud.”

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

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

Fans idealized who Harry is as a person.

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Styles! I mean it! Now!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?” Flat. Blunt.

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

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

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

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

Popstar.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jeff looks guilty as he glances between the couple.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s something that never gets old to her.

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

People have been obsessed with him since he was sixteen.

But despite all that, Harry never changes.

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

He’ll always just be Harry to her.

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brighter-by-the-daly · 6 months

Text

Millie Bright x Reader

Part Five: Lover’s Auction

Days turned into weeks and weeks turned into months, you and your girlfriend had become inseparable! Millie had asked you to be hers one evening in front of the TV, she had injured her knee and pulled out of the last national camp of the year; a blessing in disguise as you got a full week off together to have you her all to yourself. You’d barely left Millie’s house during the week and were preparing to watch her teammates play at Wembley against the Netherlands, snuggled up on the sofa you found yourself thankful that she was injured as it meant you didn’t have to sit outside for hours in the freezing cold. You loved watching her play but you definitely enjoy it more when the weather is nice! The TV was on with the commentators mumbling in the background while you scrambled around the kitchen fetching the snacks that your dad usually supplies when you heard Millie’s name mentioned – once, twice, three time in the space of 5 minutes. “Right, I’m making a game!” pulling out the wine from the fridge. “Every time you’re mentioned, I’m gonna drink!” you laughed, pouring yourself a large glass of rosé and taking three big gulps. “Me too then!” Millie snatched the bottle from your hands and leant over you to take a glass from the top of the cupboard. “Every time you act like the boss, I’m gonna drink!” she laughed sarcastically while giving you the side eye. It’s not a secret that you had become quite vocal during Millie’s games lately, sometimes she says that she can even hear you when on the pitch. “We’re gonna need another bottle then” muttering to yourself with wide eyes as you pulled another from the fridge and went to get comfy on the sofa.

Snuggled up ready for the game to start it didn’t take you long to become mouthy over the starting line up causing Millie to already finish her first glass. During the game she couldn’t keep her eyes off you - she had to keep an eye on when she should be drinking but more importantly, she couldn’t help but admire how far you’d come from when you first met. Millie found herself watching you more intently then the actual match and even when she was watching the TV, she kept looking out the corner of her eye whenever you jolted in frustration or excitement. “Why do you keep looking at me weirdo?” You’d noticed since the game started but waited until near the end to point it out, climbing over the cushions to plop yourselves onto her lap. Both bottles of wine were almost finished and your words had become a little slurred but not enough to be worried about a hangover in the morning. “I’m just in awe..” she shook her head in a way that suggested she didn’t believe what she was saying - that’s because she couldn’t. Your head tilted with examining eyes, eager to get her to talk more. “Of you! How far you’ve come! Four months ago if you told me we’d be here, drinking over how many opinions my girlfriend has on football I wouldn’t have believed it! I’m so proud of you!” she said, scooping your body into a giant bear hug. You stopped listening when you heard that word, you have no idea what was said after it! Peeling yourself out of her strong arms in shock, your eyes wide and barely able to blink made her worry. “What did you say?” you asked, wanting confirmation before making your next move. “I’m proud of you!” Millie was smiling ear to ear, she hadn’t even registered what she had said. “No, the other part..” you whispered cautiously, watching Millie’s eyes search the room as she racked her brain. You knew it had hit when her lips parted, she had realised what she said which sent a little wave of panic through her brain. “Is there something wrong that?” she chuckled nervously, “well it’s kinda tradition to ask first, no?” Realising she did actually want you to be her girlfriend and it wasn’t just an accidental slip suddenly gave you all the power to play with her. “Is it not obvious that I want you to be?” still trying to joke her way out of it. You shook your head in a slow and pent up way, you wanted her to say it properly, not accidentally. “(Y/f/n) will you be my girlfriend?” she asked, taking your smaller hands in hers. “No, actually I don’t think…” you watched the cheeky smile drop in worry for a split second before twigging that you were being purposely annoying. “Nothing would make me happier!” you came clean, launching yourself on top of her, clutching her face in your palms to confirm your answer with a kiss.

