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goldsainz · 1 year

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INTERESTING… — one shot.

pairing: harry styles x reader

MASTERLIST.

summary: emotions get in the way of award presenting.

warnings: kinda angsty?

NOTE: i just love petty 2000s drama… like the christina/eminent beef was great. obviously didn’t want this to be a copy paste, so i changed up the situations bit. hope you enjoy!!! (btw this is the edit that inspired me)

[ word count: 1,1k+ ]

You were usually pretty calm when it came to award shows, especially when presenting them. There was no pressure, no disappointments, and most of the time you got to meet a celebrity you wouldn't usually approach or give one to a friend.

You were now backstage, waiting for your name to be called on stage to present “Song Of The Year” for the BRIT Awards. Which felt like a full circle kind of moment since last year you had received the award, and now had the honour to give it to someone else. But there was one factor that made you slightly nervous; your ex boyfriend is a nominee.

Now, the chances of him winning were one in nine, but As It Was had already won a Grammy for the same category, so really, the odds were not in your favour. You wanted to believe the people at the BRITs wouldn't do that to you, or even your own manager, but luck didn't tend to bend to your will,

When you were finally called on stage, you grabbed the envelope containing who the winner was, and resisted the temptation to peek at it. You lightly grabbed the long fabric of your dress, not wanting to trip because of it, and made your way to the podium.

“Hello, BRITs!” You smiled at the audience, the microphone away from your face so that your laugh wasn’t audible, “Last year I was up here, not giving away, but receiving this award. It was a very happy moment for me, and I hope that it is too for whoever wins this award. This is Song Of The Year, here are the nominees!”

You turned your head to the big screen, as each nominee was displayed you couldn't help but silently hope in your head that Harry didn’t win. Not because he didn't deserve it, no, in fact he was probably the most worthy of the award. But because you couldn't bear that being your first interaction after months of no contact.

“And the BRIT award for Song Of The Year goes to…” You carefully held the mic so you could open the envelope.

The moment you saw who had won, a frown appeared on your brows, “Haha… Interesting…” Was what you had muttered under your breath, cursing in your head when you realised it had been picked up by the microphone.

You plastered the world’s most fakest smile, and through gritted teeth, shouted out the winner, “As It was, Harry Styles!”

You didn't even clap when you placed down the mic on the podium, leaving it for Harry to pick up and use. You held the envelope in front of your body, hands clasped on the award, as you waited for Harry to get on stage. You couldn't actually leave until after he received his award, but you wanted to put the most amount of distance between you.

Your grip tightened just a little bit more when you saw Harry walking up the stairs to the stage, your knuckles started to turn white, but you paid no mind to them. Seeing him so close, after so much time, stung more than it should have.

Your eyes connected, and it suddenly felt like a contest on who would look away first. You made no move to step forward, letting him come to you. When he finally reached you, you gave him his award like it had the plague on it. You knew it was petty, you knew you would get a scolding for acting this way, and you didn't give a shit.

For a second, you thought he was going for a kiss on the cheek. In fact, you would bet the thought had crossed his mind. But, as if reminding himself of who was standing before him, he didn't. You were thankful he did not because you didn't know how you would have reacted if he had.

“Hello! Um, this album and this song…” He had started his speech, but you tuned him out. You just wanted to get the hell out of there, ready for the mouthful you were about to give both your manager and whoever decided it was a great idea to have you present the award.

When he finally finished his speech, you almost bolted away from the stage. You sucked in harsh breaths, the cool facade you had tried maintaining, quickly dropped the moment you were backstage. You swore that his eyes drifted to you when he finished speaking, but your face was on some still spot where you could drift away.

You took your earpiece out with a little too much force, almost taking out your earring in the process too. You were ready to curse out someone when you heard your name being called out, by the one person you didn’t want to hear it from.

Your steps didn’t falter, ignoring the staff's stares, you made your way towards your team. You suddenly came to an abrupt stop when your arm was grabbed by Harry, who spun you around.

“Come on, Y/N, look at me.” You had to resist the urge to roll your eyes at his tone, his voice was so soft and sweet it almost made you want to hug him.

You lifted your eyes from the floor to him, immediately noticing the little smile on his lips. You mentally cursed yourself for even looking at his lips.

“What, Harry?” You bit out, watching his smile falter at the abrasiveness in your words.

“I… It was nice seeing you again.” He carefully said, as if weary of how you would react.

“Oh, was it?”

“I would’ve liked seeing you in another context, but, yes, it was.”

