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anonymous asked:

cuddling w harry on the sofa!!

getting home from work was always the best feeling. Knowing you’ll soon be in bed cuddled up to your favourite human is indescribable. You walked through the door and hung your coat up, took your shoes off and hung your handbag up too. “Harry?” You called. “In the kitchen, gorgeous.” You smiled and turned the corner to get to the kitchen and you found Harry making you dinner in his joggers topless. A sight. You smiled as he turned around and opened his arms for a cuddle. You opened your arms and embraced him. “Hey, you.” He smiled pressing a kiss to your neck. You smiled and let out a big sigh of content. You looked over his shoulder to find all the small jobs you had been dreading to do, done. “Hey you washed up” You smiled. “Mmmm” You looked around. “And hoovered, and wash the sides, making dinner, what’s going on?” You smiled playfully. Harry smiled down and kissed your plump lips. “Thought I’d take some stuff off your shoulders, had a pretty chilled day so” He shrugged. You cupped his face with your hands “I love you Styles.” You smiled. He placed your lips together and he kissed you tenderly with his hand under your chin guiding you into the kiss. He sighed and pushed you back a bit and trapped you between him and the counter. “I love you too”

After your nicely prepared dinner and a shared bath with your lover, you both decided a cuddle and a chick flick on the sofa would be perfect. Grabbing the fluffiest and biggest blanket you guys owned you cuddled underneath with Harry cradling you being the big spoon. His arm was under you neck supporting your shoulder and you turned your head a little to kiss his arm. “This is lovely. Thank you” You smiled. Harry turned and leaned his body a little on yours cuddling into you and kissing your neck up to your jawline and pressing softly against you.

Harry Styles - Shave

Originally posted by 50-shads-of-stylesxx

“Hold still.” I whispered as I lathered the shaving foam in my palm. Harry simply winked at me, sliding his hands up my bare thighs.

He’d woken me up this morning with scratchy kisses, and given he’s got a big interview with a new record label I suggested that he shave off the stubble on his jaw. After much complaining and whining, I finally agreed to do it for him. So now here I am, sat on the countertop next to the sink, Harry standing between my open thighs as I spread the white foam over the bottom half of his face.

“Don’t shave my eyesbrows.” He hummed.

“No? Thought you’d look handsome like that.” I giggled back, grabbing a towel and wiping my hands clean. “You sure you want me to shave you? I don’t wanna cut you.”

He rolled his eyes. “Don’t worry, if you cut me I’ll give you a ten second head start.”

I rolled my eyes at him. “Such a gentleman.”

“You know me.” He chuckled. I grabbed the razor and warily looked at him. “You won’t cut me baby, I trust you.” He sweetly said. I smiled and set to work.

I started with his neck, gliding the blade over the shorter hairs first before leaning over and swirling the razor in the sink. The water turned a creamy white with flecks of hair resting on the surface.

“So good, so far.” I murmured to myself as I lifted his chin to make sure I’d rid the hair on his neck completely. Once done I moved to his left cheek, starting at his sharp jaw line before dragging upwards to just under his side burn. His eyes never left my face, clearly amused by the amount of concentration I was putting in thus far.

After his cheeks were smooth and tipped his forehead back so the skin on his chin stretched out more. I was careful not to cut his plump bottom lip, dragging the blade extra slowly to ensure a smooth finish. I tapped his upper lip, which he tucked into his teeth and I shaved over the small moustache he had grown. I pulled back and let the razor sink into the water, making sure I hadn’t missed a spot.

“Handsome.” I smiled. I grabbed the towel and swiped off the excess foam speckled on his face. I grabbed the small bottle of moisturiser, squirting a dollop onto my hand before rubbing it into his skin.

He hummed at the contact. “Look good?” I nodded. “I’ll shave yours now.”

I gasped and gently tapped the skin of his cheek. “I resent that.”

“But not me?” His eyes sparkled with humour.

I shook my head. “Never you.” I pecked his lips, however soon Harry picked me up, promising to take me in the bed as I giggled in his ear.