“Where are we going?” Millie asked excitedly from the passenger seat of the car, you’d arranged a surprise for your girl before you both have to go back to work. “You didn’t tell me last time, I’m not telling you this time” you teased, your hand settling on her thigh as you pulled away. Since meeting Millie something inside of you had awoken, it’s like the sadness in your soul from losing your mum had been overwritten by finding her - she was like a giant plaster for your heart, as corny as that sounds. As an heiress for your father’s company you were aware that you were more privileged than most people and wanted to share that with Millie in a way that she wouldn’t contest to. She never just lets you buy things for her.. which is nice in a way but you want to treat the girl you’re falling in love with and there’s still at least one thing she doesn’t know about you yet! As you pulled into an empty looking airfield her face was full of confusion wondering what was about to happen, she kept looking over at you for clues or guidance but your face wasn’t giving anything away just yet. She watched you be waved through the gates by a warden who called you Miss (y/l/n) which told her you were known to them and parked up on what seemed like a runway. Millie’s eyebrows furrowed as she turned to you looking for any sort of clue she could get, you smiled sweetly and got out of the car, walking round to open her door and offer your hand. “What’s.. happening?” she said apprehensively, glancing around at the empty field, “you’ll see” you remained coy and mysterious as you grabbed your coats out the boot and wrapped her arm round your shoulder.

You guided your girlfriend around to the back of a warehouse looking building where a row of helicopters came into view, “are you scared of flying?” you asked sheepishly, hoping to everything she’d say no. Thankfully she shook her head, “perfect” you smiled, tiptoeing to reach her lips. Leading her over to the closest helicopter you opened the door and helped her inside, Millie was silent for a while, wondering what the hell was happening and looked even more confused when you got in the pilot’s seat! “Now, I don’t do this for just anybody, so you better be a good passenger!” squeezing her thigh with reassurance as you leaned over her body to strap her into the seat. “You do know how to fly right?” she simpered a little with caution in her voice, you chuckled lightly at her question “I got my pilots license before I got my driving license!” flicking on all the right buttons and whirring up the propellor. Tapping your microphone you asked if she could hear you through her headphones, noticing she was biting her inner lip and looked apprehensive. “Do you trust me?” you interrupted her worried thoughts, the question making her breath out a big sigh. “With my life” she said quietly making this one of the only times you’ve ever heard her not be loud and excitable - you’re sure she will love it once you’re in the air! “Shall we?” you asked, desperately wanting to do this but didn’t want to push her into anything she didn’t want to do. You made sure to offer her the same courtesy that she had been showing you all these months with the thing that made you worried. “Yeah! Sorry, I’m just a bit in shock!” she laughed, seemingly snapping out of her funk, she just had to get over the hurdle of you being a pilot before she could fully immerse herself in the experience. You radioed into the tower to clear you for take off and raised your gear shift to lift you off the ground.

Before flying off towards your destination you had an idea of how to calm her nerves and circled over central London pointing out the spots she knows all too well from the ground – Big Ben, the London Eye, Buckingham Palace. It was such a clear night that you could even see the Wembley Arch in the distance. “Who are the men playing tonight?” you asked her through the headphones, “Man U, why?” she responded, “shall we take a look?” making a small detour towards Stamford Bridge, you’re not allowed to fly directly over the stadium but she could see enough from where you were. “Oh my god! This is so cool!” she screamed, making you turn down the volume a little as you watched her take photos out of the window. You hovered for a short period before turning around and headed off towards Southend again.

Landing at a busier airport than the one you left, there was a car waiting to take you to your next destination. As you walked towards it, Millie pulled you back, “sorry, can we just talk about what happened please?” still shocked at how you own a helicopter, you can fly the helicopter and that she’s just got from London to Southend in less than 20 minutes.. by you, her pilot.. in a helicopter! Your little adventure had earned b dathe exact reaction you were expecting and spoke about how learning to fly was a life goal when you were a child, you’ve always been fascinated by the sky – the sun, moon, planets, stars and seeing the world from above that getting your flying license was the first thing you wanted to do when you finished school. You don’t fly a lot nowadays and save it for special occasions or when the traffic is backed up, “it’s just quicker sometimes.. and more romantic! Tell me that wasn’t romantic!” winking as you opened the car door. “Of all the things I thought you may have planned for tonight, that certainly wasn’t one of them!” she laughed nervously, still in awe at how you pulled that off. You had booked your dad’s chauffeur to drive you to your next destination and as you pulled up, a nigh on empty field with a dozen young girls came into view. Millie knew exactly what it was when she looked out the window then snapped her neck to look back at you - you’d bought her to your old training ground. “Give me a sec okay” leaning over to kiss her before getting out of the car, leaving no time for questions. You left Millie there to come to terms with what was happening, watching out the window as you embraced the person she assumed was the coach.

