🚕NEW YORK CITY🚕
Prompt (from kofi donation): Bailey requested something angsty with a happy ending so here you go! (and thank you for the donation bby!)
warnings: angst, language, blood
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Harry was truly a good person who treated people with kindness but he was not perfect by any stretch of the imagination.
Just like in any marriage, you got to see the best of your spouse and the downside was you saw them at their worst sometimes.
YN was definitely witnessing her husband at one of those ‘worse’ times.
Times that were usually saved for when he was stressed out on tour.
She could deal with a lot before engaging in a fight with Harry, even when he’s a cranky brat - but the one thing she can’t stand is when he acts like a spoiled little popstar who’s more important than everyone else.
YN is the lead designer for his merchandise as well as social media manager for her husband. She managed all of his accounts from Twitter, Instagram, etc.
She didn’t mind that part of the job but she didn’t love it.
What she was truly passionate about was designing merchandise for the tour, as well as all of his other promotional adventures.
Harry had made it clear from the beginning of his solo career that he trusted his wife’s skills and abilities - that she didn’t need to run everything by him like an employee would.
There was a very clear line that in no way was their relationship boss/employee because that sounded like a recipe for disaster.
Harry was exhausted with his back to back Nashville shows, his first night at MSG, and tonight was his second.
He had been miserable since he woke up, refused to work out with his personal trainer, wouldn’t answer the hotel door to Jeff, and complained that YN had folded one of his shirt in a way that caused wrinkles.
YN had been laying low, excited as she had created this fantastic new design for a surprise sweatshirt merch drop in Florida.
It was a seventies inspired font that was reddish orange across the chest on a white cotton fabric that said Come Get Your Love with a mushroom surround by a few retro styled flowers.
On the back was the name of the tour with the list of every date and location of the concert in the same font with flowers and mushrooms scattered around the text.
When the design was approved by management and printing of it was going to begin, YN was so so excited to share the design with her husband.
He had been saying in passing that it would be cool to do a random new merch drop as well as wanting some retro vibes on it.
YN delivered, it took her quite a while to get everything how she wanted it but she was so excited when she got the prototype to show Harry.
It was pre-show, he still hadn’t really snapped out of the attitude and nasty mood he was in so YN was trying to let him have space - which is extremely hard to give him space when this whole tour is for him.
*YN’s concert outfit*
She had left the sweatshirt on the back of a chair in the conference room, she had shown everyone else beside Harry and they were all obsessed with it.
YN was currently sat on the ground with the band, Jeff, and Tommy playing a game of Cards Against Humanity when Harry is storming into the lounge room with the sweatshirt in his grip.
“Wha’ the fuck is this?” Harry demands, mostly to Jeff but the everyone is looking at him with confusion.
“It’s the sweatshirt for the surprise merch drop in Florida?” Jeff trails off, unsure of why his client is so irate.
“I didn’t fuckin’ approve this design! Y’didnt even run it by me!” Harry accuses, now directly looking at his wife, “Y’think I want a fuckin’ shroom sweatshirt in my merch line? How does tha’ go with anything else like the bunnies?”
YN drops her cards, pushing herself off the ground, and crossing her arms as she tries to take a calming breath, “I’m sorry you don’t like the print but it’s already approved and being sent for sale for all the tour dates in Florida. We’ve had the conversation before that I didn’t have to check with you.”
Harry has the audacity to throw the article of clothing on the ground like it was worthless, garbage, “I guess tha’ needs to change! Now tha’ I have this going up! It’s m’fuckin’ tour, m’merch, and I want it my way. This is unacceptable.”
The band had yet to see the couple in a fight, yet to really see the usual, level-headed YN actually get angry with Harry.
“I am not your employee, Harry. Do not talk to me like that. You’re acting like a spoiled brat but this tour is about more than just your wants. I worked really hard on that design for you to just toss it on the ground like it’s meaningless,” YN replies, tone still calm and at a normal volume.
“I don’t care tha’ you worked hard on it! I don’t want this at my fuckin’ concerts!” Harry roars loudly, startling the others in the room as he points towards the discarded sweatshirt.