You stood in front of him silently for a few seconds, trying to come up with an answer. All that came were things you definitely couldn't say, and others that were too polite.

“Wish I could say the same.” Harry’s wince at your response was anything but satisfying, it only made the pit at the bottom of your stomach grow. You gulped down the knot in your throat and stepped out of his grip, watching as his hand awkwardly fell by his side.

“Look could we maybe—” His words were cut off by your hand in the air, shaking your head at him.

“Congrats on your award, Harry.” The moment you said those words you turned around and walked away. It was easier to ignore the problem than to face it, especially at an award show. Even when you felt his piercing gaze on your back, your feet continued moving along. It was easier said than done, but you hoped you didn't cross paths with Harry anytime soon.

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gucciwins · 1 year

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a special night at the brits

word count: 3558

a/n: hi friends! i really like coming back to this series and i hope you enjoy this continuation of them. talk show y/n and harry taking is slow but very much into each other. happy reading! 💗💗💗

part one // part two // part three

It was a big night in London, and you felt lucky to be invited. Growing up, you remembered watching the Brits with your sister seeing all the biggest stars walk the red carpet, rating your favorite looks, and singing along to every performer of the night. Tonight you knew would be one to remember, and for that reason, Zuri, your stylist, had the most fun finding you a dress for the night. It seemed many designers wanted to work with you, but Zuri reminded you that not everyone was as kind as they seemed to work with people you respected and respected you. The dress for tonight makes you feel like a star wearing a blue silk satin corseted gown with a plunging strapless neckline. The floor-length skirt was ruched with a thigh split and a train paired with shiny strappy high-heel shoes. It was fun getting ready with your glam team, but the nerves sometimes got the best of you before taking the carpet.

The confidence you feel when taking the carpet doesn’t hit until after you have your assistant take a shot with you. It’s not always you’ll have Maeve take a shot with you, but for some strange reason, you were anxious about today, and you knew it had to do with the man opening the show. You hadn’t seen Harry since the morning after his birthday. You think about how he convinced you to meet him in Palm Springs, not that it was a hard idea to say no to.

“I want to get drunk with you,” he mumbles into his phone.

You can’t help but laugh, “is that so?”

“Mhm…celebrate my birthday with me.”

It’s a tempting offer. You had spent a few days with Harry since he arrived in Los Angeles. He invited you over to his home and cooked you dinner once again. It was a salmon dish, and although you might not be the biggest fish fan, you thought it was delicious, maybe needed a bit more seasoning, but overall enjoyable.

His final LA shows were fun to attend, but he was so busy that you couldn’t get a moment alone with him. That is why when Harry invites you out to Palm Springs to celebrate his 29th birthday, the only answer you want to give him is yes.

“Are you sure? I-I want to be sure you’re spending it with your people, your family, and friends.” You tell him honestly, not wanting to feel like the odd person he has to tend to for the night.

“Want to spend it with you,” he reassures you. “Think we could have some birthday fun.”

You hear the shift in his voice, and you know what he’s imagining. It’s something you want, but there’s no rush, so you’ll see how the day takes you.

“I’ll drive out,” you promise.

“Love, you sure? You want to come and see me?”

Now it’s your turn to assure him that you want to go and spend the day with him, celebrating however he wishes.

The red carpet was a breeze. Maeve met you at the end, telling you that you were good to go in when there was a loud cheer, and it seemed everyone’s attention was on who had just arrived. You shared a look with Maeve, and both knew who had arrived.

The star of the night and predicted to win all of his nominated categories, Harry Styles.

Maeve smiles at you, nodding at you to keep walking, “shot a text to his assistant you’ll be able to meet inside.”

You smile at her grateful. You hadn’t shared with Harry that you’d be here tonight. You had known for a few weeks, but you didn’t know if what you had would fizzle out or continue to grow. Clearly, it’s going far better than you expected. It’s been endless dates and shared facetime calls. Harry knew how to put a smile on your face.

You’re not left waiting long when Harry and his entourage walk in. Harry looks around, and you use that time to look him over. His red carpet looks have always been unique, allowing him to stand out, and tonight is no different. He wears a black velvet suit with a flared coat and a large flower choker around his neck. It took your breath away. You’d have to ask him who designed this suit because you wouldn’t mind owning one of your own. Harry’s eyes quickly find yours, and you smile, waving him over. His eyes check you out from head to toe, and you can’t help the deep blush that takes over you.

“Y/N!” He exclaims happily, coming towards you with open arms. You both notice the cameras around you but choose not to focus on them. Harry sweeps you in a tight hug, your arms going around each other’s waist. Harry takes a moment to breathe you in.