“(Y/n)! I can’t believe you’re here, look at you!” the older lady gushed, “I didn’t know if you’d remember me Miss” you smiled, slightly emotional to be back in the place that bought you so much joy and sadness. “Oh please, call me Maggie!” swooping you into another giant hug. She understood why you stopped going all those years ago but the nostalgia warmed you inside like mum was hugging you too. Millie had awakened something that you’d tried hard to push down for 20 years, you used to love playing on this pitch, no matter how scrappy it was - it’s certainly had an upgrade since then but could still use some more work! Millie watched from the car as you pointed towards it, noticing the coach nodding before you came running back to her. “The girls have a game tonight, do you want to stay and watch?” you asked, holding out your hand to help her out of the car. “I’d honestly love nothing more” she said with a glint in her eye, knowing this was such a massive step for you. Millie had been keen not to push your boundaries when it came to talking about football but was so happy to be part of this journey with you, you held her coat open as she slipped her arms through and lead her into the town hall that backed onto the field.

Gathering in the small hall with a few parents you collected some hot drinks from the counter and wandered around looking at the photo clad walls. You skimmed from black and white photos to beige, faded to brightly coloured newer ones. Millie joined you with some raffle tickets they were selling to raise money for a new lawn mower, passing you a couple of strips then draped her arms around your neck as she stood behind. “That’s me” you said with a quiver, pointing at the faded and fuzzy 90s photo hung up on the wall. Proudly standing tall with your chest puffed out in the middle of a team photo from 1999. “Nice hair” Millie nudged you, knocking the tears welling in your eyes away as you snickered at the bowl haircut, “that’s so I could play with the boys too” you laughed, sinking back into her as she tightened her grip around you. “I bet little (y/n) didn’t expect to see you back here” she said quietly as her chin rested onto your shoulder. “Is that your mum?” pointing at the photo next to the team, you nodded gently. “You look so alike” Millie kissed the top of your head, “she used to call me her mini me” reaching out to stroke your mum’s beautiful face. “And is that a player of the match award?” she said a bit louder, knowing she had to keep talking so you didn’t fall into sad hole. You leant closer, squinting at the framed newspaper article –

Goalkeeper (y/f/n) saves the day for Southend Girls once again!

Southend Girls were playing Billericay Juniors tonight and they’ve been on a bit of a losing streak, you’d hoped maybe they would be inspired by meeting a real life Lioness, just like you were all those years ago. “You don’t mind do you?” you wondered if maybe you’d overstepped, walking out to the field with your styrofoam cups of tea, it was starting to get cold. The crowd was made up of the parents of the girls who were huddled into a circle, Maggie welcomed you both over as she introduced you. “Girls, this is (y/n) she used to play here when she was your age and this is Millie Bright, she plays for Chelsea and England”. The smiles on the girls’ faces were undeniable and listening to Millie give them a pep talk made you so happy inside. The girls won their first game this season and afterwards both teams took a group photo with Millie, “this will be framed and hung up next time you come (y/n), please don’t leave it as long next time”, Maggie hugged you both one last time before making your way back to the car. You talked with Millie the entire journey back to the airport, you’d been inspired to start training as a coach for young girls and wanted to build the team into something more, something for all girls - young and old. Maggie is getting close to retirement age and is looking for a replacement, you’d be the perfect fit if you can ace the training! You’d been sleeping on this idea for a while but wanted to visit to make sure you could handle it. Instead of running away from the sadness you wanted to bask in the happiness that the team bought you for years.

Following The River Thames back to London you had so much on your mind - can I go into football coaching with absolutely no experience apart from when I was 6 years old? Would it even be possible? What will dad think? He thinks I’m destined to take over the company but what will he think of my other ideas? I guess I could do both. What the fuck have I just done?! “You okay captain?” Millie’s soothing voice floated into your ears through the headphones snapping you out of the spiralling thoughts. “What have I just done?” you asked back to her as you flew over Dartford Crossing, looking at the traffic backed up like always gave relief that you were not stuck in it on the ground. “You’ve just done something amazingly positive!” she said animatedly, looking at you with pure joy in her eyes like you were the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen, even with the London Skyline glistening up ahead. Her hand went to grab your thigh like she always does but pulled back quickly wondering if it was okay to touch you while you were flying, you noticed her hand waving around in confusion and plucked it out of the air, placing it where it wouldn’t hinder your control of the aircraft. You always hold each other when you’re driving but she didn’t know if the same etiquette was okay to do in a helicopter! “I’m going to support you every step of the way” she assured you, squeezing a little tighter to make sure her words sunk in. Millie had a wonderful way of recognising your patterns of overthinking and opening the conversation around them, she’s incredibly attentive to the way you go silent for long periods and know that’s when your ‘messy brain’ starts to take hold.