YN can feel the tears prickling at the back of her eyes at his harsh, loud words - his sharp jaw was tight and his eyes were narrowed at her like she was an enemy.
She could usually hold her own - would never walked away from a fight but battle it out until it was fully resolved but Harry had not only embarrassed her in front of their friends but hurt her feelings.
“Listen to me closely, Harry. I don’t give a fuck if you’re tired or unhappy with this design. I have no idea who you think you’re talking to right now but you’re not going to talk to me like this,” YN says tightly, holding back emotion as she huffs out of the room and back towards his dressing room.
Harry automatically starts to feel a bit of shame when he’s left in a dead silent room with everyone looking at him like he had three heads.
He doesn’t say anything else, quite surprised his normally feisty wife left the argument without resolution.
When he enters the private room, YN is shoving a few items into her purse before swinging it over her shoulder and snatching up her jacket.
“Wha’-wha’s goin’ on?” Harry asks in confusion, heart picking up speed as his wife slips into her shoes she had taken off. ***
“I’m going back to the hotel. I’m not staying here to support your performance when you just treated my hardwork like shit and didn’t support me,” She bites out, doing her damn hardest to not let her voice quiver.
“Bab-“ Harry begins, he knows he’s in deep shit when she leaves the show - it didn’t happen unless he’d really fucked up.
“Don’t ‘baby’ me,” She mocks his accent, “You just embarrassed us in front of our friends, disrespected my work, and disrespected me all because you’re tired. I’m so done with you right now,” YN shakes her head, shouldering past him without another word.
He watches in regret as she strides down the hall where Alberto is waiting for her, to transport her back to their hotel.
It was always a less enjoyful concert when his wife wasn’t in attendance - his eyes darted to the box where she should be sitting like she was yesterday, dancing and singing along.
It wasn’t often Harry was disengaged onstage, not as present as he normally was but his mind kept wandering back to his wife and how royally he fucked up.
There was a small glimmer of hope that she would appear at some point, change her mind, and watch the concert but that box reserved for her stayed empty the whole time.
The crowd could tell too.
He didn’t read many signs, didn’t pick up any objects thrown his way, and when the set was over he didn’t linger on the stage.
The band was chatting backstage afterwards when Harry approaches them, swallowing his pride, and awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck.
“Er, so uh,” Harry’s tone was his normal, slow-paced morbid style as he stumbles to properly form the right words, “I uh-wanted to apologize f’actin’ like tha’ earlier. I shouldn’t have taken m’frustration out like tha’ and er, yeah.”
His friends forgive him but imply that he really needs to go be apologizing to his wife and not them which he tells them he’s going to do next.
Harry feels nervous he taps the keycard against the lock to get into the hotel room - his hair was still damp from shower at the venue.
It was a penthouse suite, so Harry didn’t automatically see his wife - he steps through quietly until he reaches the bedroom where she’s sat on her laptop with bleary, puffy eyes in the bed - just in a oversized shirt.
“I really really don’t want to talk to you right now,” She tells him without looking up from her screen, tapping away at the mouse - Harry knew she was most likely updating his social media to thank New York fans.
“Please, can I just say somethin’?” He tries again, biting back the frustration as he lingers in the doorway.
“You’ve said quite enough today,” YN dismisses dully, her feelings were so immensely hurt she felt a bit numb at the moment.
“I just want left alone. There’s like three other bedrooms in this penthouse - go sleep in one of them!” She finally raises her voice at him like she rarely ever ever did.
His expression hardens into stone, brow furrowed as he snaps back, “Fine! Don’t want t’sleep in ‘ere anyways!”
She can hear him stomping throughout the hall, being overly noises with things from his suitcase, and then turning the volume up much louder than necessary on the television.
It was all in the hopes of getting a reaction out of his wife - he wanted her to come out and yell about that noise, engage with him.
But he’s disappointed when she stays in the bedroom, not acknowledging any of his childish behavior.