“It’s good to see you, H,” you breathe out.

“Absolutely gorgeous. You’re gorgeous, Y/N.” Harry runs his hands down your side feeling the silk material hugging you tight.

“Me?” You pull back, shaking your head, “look at you!” You gesture to his look. “Absolutely stunning.”

Harry pokes your cheek, “take a compliment for once,” he teases.

You laugh, “sorry, sorry. It’s overwhelming coming from you.”

“Why?” He frowns before he gets a twinkle in his eye. “Is it because you know I mean it?”

“Harry,” you pout. You step closer to him and lower your voice to a whisper. “It’s because you say sweet things, and I know I can’t kiss you to thank you.”

Harry smirks, “you want to kiss me?”

You roll your eyes, giving back his space, but he follows after you. “You know I do, Harry.”

“Later,” he promises.

You love how easy conversation is with Harry, how at ease he makes you feel. You love spending time with him, and knowing that he’s leaving for tour in a few days makes you sad, but he’s promised that it’s only you he’ll be missing when he’s touring.

“Are you sitting by me?” Harry asks you backstage between all the hustle going on around you. You were told you’d be sitting close to Leigh-Anne, knowing Harry’s table was towards the middle of the room.

You shake your head, “don’t think so, sitting somewhere else.”

Harry pouts, “no, you have to sit with me.” Your laugh rings loud, making Harry’s friends turn their way and smile at you, clearly happy to see you. “Jeff will have it all figured out. Please say yes.” You sigh. It’s hard to tell him no, and the truth is you didn’t want to. Harry doesn’t let up, leaning in and kissing your cheek. “Please say yes,” he repeats.

You hesitate, and Harry turns his attention to Maeve. “You’ll both join us,” he tells her. Maeve shrugs, giving you the final say.

You smile, reaching out and touching the lapel of his coat. “You win, Harry. We’ll sit with you.”

Harry pulls you in for a hug kissing your temple three times. “Save me your second drink, love. I’ll be there soon.”

“Good luck!” You yell as he’s pulled away to a dressing room to change into his second look of the night, and you know by the time he comes back out to sit with you, he’ll have a third outfit.

A few of Harry’s team that you had the pleasure of meeting a few weeks ago, lead you to the table where Harry’s sister is sitting. He had not shared that he brought his sister or mentioned if you’d like to meet her, but you had to assume he knew and wanted it to happen, or he wouldn't have invited you to sit with him.

You have a moment of panic before Maeve mouths to breathe. Thankfully, Tom was kind enough to do introductions for you. “Gemma, this is Y/N, a friend of Harry’s. Y/N, this is Gemma Harry’s sister.” You didn't know if you should shake her hand or give her a hug, but Gemma made it easy for you by pulling you in for a quick hug.

“Lovely to meet you. He’s actually talked about you,” Gemma shares.

“Has he?” You asked, surprised.

“Mhm…tons,” she teases.

You know that means she knows about you and Harry being an item? No, a thing? A couple? You still have a few things to figure out with Harry, but the one thing you do know is that you’re head over heels for him.

“I’ve heard wonderful stories about your family. He gushes about you whenever he has the chance,” you share because if there’s one thing about Harry, he loves his family.

“He’s the family baby, no matter how much he fights it,” Gemma tells you, and you both share a laugh.

You both enjoy Harry’s opening performance together, lost in how easily Harry makes the stage his own. It’s clear he was meant to be there. You know you’d never get tired of watching him shine. Sitting back down, you’re buzzing for Harry to join you but know you must go backstage to present an award for the night. You excuse yourself with Maeve promising to be back soon. You get a round of “boos,” making you giggle. Gemma squeezes your arm, promising to save you a seat next to her and Harry.

“Maeve, why did I agree to do this?” You’re full of nerves, closed envelope in hand as you’re waiting to be introduced.

She laughs, taking back your lipstick and putting it back in her bag. “You’ll be fine. You were born to be in front of the camera.”