Floating back down to earth you then drove back to her place, greeting the dogs at the doorway and changing into an oversized tee Millie gave you for when you stay at hers. She sat down on the sofa, tapping the cushion for you to come snuggle into her, laying your head on her lap she stroked your hair gently. “I’m so proud of you baby” she leant down to kiss you, “today must have taken a lot of energy” kissing you on the forehead this time. It had taken a lot of energy to plan everything and you were a bit worried that you had maybe set yourself up for failure with the coaching thing but it was positive energy to start with, you’re just second guessing yourself. You know deep down that this is your destiny, maybe dad knew this when he invited Millie to the auction, he did seem particularly happy when you were outside together and has accepted her into the family with the greatest ease. Today was the start of something special, something memorable and with Millie by your side you know you can do anything.

#millie bright #millie bright x reader #lionesses #lionesses x reader #woso x reader #woso masterlist #woso series #woso fic #woso community #woso imagine #woso one shot #woso fanfics #wlw series #wlw fanfic #wlw fiction

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outsideratheart · 2 years

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Time To Celebrate (Lucy Bronze x reader)

A/N: Here it is, as promised, well I didn’t promise but you catch my drift. My first Lucy Bronze fic. I hope you all like it.

As she lines up on the pitch she find herself searching the crowd. There were thousands of people watching her but she couldn’t find the one person she wanted to see most.

You made a promise to Lucy, one that you intended to keep. After France lost in the semi final you had gone home to spend some time with your family. You need the time to get over the loss but you told her you would come back.

It was your plan to be there for kick off, plan being the key word.

The referee blows the final whistle and Lucy falls to her knees. She did it, they did it, England had won the Euros. After celebrating with her team mates they all collect their medals. Afterwards it left them a little bit of time to see their families in the crowds before going into the changing rooms.

“She’ll be here” Kiera tries to reassures her best friend even though she knows her words fall on deaf ears.

“I don’t think so” Lucy looks to where her family are, the seat that was reserved for you is still empty, just like it had been all game.

Lucy walks away, her head hanging low but she only allows herself to wallow for a minute. She has worked hard for this moment and she was going to celebrate it with her closest friends.

Almost an hour later, the lionesses are in the locker room where they continue to celebrate in private. The beers are open, the champagne has been popped and the girls are on cloud nine as they sing along to Does Your Mother Know by ABBA.

“Alex” Ellie whisper shouts but she doesn’t hear her. In turn she throws a goalkeeper glove at her City team mate.

Ellie signals for Alex to come to where she is sat in her locker filming Tooney and Less dance.

“Look” she gives her phone to the scouser “Y/N is here. By the looks of the videos and photos she arrived just before the final whistle. Do you think she knows?” She turns her attention to Lucy.

By the of the defender, she had no idea that you had in fact made it to the stadium. She was drinking the beer like it was going out of style.

“We need her phone” Ellie says “Keira” she shouts.

Keira looks around the room as she tries to figure out who is shouting her name. When she looks at her city team mates she seeing them calling her over.

“We need Lucy’s phone and we need you to distract her” Alex explains as Ellie shows the photos and videos of you inside Wembley stadium.

They watch as Lucy goes into the showers once she sees that several players have finished in the large bathroom.

“Looks like she will distract herself” Keira says.

“The phone” Alex slaps the midfielders arm as they see Lucy on her phone.

“I’m on it” she runs towards her best friend, whispering something in her ear. They cannot make out what she said but then they see Keira holding up her phone with her thumb up.

“Now what?”

“Now we make sure Y/N can get into the after party. Honestly, things would be much easier if our team mates stopped hiding their relationships” Alex says as she pulls out her phone to ring you.

****************

You manage to find Lucy’s family amongst the crowd. They vouch for you as you make your way into the hospitality suite where the lionesses will be celebrating before going back to Teddington.

You are in the middle of speaking to Lucy’s mum when your phone goes off.

“Hi Al” “Yes, I made it just in time for the final whistle “I’m with her family” “Ok, see you soon”

You keep the call short and sweet as not to pull her away from the team for too long.

“Is everything ok?” Lucy’s mum asks you.

“Yes. Lucy couldn’t find me in the crowd so she things I didn’t come” you explain.

“But everyone was taking photos of you and with you, surely Luce saw them”

“I would agree with you but Alex told me they took away her phone so still doesn’t know”

“Oh sweetie, she is going to over the moon when she sees you. She loves us but she is in love with you. I cannot thank you enough for loving my daughter, I have never seen as happier than when she is with you”

Once she is finished she pulls you into a hug. You loved Lucy’s family almost as much as you loved the woman herself. They welcomed you with open arms the day you were first introduced to them. What you didn’t know is that you were the first girl that Lucy ever brought home, the first woman she ever called her girlfriend in front on her family.

