sandybeales: 3 years ago today I went for an open audition for a band I didn’t know much about, safe to say it’s changed my life, it’s been incredible, thank you for everything @onedirection
Why people ask me shit like “how was work?” or “how is school?” like work is work, school is school, I would rather be on a yacht right now while gettin some dick but here I am
Harry hasn’t seen that shirt in a while (he threw it somewhere into his closet in a hurry to pack for the TMH tour, and it’s been months since he last saw it), and maybe it’s because he’s grown out of it a bit and he’s a little wider in the shoulders, but he realizes it looks a lot better on you than him when he finds you curled up underneath his duvet.
"Huh," he murmurs in the mist of tugging his legs out of his jeans and removing his shirt, before he reaches over and runs a hand down your hip, causing the shirt to slide up. "Are you trying to make me feel nostalgic, love?"
You sleepily rest your book down and glance up at him, scooting over so he has room on his side of the bed. “Is it working?”
"Dunno, but it is making me a little horny."
You go in to playfully pat at his chest, but his much larger hand captures your wrist and he brings it up to his mouth, kissing your pulse. His other hand slides up beneath the fabric of the once loved t-shirt, and he takes notice of the way it falls a little bit above your knees, and his head spins.
"Where’d you find it?" he rasps out, and inbetween moving you to your back so he can slot his body inbetween your bent knees, he gets to work on kissing at your neck, his pink lips plump and wet against your skin and his tongue follows its path.
"Closet… had to throw — had to throw it in the wash." Your breath hitches slightly when he bites down on the side of your throat, his other hand now pushing past the waistband of your underwear, cupping you gently, his touch as light as a feather.
"It smells nice. You smell nice.”
Harry makes a small sound in the back of his throat when you push your hips up to meet his hand, and as he’s pushing you back down into the mattress, he asks, “Think this shirt can make an appearance again sometime soon?”
Your eyebrows furrow, your hands stop their motion of palming at his chest. “You won’t wear it,” you note, “The collar has stretched just from you being too big for it.”
Harry grins, bites down on your collarbone, swirls his fingers into your navel and runs his palm flat against your stomach to the point where your muscles jolt at his touch. “Yeah, well, was hoping maybe you’d wear it, as much as you wanted, of course.”
Harry pauses. His fingers stroke the hem of the shirt before placing a hand underneath you to lift your back off the mattress and pull the article of clothing off your body in one quick motion.
"Just maybe not right now."