You know that’s true, you loved acting and getting lost in character, but you also loved an audience because you can feed off their energy and rely on doing that in a few moments. Your name is announced, and you walk out, grinning at the audience. You reach the podium and wait a few seconds to let the cheers die down. “Hello, I’m Y/N Y/LN, and it’s an absolute honor to be here tonight. A few of you might recognize me from my films, but most will recognize me from The White Lotus. If you don’t know the show, you’re missing out because Jennifer Coolidge said I’m amazing.” The crowd laughs, and just like that, you feel at ease. “Thank you to the Brits for having me come out and announce this award of the night. I remember growing up and sitting in front of the telly with my sister as we dressed in our favorite dresses and took turns accepting fake awards while also singing our hearts out. Now none of us turned into artists to be able to receive one of these awards, but I think handing them out is the next best thing.” The nominees are introduced, and you wait patiently to announce the winner. Your fingers are crossed for Harry but know you can’t say that at least not yet.

The opening of the envelope is nerve-wracking. You feel your hands begin to shake due to the anticipation. You do your best to hold back a smile as you read over a familiar name.

“The winner for best pop/r&b is….” You take a short pause and then shout into the microphone, “the one and only Harry Styles.”

His celebration is shown on the screen as he hugs his sister before making his way up to the stage. It’s a long walk, and wow, does Harry look good. He’s wearing a sage green suit with a silk top with a few buttons open to show off his chest. Fuck, Harry sure was leaving you breathless with his outfits.

You pulled Harry in for a hug whispering your congratulations to him. He swayed you side to side. “Thank you. Thank you for being here for me.” You only squeeze him tighter in response.

“Think you’ve got a speech to give,” you tease, knowing this might have been going on for a second too long on live TV.

“Does this win mean you’re going home with me tonight?” Harry whispers in your ear.

You laugh, “maybe if you win them all.”

Harry winks, giving you a kiss on your cheek, and you finally let each other go to allow him to give his speech.

“Wow! Thank you so, so much for this. First of all, I know this was a fan-voted award, so to all my fans that voted - thank you so so much.” Harry raises the award in the air before closing out his speech. He walks with you backstage, laughing at Harry’s circle he made on stage, trying to set the microphone down before deciding to just follow you.

Harry seems to know the backstage well and pulls you into a dark corner pressing you against the wall. You let out a gasp of surprise but don’t dream of pushing him away. You raise your hand, letting yourself twirl the single curl he keeps pushing back.

“What are we doing, Harry?” You whisper, wanting to pull him closer.

Harry leans in closer, his mouth a single breath away from you. “Sharing a moment alone with you.” Harry brushes his lips against yours. Feeling a bit daring, he teased you with a flick of his tongue, making you moan and draw him closer until you were kissing like your life depended on it. You would have stayed with Harry tucked in this corner forever, but Harry was up for many more awards and needed to be seated. Slowly and with great reluctance, you pulled back. “Met your sister,” you push him back and hoped your lipstick stays transfer-free; Zuri assured you it was the best of the best.

“Hmmm…” Harry drops his shoulders, frowning. “Sorry, I did forget to mention I brought her with me tonight.”

You shrug, giving his bicep a squeeze, “besides the panic that first set in, it was fine. We got to talking, and I learned she’s the nicest Styles.”

“Hey, hang on,” Harry pouts.

You bump his shoulder, “don’t worry, you’re still my favorite.”

Harry smiles, showing you his dimples, and you know you’ll never tire of it. You walk back to his table and are met with loud cheers, a shot of tequila passed to everyone in honor of his first win.

The night goes on, and the drinks don’t let up neither do Harry’s wins for the night. Harry wins artist of the year and song of the year, sharing sweet speeches expressing his love to his mother, who signed him up for his audition that changed his life and named the four other boys who began this crazy journey with him. It’s amazing to see Harry acknowledge where he came from and where he is now. You’ve seen his career grow from the video of the public, but now you’ve gotten the chance to know Harry Styles, the boy from Holmes Chapel, and you know he’s a genuine soul.

One final award of the night: album of the year, and it was being presented by Stanley Tucci. Everyone knew it would be a clean sweep, but no one dared to say that aloud until Harry received the last award on stage. Harry’s table has been the most popular of the night, but he always finds his way back next to you, resting a hand on your thigh for comfort. Everyone at his table knew you and Harry were more than friends, but in the eyes of the world, you were only friends.

“If it’s me, you’re coming home with me, remember? You promised,” he whispers, and you shake your head because, of course, he remembered even a few drinks in he hadn’t let himself forget.

“I’d happily go home with you even if you lose,” you assure him. “But we all know this one is yours.”

A few months later, his name is called, and Harry breaks into the loudest cheer. You stand up, embracing Gemma, needing to share your excitement before Harry slips away; he pulls you for a quick hug and promises you’ll have the best night together.