Jorge comes over to you to ask if you want a drink, deciding to be the sensible one you opt for water knowing that Lucy will be extremely hungover tomorrow and you would need to make sure gets up and dressed for the presentation in trafalgar square. He asks if you would hold Freddie whilst she gets the drinks, you happily take the two year old from him.

You’re sat down with the young boy on your lap, the little one playing with the necklace you are wearing.

“They’re coming” you hear a member of staff tell the room.

You take Freddie as you line up with Lucy’s family.

Everyone cheers when the lionesses enter the room.

It hurt in the beginning when you were knocked out of the tournament but you were proud of your team for reaching semi finals. The fact that you were knocked out by Germany makes the England win that much better. You remember when Lucy called you after the game, she promised to avenge your loss, that she would beat Germany for you. You just laughed at her chivalry.

When you see her it is as if everyone else in the room vanishes. Like a scene in a movie, a clear path way becomes available so that Lucy can get to you with ease.

You try to apologise for not making it in time for kick off but Lucy makes that impossible. She grabs your face with both of her hands, connecting her lips to yours. The kiss is still, no movement, the two of your relishing in the touch.

“Auntie Lucy, you won!” Freddie says.

It is only when you hear the voice that you remember you are holding the young one.

The look in Lucy’s eyes change. The lust and eagerness is replaced with warmth as she takes Freddie from you. She holds him up high causing him to giggle.

“We did. Look at this” she points to her medal “Do you want to put it on?”

He eagerly nods his head. Lucy’s takes it off and places it over his head.

“Wow” is all he says as he stares at the goal medallion.

Her brother Jorge comes over and takes the child from you as he mumbles something about allowing you two to celebrate properly, not having to keep it PG for his son’s sake.

“I’m so sorry for being late. My flight got cancelled so I ended up getting a train but then the taxi’s were taking ages, you know how bad London traffic is” you begin to ramble, something you did when you were nervous. You knew by the way that Lucy greeted you that she wasn’t mad but you still felt you owed her an explanation.

“You’re here now, that’s all that matters”

As soon her she finishes her sentence you feel her lips on yours, again. Lucy takes full advantage of having you to herself. You feel her tongue pressing against your lips so you part them slightly allowing her entrance. The passion that to two of you shared in kisses like this still amaze you even after the years you have been together.

It is when you feel her bite your bottom lip that to realise you have to stop.

Lucy groans in frustration when you pull away.

“Hey!” She says clearly not happy that you put an end to the kiss.

“We have an audience, now is not the time or place” you tell her.

Lucy’s lips turn into smirk. She leans forward again and you think she is going to kiss you again but she turns to the side last minute.

“It has been over a month since I been able to touch you” you shiver at her tone, oh how you loved this side of her “Have you missed me, the feeling of my fingers inside of you?”

“Fuck me” you inhale sharply before pushing her away, knowing that if she continues the two of you will have to leave the party early.

“Oh I plan on it, more than once” Lucy is confident, she is feeling herself and so she should be. She has just won the Euros in front of a sold out Wembley stadium.

You and Lucy stay there. Staring at each other neither of you saying a word.

“I know she’s you girlfriend but you can’t hog her all night” Georgia shouts.

“Oh Lucy doesn’t share, do you Luce?” You nudge her shoulder before grabbing her hand and going to her team mates.

******************************

You all stay at Wembley for an hour or so until it is time to leave.

“Thank you for letting me spend the night at the hotel” you tell Sarina as you get off the bus.

Hours pass and when Lucy looks at her watch she sees that it is almost 2am, she had to be up in a few hours and she wanted to do some different celebrating before going to sleep.

She looks over and sees you talking to her team mates as if they were your own. She loved how close your were with the people she considered family. She stands there for a moment debating whether or not to interrupt, in the end she decided that she has shared you with the lionesses for long enough, it was time to have you all to herself.

“I hate to break up this moment” the table scoff, not believing Lucy for a second “You ready to go up?” Lucy says as you nod your head.

You both bid the team good night.

Once in the elevator Lucy pushes you against the wall but you push her off you, choosing in that moment that you would spend the night praising your girlfriend’s performance on the pitch.

You pin Lucy’s hands above her head, keeping her in place. You spread her legs with you knee, as soon as you settle your knee between her legs you feel her searching for some kind of friction.

“When you need to be back in Lyon?” Lucy asks when you part for air.

“Really? That is what you are thinking about right now?” You ask in disbelief, you have literally just taken her breath away.

“Forget I said anything” Lucy says, a hint of sadness in her tone. She kiss you but this time it is you who pulls away.

“I have to leave on Wednesday, back in training on Thursday” you peck her lips.

You are just about to continue where you left off when the elevator dings and the doors open.

