Harry Styles Blurbs (Reader Insert)

Distraction

Harry is lucky, and admittedly, a tad jealous that your schedule is so flexible.

On most days, you're working from home (or the cafe a few streets down, if you're feeling a bit blocked). Although there's the occasional day or two during the week when you have to head into the paper's office or meet your editor to go over this week's article/progress. Need it be, there's rare days where you're out of bed and out the door before he is, with a kiss between his brows and the whispered promise of bringing him a smoothie when you get back. You've got a few notebooks full of research and scribbles of ideas that you lug around with you more than your own phone. There's the occasional request from your boss to go out and do a field report, days when it's Harry dropping you off at the airport and you promising him that you'll be back before he knows it.

Your career, and you, have always kept him on his toes. In fact, he had met you through your career, when you had decided to dabble in arts and entertainment during your internship and had tagged along with a reporter to one of their many press conferences. He'd had a hard time answering questions when he couldn't take his eyes off the girl who'd been scribbling away and whispering questions to the scowling brunette next to her every few seconds. He'd only been further enthralled when you had stood up to ask a question despite the aforementioned brunette tugging on your arm and not so quietly asking you to sit down.

When people ask you how you two met, he likes to joke about how you had asked him a hard hitting question about the writing process behind the album's most popular single, when all the other reporters were asking him and the other members about how they were coping with the loss of one of their bandmates. Which, in retrospect he appreciated much more than he could convey. Although you'd ultimately steered away from media based reporting after you two had become serious- he'd never forget the journalist that stood out the most in all his years.

More often than not, you were a help to him. When he was blocked he came to you first thing. Sure, you two were in different fields of writing but that never stopped you from lending him the helping hand he needed. You had a way with words like nobody he had ever met and that's one of the many, many things he loves about you,

The flexibility, he thinks as he follows his security guard down the hall towards his room, is really good. It meant that more often than not, you were able to fly with him to wherever he needed to be. It meant coming "home" to you more often. But, most of all, it meant having you every step of the way with him- and that was something he was beyond grateful for.

"Can take the rest o' the morning off," he says to his security guard, extending his hand towards him as the come to a stop.

"Are you sure, sir?" The guard asks, giving Harry a skeptical look.

Harry nods, rubbing at his nose with one hand, "Yeah, reckon she's probably still asleep. Plus you could use a break, mate. I'll call yeh if anything changes."

The guards room is right across the hall from yours, and he thanks Harry, making sure he's inside before he enters his own room. Harry hears the 'do-not-disturb' sign he'd hung on the handle when he left early this morning scraping back and forth against the door for a moment as he yawns and takes his boots off near the door.

Staying out late with Jeff and Glenne the night before wasn't the smartest idea he's ever had, considering he had an early morning interview today. He'd reluctantly ducked out the door and left a very adorable, sleepy you all by yourself. He's intent on making up for the cuddles he's missed this morning, but as he rounds the corner he's surprised to see that you're wide awake.

You're spread diagonally across the mattress, your laptop perched on the edge of the bed as the familiar sounds of the keys clacking fill his ears. Your back is towards him, the fabric of his shirt from last night is drawn up just enough, for him to be able to see the blue fabric of your panties peeking out.

He stops near the table where you two have put a plethora of your things, shedding his rings off and putting them there. He takes his suit jacket off and lays it on the desk chair, when he hears the pause in the violent typing. Only to be replaced by you stabbing the backspace key with contempt, a sure sign of a change of thought in the middle of whatever sentence you were writing.

"How'd it go?" You pipe up suddenly.

He's shuffling out of his trousers, and he glances up to see you still facing your laptop. "Was okay..." he murmurs, finally making his way over to the bed.

He presses a knee into the mattress to steady himself as he hovers over you, pausing to pat your perky bum and extracting a gasp from you.

"Your hands are cold," you whine, squirming under him.

He ignores you as he props up on both arms, pressed to the mattress on either side of you, with a very small amount of his weight pressing to you. He glances over the top of your head to see you typing in blue font- opposed to the majority of the article which is in black. He's glad, because edits never take you long. "They never ask good questions like you do," he says, pressing his lips to the top of your head.

You snort in reply, "You always say that, love."

"S'cause it's true," he says into your hair, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath of the familiar and comforting smell of your shampoo. You haven't budged from typing and he lets out a sound of annoyance, burying his face into your neck and snuggling closer, "Put it away. Wanna cuddle."

"Just..." you trail off as you start typing quickly again and he doesn't need to see your face to know that you're biting your lip harshly in concentration or the fact that your eyes are narrowed behind the frame of your glasses.

"Jus' nothing, love, please... can do it later can't yeh?" He pleas, pressing the side of his face to yours. The frame of your glasses pokes him in the cheek as he presses kisses to your skin, but he doesn't mind.

"I just need to get these edits back to Thomas. Five more minutes, I promise," you say softly, trying unsuccessfully to placate him.

"Thomas can wait, Harry needs yeh," he mutters stubbornly, pressing more of his weight against you. You let out a grunt and he wiggles on top of you.

He keeps the distraction tactics up, pressing kisses to your shoulder and neck, pushing your hair aside and nuzzling right up against the back of your neck. "Please, angel, just wanna spend the morning in bed with m'favorite writer."

"Alright, alright fine," you concede at last when he sinks his teeth into the junction where your neck and shoulder meet. He's a welcome distraction, and you too weren't happy with the lack of morning snuggles.

He grins in triumph, lifting his face from your hair to watch as he reaches a clumsy hand over you to shut your laptop.

"Get off of me," you complain, although it's halfhearted and Harry knows even if he stayed you wouldn't mind.

Nonetheless, he shifts off of you and to his side of the bed, waiting as you put your laptop away and come back to him.

You smile and shake your head at his pouty lips as you settle under the covers and into his open arms.

He presses a smacking kiss to your hairline and you tilt your head up to peer at him beyond your frames, "Tired?"

"Mmm," he hums in response, tightening his arms around you.

You press your own lips to his chest in a soft kiss and let him hold onto you for a little while longer before you insist on trading positions.

After all, he did prefer being the little spoon.