Harry keeps his speech short, passing it on to Tyler and Tom, using that time to speak with Stanley Tucci, not a care in the world as the cameras caught them laughing and smiling with each other. It showed the world how much of a flirt Harry became a few drinks in.

It has been one of the best nights of Harry’s life. Being home and honored at an award show he’s been attending for over ten years makes for a memorable evening. Harry is doing his post-interviews, ready to call it a night and head out with you at his side, ready to party and drink. You’ve already promised to stay the night with him, and Harry knows he’s going to spend all his time with you until it’s time for him to leave the country.

“How does attending the Brits feel?” The interviewer asks.

Harry grins, his charisma shining through. “It’s wonderful. Coming home and attending events I’ve been attending for years makes the room feel full of family.”

“How are you thinking of celebrating tonight?” Another person asks.

Harry sways side to side, fidgeting with his rings, then looking at the journalist who asked the question. “To celebrate, what I want to do is go have dinner with my friends.” He shrugs, “I’m going to have a drink,” he emphasizes, although he knows he’s already had one too many tonight. “I leave for tour in four days. So probably won’t go crazy. It’s going to be fun. Thank you.”

He hands the microphone back and thanks everyone for their questions. Harry sees you talking with his sister on the other side of the room and can’t help the smile that blossoms on his face. Harry knows his sister is going to give his mum a full report on you, but he doesn’t mind one bit. He can’t wait for you to meet his mum now, seeing how well you got on with Gemma and all his friends.

Harry was about to make his way across the room, his eyes locked on you in that beautiful silk dress, when he stopped and asked a few more questions. He’s the man of the night, so Harry doesn’t mind, and neither does Jeff, who gives him a thumbs up. Harry knows Jeff only has his best interest in mind, but you’re someone he hopes to keep in his life for a long time, headlines be forgotten.

“Is there a certain person in mind you want to share that drink with?”

Harry laughs, knowing they’re fishing for something juicy, and as much as he has had to drink tonight, he’s good at staying tight-lipped. “They know. Promise they do,” he can’t help the blush that covers his cheeks as he thinks of you.

“What drink are you having?” They ask.

“Can’t go wrong with tequila,” he shrugs.

He bids them goodnight and walks out of the press room with his team following close behind. Once they enter the corridor, and Harry’s sure all the cameras are gone, he slows his walk to find you talking with Sarah and Pauli; he hates to interrupt (not one bit), but he’s ready for a bit of attention from you. He slips his hand between yours, and the grin that takes over your face is instant. You let the conversation die as you trail behind everyone with Harry by your side.

“I know you didn’t come here for me,” he starts. “But I am thrilled to have shared this special night with you.”

You feel your heart fill with warmth, it’s been a perfect night, and you’re happy you were able to be reunited. “Thank you for letting me join you. You know I enjoy spending time with you, and selfishly I would never say no to spending more time with you when you’re leaving in a few days for longer than I’d like.”

Harry knows leaving will be hard on you both, but he selfishly wants to bring you out with him, but he knows you have work to focus on just like he does.

“Do–would–,” he sighs, unable to get his thoughts out correctly.

You sigh, “I’d love to go out and see you, but you know I can’t.” Harry nods understandingly, “I promise as soon as you’re back in the UK, I’ll find a way out to you.”

Harry lights up, knowing there’s going to be a date to see you filling him with ease. “Do you promise?”

You place your hand over your heart, “cross my heart, Harry.”

Harry smiles because he trusts you, knows you'll be okay, and that this relationship you’re building will survive with the nurture and care you’ve both been putting in. Harry’s tempted to ask you to be his girlfriend but won’t because when he does, he wants to keep you to himself for longer than a few days. You talked animatedly about how Mitch showed you the easiest way to shoot back a shot promising that he won’t be able to keep up with you now. Harry kisses your temple and knows that upon winning awards tonight, the true prize he's taking home is you.

send me a love note of what you thought, amores 🫶

#harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles fluff #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanficitn #harry styles blurb #harry story #harry fluff #harry x reafer #harry imagine #harry blurb #harry one shot #harry styles x y/n #harry x you #harry styles brits #brits 2023 #harry styles fic rec

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lordendsavior · 1 year

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Post-Brits 2013 || Post-Brits 2023

#don’t mind me i’m just having a moment #night changes.mp3 #gryles #brits 2023 #brits 2013

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iconicharry · 1 year

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you see how he’s the younger sibling

#she’s crazy #brits 2023 #gemma

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cherryjuiceblues · 1 year

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𝐖𝐄𝐋𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐄 𝐇𝐎𝐌𝐄