“Seriously” you sigh in frustrations.

“C’mon” Lucy hold her hand out which you happily take.

You are barely through the door when Lucy leads you to the bed. Once again she is searching for dominance but you are having none of it. In mere seconds you go from being laid on the the bed with Lucy hovering over you to you straddling her.

“Tonight is all about you my love”

You kiss her lips, then just below her ear. You make your way down her body until you reach the waistband of her pants. Lucy lifts her hips allowing you to take her trousers off, leaving her in her underwear which you take off next.

That night you show Lucy how proud you are of her. When she wakes up the next morning there is a slight limp in her walk. You watch with cockiness when her team mates question it, smirking as you listen to her tell them that her knee is a little sore.

When she catches you staring she raises her eyebrows as if asking what do you expect me to tell them.

#Lucy bronze x reader #Lucy bronze imagine #Lucy bronze one shot #woso x reader #woso imagine #woso one shot #Barcelona femeni x reader #barcelona femeni one shot #Barcelona femeni imagine #engwnt x reader #engwnt imagine #engwnt one shot

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acesofspadess · 10 months

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You're Still It

a/n: the very much requested part 2 to this gorgeous work 🤲🏾🤲🏾 this takes place right after the last part

‘I hope you enjoyed the show last night. I'm sure you're probably going on a run right now so do make sure to stay hydrated. I want to see you tonight. Here is the pass. Be there at 3 and give anyone your name they'll know what to do. Let's end this chase before it begins.

-H. Xx

P.S. Tag, you're it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You took a short jog around the block knowing that you needed to be ready and in the car in a few hours to get to Wembley. Getting home and getting ready seemed to be a harder tasker than you thought. In the middle of getting ready you decided that it would be better to just get an Uber. When you booked and saw they were 30 minutes away you panicked, everything but the pulled back mess of curly was done.

You quickly scoured Pinterest for hair ideas, finally seeing a cute one and making the most out of what little time you had left. The buzz on your phone alerted you your uber was here just as you put on your shoes. Getting in the car and greeting the woman you placed your headphones on to try and calm your nerves. The thirty minute drive seemed to only be ten and you were early, not by much but still.

“Thank you so much.” you tipped her in the app and quickly made your way to the security standing at the front gates. You looked at all the fans lined up and quickly looked away as you weren't sure what it would look like to them if you were just skipping the line. You walked up to one of security and they looked at you happily seeing you dressed up.

“Hi, I was told to give anyone my name, Y/N. I have this pass too.” He took the paper from his back pocket checking your name off and telling something to the security next to him. “I can take you there if you'd like. Just so you don't get lost.” You thanked him generously as he opened the gate enough to let you in and he walked you around the building and towards a back door. “There should be someone in there to help you from here. Have a great show.” you thanked him again as he knocked on the door for you before making his way back.

The door opened a few moments later and you were met with a face you'd seen often. “Hey, you're Y/N right? Jeffery.” you shook his hand with a wide smile. “HE said you'd probably be here early.” you smiled and laughed lightly. “Well he does seem to know my timing pretty well.” you both chuckled at that. “I'd like to thank you as well.” you looked up at him as you rounded a corner. “For what may I ask?” he chuckled knowingly. “For letting H be himself. He came back the first day with Brad saying he thought it was a trap and how someone would be so open about their plans. I offered to look for him, personally.” you looked up at that. “He told me you sent security,” he nodded. “Yeah that's what I told him too. I knew that if I told him it was alright he would actually go. But when I picked him the day you were sitting with him in the park. He got in the car with such a big smile. He went on and on about how he felt normal for once, how he didn’t feel like he needed Brad's protection. It was really nice of you to offer him the space to be- Harry.” you wanted to cry at how sweet it all was.

“That's really sweet, Jeffrey. I noticed he was peaceful, but I would've never thought that it was that big for him.” you didn’t let your psychology head get the better of you. “I’m just glad that he found a space.” you shrugged as you reached your destination. “I think he’s still at soundcheck, or doing whatever he does,” you both chuckled at the underlying annoyance he had at losing him from time to time. “But you're welcome to sit in here. He should be here soon… i hope.” he winced looking at the clock and letting you before waving goodbye and closing the door. You were now alone, in Harry Styles’ dressing room. Sure you respected a great amount that he was just Harry, a very nice, sweet and cute boy, who just happened to have an abnormal job, but the 16 year old in you was screaming. You looked around the room seeing how even on Night 2 he had a lot set up. Some little things like glasses and hats the fans toss to him. You looked at the picture he had tucked into the corner of the mirror of him and his family and you smiled softly at it. You looked around to find the rug everyone found out about a few weeks ago and smiled as it led to the bathroom.