Black Cherry

So, this is a little ramble that I’ve had typed up for a while now.  Thought I’d post it to get some feedback and then try and continue it, maybe…


“Halo, you having another?!”

“We’re on in like five minutes, Jax,”  I called to my drummer, of whom was at the bar about to down another tequila with the girl he’d charmed for the evening.  The crowd had formed in The Red Lion, the pub we were playing in that night.  Unusually, there was quite a large audience, I wasn’t sure if they’d come for us or if they’d all disperse as soon as Jax counted us in.  My nerves were building.  “alright fine, rack ‘em up.”  Jax clapped his hands and the bartender served up four more shots.  I’d already had a few when we’d been setting up, but I could never say no to free alcohol.

“Blackberries, you’re up!”  The landlord barked from where he stood, arms folded behind the bar.

“It’s Black Cherry, arsehole!”  Terry, our bassist yelled back, all of us moving to the makeshift stage in the corner of the room.  I smacked his chest with the back of my hand, it had been hard enough trying to get this gig at all, we didn’t need him making us enemies.

I stepped to the microphone, grabbing my guitar on the way and slinging the strap over my shoulder.  I strummed a few chords, checking the frequency and tuning.  Grabbing the mic with my pick still in hand, it was when I looked up I saw him.

He stood tall at the back of the room.  A hand in his pocket and a hand holding a pint of beer, he leaned against the bar.  It was dark but I could make out he was wearing a white t-shirt, a pair of black jeans and a baker boy hat.  I’d seen his band doing the rounds that we were doing, but unlike us, they had taken off about a year ago.  They were getting slight airplay and were touring supporting bigger bands.  I craved what they had so much, they’re success drove me to rehearse more and to push for more and more gigs, even if they were in shitty pubs like The Red Lion.  If they could do it, we could do it.  But there was one difference and that was that they had him.  I wasn’t one to compare myself to others, I knew it got you nowhere, but as a frontman, you only had to watch him for a few minutes to know he was born for it.  A total rockstar in the making.  I’d found myself at a number of their gigs and I was completely in awe of him.  He owned the stage, had the swagger and charm of Mick Jagger but the artistry and mystery of David Bowie.  Sometimes you can just sense that someone is destined to make it and as soon as I saw him I knew.  I took a deep breath to steady myself, the alcohol spiking in my veins and making me all warm and a little dizzy.

“We’re Black Cherry.  It’s good to be here, hope you’re ready to rock.  Let’s go.”  I spoke huskily into the mic, looking at the crowd through my eyelashes.  Jax counted us in with his sticks and we roared into our first song.  The audience, as usual, depleted slightly as we went into our third song, I was a sweaty mess by the fifth song and when it came to the last song, we were performing to the backs of peoples heads as they conversed.  But he kept watching.  He’d come forward from where he was stood prior, deciding to drag his mates over to the table closest to us.  While they talked, his eyes stayed on us, when we finished he sat and clapped super loud.  Mainly because he was the only one committing to the action.  Or due to his colossal sized hands.

Jax added his signature last fill, and I mumbled a thank you before exiting the stage.  I tried not to look at him sat there but before I could even make it to the bar he’d appeared in front of me, blocking my path.

“Um, hi?”  I tucked my hair behind my ear and blew my fringe out of my eyes to look up at him.  He smirked down at me, but there was a sense of unnerving about the way he was looking at me.

“Can I buy you a drink?  That was a great set, you deserve it.”  I blinked, he was chatting me up.  I breathed, about to answer when I felt a hand grip my elbow a little too hard.

“Hey, doll.  Sorry, I’m late, when do you start?”  I ripped my arm out of his harsh grip and tousled my fringe back into my eyes.  

“We just finished, Pete.”  I looked at my feet as I fidgeted.  I smiled apologetically as my boyfriend Peter finally acknowledged that someone else was there.

“Ah damn,”  Peter said emotionless, and unapologetically.  “and you are?”  Keeping his attention to the man in front of us.

“Harry.  Nice to meet ya mate.”  Harry held his hand out towards Peter and smiled charmingly.  Peter smiled back and shook it, exchanging pleasantries, but I knew he was sizing the man up.  I cringed inwardly at the awkwardness that was bouncing between the three of us but couldn’t think of anything to say.