➯ HARRY IS IMMEASURABLY HAPPY AFTER HIS HISTORY-MAKING NIGHT AT THE BRITS (AND HORNY). ✰ brits!harry sexual content. creampie. minors dni. 𝑤𝑐 2.5k

The peak of his intoxication has passed, leaving him mellow and drowsy, but the warmth of his dopey, half-lidded smile is enough to keep her mind racing with overwhelming pride. They’ve not long arrived home – Harry was sure to wiggle around impatiently whilst Y/N locked the front door before clumsily joining their hands and tugging them both upstairs to bed. He had collapsed heavily on their sheets, his hair wildly sticking out in every direction; contrasted by the black tweed suit that hadn’t been disturbed an inch.

Y/N watches him from the dresser with her own tipsy gaze as she removes her jewellery, admiring the soft rising and falling of his back as his breathing regulates. She’s sure he’s seconds away from falling asleep – head swirling with happiness most people can only dream of feeling – but he sits up suddenly, seemingly hit by a new burst of energy as he pushes himself up and clambers his way over to Y/N, burying his nose into her neck and slurring his words.

“Love y’ so much,” sponging small kisses over her skin. Her hands reach up into Harry’s hair and scratch lightly, causing his body to melt even further into her own and they stand there for a while just swaying in each other’s arms, breathing in each other’s scent; not for the first time that night.

He’d been hugging everyone he could get his hands on, thanks to the well-deserved drinks in his system and Y/N had been giggling with Gemma all night at his public displays of affection – so happy to spread the love. It was only when Harry won his final award of the evening and started hanging off Stanley Tucci did they share even an ounce of shock, before laughing it off at Stanley’s enjoyable reaction.

“Is Stanley Tucci a better hugger than me?” Y/N speaks into his temple.

Harry only gives her neck a nibble before mumbling, “Stanley Tucci is a very beautiful man. But no one gives hugs like you do,” as he tightens his grip about her body, disrupting her footing slightly.

“Good.” Y/N hums, kissing the side of his head and leaving an ever-so-faint lipstick stain. “Gonna get my makeup off, okay?” she murmurs, much to Harry’s distaste, as he slides his hands down around her thighs and lifts them around his waist. “Woah, easy baby,” Y/N grips his shoulders in a panic, “Careful.” She brushes the strands of hair away from his eyes, delicate and soft.

“Would never drop you,” Harry promises, taking them to their en-suite; albeit at a slower pace than he would sober, but tender in his ministrations as he sits on the toilet seat lid with Y/N still firmly wrapped around and on his lap. She smiles down at him, hands still stroking his face, before reaching across to the sink to grab her makeup remover and cotton pads. Harry stays attentive whilst Y/N cleans her face, eyes never straying and fingers leaving continuous patterns on her skin.

Their movements are slow, as if time has been paused just for the night. And it may as well have been for nothing else mattered more than being in each other’s presence. Harry’s unzipping her, his large hands spread out on her back as her dress falls to the floor and she’s left only in a pair of underwear. She moves to work his jacket off his shoulders and get him down to the same level of undress as she is, quickly breaking their profound eye-contact to hang their clothes up. Harry doesn’t let her go anywhere without touching her, palms smoothing round to her hips as she swivels in his grasp and walks to their wardrobe. They walk together, Harry’s chin perched on top of Y/N’s head as she makes the attempt to stay tidy.

“I’m cold,” he kisses her shoulder, nudging impossibly further into her back.

“Get into bed,” Y/N encourages as she drapes the articles onto hangers.

“Not without you,” Harry shakes his head and his hair dances across her neck, tickling her skin.

“Baby, the bed is one foot away,” she places a hand over one of his on her hip, squeezing lightly in amusement.

“Shhh,” he slurs into her cheek, “just hurry up.” He kisses her jaw softly, trying his hardest to distract but to no avail. Y/N carries on with a small smile on her face, desperately wishing to close her eyes and melt back into him; the small huffs of air from his nose against her neck stirring the butterflies in her stomach.

When she turns around in his grip and pecks his lips briskly, murmuring a small “I’m done,” Harry opens his sleepy eyes, half on his way there but awake enough to bring her mouth back to his with a hand on the back of her head. He takes her bottom lip between his, replaying her gentle whine in his head as their oxygen mingles and her fingers dance along the butterfly on his stomach. Their lips part with a soft sound and Y/N tries to chase him but Harry pulls back with a lazy smile.