You eventually sat down and pulled out your phone to waste time. You looked at all of the photos you took last night laughing at the one you took as he was dancing behind you. You heard voices from the other side of the door and when it opened you barely had time to look up before you were being tackled. “Oi, you big baby.” you laughed with him as he rolled off you and fell onto the floor. It wasn’t a hard fall but it still looked like it might hurt. “Fucking hell, are you okay?” you managed to get out through laughter. He groaned sitting up with one leg up and the other crossed underneath. “You came.” he whispered when it was all quiet. “You wrote.” you whispered back, coming to sit across from him. “Thank you for being here.” he rested his head on his shoulder looking at you sideways. “Again, you asked me to.” you shrugged.

He looked at you a little while longer. “I don’t know what to say to you. I just feel so serene with your company.” you smiled softly grabbing his hand in an attempt to pull him to you but he didn't even budge. “Well damn Brad, built a fucking boulder.” He laughed loudly at that and he let you pull him to you. “I'm glad you feel that way around me Harry.”

“H. Call me H, or Hazza. I like Hazza better from you.”

“Well Haza,” you giggled as you said it into the mess of curly hair that was visible on your shoulder. “I'm very happy you feel like that around me. I see the people you work with and how much they mean to you. Especially Jeffery, he’s really nice.” he hummed in agreement. He lifted his head up from your shoulder and you looked at him. “You are very pretty Hazza.” his hand seemed to be a magnet to his face as it was instantly there. You pried it down and he nodded his fingers with yours. “Is this okay?” he asked looking down at your intertwined hands you squeezed his hand with a hum. “I mean it H.” he looked up at the new nickname. “I know you get called every name in the compliment book, but I wanted you to hear it from someone you ‘know’.”

He let his free hand clutch your cheek, his thumb rubbing your cheek bone lightly so as to not ruin the makeup. “Thank you.” it was so small, so open, so him. There was no denying your growing physical and emotional attraction to the green eyed man an inch from you. You looked into his eyes and saw them buzzing softly. “What are you thinking about?” you leaned into his hand that was still holding your cheek. “How to form words.” you giggled quietly knowing exactly what he meant. He-unknown to you both- had gotten closer so now your heads were resting against each other. His eyes flicked to your lips before looking back at your eyes. “H, we move at your pace.” you whispered and he panted, “I know. I know. Fuck.” his eyes were watery and you cupped his cheeks in your own hands. “Hey, explain it to me. Throw out words.” he shook his head looking down. “I'm scared.” you lifted his head up so that he had to look at you. “Of what Hazza?” you felt like you knew.

“Of fucking it up. Everything moved so quickly in the past. I don’t know how to do it properly I don't think.” he let the tears fall and you wiped them. “That is perfectly fine Hazza. I promise that no matter where this goes, you never have to know with me. We take it day by day, step by step, lesson by lesson.” he nodded, taking a deep breath, stopping his tears. He moved his hand from your cheek to your chin drawing you closer. “I know you said my pace, and that it can be slow, but…” he trailed off the brush of your lips stopping him from thinking. It seemed time had slowed down, the both of you wanted to say time seemed frozen, but as your lips brushed again, the pounding sound of knock broke the atmosphere. “Fucking hell,” he muttered pulling back and you chuckled softly throwing your head back onto the couch. “Harry, it's time to get ready.” Aaye’s voice was heard through the door and Harry got up to open it but he kissed your head first.

“Hey H- oh hi! I didn’t mean to interrupt.” she smiled at you and you stood up to greet yourself. “Oh no, no, Not interrupting. Please I'd love to see this big baby get pampered.” he pouted at that, “heyy.” you ruffled his hair in apology.

“I see why H talks so much about you.” Aayae spoke when Harry went to the bathroom. “What d’ya mean?” That was news to your ears. He talked about you to anyone other than Jeff and maybe Brad. “Last night, he was talking about you through the entire hair process. While it's not long, he’s usually very silent.” you didn't have time to answer before Harry was coming out again. “Awe, you look like a teddy bear.” you cooed, the brown hearts with a blue shirt just did it for you. Him in anything did it for you. “I’ll take it.” he giggled before sitting back in the chair for Aaye to do last minute touches.

You watched silently and before you knew it Harry was walking you to meet the band. You had told him you would freak out when you saw them, but especially Mitch. “ everyone there is someone i'd like you to meet.” he came straight out the gate. Everyone turned to him and you, who was tucked behind him. “This is Y/N. Y/N the love band.” you waved and said hi shyly as they all came forward to give you hugs in greeting. You saw Harry pull Mitch to the side but were more focused on the fact you were hugging Elin and Ariza to fully comprehend.