As he sips on a protein smoothie, he swipes through his phone, and when he checks his email - he sees that Jeff has forwarded him an email that he originally wasn’t tagged in.
The subject read: SURPRISE FOR H!
And the email was written by his wife.
I got approval from management for the surprise sweatshirt merch drop for Florida. I worked extremely hard on the design and wanted to send out a thank you for everyone who support me on this project.
I just ask that you keep this a secret from Harry. I’m hoping to surprise him at the show in with it. I also appreciate everyone reaching out to make sure they can get a sweatshirt.
All tour crew and staff will be getting the sweatshirt in advance to wear the day of the concert - to better surprise Harry for all his hard work on this concert so far.
He knows why Jeff forwarded the message to him, to show him what complete asshole he had been to his wife.
And the thing was, he actually did like the design the more he looked at it. His wife was so fucking talented it didn’t make sense.
Harry wasn’t quite sure what to do. He realized that pestering his wife to talk to him wasn’t going to be helpful but he couldn’t let her think that she wasn’t the most talented person in the world.
It was too late to find a flower shop to buy her an apology bouquet or a candy shop for some chocolates - not like that would have worked anyways.
Harry takes a shot in the dark, sending a text to Jeff who was in the hotel on a different floor.
H: I need you to run to the shops for me
Jeff: why would I do that at one in the morning
H: Because if I go out right now I’ll get mobbed
Jeff: what the fuck could you possibly need
Harry texts him the list, waiting impatiently until Jeff drops off the plastic bags filled with item at the door and he’s getting to work.
In one of the bedrooms, there is exquisite bathtub that overlooks the bustling of the city - Harry emptied all the supplies on the counter tops. ***
He began by running the water nice and steaming hot - dropping in a lavender bath bomb as well as adding bubble bath.
Then he’s lighting the vanilla and rosemary candles, lining some on the counters - her favorite scents before laying out her favorite soda and chips because she loves a bathtub snack.
It wasn’t anything spectacular, sure as hell not enough of an apology for how he acted but it could be a start.
Hesitantly, he enters the room where YN now has her tablet in front of her - obviously frustrated by the way she scribbles with her ipad pen to erase designs.
“I-I know y’don’t want t’talk to me right now. But can I, er, I drew y’a bath,” Harry mumbles sheepishly, it’s quite insane how YN can knock him back down to feeling like an embarrassed schoolboy.
She looks up after a moment, lip worrying between teeth as she debates whether or not to accept the so-called olive branch.
Luckily, YN does, tossing her ipad onto the bed, and swinging her legs off the side.
Harry’s instant urge is to reach out and touch her but she slips past him without letting that happen to wander into the set-up bathroom.
“Wow, this is nice,” YN hums, her tone still a bit bland and unhappy but it seems truthful - her words, “Thank you.”
And when she raises her eyebrow at him, his heart drops when he realizes that she wants his to get out so she can undress and bathe in peace - which was… fair but devastating.
“Uh,” Harry fumbles dumbly, not able to find a reason to stay any longer, “Er, let me know if you need anything.”
Then she’s turning away from him and it’s difficult for him to leave the room and let her be.
“Fuck!” Harry grunts, furious out himself as stands in the kitchen. He pulls out a gleaming glass from the cabinet to fill with water to chug.
As he drinks his water, he scrolls on his phone until another email pops up - again, forwarded from Jeff because Harry wasn’t tagged in it.
It was an email from YN to Jeff, the timestamp states that she had sent it a few minutes ago when she was still in bed.
I was wondering if there was any possible way we could not drop that new sweatshirt. Harry was very unhappy with the design and I don’t want it to be sold at the merch stands if he hates it. I apologize for any inconvenience.
“God damn it!” Harry growls, he doesn’t even realize how hard he’s squeezing the glass until it actually shatters in his grip - the remnants falling to the tiled ground and vibrant red blood now dripping as well.
“Fuck fuck fuck,” He whines, dropping the rest of the glass to examine his now bloody, cut up hand that was twinging and pulsating.
