You're his personal Assistant!
Harry: You banged on the dressing room door for the third time, yelling, “Harry! They really need you on stage, what is taking your costume change so long?!” A singsongy voice answered back. “Who is iiiit?” You sighed. “[Y/N]. Your assistant for the past three years…?” “Thank god.” The door shot open so fast you would have been knocked to the ground, were it not for an arm reaching out and pulling you inside the room. Harry quickly shut the door behind you and pressed you against it. You were flustered at the closeness, wondering if he was going to try and kiss you. He leaned in to whisper in your ear, “I’m having a slight wardrobe malfunction.” He backed up and raised his hands, indicating the mess he’d made on his white shirt. “Harry! How do you manage to make a mess on a shirt you’ve been wearing for two seconds?” He grinned, well-accustomed to your reprimanding, and said, “Help me [Y/N], save me!” You moved closer and began to unbutton his shirt when Harry unexpectedly reached his arms around your waist and gave you a big hug. “Harry…?” You questioned. “[Y/N], I don’t thank you enough.” You smiled, answering back, “Don’t worry about it, Mr. Styles. It’s my job.” He tried to pull away but one of his buttons became caught on your shirt. After a minute of trying to untangle your two shirts, Harry grinned cheekily and said, “Well, I suppose we have to do it the quick way!” and pulled both of your shirts off, together. You felt your whole body blush as you covered yourself and turned around. “Harry!” You heard him laugh and say, “I’m not even sorry.” You spent the rest of the evening in one of his hoodies and honestly, you weren’t too sorry either.