When you turned to Harry and Mitch, Harry smirked. “Y/N here, learned your ‘she’ solo by ear in a few hours.” he showed off for you and you, much like Harry, smacked a hand over your eyes. “Harry.” you whined before he was peeling your hand off your face. “He wants to say hi to you, not your hand.”

“Hey Y/N!.” He greeted me with a tiny chuckle. Hearing him speak would never get old. “Hi Mitch.” you whispered and he gave you a hug. You saw Harry smiling widely and heard the click of a camera.

“Hey Y/N.” the familiar voice greeted you, you turned to him and hugged him. “Hey Lloyd.” you laughed with him as you rocked side to side. “They went to school together.” Harry told the band who nodded, clearing their confusion. You took one of Lloyd’s extra cameras as you walked down with Harry and you snapped a shot of him laughing. You showed it to Lloyd and he shoved you. “You're gonna take my job.” you both laughed as Harry stopped. “Take pictures with Lloyd tonight.” it wasn’t a command, or a question. “Wait -what?”

“I'm down for that. You always did beat me in fairs.” you looked at Lloyd with wide eyes. “Do you really want me too?” you asked both men. They both shared their interest and you caved. “Okay why not.”

You and Lloyd walked a different way from Harry. Lloyd pointed in one direction for you to take and he said he would meet up with you in just a second. You messed with the camera a bit to get used to it before walking down the steps to see fans waiting to see the man of hour.

“Let's do this.”

The whole show was amazing. Taking pictures of fans and seeing Harry from all different angles. It was so much fun. You stayed out to take pictures of fans and Paris while Harry went on break. Lloyd had come around to you saying Harry wanted to meet you after the show but you would have to leave early to meet him at the car.

You took in as much of Kiwi as you could before walking as fast as you could to where you knew the ‘getaway’ car would be. You nearly managed to open the door before Harry was running at you and scaring you in the process. “Oi!” you yelled as he laughed, opening the door motioning you to get in. You slid in, slipping off the camera as Harry started to strip. You looked away respectfully and Harry thought it was the sweetest thing. He didn’t care, but he was happy you took it into consideration.

“You can look now.” he giggled and when you turned to see him shirtless you slapped his chest. “I thought you were decent.” you laughed and he gasped. “Are my four nipples turning you on?” you gasped back, “i think they are.” you faked a swoon and he laughed hardly at that. “You are so high on adrenaline right now.” you giggled and his big smile was enough to confirm your statement.

When you pulled to the back of the hotel you both must have realised that it wasn’t talked about. “I’m seeing my mistake.” he spoke aloud and you nodded. “On you Haz. Your pace.” you reminded him and he looked at you softly. “I know but are you comfortable sharing a room with me? That's the most important thing.” room -not bed- room. “I trust you.” he smiled at that and opened his door sliding you out behind him.

You talked nonsense on the way up to his room and you were glad Harry was into skincare. You used some of his stuff to wash the makeup off and he actually was really good at braiding your curls when you took the multiple ties out of it.

“Am I hurting you? I don't want to pull on your hair.”

“No Haz, just keep going. It looks really good.”

And after a mini fight with him on saying either you slept in the bed together or you took the couch he grumbled under his breath as he snuggled into you. “I wanna take you on a date.” he whispered into the dark room. “Oh really?” it was all a bit backwards. “Yeah, I just wanted to hold you tonight, but I'm gonna do this right. I'm going to get you flowers and then take you out for breakfast then bring you to a show, and drop you off at home and hope to see you again and again.”

You giggled at his whiny but deep voice. “You mean the show I now work at?” he giggled and you felt his breath fan across your neck. “Yeah, that show.” you scoffed jokingly and he giggled again as you raked your fingers through his hair. You both were close to letting the sleep succumb you before Harry spoke sleepily. “Hey?” you hummed in acknowledgement. “You're still it.” you giggled sleepily before tilting his head up towards yours and you saw how his green eyes glowed.

You looked at his lips and back to his eyes seeing him nod softly. You brushed your lips against his pulling back before he could properly connect them. He whined but you cut him by connecting your lips to his and his whine turned into a sigh. It was a very sleepy kiss. Multiple pecks of appreciation and growing love shared. You both pulled back when you both knew if you kept going it wouldn’t stop. “Hey H?” he hummed at you blissed out and eyes closed.

“Now you’re it.”

#harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles x famous!reader #harry styles fluff #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fic #harry styles x reader smut #harry styles x reader fluff #harry styles blurb #harry styles imagine #one direction #hslot harry #hslot22

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