It’s like his wife has a sixth sense for when he’s in pain because before he knows it - she’s padding into the kitchen with damp hair and a towel tucked around her.
“Bunny? What happened?” She was surprised to see so much blood but soon puts the pieces together - she’s guiding him over to the sink to run some warm water over it.
Despite Harry having a pain kink, loves the sensation of getting tattooed - the sight of blood made him woozy and feeling like he was gonna pass out.
“Glass, broke th-the glass. S’blood, m’bloody, baby,” Harry slurs as he tries to stay steady on his feet as YN starts to pick out the pieces that are wedge in his skin.
She leans over to kiss his shoulder, sweetly murmuring, “You’re okay, bun. Deep breathes, c’mon.”
And then…Harry starting sobbing, tears falling as he can’t wipe them, his chest shuddering because he feels like shit.
He was such an asshole to his wife but she is still here, helping and soothing him because shes so loving and empathetic.
“Whoa, H. It’s not that bad, baby. It’s just a few pieces, nothing major,” YN titters, thumbing away his tears with a slight smile - like he was being overdramatic.
“No-I’m, y’so good t’me and I treated you awful today. I don’t fuckin’ deserve you. M’sorry darlin’, m’so so sorry,” He blubbers, shoulders hunched in to make himself smaller as he sniffles.
“We can talk about it later. I saw a first aid kit in the bathroom, let me rub some cream on it and then wrap it all up,” YN replies calmly, dashing away to fetch everything - then she’s encouraging him to hop up on the counter to sit as she wraps it.
His free hand is rhythmically squeezing her plushy hip, eyes fixated on her beautiful, flawless face as she determinedly cares for his wound.
“There we go,” She announces when it’s all patched up with a pat to his thigh.
He isn’t thinking as he nudged forward to kiss her lips in gratitude, when he remembers she’s upset with him, he pulls back, “Sorry.”
“Don’t ever have to apologize for kissing me, H,” YN huffs out exasperated, “Would you like to join me in the bath?”
Harry nods cautiously, his hand moving from her hip to her belly to anywhere he can reach as he replies, “If you’ll have me.”
When they’re both in the tub, facing each other with his wife draping her legs over his as the bubbles nearly reach his shoulders.
“I’m very disappointed with how you acted today. I’m your wife, not your employee. Despite this being your tour, other people matter too. And I know you know that so I hate when you act like a entitled popstar. You’re better than that,” YN tells him, her tone isn’t angry but more melancholy which is almost worst.
“I never ever should have spoken to you like that. I really do like the design, I was just…looking for somethin’ t’be upset about. The sweatshirt is perfect and y’so fuckin’ brilliant tha’ I can believe you’re mine. The concert fuckin’ sucked without you there.”
Harry continues, his uninjured hand coming to massage the soles of her feet as he speaks, “I respect you w’everything I have. If anyone’s the boss, s’you. I acted like a spoiled brat and m’sorry. I love you with all m’heart and I’ll try t’be better.”
YN accepts the apology, especially when he massages both feet generously and then her calves before hand-feeding her a few flamin’ hot cheetos with a crinkled nose because he hates those things.
And when the water runs cold, Harry steps out and wraps her in a new towel - drying her reverently with kisses to her collarbone and shoulder as he murmurs sweet nothings.
Harry wasn’t perfect. YN didn’t expect him to be. But it didn’t matter because they love each other so fucking much.
RECORD BREAKING MERCH SALES - IS THERE ANYTHING HARRY STYLES CAN’T DO?
Harry Styles racked up nearly $725k in his two day stint at Madison Square Garden from his totes with bunnies to his creative tees designed by his wife, YN Styles.
As if it couldn’t get better, Styles dropped at new sweatshirt at his Orlando show that sold out within minutes of the stands opening.
It is estimated that in his one night in Orlando with the surprise new merchandise that he totaled up a staggering $450k.
With these numbers, Harry is rumored to be the biggest seller of merchandise in history. Fans who couldn’t get one state that they hope this sweatshirt will become a staple on tour.
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