Harry Styles Blurbs (Reader Insert)

Nerves (Fluff)

He's nervous, although he's been stubbornly denying it.

All smiles and nonchalant laughs with Jimmy during the day, and furrowed brows and meticulous planning at night. He's been mumbling the lyrics under his breath all week, consulting with the band on the logistics and working himself into the ground as he always did.

"You've got to relax, Harry. At least try," you had implored to him the first night in your hotel room as you watched him pace around.

He had glanced up at you from his phone with a pertinent frown, "Can't, love. S'got t'be perfect. M'first solo performance, innit?"

You knew better than to push him when he gotten into this mindset, so that was the last of your imploring.

Now, the night of, you're standing behind the stage and tittering back and forth on your toes. Hands clasped together and admittedly a bit nervous yourself, for his sake. He'd walked in front of you with his bottom lip caught between his teeth, hands nervously fidgeting with his rings as the cast and crew run around you two. After a sharing a gentle look and the encouraging him to "go get them", you'd pressed a hard kiss to his cheek and he had given your waist a jittery squeeze before he was walking out onto the stage.

The familiar keys of the piano fill your ears and his opening note is enough for you to have to squeeze your eyes shut in appreciation, the proud smile that you'd reserved for him sliding onto your face. The song eases into the chorus and as the drums start pounding you force your eyes open, because you're missing your favorite part. It's been so long since you've seen Harry do the favorite part of his career- perform.

He's working the crowd and the microphone in the exact way he knows how, with such easy flowing confidence. If you weren't dating him, you'd have no clue that the brilliant, talented man in front of you had been a basket of nerves all week. As the song continues on, your smile only grows bigger and a few breathless, awestruck laughs escape you too as he loosens up more, moving effortlessly around the stage. When you spot the familiar move of his arm pumping, his lips pouting, your heart swells, because he's truly back in his element.

He's nothing short of soulful and enthralling and you're so lost in your trance it takes you a moment to process why he's turned around and why his face has fallen for a millisecond. He meets your eyes from a crack in the curtain and his jaw clenches before his back is facing you again. It's a fleeting moment, and much like him, you don't have time to process because he's hitting another insane note not even a second later.

The crowd is cheering and the lights are down before you know it. He's walking off the stage and nodding at the band. You know he's going to be furious with himself, but you don't expect him to strive past you with nothing but a gust of air. You grunt and trudge after him as he heads to the dressing room to change for the next skit, hands hitting the door just before it shuts.

He's pulling at his hair and looking frantically around the room for god knows what as you shut the door behind you, leaning against it hesitantly.

"Har-"

"Not now. Please, love," he says curtly.

You bite the inside of your cheek and watch as he struggles with the buttons on his coat jacket, his brows are pushed together tightly and his jaw is still locked, "Fucking buttons, Christ-"

"Harry, stop. Stop!" you command, striding across the room and covering his hands with yours. They're shaking, but you choose to ignore it as you brush them aside after a reassuring squeeze. You unbutton the buttons quickly and he sighs in relief as you begin to push the shoulders of his jacket off. Once it's off, he's pulling at the buttons on his shirt, letting out an exasperated breath as the top few fall open.

"Drink," you command, uncapping a water bottle from his dresser and handing it to him.

He takes it from you without protest and you're thankful, grabbing the clothes for his next skit from the rack behind you and pulling them off the hangers.

He gulps down the majority of the bottle and you take it from him. There isn't much time left and you know someone will be here to get him into his beard.

He's staring off behind you with a stone like gaze, when he speaks up in a pained tone, "Tha' was terr-"

After setting the clothes aside, you press your finger to his lips and shake your head with a stern look, and he frowns at you. His lips tickle your finger as he tries to speak up again and you lift your palm to cover his mouth instead.

"Listen to me. Harry, love, you were fantastic. It was one note, yeah? You're not beating yourself up over this. Alright? I won't let you. You smashed it," you stress, tilting your head at him.

He's still frowning at you and you know he's still thinking of retaliating so you press on while gently lowering your hand, "Baby, you just had your first solo performance. You did it! I don't want you feeling anything other than proud, alright?"

You lift an eyebrow at him and dare him to protest but to your surprise a small smile appears, his arms wrapping around your waist and pulling you in. "I was okay? Yeh sure? I just ran out o' breath an' I couldn-"

You shake your head at him, lifting your hands to cup his cheeks and press one, two, three kisses against his parted lips, " Sh, sh. Have I ever lied to you? It was the first time you've performed the song. You were spectacular, Harry."

His shoulders fall in acceptance, and he nods after a moment giving you a firmer smile, nose bumping into your cheek as he pants words out against it, "Thank yeh, sweetheart."

You know he's still upset, he will be for a while, but for the time being you've managed to soothe him and you let your hands fall from his cheeks to wrap behind his neck, scratching gently at the roots as he relaxes against you with a hum.

You give him a smile and he pulls you into a crushing hug that catches you in surprise, you laugh, squeezing tight around his neck as he presses a kiss to the side of your head. "Silly you are," you scold gently into his shoulder before pressing a kiss there.

He gives you one more squeeze and you pull away, turning back to grab his trousers and smirk at him, "Now, take your pants off, Styles. You've got a skit to do."