Random Harry Styles Short Stories || Completed!

Green-Eyed Monster

{Warning: smut oral}

Harry's a very calm person. His emotions are rarely turbulent, and he's patient and laid-back, which a lot of his friends value—including you, of course. He's also a sweetheart and a classic romantic; everyday with him is better than the last.

Which is why you hate having to go to work on the days he doesn't have to go to the studio. On the particular morning, you awake with his warm hands wrapped tightly around your waist and his raspy voice tickling your bare collarbone.

"Harry," you giggle. "Let go. I gotta get ready."

"Don't wanna let go," he says, still nuzzled against you. "'S been ages since you were able to stay at my place."

"I know." You sigh wistfully. "I wish our schedules matched up more."

He yawns, an adorable sound that makes you kiss his pinky finger, which is roaming around your chest. "Okayyyy. Five more minutes."

"C'mon, sleepyhead." You finally break away from his grip; he sits up and groans. "Well, you can stay in bed today if you'd like, but the Gerbers have invited you over," you add, looking around for your bathrobe.

"If I get to keep this view," he starts slyly, eyes twinkling, "then maybe—"

You can't find your robe, so you pick up his lavender one from the floor and shrug it on, blowing him a kiss. "If you're willing to do the paperwork I have to do today, then maybe."

"I am," he implores earnestly. There's a slight pout on his pink lips and you giggle. "Just didn't go to uni for it."

You bend to kiss his forehead. "I know, I know. It's the thought that counts." His hands wrap around your waist again and he brings you closer. "Harry—" you begin in faux-exasperation, but he's already kissing your neck.

"You're something else," you say fondly, straddling his lap. You can see your reflection in his clear, verdant gaze.

"'S not my fault." He pecks the side of your face. "Barely get to see you lately, wanna cherish any time I get—I miss you."

Your hands roam down his bare chest. "I miss you too," you confess, and you're about to seal this truth with a kiss when your phone rings. Harry groans again.

"Sorry, baby, it's work," you say, quickly answering the phone and entangling yourself from your boyfriend.

He watches as you take the phone call; he loves watching you talk about your job, the way your mouth quirks when somebody says something you don't like. It's hot, how you get assertive. But this time, your mouth doesn't quirk at all. In fact, you laugh and have a big smile on your face after hanging up.

"Good news?" Harry asks, getting up and smoothing the white sheets.

You assist in tucking in the big blanket. "Not really. Just my friend—the one I was telling you about, Lance—explaining something funny that happened in his old department."

"Oh. I see."

Your phone dings and you smile at the notification, showing it to him. "Look. He's sent me a meme about it."

Harry looks at it for a split second and crinkles his brow. "I don't get it."

You're about to respond but then you get distracted by the time. "Fuck! I'm so late." You scramble to pick up your clothes, discarded on the floor. "H, have you seen my—"