They climb into bed and Y/N insists Harry lie on top of her, “Want your weight,” she says, pushing at his back the best she can from her position. He doesn’t take much convincing as he buries his face once again in the crook of her neck. Y/N brings her legs up around his waist under the covers and they meld into one another, skin content to be united.

“Looked so beautiful tonight,” Y/N whispers, hands tugging at his hair gently to get him to lift his head. Harry shifts his forearms to rest either side of her head so he can look down at her.

“Yeah? You think so?” His words are soft, eyes shining as he drops his nose to hers in an eskimo kiss. Y/N nods, her own eyes welling up, causing Harry to frown slightly.

“What's wrong? Don’t cry, m’love,”

“You’re so pretty, Harry, and I’m so proud of you,” Y/N breathes, gazing up at him, eyes flitting around his face.

Harry grins, eyes crinkled and face flushed, “Tha’s why you’re tearful, baby?” She nods again, “I think you’re the prettiest girl in the world,”

“That’s what I wanted to say to you!” Y/N huffs, kicking his back gently with her heel.

“Wanted t’call me the prettiest girl?” He teases and she rolls her eyes.

“Thought you were tired, not fair to bully me like that,” Harry leans down to smush their lips together.

“S’dramatic,” he mumbles against her mouth. “And I am tired but—” Harry wiggles his hips, pressing into Y/N’s lower stomach.

Y/N pulls away from his lips, “You’re horny? Really?” pushing back up and relishing in his groan.

“It’s a love boner, baby,” Harry whines, “Can I feel you? Just need t’feel you.” Y/N nods quickly, fingers buried in his hair. Their mouths meet again with a new pace yet still utterly tranquil in their own bubble. Harry splits Y/N’s mouth with his tongue, licking slowly against her own and she bucks up against him again, desperate to receive friction. His hands start at her jaw, one trailing down to squeeze her neck softly with the other stroking over her cheek.

The sound of their breathing is short and wanting as their lips slide together in complete contentment – Harry’s hands slide down further, thumbs brushing over Y/N’s nipples and she lets out a gasp, pushing her chest into his hands. Her legs tighten around his waist and Harry smiles into the kiss, pinching her nipples and adoring the way she reacts to his touch.

He knows it’s meant to be quick so they could get some sleep but Harry can’t resist teasing her and himself as he rocks against her, their thin underwear providing no sort of barrier between where they are both hot and aching. His cock nudges against her clit and his tip peeks over the waistband of his briefs which has Y/N reaching down, but Harry grabs her wrists and gathers them in one hand above her head.

“No touch, darlin’, just let me rub on you for a bit,” he breathes into her mouth that’s spit-slicked from his kisses. Y/N’s eyes flutter closed as Harry continues to thrust against her; almost agonisingly slowly but the pleasure is bubbling and she can feel how damp her underwear has become. She connects their lips again but finds her mouth hanging open more often than not as Harry licks into her and up towards the roof of her mouth before trailing down her cheek and her jaw, making his way to her ear.

“You feeling good, baby?” Y/N makes a frantic noise of agreement, “Yeah? You’re gonna come just from this for me, okay? And then I’ll fuck you t’sleep.” His voice is gravelly, tired – he’s had an eventful night and yet Y/N’s pleasure is still important enough to bypass his own needs, even though he knows she'll feel guilty in the morning and offer to suck him off all day. She’s moaning, all breathy and fragmented, hips moving with his as he fucks her over her underwear, his own briefs pushed down just enough to free him.

Harry trails his hand, that’s not holding her wrists, down to her waistband (the sheet has long since fallen down his back, granting much better access to each other’s bodies) and pulls it to the side, revealing Y/N’s swollen centre. She’s slick, dripping down to her bum, and Harry lets out a guttural noise at the sight, grabbing her legs, one by one, from around him and pushing them into the bed. He places a hand at the apex of her thigh, holding her leg open as he continues to slide his dick through her pussy and over her clit – slipping it underneath the waistband of her underwear and letting it rest back over them both – the newfound skin contact eliciting moans from the both of them.

Y/N can feel her orgasm extending out, tingling through her entire body, “Harry,” she mewls, “I’m– Can I?”

He hums, “Can you what? Gotta say it, Y/N,” The pace stays the same, lazy and inebriated but their heartbeats are hammering, reaching for each other as Harry drops his chest to hers and lifts his thumb to her mouth, swiping across her bottom lip. Y/N opens for him, letting him tap against her tongue before resting it there.

“Can I come?” Harry smiles at her garbled words as she attempts to ask with her mouth full. “Please, Harry,” her eyes are wide and her pupils are dilated, begging him for release.

