Harry Styles One Shots.
These are one shots I have found on tumblr.
All credit goes to the writers of which I name at the end of every chapter. If any original writers of these one shots would like me to remove them, please let me know.
description: y/n wants to show her grammy winning boyfriend just how proud she is of him
word count: 3.2k
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You decided that "Harry Styles, Grammy-nominated artist!" had a lovely ring to it.
Harry knew how proud you were of him; you had been making it known to him in the days leading up to his big night. You fretted over him more than you usually did, showered him in an obnoxious amount of compliments, and were the most intimate you'd ever been with him–– but who was he to complain?
Obviously, he knew you could care less whether he won or lost, and quite frankly, he didn't care either. Just being able to perform at the Grammy's, much less open it, was the opportunity of a lifetime. The fact that he was hitting such a big professional milestone with you by his side just made it that much better. You were both buzzing. It had been months since Harry had performed. You knew how much he missed being in front of a live audience and hearing people scream his name, conceited as he was. He had been spending so much time rehearsing the one song he was performing, wanting it to be absolutely perfect. Your boyfriend was a perfectionist, after all! If he was going to do something, he either did it one hundred and ten percent, or he didn't do it at all.
Although you were used to your boyfriend's pre-performance jitters, it still wasn't an easy sight to see. He would pace so much that beads of sweat would collect in his hairline; he'd shake, tremble, and have to be reminded to breathe. You'd think after ten years of doing this he would be a pro, but he was only human, after all.
"Been so long since I performed in front of people," Harry muttered to you, examining his reflection in his make-shift dressing room. "'M nervous."
"Don't be nervous," you reply, coming up behind him to rub his shoulders. He shoots you a look in the mirror. "I know it's easier said than done but you have nothing to worry about. It's "Watermelon Sugar" honey–– you've got nothing to worry about. You've performed this one dozens of times."
"Things are jus' so different now," his voice drops an octave. "What if people are tired of the song?"
"I don't think people are tired of the song."
"It played on the radio a lot. Came out in 2019––"
"...And you've been busy with other things. No one's gonna be upset that you haven't released new music in the middle of a pandemic H, I promise you."
Harry's gaze meets yours again in the mirror briefly before he tilts his head back, silently asking for a kiss. You plant one on his lips before grabbing a tissue from a small table beside him, dabbing at his hairline.
"Stop sweating everything off, Harry," you playfully scold your boyfriend. "Make-up artist has already been by to touch you up three times already, she's probably running out of product."