“How about you go and pack up, babe.  We can get going when you’re ready.”  Peter finally spoke up.  I looked at Harry through my fringe and nodded.  He shrugged and smiled politely.  The last thing I wanted was for him to walk away.  There was so much I wanted to ask him and he’d approached me, I couldn’t deny the fact that that excited me.

“Just out of interest,”  Harry spoke up before I turned away, he glanced at Peter almost nervously.  “I didn’t get your name?”

“Her names Halo.  She’s twenty-two years of age.  We’ve been together two and a half years, anything else you’d like to know?  Just out of interest?”  Peter jumped in before I could speak and I glared at him.  He could be a real jealous idiot.  I turned away embarrassed.  I vowed to myself, as I crossed the pub floor to help the boys pack up the van, that I wouldn’t let him treat me like that again.  The only problem was that it was what felt like the hundredth time I’d made that vow.


I smiled as I continued to scroll through the girls Instagram.  Halo; what a name.  She was a ready-made rockstar.  At least in my eyes.  And my eyes couldn’t leave her figure as she jammed out with her band the night I’d met her.  When I met her formally though, she was half the person I’d seen on stage.  I couldn’t help but think that that had something to do with her interesting choice of a boyfriend.  But as I clicked on another photo of them she’d posted a few months back, you wouldn’t be able to tell they had any issues.  They posed for the camera, him kissing her cheek, in front of a gorgeous sunset backdrop, peppered with blue rooftops and greenery.  I confirmed my wondering thought of the location and saw she’d tagged, Mykonos, Greece.  I’d never been there myself, but I could see myself there, with her.  She looked adorable, her cheeks smushed by his lips, hers pouting out and her gaze cast downwards.  I locked my phone and threw it on the bed beside me.  I was getting far too obsessed far too quickly.  I didn’t even really know her.

“Harry!  Come on, studio time started 10 minutes ago-bloody christ.”  I heard Christine, our manager, throw herself into my apartment.  Tripping on something like she always did.  I sighed and rose from my bed, tousling my hair and throwing on my shoes.

“Well, I was waiting for you to pick me up.  That’s kinda the deal we’ve had for five months now.”  I stood up to walk down the hallway to my kitchen.  Christine charged towards me, her heels clicking on my wooden flooring.  She thrust a Starbucks iced latte at me and opened my front door for us to leave.

“If you hadn’t lost your license being a dickhead drunk driver you wouldn’t have to wait on me now would you?”  She asked rhetorically as I closed the door, taking a swig of my coffee and rolling my eyes.  She never let me forget that little story.  Pretty much the biggest mistake I’ve ever made.  But I was in a very different place in my mind around the time I’d made that particular decision.  I crammed my legs into Christine’s pristine baby blue Fiat 500 and she sped away from the curb before I could even shut my door.  As we drove, she listed all the things that we were responsible for getting done in the session she’d booked.  “We need to get it all done quickly as this studio costs the label £150 an hour.  So get your head in the game, hun.”

Christine was heavily northern, probably in her late thirties, I could never remember.  She was classy and intelligent but had the worst memory and timekeeping skills I’d experienced in anyone.  Even my mum, and that’s saying something.  When she’d first signed on to manage us, she’d taken a liking to our rhythm guitarist, Jonesy.  But we’d began sleeping together as soon as she’d heard my voice in person.  I don’t have much of an ego anymore, but back then I certainly did.  Shagging an older woman as a teenager was a lad’s wet dream.  And I’d lived it.  Of course, it all went to shit but we’d always have chemistry.  The recording studio was located in a shed in Essex, so luckily my new apartment was in greater London or we’d be in the shit with how late we were.  Halo didn’t enter my mind until I saw a girl about her height, walking down the high street.  Her light blonde hair flowing behind her.  My intrigue sparked, I took my phone from my jeans pocket.  Bringing Instagram up again to look at her unique features, and to bring up the chat page.  I wondered if I could really ‘slide into her DMs’ when she had a crazily overprotective boyfriend probably watching her every move and probably signed into every social media account she owned.  I typed in a greeting, then deleted it, trying a more casual one, then deleting it again.  Christine slammed on her breaks and I was thrown back into reality, realising that we’d stopped.  She jumped out and I sighed, clicking out of Instagram and locking my phone.