So when he lowers his mouth to her ear once again and whispers, “Go on, baby, you can come,” Y/N almost immediately lets go, and when she does her eyes scrunch shut and she’s whimpering around Harry’s thumb, feeling every stroke against her clit and loving his weight on her body.

“Good girl,” he kisses her cheek once, twice, three times. “My good girl,” continuing to rub her until she starts to jolt and squeak. Harry takes his hand from her mouth and smooths her hair down, gazing down at Y/N’s watery eyes with a fucked out expression of his own. He can really feel the exhaustion hitting him now, and he still needs to come so he pecks her lips softly, bringing her wrists down from above her head, before reaching down and wrapping a hand around himself.

The sound he makes has Y/N bucking her hips towards him, free hands happily situated in his hair, and Harry swipes a thumb over her clit cruelly. “You’re so greedy f’me,” he simpers as she bucks in surprise.

“Want you to come, Harry. Need to see you come,” Y/N begs (and who was he to deny her that?) which has him guiding himself into her steadily, her underwear still rucked to the side. He sighs into her mouth before connecting their lips, tongue searching for hers and heavy breaths escaping his nose. Y/N tightens her grip on his hair, pulling just the way she knows drives him crazy and he detaches from her mouth with a whine.

His hips falter when she praises him, “I’m so proud of you, Harry, you’re so good. I love you—”Words falling out in jumbles and his tummy is warm and tightening quickly as he maintains the pace he’d been so adamant about. Harry pushes her knees up and into the mattress, feeling every inch of her warmth as he squeezes in and out and drops his forehead to hers, noses bumping with every drive.

“Oh, fuck,” he breathes into Y/N’s mouth, face tingling when she leans up to smother her lips on the corner of his and across his cheek. His abdomen is clenching and he can feel every hair on his body standing up.

“Come inside me, baby, want it inside,” she kisses his cheek again and Harry turns his head to catch her mouth, moaning into her as his hips draw back and forth, slowing down even more.

“Fuck, g’na come,” he thrusts in quickly once, the reflex making them both gasp, before regaining the last of his composure. Harry’s eyes are barely open and he’s swirling in his besotted haze while Y/N watches him from underneath, his hair tickling her forehead. From this angle, she thinks he’s never looked better – paired with the way he looked all night she thinks he should be sculpted or painted in the depths of his pleasure. His jaw hangs and his eyebrows furrow, nose tinted pink and Y/N can tell he’s moments away from letting go as his breaths come out shorter and a few whimpers escape his lips.

“Please, Harry, wanna feel it in me,” she whispers and he keens. “Need you to fill me up.” And he’s stuttering inside her once again as his orgasm takes over, his noises making Y/N’s heart race as he empties himself inside of her, the warmth seeping into their bones.

“Shit,” Harry breathes, dropping back down to Y/N’s chest, still snug inside of her.

“Thank you,” she kisses the side of his face and he lifts his head up to look at her. “I was supposed to make you feel good tonight.”

Harry only laughs, rolling his eyes, “Did you not notice how good you made me feel?” giving an experimental shift inside of her and smiling when she gasps.

“Gotta push my come out, love,” he reluctantly pushes himself up onto his knees, sitting Y/N up with him as he slowly pulls out, her underwear gravitating back over her. Harry’s quick to pull them off her legs and hold them up to where his release has started to drip out. She whimpers slightly at the sight, bending over her waist to get a better view.

He swears he loves her even more in that moment, watching her love the way his come trickles out of her. “You’re filthy.” He pecks her forehead, wiping her down gently and she puckers her lips at him, looking for a kiss. Harry complies, sponging their mouths together a few times before throwing her underwear near the wash basket and tucking himself back into his own.

“You gonna pee?” He asks and she groans, falling back against the pillows.

“Don’t wanna get up, it’s time t’sleep,” Y/N whines, grabbing at the sheets to pull them up around herself. But Harry is having none of it, hovering himself over her and batting the covers away. He only needs to give her a look before she’s ducking under his arms and trudging to their bathroom. The alcohol in Harry’s system is still whirling around and he feels on the edge of sleep as soon as his head hits the pillows, a content smile gracing his face, holding on just long enough for Y/N to climb back in next to him and drape her arm over his chest.

Their breathing syncs up as they drift off and just before they both succumb, Y/N mumbles, “Love you,” to which Harry replies:

“So much.” And she nestles in further, feeling his arm wrap tightly around her shoulder, and he is so glad to be home.

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