I twirled my fork through my spaghetti, my head resting on my fist.  Peter looked up at me through his eyelashes as he slurped up his own dish through his plump lips.  I placed the forkful into my mouth and raised my eyebrows in question to what he was thinking.  He furrowed his eyebrows, covering his mouth with the back of his hand.

“What’s up with you tonight?”  He spoke, still chewing.

“What do you mean?  I’m just eating my Bolognese…”  I shrugged.  In truth, I hadn’t been myself for a while, but why it had taken him this long to notice was exactly why I was doubting our relationship.

“Are you tired?  You slept in late today so you shouldn’t be.”  I breathed in through my nose.  Peter was a lovely guy.  I wouldn’t have given him a look in if he wasn’t.  But little comments like that were very commonly made.

“No.  I’m not tired.”

“Okay, so what then?  You’ve had a face like a slapped arse all bloody evening.”  I let my fork drop to my plate, becoming irritated.  I decided I’d try to be honest thinking maybe he would understand.

“I’m just… uninspired.”  Peter choked on his pasta.  Coughing over a laugh.

“Uninspired,” he spluttered, hand over his chest.  “Of course.  I should have known.”  He was still clearly amused.  “Maybe you should try working all day, maybe that will inspire you.”  He chuckled dryly, taking a long gulp of his sparkling water.  See the thing is he really thought he was being funny.  Like he wasn’t insulting his partner of over two years but merely sharing a joke with his workmates over a beer.  He did that all the time and it infuriated me.  Yes, he basically put a roof over my head and milk in the fridge.  But god forbid him ever letting me forget it.  He was supportive at the beginning, came to every gig we played.  After all, he’d met me through watching the band.  He’d been similar to Harry in a way, but he had shown his attraction through a wingman.  At the time, I was couch surfing and he gave me the attention I’d craved for a long time.  I grew very fond of him very quickly, he was goofy and quirky and intelligent.  Not bad to look at either.  As the only male figure I had in my life was my own deadbeat dad, I couldn’t go far wrong with Peter.  But he loved the fact that he’d saved me, he still loved thinking that he was fixing me.

“That was rude, Pete.  I made you this great homemade dinner didn’t I?”  I said, stabbing a meatball and shoving it into my mouth whole.

“Well, you had all day to do it.”

“Christ, I get it, you work 9 to 5, good job, Dolly.”  I said, throwing my fork to my plate and standing up sharply.  The chair scraping along Peter’s wooden floor.  He hated when I did that.  He huffed back into his chair, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“For goodness sake, Hay.  I do it for you.  For us!”

“No, don’t worry.  I just thought about opening up to you but now I realise that was silly of me, you’ve been working all day and I haven’t, why would I have any problems or issues of my own.  Don’t worry Peter, I’ll keep it to myself from now on.”

“I didn’t mean to-”

“Oh, please, master.  Don’t fret, how about I go run you a nice hot bath and while you soak your stresses away I’ll wait like a good little housewife in the bedroom, legs akimbo and when you’re done, you can hop on and we’ll make sweet love in the missionary for maybe six-seven minutes on a good day and then I’ll cry myself to sleep while you snore your blissful little man brain off.”  I sighed once I’d finished.  Throwing the tea-towel onto the side and putting my head in my hands.  Peter didn’t say anything.  After a few minutes, I felt him come up behind me and I flinched.  He kissed me on the crown of my head, breathed in the scent of my shampoo and then walked away to the bedroom.  I leaned forward on my palms in front of the sink, hanging my head and breathing deeply.  My phone buzzed on the counter beside the kettle where I’d plugged it in for charging.

I looked over with hooded eyelids.  It was Harry.


Why did I think that was okay?  She must have thought I was some weird stalker, she had to.  I couldn’t stop looking at my phone.  Sat there on my coffee table staring at me like I’d done something wrong and it was ashamed of me.  It had been at least 2 and a half hours since I’d messaged her.  Yes, I was counting.  I stood up, deciding I needed to get my mind off of this situation, off of her.  She had a boyfriend for Christ’s sake, why had I become that guy?  I paced back and forth in my kitchen, I couldn’t cook because I had no food in.  All I could think about was the embarrassment of her rejection.  I jumped when my phone rang suddenly, I stared at it, I was stuck to my spot behind my sofa.  I couldn’t make out who it was from there and that almost felt safer.  I shook my head and rushed around to my coffee table, swiping the iPhone from the glass surface.

“Oh for fuck-,”  I sighed under my breath, tapping the answer button on the screen.  “Hi, mum.”

“Hi darling, just wondering if you were going to let me know if you’re still alright to play at the charity do this weekend.  All the boys still game?”  Her chirpy northern drawl calmed me some.  Like it usually did.

“Yeah mum, they’d all love to help.  We’re all planning on bringing our own crowds so hopefully, that’ll bring in more money.”

“That’s wonderful… alright then, good to hear your voice honey, don’t leave it too long again, yeah?”  I sighed, feeling guilty.

“Yeah mum, love you, bye.”  I hung up and tossed the phone onto the sofa beside me.  We still needed to bring our set together for the gig and if I was honest music just wasn’t my priority at that point.  We’d had a little taste of fame and I wasn’t sure if I was enjoying it as much as the other lads were.

I picked up my phone again, I swiped to the Instagram private messaging page again and sighed.  I’d been left on read.  I should’ve stopped myself, but all I’d sent was a simple, Hi.  Surely she couldn’t blame me fo- oh god she was typing.  My eyes widened and I panicked, throwing the phone away from me after quickly closing the app.


Well hello to you.  We’ve gotta stop meeting like this.  That was a good enough message I’d thought.  He didn’t take much time to reply with a witty comment.  We conversed with little flirtation at the beginning, however, it was hard to resist the temptation and I could feel myself growing weary.  Peter hadn’t stirred since he’d exited the kitchen nearly 2 hours prior.  I’d popped open a bottle of merlot and set myself down on the sofa chatting to Harry.  The more I sipped the less guilt I felt.


I haven’t been able to get you off my mind since you opened your mouth on that stage…


I felt the same way when I saw you play Gullivers

I could feel my heart beating as I watched the little bubble pop up, signaling that he was typing.  Peter was so far out of my mind at that point and my senses were too cloudy with wine to care.


Wow, Gully’s was a while ago… trying to prove you’re my biggest fan? ;-) 


Oh, like you need anyone to remind you how amazing you are


Nah, you’re right, I get that a lot

I shook my head, smirking and taking another long gulp of the smooth liquid.  I was about to reprimand his egotistical arse when the bubble appeared again.


For some reason, it feels so much more satisfying hearing it from you

I smiled at my phone screen.  God, I’d forgotten what it was like to feel like this.  Peter and I had such an amazing first year.  I was so in love with him that I really thought that that feeling would never end with us.  It made me excited but uneasy that I was feeling potential with a different person.  I thought about him lying in our bed, for the first time in a while I almost dreaded having to go to sleep next to him.


You’re gorgeous, Harry… but I have Pete

I stared at my phone, having to tap it again to stop the screen fading to black.  He was taking his time.  I thought I’d fucked it up until the little bubble finally reappeared.  I was too drunk to question why I was worried about fucking whatever it was we had up.


I wasn’t suggesting anything, love… I know you’ve got a bloke… I’m merely stroking your ego until you tell me otherwise

I sighed, covering my drunken eyes with the palm of my hand.  All I wanted to do was tell him to keep talking until I drove myself to the edge.


Ugh, fuck it

I paused myself, taking another large pull of the red liquid in my glass as my fingers became sweaty.


Keep talking…


What do you like, love… where would you want me if I was there?

I bit my lip, my eyes were hooded and at that point, anything he said would have started a fire in my belly.  I couldn’t fully comprehend the fact that this was happening.  This man had been the object of my affections for years.  I’d be damned if I wasn’t going to take advantage of everything he was clearly laying on the table.